#it's one of the few traditions i participated in as a kid

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Naughty or Nice?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: smut, fem!receiving

Summary: This year, you’re going to ask Santa for something only you have been able to give you thus far. Orgasms.

Square Filled: Christmas (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Normally, the mall is a place you and your friends avoid during the holiday season, but you heard that they were hosting auditions for Santa this year. Rumor has it, that someone super attractive got it. Again, you’re not one to go man-hunting at a crowded mall with children and families running everywhere, but here you are.

Your dating life hasn’t been all that great. It mostly consists of hookups and one-night stands that can never get you to orgasm. Only your pink ice cream clit vibrator has ever been able to do the job, so you’re hoping to come here and maybe meet a willing Santa to take home. Maybe if you sit on his lap and wish for orgasms, he’ll be inclined to give you one.

It’s worth a shot.

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this,” your friend, Beth, says.

“What? Men who audition for Santa usually aren’t men from this town. They’re all married and they don’t want to take the joy away from their kids. Whoever it is, is from out of town, which means he can be hot, single, and eager for a hookup.”

“I thought you were done with those.”

“No, I am done with hookups from men who only think about themselves. I’ll be able to take one look at this Santa and know if he can jingle my bells if you know what I mean.”

Beth laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think parents would allow their children to sit on a sexy man’s lap.”

“Only one way to find out. Come on.”

The area where kids are meeting Santa is already crowded with families, and the line is already three stores down from the start. When Dean heard about the Santa auditions, he put in his name when he was drunk. What harm would it do if he decided to be Santa for a night? On one hand, he can make a lot of children’s days by being Santa. On the other hand, he could meet a kid’s single mom or their sexy aunt and take them home. It’s a win-win.

“Okay, I thought you were joking before, but you’re really going to do this?” Sam asks his brother.

Dean pulls on the red coat and smirks at his brother. “Hot chicks, Sammy.”

“Kids, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “It comes with the job. Just go find something to do. This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“You’re relentless.”

“Dedicated, Sam,” Dean smirks.

Sam rolls his eyes and leaves the room. He decides to head back to the motel room instead of sticking around. Dean finishes getting ready and walks out with one of the mall coordinators. As soon as the kids see him, they cheer at the thought of being with Santa even for a minute. He stays true to his character and plays the best Santa he can be for the kids also while looking out for anyone single and willing to go home with him.

“Looks to me like he’s a regular guy,” Beth says to you as you inch closer to the front of the line.

“Beth, you are married so I don’t expect you to see this but I caught a glimpse of him as he was putting his costume on. I think he was carved by the Gods themselves.”

“You’re relentless,” she rolls her eyes.

“What? I am just trying to participate in Christmas traditions.”

“You don’t even have any kids.”

“I’m practicing…?”

“By asking Santa for,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “orgasms?”

“Yes.”

Beth laughs, and you get closer to the front of the line. Dean takes a picture with one of the little girls who just asked for a pony when he locks eyes with you. For just a few seconds, it’s like time has slowed down just for the two of you. Even from where you’re standing, you can see how green his eyes are.

“Next!” the mall attendant yells.

“Good luck,” Beth whispers and steps off to the side where the parents wait.

The mall attendant gives you a weird look, especially when you step up on the platform where Dean is. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it even though you’re getting some dirty looks from parents in line.

“Well, who do we have here? What’s your name?” Dean drawls when you sit on his lap.

“Y/N.”

“And have you been a good girl this year?”

You smirk when you hear the double meaning in his words.

“Oh, I’ve been a very bad girl.”

Dean’s eyes darken. “You know the deal. Bad girls don’t get presents.”

“Might you make an exception?”

He licks his lips, and you can’t help but watch his tongue. “I might. Depends on what you want.”

You lean in so that your mouth is close to your ear. You don’t need everyone in the mall to hear this.

“Orgasms.”

“Bad girl or not, I think I can help with that.”

“I’d hope you would,” you grin.

“Meet me after in front of Barnes and Noble.”

You forgo the picture and leave to give the kids what they came here for. Dean shifts in his seat to hide the erection you gave him. He’s not trying to scar any children or piss off any parents.

“Did you ask him?” Beth asks when you walk away from the place.

“Yes. God, he was so much more attractive up close. He was so… firm. I’m going to meet him after he’s done. Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime. I have to get back to Jared. He already started drinking eggnog without me.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know how it goes,” you wink.

You wait anxiously in front of Barnes and Noble until the very last child has had her turn with Santa. The more you’re by yourself, the more you psych yourself out. Was this a good idea? You don’t even know the man. He could be a murderer for all you know. Okay, maybe not that but he could have dark secrets in his closet.

Before you can convince yourself to leave, a man who you believe is Santa walks over to you wearing flannel, jeans, and a black jacket.

“So, have you decided if you want to be naughty or nice?”

“Whichever is more fun,” you grin.

“Naughty it is.” He holds his hand out and you take it. “I’m Dean.”

“Y/N, but you already know that.”

He even has a hot car. Once you see the shiny black Impala, you decide you’re going to milk Dean for everything he’s got before he leaves. He might very well be the best one-night stand you’ll ever have.

Dean takes you back to his motel room where Sam is reading a lore book. He looks up when the door opens, and he shakes his head when he sees his brother isn’t alone.

“Out, Sammy.”

“Dude.”

“Would you rather watch me fuck her?”

“That’s something I’m not opposed to if you’re into that sort of thing,” you say.

“No, thanks,” Sam pouts. “I’m going to get a room far from yours.”

As soon as Sam leaves, Dean pulls you into him and presses light kisses down your neck.

“So, are you going to unwrap me?”

“Damn right, I am, and I’m going to take all night to do it.” Dean lays you down on the bed and runs his hands down your legs. “Are you wet for me?”

“Undress me and find out.”

Dean practically rips your clothes away, and you don’t even think about needing them tomorrow at the moment. All you want right now is his mouth and fingers on you. Dean cups your pussy and runs two fingers through your slit to confirm that yes, you are wet and ready for him. He falls to his knees and you spread your legs open wide for him.

He grips your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed before burying his face between your legs. Some of the men you’ve been with hated going down on you, so you haven’t had a man down there in a while. Just the simple act of Dean sliding his tongue through your folds is enough to bring a squeal out of you.

“Fuck, Dean, that feels so good,” you moan and grab his hair.

“Good. I’m not stopping until you’re dripping down my chin.”

Dean massaged your clit with his tongue before sliding down to your entrance. He tongues you rapidly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can’t come unless your clit is stimulated, but you honestly think Dean could just lick you and you’d explode for him. Maybe you’ll test that theory later tonight when you go for another round. Dean is the kind of man you go multiple rounds with.

“Shit, Dean, that feels so good. I’m gonna come.”

“Come all over my face.”

You don’t wait another second before exploding around his tongue, and he laps up every drop you’re giving him.

“God, you taste like Heaven,” Dean moans.

He kisses your clit once before standing up. You stand and kiss him even though you can taste yourself on his lips. You undress him until you’re both naked, and he turns you so that you’re facing the bed. He gently pushes down on your back until you’re on your hands and knees, and he grips your hips and tugs you hard enough for you to lose your balance. You fall face first on the bed with your ass in the air, just how he wants you.

He grabs the base of his cock and squeezes to prevent his release from coming too soon. He pumps twice before sliding the head of his cock between your pussy lips.

“Dean, skip the formalities. Please, fuck me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He grabs both sides of your hips and slides into your pussy slowly so that you can feel every inch. You gasp from the stretch but he doesn’t stop until you’re completely full of him. You grip the sheets and push back into him as much as you can from your position. Dean pulls out only to slam back in, and you can’t help the loud moan from coming out.

“Fuck, Y/N, how are you so tight?”

“You feel so good, Dean,” you moan.

Thankfully Sam isn’t next door or else he’d hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and your beautiful moans.

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Get yourself closer to the edge. I want to come with you.”

You reach down and rub your clit in fast hard circles. It’s been so long that you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d thought you would.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m close again.”

“Come all over my cock.”

You do as he says and explode all around him. You squeeze his cock several times which brings Dean over the edge. He slows his thrusting to ride out both of your highs until neither of you can give anything more. He pulls out of you and falls onto the bed next to you.

“I hope you’ve got more than one round in you.”

He smirks. “Baby, I can go all night.”

You love Christmas time.

x

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[just-jordie-things]

the subject of every photo - fushiguro megumi

word count: 5,555 (i'm so proud of that) warnings: swearin' summary: a photoshoot at the pumpkin patch isn't his ideal day, but at least megumi gets to spend time with you. and maybe he'll take a few pictures anyway. (a/n): really delayed pumpkin themed fic with the softest boy but i needed to write this ok a greater power called upon me to do it

___

“It’ll be fun!” Nobara had claimed, although her tone was more threatening than bubbly.  “It’s just a little photoshoot at a pumpkin patch, why so gloomy about it?” 

And it wasn’t that Megumi was gloomy about it, because he wasn’t.  It would be immature to pout about a simple hangout among friends.  The thing was… he just didn’t care for the whole pumpkin patch thing that really seemed to take off on instagram and tiktok these last few years.

He hadn’t carved a pumpkin since he was just a tot, and even then he’d only done it to satisfy Gojo’s bonkers need to participate in every holiday tradition.  He never particularly liked scooping the guts and seeds out, and as a kid wasn’t decent enough with a blade to carve a face that actually looked interesting.  Not to mention, it was always chilly in late October, making it insufferable to wander around outside solely to pick out a big orange vegetable.  

Really, if he wanted a pumpkin that bad, he would’ve picked out a discount one from the grocery store.  But really, he didn’t want a pumpkin.

Nonetheless, Nobara had bought four disposable cameras— which he didn’t know were even still a thing— told everyone to wear their cutest, coziest outfit, and pretty much demanded they all go spend the afternoon at one of the more popular farms in town.  As with most plans, Megumi begrudgingly agreed.

Even under three layers— his coat, his sweater, and the long sleeved tee he wore underneath them both— the crisp air still pricked at his skin and left goosebumps in it’s wake.  It was hard to enjoy being out here when he was fighting the urge to shiver.

“It’s pretty cold for this, huh?” 

Megumi wipes away the resting bitch face he’d been making, opting instead for as much neutrality as he could muster.  He turns to (y/n), only to find her peering up at him from behind her little plastic camera.  His brows wrinkle.

“Don’t take a picture of me at that angle” 

He puts his hand over the lens and pushes it away before she could even think about snapping the photo, and she chuckles a bit at his boyish antics.  He almost cracks a smile when she’s peeking up at him with her cheeks tinged pink from the cold.  He squashes it before his lip could curl too far.

“Well what side do you prefer then?” She teases, shifting around to stand before him and raising her shitty little camera again.  “Full portrait? Or perhaps a side profile?”

Megumi rolls his eyes, but when he starts to walk away, she’s quick to follow.  He doesn’t dislike her company.

Nobara is off farther in the field, ordering Yuuji to pick up as many pumpkins as he can for the perfect picture.  It was only a matter of time before she came over and started barking at the two of them to make the perfect poses as well.

“So why do you hate pumpkin patches?” (y/n) breaks their silence, but when he turns to her again, she’s fixing her camera on a sparrow pecking away at a less than ripe pumpkin.

“I don’t hate pumpkin patches,” He replies, but even he has to admit the dryness in his voice makes it seem a bit unbelievable.  “It’s just…” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, but he’s quick to straighten his gaze when he finds her full attention on him now.  “Cold” He finishes, lamely, but it’s not untrue.

He fiddles with the plastic camera in his hands.

“Yeah,” (y/n) agrees from beside him.  “Would’ve been nice to do this a few weeks ago, when it was still sunny” 

Megumi nods back at her, unsure of what else to say.

He hoped that they weren’t doomed to only speak about the weather today.  However that meant he’d probably have to put the effort in to change the subject.  His palms began to sweat.

It was their day off, so he didn’t want to strike up a conversation about work, and preferably he’d like to avoid the subject of sorcery altogether.  So that narrowed down the options by a lot.

He knew that like him, she liked to read.  But she was more into the fantasy stuff, and the only book off the top of his head he could make conversation about was The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe and he was fairly certain that wasn’t currently on her shelf.

Was it always this hard or was he just overthinking it? 

“Wait, stay right there!” 

Before he can suck it up and ask how her most recent assignment went, (y/n’s) throwing her arms up at him to make him freeze in place.  Megumi startles at the sudden movement and holler, but he listens and stays put while she backs up a few steps.

“The sun is peeking out,” She explains, before steadying her camera in front of her face.  “The lighting is great” She says with a grin, and then without warning, she snaps the photo.

Megumi wants to complain, he didn’t even have time to smile or pose or anything.  When that picture got printed, he’d just be a guy standing there, probably with a resting bitch face.  Nobara wouldn’t be happy.

But (y/n’s) still grinning as she lowers the camera.

“Too bad we gotta wait so long to see ‘em,” She says as she heads back towards him.  “It’d be nice to—” 

“Stop moving” 

He’s more blunt than she is, already lifting his camera and peeking through the small lens.  (y/n) gets the hint and retraces her steps to fit properly in the frame.

“Better?” She asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder dramatically before posing with a bright smile.

Megumi snaps the photo without warning, although he’s sure that this one will turn out much better than the one she’d taken of him.  For one, she’s smiling, but he’s also certain that she’s much more photogenic than he is.

She’s at his side again as they wander around the patch, fiddling to fit the camera into the pocket of her coat.  It takes him a few minutes to find his courage again, but eventually Megumi clears his throat and tries to spark conversation.

“Gojo used to take a million pictures of me and Tsumiki” 

That seems to be exactly the right thing to say, because (y/n’s) entire demeanor lights up as she looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Really?” She laughs softly at the mental picture.  “Did he keep, like, photo albums and stuff?” 

“Oh yeah,” Megumi snorted, recalling the rows of photo books on the living room bookshelf when he was young.  “Dozens, at least.  It was like he couldn’t commit a thing to memory, always had to document everything” 

When he was young, it was obnoxious to always have a camera shoved in his face.  Now though, he wonders if the crazy bastard still had those albums.

“That’s sweet,” (y/n) muses, wandering off a bit to check out a display of gourds, all varying in shapes and colors.  “I bet there’s tons of embarrassing ones of you, too” She teases. 

Megumi doesn’t give her an answer, instead silently watching as she picks up a large green vegetable with a curly top.  She holds the long end in her hand, before turning to face Megumi with the plump end out, holding it like it was a very deformed gun.

He rolls his eyes at the joke, but just as she looks away, he snaps a photo.

(y/n) seems to not even notice, setting the gourd back on the display and turning back to Megumi to continue their conversation.

“Was he a scrapbook mom?”

He chuckles, and he wants to deny it, but he can’t.  Even if he tried he thinks she’d see through it with how he smiles with all of his teeth.  She’s laughing before he even explains.

“He made one scrapbook, ever,” He tells her.  “And you have to swear to never tell them this,” He adds quickly.  (y/n) doesn’t have to ask to know who he means, and she simply drags her thumb and forefinger over her lips as if to zip them up.  “It took him weeks.  I think the kitchen table was covered in all of his crafts for a solid month” 

“You’re kidding!” She laughs louder, loving the image of her mentor hunched over a table while he glued down photos and ribbon to pretty sheets of paper.

“I wish I was.  I think it’s why he only ever made one,” Megumi shrugged.  “But it’s… a lot.  Every sheet was three dimensional.  The spine of the scrapbook was stretched so wide the thing couldn’t even sit flat” 

He knows that all of the pictures in that book would be embarrassing now.  Gojo liked to document every first— first day of school, first science project, first A+, along with more ridiculous milestones, like when Megumi chopped all of his hair off in the fifth grade and looked ridiculous.  If he remembered correctly, Gojo glued that hair in the book too, as if it were his baby hairs.  That scrapbook really should be burned, but a part of him wishes he could show her now, just to prove how messy it really is.

“I’d do anything to get my hands on it,” (y/n) sighed, almost as if she could read his mind.  “My parents did some stuff like that, but they certainly weren’t obsessive” 

“Obsession is all he knows” Megumi mumbles, and he doesn’t mean to be funny, but she laughs, and it makes his chest feel warm.

“I still think it’s sweet,” She assures him, and then she stops in their slow and aimless walk, kneeling down to tie the shoelaces on her boot.  Megumi waits beside her.  He cared much more for her company than he did seeing the pumpkin patch.  “He probably just wanted to save lots of memories of you guys when you were little.  All parents say it goes by fast” 

She goes to tie the other boot, and Megumi can only stand there in soft surprise.  Sure, deep down he always considered Gojo his parent, because he simply just was.  But no one else referred to their relationship that way, the others always called him teacher or mentor.  But (y/n) must’ve understood that it was more than that.

He’s pulling his camera out again and stealing another quick picture while she was still focused on her shoes.

When she stands, he’s got the camera tucked back into his pocket and an innocent look on his face.

“Want to take a picture over there?” She asks, pointing to the tower of hay bales set up mostly for photos.  Originally it was for children to climb and play on, but it’s purpose was far more often served as a posing station.

Megumi simply nods, and follows her as she races over the tower.  It shouldn’t have surprised him when she started climbing the thing right away.  Surely Nobara had been over here earlier, striking a pose with one hand on her hip and the other on the stack of hay, but not (y/n), who was almost to the top.

“You’re not gonna fall, right?” Megumi asks unsurely as she’s grabbing at the highest bale.

“I’m a trained athlete!” She shrieks back, clearly offended.

“I’m more worried about you destroying the play area” Megumi retorted, his lip curling upwards against his will.  He can’t help but take a picture before she’s settled.  Her hair’s a mess and her limbs are everywhere as she tries to steady herself on the wobbling tower, but it’s a perfect picture nonetheless.

“This is great!” She shouts back at him, before stretching her hands above her head.  “Take my photo like this!” 

It’s silly, it’s childish, but Megumi’s laughing to himself as he snaps a couple.

Somehow she manages to climb down without toppling the entire thing, and they quickly make their way across the pumpkin patch before an employee could scold them for being grown adults playing on the children’s setup.

Megumi finds it easier to talk with her the longer they walk around, aimlessly eyeing pumpkins without committing to picking any out, taking photos here and there, but mostly they just wander around and talk.  Yuji and Nobara seem so wrapped up in the full on photoshoot they were having with each other that it could seem like they’d completely forgotten the other pair, but Megumi didn’t mind one bit.

Hang outs never turned out like this.  Nobara tended to cling to (y/n) like a lifeline.  She was always dragging her off to the next boutique on the strip or game in the arcade or exhibit at the museum— wherever they went, it seemed as soon as Megumi would get a minute of alone time with her, Nobara would steal her away.  It was deflating, but he couldn’t be mad, they were best friends after all.

Today was like a gloomy day miracle.  He almost felt spoiled having the last half hour with her all to himself.  All of her laughter and smiles were only for him.  It warmed up his chilled hands until soon, even the breeze wouldn’t make him shiver.

(y/n) didn’t appear to have the same effect, shaking like a leaf every time the wind picked up.  She always shrank into the collar of her coat and shoved her hands into her pockets, and after a few times, Megumi couldn’t stand to see her freezing.

“Let’s go inside for a bit,” He nodded his head towards the small shop.  (y/n) pouted back at him, before glancing around the pumpkin patch, clearly looking for their friends.  “They won’t be upset that we went inside because we’re cold,” Megumi chuckles to himself, before gently pushing his hand against the small of her back so that he’d follow her.  “I’ll text Itadori” He adds for good measure.

After a moment of hesitation she agreed and walked along with him, but just slow enough that he left his hand on her lower back.  Just because it was nice to be so close to him.

Stepping into the shop was an instant rush of fresh warm air, and she finally felt like she could stretch her fingers.  There was a small bakery inside with only a couple of tables, but without anyone else inside it was perfectly quaint to warm up in.

“I’m going to order a hot chocolate, do you want anything?”

The offer was sweet, but she’s already making her way to the counter, set on a mission as soon as the alluring smell of apples and cinnamon wafted past her nose.

“I could go for a coffee” Megumi hummed as he followed.

He’s ordering for the both of them as soon as a clerk arrives behind the counter, two drinks along with the enormous bear claw in the glass case that (y/n) hadn’t torn her eyes away from since stepping up to the counter.  She tries to fight him when he pulls out his wallet but he’s faster at tapping his card to the reader than she is at hitting him.

Even once they sit down with their drinks and the pastry that takes up most of the table space between them, she argues with him about the payment, and all he can do is shake his head— and maybe smile to himself just a little bit.  After realizing arguing is futile, she decides that as long as he eats some of the bear claw, she can forgive him.

And they continue to chat, about dumb things, about nothing, about everything.  Megumi learns all about the book series that she is reading, along with her plans for getting promoted faster, and that her dream pet is a sugar glider.

“That’s ridiculous,” He mumbles through a mouthful of almond paste and cinnamon.  “When would you ever have the time to take care of something like that?”

“That’s why it’s a dream pet, dummy,” (y/n) rolls her eyes at him.  “Doesn’t have to be realistic.  Don’t you have a dream pet?” 

“I kinda already have a lot of pets” 

“Oh, right,” She laughs to herself, and he thinks he can see a hint of a blush dusting over her cheeks.  Was she embarrassed? He wasn’t sure exactly.  But it was really cute.  “Well if there’s ever a sugar glider shikigami, please summon it for me” She tells him in all seriousness, and Megumi bites his tongue as he agrees to the condition immediately.

He pulls out his camera for the tenth time that day and rests his elbows on the table as he brings it to his face.  (y/n’s) eyes widen before she’s covering half her face with one hand.

“Are you taking a picture of me right now?” She hisses anxiously, before shaking her head at him.

“Duh” He mutters out as he tilts forward and back, trying to find just the right angle of lighting.

“I’m eating—” 

“So? Not like you have food on your face.  Hush.  Go back to eating or something” 

“I am not letting you take a picture of me while I eat” 

“Alright then just sit there then” 

She’s grabbing her paper cup of hot cocoa to use as a shield, but it’s too late.  Megumi clicks the button and she can hear the soft whirring coming from inside the camera.

The lens cuts to black and Megumi pulls the camera away, eyeing the little roll of numbers next to the lens.

“I’m out already,” He says, tossing it onto the table.  “Guess I win” 

(y/n) laughs to herself.

“I didn’t know this was a competition,” She takes a sip of her warm beverage before setting it back down.  “But I can’t believe you finished before me”

“How many do you have left?” 

Curiously, (y/n) pulls the camera out of her pocket and eyes the tape with the amount of film left.  She frowns as she looks back up at him.

“Just one,” She answers, and her frown tilts into a small, soft smile before she asks, “Do you want to take one together?” 

___

Greedily, Nobara snatches the stack of freshly printed photos out of Megumi’s hands.  (y/n) and Yuji are too busy sharing theirs with each other, and Nobara had been dying to know what photos Megumi and (y/n) had taken on their last outing.  By the time the group had met up and gone home, their cameras were already full, and she knew she hadn’t been the subject of a single one of them.

“I swear Fushiguro if these are all dumb pictures of pumpkins, I’ll—” 

But her threat falls short after sliding through the first three pictures.

The first was (y/n) on the path, just standing and smiling.  It wasn’t special, there wasn’t even a pumpkin in the background, but it was cute.

The second was a picture of her crouched down and tying her shoe.  Her face wasn’t even in the picture, her hair was hanging in front of it, but if you squinted you could barely make out the tip of her nose.

Then the third was another candid, where she was pretending to hold a gourd like a gun.

“What the—?” 

Nobara flips through to the next one in the stack, and yet again there’s a candid of her climbing up the side of a hay bale tower.  At least that one captured her smile.  She shouldn’t have been surprised to see the fifth one in the stack was also of (y/n), this time sitting on top of the haystack victoriously

“You’ve got to be kidding me, dude” 

“Okay give them back—!” Megumi tries to grab the stack of pictures from Nobara before she could keep being nosey, but she deflects fast, swiveling to turn away from him and keep skipping through the photos.

He shouldn’t have let her get her hands on them to begin with, but it was too late now.  If he caused too big of a scene, Yuji and (y/n) would notice.  He didn’t exactly want all of his pictures on display.

So Nobara kept flipping.

One was of her lifting up the tiniest of pumpkins— definitely the runt of the whole patch.  It fit in the palm of her hand but she seemed delighted by it.

The next few were just of her walking around, nothing too exciting in the frame.  Just the occasional pumpkin in the background.

There was a decent one taken from inside the shop.  (y/n) was still in the frame but her back was turned as she eyed the glass case of sweets.  Nobara could almost let Megumi off the hook for that one.  Almost.

And then the last photo was of her laughing, the blurry image of a paper cup waving in the space beside her face.  Her eyes are on the camera, so she must’ve known he was taking that picture, but judging by the surprise in her expression, it was easy to conclude she was trying to hide behind that cup.

Once she’d ogled every picture, Nobara finally turned back to Megumi.  Her brows twitched and furrowed, lips parted in shock, not a single word spoken as she handed the stack back to him.  It’s practically shoved towards him, but he doesn’t complain, just snatches them back as fast as he can.

He wants to find a way to quickly and discreetly ask her to keep this to herself, but before he can find the words, she’s gawking at him again.

“Every single one?” Nobara asks in a mutter.

“We hung out the whole time, okay? It's not like—” Megumi tries to defend himself, but it’s no use.  Nobara’s already speaking over him again.

“It’s almost pathetic, dude.  Just ask her out like a normal person” 

His brows almost raise to his hairline in shock.  Here he thought she was about to call him out for being a creep or something.  But no, her disgust only lied in his pathetic pining and lack of action.  Maybe he should have assumed that already.

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Nobara’s marching over to Yuji and demanding to see his photos as well.  Megumi’s left reeling from the whole interaction, the humiliation still lingering in his gut.

The feeling remains as (y/n) makes her way to him, her own fresh stack of photos in her hands.  There’s a nervous sort of smile on her face as she glances back at Yuji and Nobara, double checking that they were out of earshot.

“They took that pretty seriously, huh?” Her voice was still low, careful not to draw the attention of their rambunctious friends.  “Yuji takes great photos, don’t get me wrong.  But I think she should pay him for his time” 

There’s some relief in his chest when he cracks a smile, a small laugh coming out.  He could only imagine the quality of Nobara and Yuji’s photos, certainly prepped for instagram.

“I bet she still puts filters over all of them” He mutters back, and (y/n) stifles a giggle behind her hand, but nods her head in agreement.

“Can we leave now or what?” Nobara calls out, already dragging Yuji by the arm to leave the store.  “I want to get boba before home” 

“Boba sounds good,” (y/n) agrees softly.  “Let’s go” 

As the red head continued to drag her friend despite him arguing that he was an adult who could walk by himself, she turned and aggressively whispered something to him.  After her obvious threatening, she glances back at (y/n) and Megumi, which Yuji promptly follows her pointed glance.  Suddenly after that he was upright and speed walking along with her.

(y/n) and Megumi share a baffled look as their friends so blatantly ditch them, but they don’t exactly pick up the pace to follow.

“So, did you get good photos?” Megumi asks, tucking his own away in his pocket.  Foolishly, he hoped if they were out of sight she wouldn’t ask him about them.

“Oh,” (y/n) chuckles nervously, holding her stack of pictures in both hands.  She tilts them towards herself so he can’t see, and Megumi raises a brow at the secrecy.  “It’s kind of embarrassing, actually” She says sheepishly.

Her cheeks flood with color, and Megumi can’t help the curious grin that begins to stretch across his face.

“Embarrassing?” He repeats, sounding horrifically hopeful.  (y/n) sighs, and sticks her arm out, handing him the stack.  He’s quick to take them and start flipping through, eyeing her anxious demeanor in his peripheral vision.

“Yuji’s probably going to tell you anyway.  But… they’re sort of all..” 

His steps slow further after quickly sliding through the bunch of pictures.

The first was at the entrance of the pumpkin patch, with the cute sign with the family name painted on it, and just under it was him.  He wasn’t paying attention, and quite frankly he looked rather bored standing there.  She must’ve taken it while he was still pouting about having to go.

The next photo was of the sparrow poking at the rotted pumpkin, and he had to admit the way she captured it actually was sort of cute.

The third was the photo Megumi dreaded seeing.  He recognized it as soon as he saw himself standing on the thin path of dirt.  He grimaced as he looked closer to see just how bad it was.  But to his surprise, he wasn’t scowling like he thought he’d been.  He was actually smiling.  

Which was odd… he certainly didn’t remember smiling for that picture.  He clearly remembered being upset because he hadn’t tried to look nice for her picture at all.

He glances at (y/n) to gauge her reaction so far, but she was holding her expression at a neutral state, waiting for him to react first.

So Megumi goes back to the photos, and flips to the next one.  Which was… also him.  It wasn’t anything special, just him standing there, but he was smiling a little bit in that one, too.

When the following is also a candid of him with that dumb little smile, he glances over at (y/n) again, raising a brow at her in silent question.

She’s a tough one to crack, but the corner of her lips gives her away as she tries to bite back a smile.  His own smile is unable to be hidden as he flips through a few more photos.

And to his shock and delight, they’re all him.  Him while he was picking up that big pumpkin she dared him to, him while he was drinking his coffee and not paying attention, him just standing and doing nothing in particular, but for whatever reason, she’d used up all her film on capturing it.  

His favorite is the one of the both of them.  She’d given him the camera so he could stretch his arm out and snap the photo selfie style.  They’re sitting at the small table, two paper cups and the enormous bear claw between them, but pushed aside as (y/n) leans across the tabletop in order to better center herself.  She’s grinning from ear to ear, her chin set in one hand while the other holds up a peace sign.  Megumi’s smile isn’t as wide but nevertheless it’s genuine, and anyone looking at the picture would know.  It’s a great picture of the two of them, and he thinks it’s probably the first, too. 

Megumi hadn’t realized he’d gone through the whole stack till he flips to the next one and is met with the first photo, but once he does, (y/n’s) quick to reach out and take them back.  She doesn’t snatch them as aggressively as Nobara had, she handles them gently, careful not to leave an ugly smudge or crease.

Megumi watches with eager intrigue as she tucks the edges together neatly, making the stack smooth in her hands.

“Sorry if that’s creepy— is that creepy?” She turns to him suddenly, full of worry that she’d crossed a line, but Megumi just chuckles, and shakes his head at her.

“Not creepy” He muses, his soft smile remaining as he dips his hand into his pocket, retrieving his own small collection of photos.

He stares at them for an indecisive minute, clenching and unclenching his jaw, working up the courage to make the smallest of gestures.  When he does hold them out to her, he still doesn’t say a thing.  His throat is too dry and hot to even try.  He thinks it would be worse if his voice cracked right now.

(y/n) smiles as she tucks her pictures away in her purse with great care so that she could better look through the pictures he’d taken.  His face flushes with color when she finally takes them from him.  Even the small brush of the tips of her fingers against his has Megumi’s breath catching in his throat.

And he holds his breath as she eagerly slides through the stack of photos.  His throat is far too constricted now to show any sign of life.  He very well could pass out at any moment.  He just hopes she’d leave him there in a heap on the ground.

The relief of the exhale doesn’t come until she begins to giggle.  It’s soft at first, almost under her breath as she continues admiring his photos, but then it erupts into something brilliant and bubbly, as if it was coming out of her uncontrollably.  As lovely as the reaction was, it didn’t do much to ease Megumi’s nerves.  They began to sink their teeth into his heart and gut, and he knew that any minute now, his knees would give out.

When her laughter calms down and she finally looks up at him, the surprise is evident on his features when he sees her colored cheeks and nervous smile.  She hands the stack back to him, and Megumi’s quick to tuck them into his pocket, where maybe he they’d disappear forever, or at least just from the front of their minds.

“That’s pretty cute, huh?” She asks, an aftershock of quiet laughter shaking her shoulders and crinkling the corners of her eyes.  This time, Megumi can’t help the way he laughs with her, but he does duck his head bashfully.

(y/n) thinks it’s all the more cuter, how he resorts to his nervous habit of rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but directly at her.  She wonders if he even knows he’s doing it.  With a surge of confidence, she rocks on her feet.

“Wanna ditch our friends and get lunch or something?” 

He shrugs and nods, thinking anything would be better sustenance than the too-sugary drinks that Nobara had an addiction to.  But the implication of the question dawns on him too late, and suddenly his eyes are widening as he realizes what she really meant.

“You mean— like, a date?” 

It’s so damn cute the way his brows furrow and then raise ever so slightly, waiting without a single ounce of patience for her clarification.  (y/n’s) giggling again as she nods her head, putting him out of his misery.

“Yeah, like a date,” She repeats teasingly.

Megumi nods his head again, this time faster, as if there was a time limit to her offer and he was worried he’d already wasted too much of it.  Her smile brightens and there’s a small but noticeable skip in her step as they head off in a new direction together.

“Now maybe it won’t be so creepy when our friends see those pictures” She says, and Megumi can’t decipher if she’s messing with him or not.  The look he gives her barely hides his panic.

“They’re gonna see them?”

“What do you think they’re talking about right now?” (y/n) retorts, knowing for a fact that Yuji and Nobara were gossiping away about the pair’s photos that consisted only of each other.  

The thought makes Megumi’s face feel hot, and there’s no discretion in the way he tugs at his collar.  The idea makes him nervous, his stomach flipping excessively.  That said, he knew with the amount of gossip those two chatterboxes would generate, there was plenty of time to add a date to today’s agenda.

“They probably won’t even notice we’re gone”

(y/n) nods in agreement.

“They’ll be grateful to have the time for girl talk,” She teases.

With purpose, she steps closer to him so she could link her arm around his, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow and shyly smiling up at him.  Megumi returns the smile, his arm hooking a little further to keep her tucked next to him as close as he wanted.  It was another chilly day outside, but he could almost forget about it with the way her closeness sparked warmth in his chest that flooded throughout his whole body.  He hoped he’d get to do this for the rest of their day—

“So… where do we want to go?”

—and more days to come. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[janeyseymour]

Christmas Traditions

it's sad girl hours and this was not edited in the slightest but i hope it doesnt suck okay i will go back into my depression pile of blankets bye

Summary: Christmas and the holiday season comes with many traditions. Melissa indulges you, but she springs a few surprises out along the way.

WC: ~4.6k

Christmas and the holiday season has always been one of your favorite times of year. From the time you were a kid all the way up until now, you’ve leaned into every single Christmas tradition that you can find and figure out. It doesn’t matter that some traditions may be a bit different here in America as opposed to the ones that you have back in Ireland- they bring you joy all the same.

This is your fourth year celebrating Christmas in Philly, but it’s your first Christmas living with your girlfriend Melissa. It’s also your first Christmas without your parents flying across the Atlantic to come and be with you. You’re elated to celebrate with the redhead, but you can’t help but be brought down in spirits at the quiet reminders that your parents won’t be joining you. So instead of letting yourself drown in your sorrows, you fully throw yourself into Christmas festivities.

“My love,” Melissa chuckles as she watches the amount of decorations that you’re putting in the cart at Target on Black Friday. “Do we really need all of this stuff?”

“Of course we do!” you reply with a kiss to her cheek. “I still can’t believe that you don’t decorate unless I’m around!”

Your girlfriend goes to say how it just isn’t worth all of the effort, but who is she to ruin your good spirits? Instead of scoffing, she just chuckles and pats your shoulder. “I was just waiting for the girl who would make it all worth it.”

You beam at her words of affection.

By the time you’re finished stocking up on decorations for the house, you’re pushing a cart, and so is Melissa. You hand your card over sheepishly without even looking at the final amount that you owe- you don’t really want to know how much you just spent.

You can only guess that it’s a ridiculous amount of money seeing the way that your girlfriend’s emerald eyes widen as big as saucers, followed by her shaking her head as she pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Dear God,” the redhead mumbles. “My Christmas bonus better be good this year.”

When the two of you get back to the house and unload the car, Melissa begins to unravel some of the lights. You frantically reach for the bag and begin stuffing the string that she had undone back into the plastic.

“Hun, what?” your girlfriend looks to you.

“It’s tradition that we decorate on the December 8th!” you tell her with a giggle. “I may be in America now, but I do like to keep some of my Irish traditions.”

The redhead, used to having cameras to catch her incredulous looks, turns in search of one, but comes up empty. “What other traditions are there that I haven’t been privy too for the past three years?”

Your eyes twinkle as you explain the many traditions that you followed in your home country, some that she knows you follow, others that she has yet to experience with you. You tell her of the tradition of Midnight mass on Christmas Eve (which usually isn’t actually at Midnight), to which she tells you that’s a tradition for her too. You explain how Ireland loves their Christmas markets filled with merry and bright spirits. Melissa promises she’ll take you to Christmas Village in center city, and if you really want, she’ll venture to take you out to see the various light shows and markets around Philadelphia and the suburbs of Philly. You tell her how your brother used to make you do a Christmas Day Swim with him; you let her know that you will not be participating in that tradition here. You tell her of the boxes of biscuits and how it almost always started a fight in your family because nobody wanted that last cookie to finish off the layer and be able to start the new one. You speak of how your family back in Ireland always puts a ring of Holly on the door as you point to the bag that has the wreath in it. She’s especially excited to partake in your tradition of 12 pubs- and you tell her that you think you might want to do it with the Abbott crew since your family won’t be here to do it with you this year. 

For as much as your eyes were sparkling as you speak of the traditions that you hold back in Ireland, when you reach the one that perhaps means the most to you, a sadness creeps into your eyes.

“And the reason I bought all of those candles…” you trail off quietly. “It’s an old custom, and I- I know my mam has one in each window all year round. It’s to welcome strangers and to remember those who are far from home.” You sniffle quietly. “Mam keeps them there as a reminder that we are always welcome back home.”

Your girlfriend isn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she settles for just kissing you softly and wiping away the tear that slipped down your cheek.

You laugh just slightly bitterly. “God, this is supposed to be fun. I shouldn’t be sitting here crying.”

“It’s okay to miss your family,” your girlfriend reminds you. “That’s perfectly normal, especially around the holidays.”

“I think I’d rather just throw myself into celebrating and getting into the Christmas spirit here and at Abbott.”

And because you begin to throw yourself into the Christmas spirit to distract yourself from the blues, Melissa finds herself also participating in festivities that she usually wouldn’t do otherwise.

As soon as December hits, you have that silly little elf in your classroom and causing mayhem to entertain your students. When Melissa comes to pick her students up from your art class, her children are instantly asking why you have an elf but she doesn’t- why doesn’t Santa want them to be watched in her class? Your girlfriend sends you a huge glare; she hates that stupid elf tradition, and it will only cause her classroom to be destroyed every day with the mischief that the ‘elf’ will get into. Nevertheless, she promises her students that she knows Santa, and she’ll ask him to send one of his finest workers to her classroom.

You get a text from your lovely girlfriend mere minutes after she’s picked her students up from your class.

I hate you for this, you read.

You chuckle at your phone before typing out, No you don’t. You love me.

Just know that you’re in charge of my elf.

The next morning, her classroom has an elf, and her room has been decorated by ‘Buddy’. Her students are thrilled, and you can’t help but grin brightly when she tells you that her students love the decorations that you put up.

On December 8th, a Sunday, you wake up bright and early. Decorating is something that you have always absolutely adored doing.

“Babe!” you jump on your girlfriend with a grin that morning.

Melissa groans. “Y/N.”

“It’s December 8th! We have to start decorating!”

The redhead only responds by pulling you on top of her. She holds you tightly to her chest and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Five more minutes.”

“That’s five minutes of time we could spend decorating!” you tell her.

Melissa peels her eyes open and glances at the alarm clock. “Hun, it’s… eight in the morning.”

“And we’re usually up at 6:30 for school,” you tell her matter of factly. “We slept in an hour and a half longer than usual!”

Green eyes roll, but she does allow you to pull her to a sit. “Do you know how lucky you are that I love you?”

“I’m the luckiest girl alive!” you giggle as you kiss her nose. “How about this? I make breakfast and coffee while you wake up, and then we can start decorating?”

When you see the beginning of a head nod, you leap out of bed and practically sprint down to the kitchen.

“Woman has damn near lost her mind,” the second grade teacher grumbles as she pulls herself out of the warm bed and follows you downstairs.

You already have bacon in the pan and the coffee brewing by the time you feel Melissa’s arms wind around your waist. Breakfast is quiet, and then you’re practically bouncing in your seat with excitement to decorate.

“Alright, mi amore,” your girlfriend chuckles. “Let’s get decorating.”

By mid-afternoon, you have just about everything decorated. The banister is wrapped with green, the Christmas tree is up and adorned with lights, tinsel and ornaments with the star sitting atop it’s tip, her flat surfaces are covered in trinkets that make you think of winter and Christmas, the holly is hung on her door. The outside is strung with lights that you know will look stunning at night. Melissa can only chuckle along and indulge in your love of the holidays.

The last thing that you have to do is put up the candles in the windows- something that you don’t necessarily want to do because you know it will bring down your spirits, but it must be done. So with a glint of sadness in your eyes, you line each window in the house with a candle. You know that across the ocean, your mother and father have already decorated, and their candles are out too- a quiet promise that home is always waiting for you when you need it.

As you look at the candle sitting in the front window somewhat longingly, your girlfriend knows what she has to do- somehow, she has to get your parents over here for Christmas. Her arms snake around your shoulders, and she pulls you close to her.

“You did a nice job, mi amore,” Melissa tells you earnestly. “It looks great.”

You lean into her affections, a sad smile on your face. “Can we watch a Christmas movie?”

“You don’t want to go to Christmas Village?” 

“Not today,” you sigh softly. “I’m kind of tired from decorating.”

“Then a Christmas movie sounds great,” your girlfriend smiles as she kisses your cheek. “Go get comfortable.”

It only takes about ten minutes for you to change into your favorite pair of flannel pajama bottoms with the Grinch on them and for the redhead to get popcorn before the two of you are settled in on the couch.

It takes about thirty minutes of laying on the couch with your girlfriend’s fingers weaving through your hair gently for you to fall asleep. Your girlfriend glances at the clock. It’s not too late to call your parents and try to orchestrate getting them here to surprise you for Christmas. She video calls them.

“Hello?” your mother answers.

“Hey,” the redhead smiles into the phone. “It’s Melissa. Listen, I was thinking… you should come join us for Christmas this year.”

Your father furrows his brow. “Is Y/N okay? Where is my girl?”

Melissa pans the camera so your parents can see that you’re sound asleep on top of her. “She’s okay, just a bit down that the two of you aren’t here. We decorated today, and she set out the candle, and it kind of upset her.”

Your mother sighs softly. “My poor girl. We just don’t have the money to fly out this year.”

“What if I offered to pay for your flights, and you can stay with us?” Melissa bargains. “We can surprise her, and I think she’ll want the two of you to be here when I give her her Christmas present.”

Both of your parents brighten at that- they know what you’re getting for Christmas from the redhead. “You think we can pull off surprising her?”

“I think so,” the second grade teacher chuckles. “I doubt she would be onto us, as long as we aren’t too obvious.”

And so, by the time you wake up from your slumber, your parents have a flight to Philly and back for the day before Christmas Eve, a hotel room to stay in for that one night, and a flight back to Ireland after the new year- not that you have any inkling of what’s going to take place.

The next weekend, Melissa takes you out to Christmas Village in center city. You spend the day drinking spiked hot cocoa and hanging off of her. It’s sweet, it’s warm, it’s cozy- it always is as long as you’re with that wonderful girlfriend of yours. Your gloved hand is somehow always in hers, or her arm is wrapped around your waist. You find little trinkets that are all too expensive but purchase them anyway in the spirit of Christmas. It helps lift your spirits, but when you get home, you see those candles again. Your heart sinks just slightly, but you have to admit that you’re quite ready to curl up with your girlfriend in yet another pair of fuzzy pajama pants and watch another Christmas movie.

It feels like December simultaneously goes by like it’s nothing and also drags on as you wait for your favorite holiday. But finally, Winter break is upon you, and you find yourself getting ready to go out for 12 pubs night with the Abbott clan.

“Thank you for doing this for me.” You kiss Melissa’s cheek as the two of you put on ugly sweaters and cozy pajama bottoms to go out in.

“I know how much you love your traditions,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes playfully. “Just know that next year, there ain’t no damn way I’m putting on a ridiculous sweater again to go out.”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” you giggle, but you nod. “I meant thank you for letting the crew come here and stay over if needed after tonight.”

“Oh,” your girlfriend sighs out. “That. I’d rather them stay safe if we’re going to get as hammered as we did last year.”

You laugh at the reminder of what happened last year- you had barely made it home in one piece, your parents hanging off of you, more drunk than you think you had ever seen them.

It isn’t long before your work friends are at your house, dropping their things in various rooms that they’ll be staying in. Jacob grins when he’s allowed to go put his things in what used to be his room before you came into the picture.

As Mr. Johnson wanders in, he makes an offhanded comment about all of your apparel.

“Never thought I’d see the day badass Melissa Schemmenti would be in the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen,” Ava comments. She turns to you. “You got her wrapped around your little finger.”

“Whipped,” Mr. Johnson grins. “As the kids would say.” He then accompanies his words with a whipping motion and sound effect, much to the displeasure of your girlfriend. 

“So,” Janine bounces on her toes in excitement. “What are the rules?”

“Well,” you smile. “Everyone already did a great job with the first rule of wearing a Christmas jumper. But, we will be going to twelve bars tonight. Each bar has it’s own rule, and if you break a rule, you have to finish off your drink in one go. Additionally, every four bars, we have to drink a pint of water so nobody actually gets hurt doing this…” You shudder at the memory (or lack thereof) of a few Christmases ago. “Finally, we can only be at each bar for thirty minutes.”

“Oh hell yeah,” Mr. Johnson fist pumps. “I was made to win this game.”

“I’m just so glad to be immersing myself in other cultures,” the history teacher smiles.

“Try to keep up boy,” Ava rolls her eyes. “You’ll be on the floor by the fourth bar.”

Janine gives Gregory a nervous glance, but he just wraps am arm around her shoulder and squeezes gently, promising that he’ll cut her off when needed.

And Barb, who somehow managed to find a Christmas sweater with pirates on it, declares that Sea Barbara is coming out tonight. 

At the first bar, you aren’t allowed to use your dominant hand for anything. Jacob forgets quickly and has to down his beer. At the second bar, there is a no swearing rule. Ava’s first word is “fuck” when she sees her ex-boyfriend. She chooses to shotgun her seltzer. At the bar where you aren’t allowed to use nicknames, Melissa calls you “babe” and she calls Barbara “Barb”. With a roll of those striking green eyes, she finishes off her drink. At the bar where nobody is allowed to use their native language, you’re forced to finish off your beer when you give up on trying to perfect your American accent. Once you’ve ordered your waters, Janine declares that she thinks she’s finished drinking for the night- to which Gregory agrees. Jacob informs the group that he believes he maybe has one or two more bars in him, and then he may have to tap out.

Once all of the pints of water are finished, your group races off to the next destination- the one where if you get there last you’ll be forced to sing a Christmas song off the rest of the group’s choosing. Poor Mr. Johnson has to give a terrible performance of “Dominic the Donkey”, complete with the animal noises. Jacob taps out after beer comes out of his nose from laughing so hard. That leaves you, your girlfriend, Barbara, Gregory, Ava, and Mr. Johnson to continue on with this challenge. At the arm pub, Sea Barbara finally comes out, and your girlfriend has to convince her to keep her shoes on because of the near freezing temperatures. Melissa holds your beer, she holds Barb’s, Barb holds Gregory’s, he holds Ava’s (much to her surprise and happiness), and the principal gets tasked with holding Mr. Johnson’s. At the no toilet pub, you all unfortunately lose that challenge, and you’re out of that bar in less than the allotted thirty minutes. Gregory taps out after that one. The eighth bar, you’re all forced to compliment a stranger. You almost lose the fiery principal at this bar because when you look away for one second, her lips are locked with a man’s. Waters are downed quickly. And then you’re onto the final four bars.

You’re drunk, Melissa is getting to the point in her drunkenness where she just wants to hang off of you. Sea Barbara has taken to speaking in an accent- if only you had gone to the accent bar once she had already hit this point. Ava and Mr. Johnson both seem to be doing quite alright though. You’re beginning to wonder if they have been drinking for the last few bars.

At bar nine, you have to take a shot. That’s an easy in and out kind of bar. At the no phone bar, Ava immediately breaks the unspoken rule of no documenting this outing as she goes live on Instagram to show the charades that the five of you are all partaking in. You choose a terrible shot- one that if Ava or Mr. Johnson don’t take, you’ll know. It’s quite clear that they are indeed drinking when you see their faces, and Ava’s voice rings through loudly.

“What the fuck is this shit?” the principal screeches. “Why would you get this for us?”

Melissa just chuckles. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“What the hell you mean that wasn’t-”

Barbara taps out after that one when she begins gagging after the shot goes down. “That was awful.”

And so, at the eleventh and twelfth bar, it’s down to you, Melissa, Ava, and Mr. Johnson.

“Can I have a pint of Heineken please, Guinness?” the four of you ask. And as luck would have it, you’re all served Guinness. Yours is downed easily, having a taste for the Irish drink. Melissa makes a face once hers is gone. Ava once again takes a video of herself drinking the beverage. Mr. Johnson shrugs, and the liquid goes down in one swallow- how he’s able to do that, you don’t think you want to know.

“And on that note,” Melissa wipes the beer that dribbled down her chin with the hem of her sleeve. “I think I’m done.”

“No!” you protest. “You almost completed the challenge! We just have to get to the last bar!”

Your girlfriend stumbles down the road with you to the last bar.

“Everyone has to get a drink at the last bar,” you tell them with a drunken smile. “I’ll even allow you all to choose your own drink so there’s no gagging.”

By some Grace of God, nobody ends up hugging the porcelain that night. The next morning, however, nobody is thrilled to be awake. The eight of you all claim that you’re never drinking again.

“Until New Years!” Ava chimes in as she rubs at her temples.

It takes until about noon for your last guest to head out, and then it’s just you and your girlfriend laying on the couch attempting to revive yourselves from these killer hangovers.

“It was fun though,” you sigh softly.

Melissa groans. “I’m gettin’ to be too old for this shit.”

Christmas Eve finally comes and presents itself, and you find yourself in the midst of a chaotic as ever Schemmenti Christmas dinner. Seeing your girlfriend with your family reminds you of what you’re missing out on this year, and you have to excuse yourself for a few minutes to shed a few tears. Of course, your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead of the family.

“Mi amore?” you hear your girlfriend before you see her.

You quickly wipe at the tears threatening too escape your eyes. “I’m fine. Just missing my mam and dad right now a little more than I expected to.” Your eyes wander to the candle that’s sitting in the window above your bed.

“You’re allowed to miss them,” Melissa tells you softly as she sits on the bed next to you.

“I know,” you mumble as you lean into her. “I just didn’t think it would hit me this hard. I miss Ireland.”

“Just a few more months, and we’ll be in Dublin for Spring break with your parents,” your girlfriend offers quietly as she kisses your temple. She doesn’t reveal that you’ll be reunited with your parents tonight at Mass once your guests leave.

You hum, wipe your tears, take a steadying breath, and stand. “Alright. I’m good. Let’s get back down there.”

It’s a bit later that you’re cleaning up after the Schemmentis leave for the night. Mass starts at ten, so you have a bit of time to clean up and freshen yourself up before you have to head to your parish. 

The two of you exit the car and walk to the church hand in hand. You’re seated in your pew and chatting quietly with each other when you feel someone tap your shoulder.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a voice asks- a voice that you know so well but aren’t expecting to hear.

In an instant, you’re whipping around to look at the person beside you, and there are your parents in the flesh. Your arms are wrapped around them tightly and happy tears flow as you truly grapple with the fact that they’re here in Philly with you for Christmas.

This year is the first and probably only year that you end up missing Christmas Eve mass.

“How- how are you here?” you ask as you practically skip down the street back to your car. “I thought you couldn’t make it work!”

“That girlfriend of yours really loves you,” your father chuckles. “Got us tickets to and from Dublin.”

You practically jump on your girlfriend, kissing her fiercely. “I can’t believe you did this for me!”

Melissa just shrugs with a laugh as she kisses you back gently. “I know what my girl wants.”

It’s a nice and warm Christmas Eve, the four of you drinking beers and catching up on life before you feel your eyes beginning to grow tired. As much as you want to keep your eyes open, you find them drifting as you continue to try to keep up with the conversation.

“Just like you’ve always been,” your mother tells you with soft eyes. “I think it’s time you head up to bed, love.”

With a quiet sigh, you heave yourself up from the couch and make your way into the kitchen. You grab a plate and set a few cookies out on it before reaching for the Heineken that you had bought a bit earlier in the day. You set it on the coffee table with a smile before making your way over to your mother and hugging her tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whisper as you kiss her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

You reach for your father. “In case Santa wants a treat,” you tell him cheekily as you press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you guys. Goodnight.”

You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Come Christmas morning, you’re up bright and early with a smile on your face. You practically dance your way down the steps, and you squeal with childlike delight at the half eaten stack of cookies and finished off beer. Melissa can only chuckle at your antics.

The two of you exchange presents quietly as you wait for your parents to wake up. It’s wonderful.

When your mom and dad (finally) make their way down the steps, breakfast is served. Melissa really outdoes herself today. The meal is light and warm, and filled with cheerful conversation. And then the four of you make your way back into the living room, and you settle in your seat by the Christmas tree.

“So, I actually have one more present for you,” your girlfriend tells you.

You raise a brow. “Mel, I thought we said only two gifts each.”

“Well, I think this one is the exception,” she tells you softly.

You don’t notice that your mother had strategically set up her phone to record what is about to take place.

“Okay?” you lean forward with excitement. The redhead hands you the small box wrapped in beautiful gold paper and lined with red ribbon. 

By design, it takes you a few second to get the wrapping paper off of of the box and open it. In that time, your girlfriend subtly slips herself off of the couch, pulls the ring box out of her sweatshirt pocket, and is on one knee.

There’s an ornament in the box, and it has the inscription, “Our first Christmas engaged”.

“What?” you whisper to yourself as you thumb over the beautiful script. “Melissa.” And when you turn to face her on the couch, you don’t see her green eyes like you expect to. You lower your eyesight, and there is the second grade teacher down on her knee.

“Marry me?” she asks simply.

You just stare at her, eyes wide, with your hands clapped over your mouth. You can’t believe that she’s asking you to marry her.

“Say something!” your dad implores you to answer.

“Yes!” You tackle her on the floor in a hug, and your now fiancee can only laugh as she attempts to slip the ring on your finger.

It’s only a few hours later that your parents are asleep on the couch, and you’re laying on top of Melissa by the Christmas tree, admiring the rock that now sits on your finger perfectly.

“Good Christmas?” she asks you softly.

You nod and lean up to kiss her. “The best.”

TAGS:  (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits

[randomshyperson]

Shameless - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The book club forces Wanda to go to a bookstore in downtown Westview, where she meets you. Or the one where Wanda tries a new hobby and finds a reason to end her marriage.

Warnings: (+16), some dirty implications but nothing explicit, mentions of make-out, no cheating (but intent), strangers to lovers, milf-horny wanda, compulsory heterosexuality and mentions of homophobia, an attempt at the 80s scene, some angst but a happy ending. | Words: 7.525k

A/N-> I don’t know where this came from.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

The book club had been Agatha's idea.

A harmless little pastime is how she would describe it during the weekly community meeting. Some short and simple speech about how modern housewives needed distractions while their husbands were at work and the kids were at school, anything that would please the ears of the preacher and the town council enough for the men to ignore the remnants of card games or bottles of alcohol that appeared whenever Agatha organized any “ladies' meetings” - as she liked to describe it.

Wanda and almost all the other women were happy to participate - and that is, almost all of them since Dorothy had not joined anything Agatha was involved in for two years now, ever since the blonde refused to visit the nightclub that was inaugurated downtown, commenting that it was not a suitable place for family ladies, and in Wanda's opinion, missing out on one of the most fun evenings she had ever had.

This time, Agatha's new invention was weekly meetings of a book club, which for the older woman, was the perfect excuse to get away from her husband Ralph and his strong odor of cheap beer and their grumpy son who apparently didn't know how to take glasses to the sink. Two hours a week to stay off chores and focus on her friends, and as a bonus, to read and discuss the literature she would have had access to if higher education was something women were encouraged to earn.

Wanda was one of the few in the quiet Westview who had a degree - It had been a shared dream of her and her mother Natalya, who wished to see both her children off to college and it was a fortunate thing that it happened before her sad passing. The most unfair thing about that was that despite her mother's wishes for Wanda’s independence, once Natalya was gone, all that Erik did was encourage her to leave college and look for a husband, the last of which Wanda eventually gave in to in her senior year. Jarvis Vision Stark was a couple of years older than her and was completing his degree in Engineering, and to almost everyone in her class, that had to be true love. He was a good-looking young man, with a good family and education, and he seemed so in love with her. With that in mind, Wanda tried to love Vision with the same intensity that he said he did, but with the passing of the years, and the arrival of the children, the fantasy dissolved into a boring routine and conformism.

Despite those issues, her twins, Billy and Tommy, were her most precious treasure. And they were also the only thing keeping her marriage on track, Wanda dared to think.

Getting a divorce, in the traditional Christian-Jewish community of Westview, would be a scandal under any circumstances. Sometimes, when she ventured to imagine being someone with this kind of courage, Wanda could only imagine the look of disappointment on her father's face when he heard the news, and the thought was soon shoved away like dirty clothes in the washing machine.

At least Wanda had Agatha. Her long-time, trusting friend, with whom she could share torments like this, and complain about slack-jawed, obstinate husbands.

And there was also now the book club.

Westview only had one library close to home, and well, Agatha had been clear in her instructions. No cheap or religious literature, she warned with a cigarette between her lips, gesturing with one hand when one of the girls asked about what the first meeting would be like. 

"Bring something interesting." Agatha suddenly gave a little smile, the same kind when she managed to bring a bottle of liquor hidden away for the Saturday church service. "Scandalous, if you dare."

They all sighed in surprise, complicit for the whole thing. Some began to whisper among themselves, but Wanda knew what she would have to do. There was nothing of the sort in Westview, so she would have to leave the residential neighborhood.

She woke up on Tuesday, dropped the kids off at school, and made breakfast. for Vision, who didn't even bother to say thank you, not happy to hear that Wanda was going out, but courteous enough to offer her a ride, which she declined almost immediately. She had the distinct impression that it was a way of being monitored, and she couldn't bear to deal with it when she was already so nervous. 

Taking the bus downtown, she went straight to the new commercial village of Westview. She caught a glimpse of some neighbors, who worked in the local shops but didn't say hello to any of them.

She walked until she found a bookstore, a small, old building with carts full of books at the door and advertisements that, although scattered and colorful, were easy to understand. It was a very cozy place, which made Wanda smile for a quick fantasy about having tried to work with books after her graduation if she hadn't been pregnant at the time.

A bell rang when she entered, but no one greeted her for the first few minutes she was inside. It gave her just enough time to go to one of the nearest bookshelves and run her fingers through the rows of books, a smile playing on her lips.

"Didn't you hear the door, Pchelka (little bee)?" A voice caught her attention, and Wanda turned, trying to see between the shelves. At a glance, short, red hair attracted her eye, and she blinked to find the face of a very pretty woman offering her a gentle smile. "One minute, sweetheart. We'll be right with you."

Wanda opened her mouth to say she wasn't in a hurry, sympathetic to the number of books the redhead was carrying, but in the next second, the woman disappeared between the columns and she didn’t have a chance to say anything at all. 

The bookstore remained empty and silent for another half minute, but once Wanda made mention of turning her attention back to the books behind her, a ladder opened from the ceiling, and out of it jumped a figure in an apron, and out of instinct, Wanda hopped away. 

"So sorry for the scare, Miss." You apologized with a soft chuckle at the scene, closing the attic in a single motion and running your hands through your hair and shoulders in an effort to blow off some of the dust. "We are reviewing the inventory. How can I be of assistance?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the image of your gentle and playful smile. She felt so foolish.  In all her 32 years, when was the last time she had been tongue-tied, if ever? 

You raised one of your eyebrows, and repeated the question, bringing a new color to her cheeks. Wanda broke into a clumsy giggle at the same second.

"Sorry, you caught me by surprise." She managed to cover it up, adjusting a lock of her hair and then moving her hands to smooth her clothes, suddenly unsure what to do with herself. "I’m…looking for a book."

You cracked another smile, finding the scene quite amusing. This older, breathtaking woman, all shy and adorable around you. "Well, we have lots of those." You teased, and Wanda felt her stomach do a complete turn at the sound of your raspy giggle. Maybe she was getting sick. Yeah, that would explain her body’s out-of-control reactions.   "What are you looking for, or perhaps a name...?"

"Wanda." She interrupts, and you frown in confusion. Taking a deep breath, she holds out her hand. "I am Wanda Maximoff."

Despite the strangeness of the moment and the fact that she didn't understand that you wanted the name of the book and not hers, you smiled warmly and repeated the gesture. Wanda has never hated work gloves as she does now, a curiosity burning to know what your skin would feel like on hers, the thought bringing such a strong color to her ears that she needs to look away immediately, barely catching the name that you mention next.

She clears her throat, and adds: "I'm actually joining a book club and the only guidance we had was to bring something interesting." And she risks looking you in the eye to add. "Scandalous."

You find it funny, even adorable if you could put it that way. Maybe it's because of the color of her face when she says it. Or maybe it's because these college students - Wanda judges you to be one for your apparent age - are more modern than she would have been and don't bother with this sort of subject.

"Hm, I think I can help with that." You retort with a thoughtful expression, beckoning for Wanda to follow you deeper into the store and she does so only after taking a deep breath.

The columns of poetry make her bite her lip in curiosity, some of the names Wanda recognizes from her own years as a student, but it is only when you are in the last aisle with the little gold plaque labeled "Sapphic Literature" that Wanda thinks she has stopped breathing.

You do everything very calmly. Climbing up one of the stairs, and taking some time to read the titles, you take a small book from one of the higher shelves and walk back to Wanda, whose face is almost Natasha's hair color now.

With a smile, you hold out the book, but don't let go, holding the item as she does. 

"There's nothing more scandalous than this for a small town like Westview." You say. "But if it's too much, Miss Maximoff, I can always suggest something different. You know, like stuff about the first war or Russian philosophy..."

"N-no, this is fine." She interrupts you, grabbing the book strongly and pulling it close to her chest. You don't know if she's trying to hide it or keep it from fleeing, but it makes you chuckle. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." You reply, studying that face for a moment. Wanda swallows dry but holds your gaze. You clear your throat as soon as you realize you're staring. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She almost sighs, her knees going weak at just the line her thoughts take. Shaking her head, she offers you a small smile. "No, that will be all." She says and practically runs off to the edge of the store, back to the cashier.

The redheaded woman is taking care of the payment now, and Wanda doesn't notice the look you exchange with her because she's too busy sensing your presence coming behind her.

"Excuse me, Miss Maximoff, let me wrap this up for you." Your whisper near her ear makes her shudder from head to toe, and it is fortunate that you grab the book from her as Wanda is sure she would have dropped it on the floor.

You walking away is the only reason Wanda's legs stop shaking.

"Good choice, ma'am." Commented the attendant as soon as you put the book on the counter to be scanned. Wanda noticed the small badge spelled out in silver letters "Natasha" stuck to her apron. "We are also fond of sapphic literature around here." She added with a complicit smile.  Wanda didn't understand why it seemed like a code for something, she was too distracted by the movements of your hands storing the book in a pretty bag. She remembers forcing a smile, paying with trembling fingers and practically running out of the bookstore, feeling your gaze burning into her back.

The bell made another noise on the way out, and with the bookstore empty, Natasha's laughter filled the air.

"How do you always find our people?" Questioned the other impressed, but you laughed short, shrugging.

"I won't deny that I have this ability, but in this case, how can you say? You saw her for like, three seconds."

Natasha shook her head, checking the cashier. "Oh, please, she was eye-fucking you this whole three seconds.” Declared the redhead, ignoring your protest at her choice of words. "Besides, it's kind of obvious by her not freaking out over sapphic poetry, isn't it?"

You sigh, somewhat disbelieving. "I don't know, people are more friendly nowadays." You try, but Natasha gestures away as if she doesn't agree.

"Your problem is that you're too naive, Parker." Retorted the redhead with an amused expression. "Women like me, experienced not old, are not so friendly. We come from different times, different generations. You couldn't go around reading gay literature anywhere, hardly found any to be fair. If she wasn't like us, she would have caused a scene at the mere suggestion."

"Alright, Romanoff, I believe you." You grumbled begrudgingly while grabbing one of the last boxes to be checked off the desk. "But that doesn't mean she was interested in me." You stated, but Nat snorted incredulously.

"I bet you five bucks she'll be back next week!" Retorted the redhead, but you only chuckled, letting her increase the bet as the distance grew.

-&-

A tense silence grew with every second in the crowded room. 

Wanda sat there, almost not breathing until she finally realized what she had just done. Read. The room began to spin next. She gripped the pages hard enough to wreck the book in her lap, but just as panic was about to overwhelm her, someone sighed loudly.

"Well, that was definitely scandalous." It was Monica, and the good humor of the comment made the room explode into little giggles.

The girls began commenting among themselves excitedly in the same second, some still somewhat hesitant and embarrassed, but definitely thrilled about the whole thing. Wanda felt a gentle hand on the back of her back, through the exposed part of the plastic chair.

"Just breathe, Wanda, everything's fine." It was Agatha, who was still sitting next to her. Who didn't hate her for reading a passage from Emily Dickinson in the middle of the book club, who was still her best friend. Wanda only managed to mumble a weak, whiny yes, and Agatha looked at her with concern before announcing to the entire room that they would take a break before the next reading. Wanda doesn't remember getting up, but she didn't breathe normally again until on the outside balcony of the Harkness Residence. "Here, honey."

The glass of water helped, and Wanda had just returned it to Agatha when the window door opened again. It was Monica, with an almost proud smile, who spoke only after sliding the glass door closed again.

"I have to say, Wanda, you have guts." Her friend joked, and Wanda grimaced.

"What...?"

"I didn't know there were more of us in Westview, Aggie. You could have told me." Monica complained to the older woman, giving Agatha's arm a gentle pat. But the woman just smiled awkwardly, looking at Wanda as if she were seeing her for the first time.

"She never mentioned it, I'm afraid." Agatha commented, and Wanda felt like she might throw up at any moment. "Hey, breathe honey. It's okay, all right? You're safe with us."

But Wanda put a hand over her chest, feeling it tighten. "My god, what I just did... They will tell my husband... my father will hear about it-"

"Hey, Wanda, here. Focus on me, darling, breathe." Agatha grabbed her hands, trying to help her control the panic and tears that began to roll down her face. "Honey, it was just a poem. Nothing is going to happen, okay, you just brought what I asked for, and none of them minded. Nothing has changed, now breathe. You're safe, Wanda."

“Of course, I would ruin the book club.” was the first thought she had hours later when she woke up before the time to pick the boys up from soccer. She didn't have to do it though - Agatha left a little note saying that she had taken care of everything and wished her rest. 

Monica drove her home so that Agatha could close the meeting without raising any more suspicions about Maximoff's state, who had had a panic attack because of a poem read aloud. If the other neighbors knew, it would create chatter, and Wanda simply couldn't handle that.

Monica left her safe and sound in her house, wrapped in blankets, and didn't mind staying until Wanda cried herself to sleep. And Wanda woke up alone, feeling worse than before as if a very embarrassing secret had been revealed to the world and was mocking her outside the bedroom walls.

But her children were back in no time, and as they rushed to the shower, she went to thank a very concerned Agatha Harkness.

"Are you feeling better, sweetheart?" Asked her friend gently holding her arm. Wanda didn't meet her eyes, nodding.

"Thank you for dropping the boys off." Murmured her quietly, swallowing before adding. "And for earlier. I didn't mean to bring any trouble."

Agatha gripped her with more determination. "Listen here, Wanda, it was no trouble at all, okay?" Assured the woman, who although in a serious tone, still had very gentle eyes. "You are my best friend, Wanda Maximoff. Nothing will ever change the care and love I feel for you. When you're ready to talk about today, about this part of you, I'll be here. And Monica too. You are not alone, honey. You never have been." There was a different complicity in the last sentence, but Wanda only sighed in relief, nodding and finally relaxing when Agatha hugged her.

She thanked her again between silent tears and Agatha only left when she was sure Wanda believed her words.

-&-

It took Wanda three weeks to return to the store. Not that you were counting, or thinking every day about the middle-aged woman who had a gay panic attack with your poor attempt at service. Not that Natasha didn't shut up about it.

And as luck would have it, you were alone in the store because your boss, who you also called a friend, was out picking up some orders and her sister at the University of New York, and well, it had been a slow day until the doorbell rang in the early afternoon and it was Wanda.

"You again." That was the first you managed to say, almost sighing and hating how affected it sounded. Luckily, Wanda seemed equally happy and relieved to see you again.

"Hello." She greeted, repeating last week's gesture of adjusting a lock of her hair. She looked different from before, more elegant, with a dark jeans jacket expensive enough to have come out of a magazine, and a dress underneath that made you swallow dry. 

You had no idea how long she spent in front of the mirror trying to choose the right outfit with two neighbors weighing her choices.

Trying to play it cool and sound as casual as possible, you add:  "Wanda Maximoff from the book club, right? Did they like the poems?"

She hesitated in a nervous smile, looking around as if to check if there were no other customers and satisfied with the distant presence of a boy in the Vinyl's Discs area and a lady further down the hall, as she practically whispered, "You were right. It was scandalous enough for Westview." She teased, managing to get a short laugh out of you that made her stomach do flips and her cheeks turn a rosy hue. It was decided, she wanted to hear the sound again and would do anything to be the one to make you laugh.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." You retort with a little smile. "I hope you enjoyed the book too, though." Your addiction makes Wanda's heart skip a beat. So you cared if she was the person who enjoyed the reading, it wasn't all about a professional suggestion on how to make an impact on the book club as she presumed. Well, Agatha was right. 

Risking, probably everything, Wanda commented: "Oh, I definitely loved the reading. I had a good time imagining the scenarios she described." Despite the confidence in saying it, she was blushing, and the way she spoke as if a secret between the two of you and with your knowledge of how erotic Emily Dickinson's stories were, was the reason you knock over half the stack of books you were trying to organize onto the floor.

The noise attracted the attention of the other customers, but you forced a smile and gestured that everything was fine before you ducked down, quickly beginning to pick everything up while Wanda looked at you with a certain amusement, as if she had just confirmed a theory.

"Sorry. You caught me off guard." You mutter in embarrassment, and Wanda chuckles, ducking down as well. She helps you with the last of the fallen books, and in the gesture of returning them, your hands rub together and the whole world stops for a second.  Just long enough for you to look at her, and then to step away at once, clearing your throat. Wanda does the same, and before you have a chance to say anything, the record customer interrupts you.

It has to be the most annoying sale you've ever made. He stalls you for long minutes, and all you can do is watch out of the corner of your eye as Wanda slips further into the back of the bookstore, and you lose sight of her. To make matters worse, when the man finally leaves, familiar vehicle parks in the back of the store, and less than five minutes later, two figures with heavy boxes appear.

Yelena has gotten a haircut, and you have a moment of shock to deal with that. The next, she is making a terrible impression on the other customer in the store, the cookbook lady, who immediately grimaces as soon as your friend practically jumps on you. Whether it's the display of affection or Yelena's tattoos and rebellious posture, the woman leaves the store muttering lowly. 

You pay no attention to this, grinning as you match Yelena's hug before she lets go of you.

"сука, next time you lock up the semester, at least stop at the dorm to smoke with us!" Complained your friend as she leaned on the counter where she had left her magazine supply box. Natasha dropped hers with a tired grunt, and once the books were secured, she gave a warning slap on the feet that Yelena threatened to put on a shelf. 

"There won't be a next time." Natasha answers for you. "She's giving up for good."

Yelena lets out an exclamation, but you grimace. "That hasn't been decided, Romanoff." You defend yourself. "I just needed more time. I think I'll just switch vocations. Again."

Natasha giggled, but Yelena patted you on the shoulder. "Hey, don't look so down. I also think about quitting Fashion every week, and every week I remind myself that no one is as talented as Yelena Belova and the world must not be deprived of my masterpieces." The comment makes you and Natasha laugh and roll your eyes. 

The redhead pushes her sister by the shoulders away from the counter. "You said you came here to work, not get in Parker's way. Find something to do-"

"Oh, sure, I'll get us some coffee." Yelena interrupts, letting go of her sister's hands. She points a finger at you. "Cappucino or-"

"Sorry." Wanda's interruption makes the three of you look at her at once. She is intimidated, but only for a split second. Forcing a smile, she raises the book she holds at face height. "I was hoping to take this one."

You take an awkward step forward, and it is enough for Yelena to acquire an expression as if she just has won the lottery. Busy taking care of Wanda's purchase, you don't even notice the sisters' exchange of glances.

As you wrap up the book, you try to disguise the trembling in your hands. 

"I couldn't really thank you for the recommendation." Wanda speaks suddenly. You smile awkwardly, holding out the bag with the book on the counter.

"It was no trouble at all, Wanda." But she extends her hand over yours, and your heart stops.

"I really appreciated it, sweetheart." That's what Wanda says, stroking your skin with her thumb. "We have meetings every week, and maybe, you could join us in the next…"

You opened your mouth like a fish, babbling like a fool and completely in shock at the invitation of the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life. “I-I…”

"Would love to, of course." Yelena elbowed you so hard that you pulled your hand away from Wanda’s to massage the spot. She offered her worst-intention smile to Wanda, the kind she only used at college parties when she wanted guys who would never have a chance with her to buy her drinks. "She's a first-rate nerd, she'll love it, ma'am. I’m Yelena, by the way. My sister, Natasha, is the owner here. And since we’re talking about hanging out, did you know that we do friends' reunions around here? You're more than welcome to join us."

Wanda adjusts awkwardly, a little surprised. "Oh, what kind of reunion?"

Yelena sighs thoughtfully, shrugging. "Well, I don't want to call it a college party, because even though we're all college students, it's not done on NYU grounds and is reserved for fewer people and the drinking is much better..."

Chuckling short, and adjusting the bag on her wrist, Wanda denies it with her head. "It's a kind invitation, but I think I'm too old for such things."

"What nonsense!" Yelena retorts gesturing indignantly. “ "With all due respect, such a beautiful woman will completely enhance the party. And well, my sister always attends with her friends, and you must be the same age..." You bite the inside of your cheek hard, you love your friend but she is charming and beautiful and is clearly flirting with Wanda to annoy you. Wanda blushes, and Yelena knows she's won this one. Emerald eyes search yours, and you find that the one who might have won is actually you.

"Will you be there?" She asks, and having trouble hiding a smile, you nod. With a sigh, Wanda looks at the expectant blonde beside you. "I think I could show up for a little bit-"

"That's fantastic!" Yelena gets excited, not even waiting for Wanda to confirm before she ducks down on the counter and finds one of the invitations to these parties that Natasha hides near the cashier. 

You barely had a chance to say goodbye to Wanda, with Yelena and her party directions, but at least you had confirmation that the woman would be there for the last weekend of the month, the typical date when those meetings were organized. And the realization had you sliding to the floor behind the counter with one hand on your chest.

"My god I think I'm having an anxiety attack-"

"No, that's a gay outburst triggered by a hot milf." Yelena cut in with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms as she approached you again. "You gonna have to put it together, 'cause we need to pick out what you're going to wear next week, on your hot date with her.”

You're as red as a tomato. "It's not a date! It's a book club!"

Natasha - who hadn't said anything about the interaction until now - burst out laughing, and teased "Hm, that's what young people are calling it these days."

"You two are terrible." You complained embarrassed, shaking your head in disbelief at the giggling sisters. "We don't even know if she's interested."

Natasha chuckled. "Of course she is. Sapphic poetry the first week, and now she comes back just to stroke your hand. Yes, Parker, everyone saw that. If that's not interest, I don't know what else to call it."

Sighing in defeat at the sisters' complicit gaze, you stood up again. "Let me get back to work." You grumbled, but still, Yelena followed you with thousands of ideas about what you could wear.

-&-

Book club sessions allow you to get to know Wanda better. And inevitably fall in love with her as you never had with anyone else, at least not at that intensity.

Unfortunately, a meeting full of middle-aged women with a certain willingness to gossip about any subject, especially the unusual friendship of the young college student from downtown with one of the most respectable ladies in the neighborhood put practically a watch on your back. All your moments with Wanda, stolen touches and long glances between snacks and reading verses for the next few weeks came burdened with the worry, especially for her, that the rest of the world could see all too well what was going on between you two. 

And there was also the great frustration that in fact, nothing was actually happening. Aside from the undeniable attraction and warm affection you developed for each other, you were just book club buddies. You couldn't even call Wanda a friend, in fact, you wouldn't want to. All you knew about her family was Agatha or Monica telling you, the other was limited to any other subject but this one. 

Pretending not to know or just accepting that Wanda had a life beyond the safety of your afternoons together hurt all the same.

Your only hope of progress for what was happening came at the end of the month, with the arrival of the reunion date between your friends. It was the most intimate event Wanda could attend and you had a feeling there would be no going back for whatever might happen that night.

The Thunderbolts was what the group of friends you and Yelena were part of called themselves since the beginning of college. And unlike Peter and Kate, or even the freshmen, America and Kamala, who were all set on what profession they would follow after graduation, you had already dropped three courses in total. Starting out in medical school as your parents would have liked, switching to applied biology with Peter until you tried computer science with America, you finally dropped out to work with books with Natasha. It was the closest thing to happiness, even if it meant lousy pay. 

But ignoring this, what was certain about you and the Thunderbolts was that you guys knew how to throw a decent party. 

The loud music didn't escape much from the top floor of the store because two years ago Natasha had gotten glassware with sound isolation for the rehearsals of the Red Skulls - her ex-girlfriend Carol Danvers' rock band - that kept neighbors from calling the police.

The drinking was taken care of by Natasha's friends, and well, it was always good stuff. There was also plenty of food and lots of weed, grown naturally in T'Challa's private greenhouses.

It was a college party, there was no denying it, but still, you went up to the roof, waiting for a woman twice your age who had a wedding ring mark on her finger.

Wanda almost didn't show up, and when she did, she was accompanied by a very beautiful woman. 

Natasha also had a thing for older women and was half drunk, a dangerous combination. Since Wanda was your flirt, the Romanoff wasted no time in approaching the other one, who introduced herself as Agatha Harkness and was more than happy to accompany the redhead on her tour of the studio apartment that made up the second and third floors of the bookstore.

You were trying to remain calm and mannerly around Wanda, but it was almost impossible not to become a mess when she was absurdly gorgeous in her half-open social shirt, smelling fucking good from yards away. 

As the night wore on and you both struggled to stay included in conversations with other people you knew - from Steve and his military school stories to Kate and her hilarious jokes - you began to wonder whether you were getting drunk on beer or on Wanda's perfume in your senses.

Fleeing back to the roof in the hopes of getting some air, you were about to consider leaving the party when Wanda found you again.

"I lost you for a second down there." She commented as she approached, hugging her body to the cold night around you. Your natural instinct would be to take off your jacket, but it suddenly seemed too intimate.

"Now you've found me." You returned with a small smile, glancing at her when she got close enough, only to find that she was already looking at you.

Swallowing dryly, you grew shy about her intense gaze and shifted to the hands she was smoothing on the ledge beside you. Wanda just stood there, close enough to touch until she leaned in a little to whisper.

"Did I do something to upset you? You're hiding from me."

Closing your eyes for a moment, you sighed before risking a look at her. "Agatha told me about your marriage." You state sincerely, and Wanda swallows dryly. "I'm not stupid, and I'm no good with games either. There's a husband, so I just won’t get involved. I'll only get hurt-"

"I'm very attracted to you." Wanda cut in, also decreasing the distance between your faces. Your heart simply stops and your breath catches. If she kissed you now, you'd probably say thank you. With a sigh, Wanda brings a hand to the collar of your shirt, pushing you away gently as a warning to herself. "She didn't lie. Agatha. I have a family, children, and a husband."

It was like a bucket of cold water on your head. But Wanda didn't let you move, keeping her grip on your shirt, and this was probably the only thing holding your tears too.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since we met." She continues to confess as affected as you are, her green eyes desperate and hopeful. "I haven't felt this way in such a long time..."

But you choked, pulling away. "I don't want to be some game, Wanda. Some secret. And I hate to share-"

"Oh, darling we're so alike." She interrupted a short, possessive chuckle, grabbing your wrist and putting your arm around her before you could move further. The attraction was almost liquid over your limbs, pulling you towards her and you gasped, pressing your face into her collarbone before you lost control for good and take her for yourself in this roof, damn the consequences. "I thought your friend Yelena was more. My skin itched at the thought of her touching you, I almost came back here and burned the entire bookstore." She confessed in your ear as she slipped her arm around your shoulders to hug you. The intense embrace increased your heart rate, and it didn't help that Wanda was playing with the lobe of your ear between her teeth.

"Stop saying things like that or I just might..."

"What? Tell me what you’ll do with me." Wanda challenges equally affected and you lose it, digging your teeth into her collarbone and sucking hard. She whimpers, knees buckling as her hips thrust up towards yours, but all you do is force her back against the edge, your firm hands on her waist keeping her from gridding herself on you as she wants to.

"I could fuck you right here, Wanda. Send you home smelling of dirty sex." You assure her darkly, your hands playing dangerously on the limits of her blouse. All Wanda does is groan rusky in your ear, wishing you would do as you say. “I bet you’ve waiting for me to.”

The smug phrase almost takes her sanity completely: Wanda grunts needily, trying to grab your wrist and force your hand between her legs, but you pull away hard, leaving her a slack mess trying to balance on wobbly legs with the help of the wall.

"I won’t be your mistress, Wanda Maximoff." You warn hoarsely, yet determined. You adjust your messy hair. "Sorry, but this little game of ours ends tonight."

Wanda hesitates, biting her lip. You hold up your hands, to point at the ring finger, reminding her of her condition and in a way, mocking her as well. Wanda hates the way she feels herself throb between her legs because of your smirk. 

She thinks she would have gone after you if Agatha hadn't appeared on the roof, reminding her with a certain irony that it was time for “respectable ladies” to go home.

In the car, her friend noticed her quiet, sulky posture.

"Did that girl say anything to spoil your evening, dear?" Harkness asked in a mixture of curiosity and concern, and all Wanda could do was let out a wry laugh, one hand adjusting her hair.

"No, Aggie." Wanda retorted sincerely. "I'm more sure than before about what I told you last week."

Agatha hummed in understanding, remaining silent for a long moment of thought. As she passed a sign toward the residential neighborhood of Westview, she spoke:

"I know a lawyer. Miss Walters. Divorce specialist." She began, ignoring the tense posture the other had acquired. “Former family friend, who always said that if I called, she would give me a special discount. Ralph owns the house, so splitting from him would have meant goodbye to Westview, and well, he never bothered me enough to lose you."

Wanda's eyes widen as she understands what her friend is saying, and she stares at her with tears in her eyes. But Agatha smiles through the mirror reflection, shrugging.

"Nicholas may be a difficult boy, but he also deserved to have a mother around." She continues. "And we have fun, you and me and the girls, don't we darling?"

Wanda agrees tearfully, nodding. Agatha chuckles, making the last turn and the landscape becomes several little houses alike.

"Just make a decision while you have time, dear." She continues a bit more hurriedly, stealing glances at the houses that still have lights on. "That beautiful woman today, Natasha, reminded me of a youth I sacrificed. I am old, Wanda. Affairs are fun, but I no longer have time to start a life with someone I really care about. You do, and you don't even have to. You have a chance to be with someone you really feel passionate about, if only for a week."

Agatha parked the car, and the porch light came on. Vision was waiting for her at the door, a half-stern expression due to the exit he didn't agree with - An unusual pastime for a family lady, they had discussed before she left.

With a sigh, she said goodbye to Agatha and got out of the car. Jennifer Walters' phone card was in her pants pocket.

It could take four to five weeks of staring at the bookstore doorbell to finally see the face you wanted to see enter that bookstore. You would be surprised enough that Wanda looked even more beautiful since the last time you saw her, and that this almost made you lose your balance on the ladder you had climbed to organize books on the top shelf.

This time Wanda would ask for a book in the law section, just for the entertainment of studying your reaction when, after demanding that you wait for her to find what she was looking for, she would press a book on divorce against your chest. Wanda would have just over five seconds for you to understand what she was getting at, before she was pressed into the shelf and grabbed by the thighs to be lifted into the air, your mouth glued to hers and her legs locked around you.

The messiest, hottest make-out session she never had as a teenager, but it would make her feel like one again. Hands determined and curious as your tongue ripped out sounds inappropriate for a bookstore, until the bell rang again, and you had to part in gasping breaths.

Wanda would grab your shirt collar before you could go to meet the customer in the lobby to ask you out on a date. On the first date, you could talk about her children, about how the joint custody was going to work out, and how much time you would have to get to know each other. On the second you could go out to eat, and on the third Wanda would feel your fingers on the back seat of the car on the drive home.

Wanda imagined all this on the way, twisting the lawyer's paper between her fingers. 

"Welcome home, Wanda." Vision greeted her, giving her room to enter. Wanda forces a smile, as she removes her hand from her pocket to pass her arm around her spouse for what would probably be the last hug she would give him as his wife. “Did you have fun?”

“I did.”

-&-

It's your night shift.

Natasha has a habit of closing early on weekdays, with the exception of Fridays where she allows reading shifts for all the sleepless geeks, as she calls all the late readers who come to the bookstore after six in the evening.

The day has been quiet so far, and well, you've been too depressed for the past weeks since you decided to move on and get over Wanda Maximoff.

So of course when the bell rings and you lift your eyes from a superhero comic, it's her at the door.

A weary sigh escapes you at the almost apologetic expression of the woman fidgeting with her scarf, and without giving her some other reaction, you lower your eyes again.

"Good evening, Y/N." She greets politely, her voice hoarse.

Turning the page, as if actually reading the words crammed in front of you, you retort, " We're closing soon, so make it quick."

A smile plays on her lips at your response. "Well, I guess that'll be up to you." She retorts, and you frown in confusion, looking up only to watch Wanda turn the sign from open to closed, and lock the door.

You feel your face warm from the lust glint her eyes acquire, but you manage to raise an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you came all this way to murder me."

She chuckles playfully, approaching at a slow pace while her hands work to remove her coat and leave it on top of one of the endless stacks of books in the reception area. "Is the place empty?"

You bite your lip as she puts on a show to remove her gloves, almost losing the train of thought. "Not really." You mumble, catching the other woman's brief disappointment and hesitation. Closing the comics in your lap to store them under the counter, you clear your throat. "There's an employee area behind this door." You let her know in a husky tone, and Wanda glances behind your shoulder for a moment before stepping around the counter. 

You hold your breath at having her so close now, but she doesn't break the short distance between your faces, leaning in to touch the doorknob. You take a deep breath, and her free hand seeks yours in your lap.

She entwines your fingers together and it takes you a full moment to notice the ring missing in hers. Wanda smiles when she realizes you understand.

"I signed the papers this morning." She whispers it as a secret between you, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb and enjoying the way your skin feels warm. "I was going to write, to let you know, but I decided I wanted you to have me entirely."

You swallow dry, shuddering at the confession. "Oh, that's... nice to know." It's all you manage for the moment, surprised you can still hear her speak when your heart is so loud in your own ear drums. Wanda bites back a mischievous smile and opens the door.

"Come, you can show me how much you appreciate my fairness."

You feel your face burn and grunt in embarrassment. "You're so full of yourself." You mumble, not resisting the tug she gives to get you inside. 

Barely inside when the door closes behind you, your back hits the wood and desperate hands tug your uniform jacket open. Wanda's gasping breaths mingle with yours as she kisses you roughly. 

Her hands work at your belt, but you slow the frantic pace to something so intense and intimate that Wanda melts against you, a moment later green eyes staring up at you tearfully.

"I didn't lie." You begin to explain hoarsely. "There are three customers in the café. They'll notice if we... There's no rush, Wanda." You smile at her tenderly, your hands on her cheeks. "Have dinner with me tonight. You can walk me home."

Her eyes sparkle with happiness, and Wanda nods in agreement, kissing you as a promise. One she will never be ashamed to fulfill, doesn't matter if not even the law allows it.

[frownyalfred]

What are some Ashkenazi traditions that Martha took part in? And do you think Bruce participated in those as well? xx

I like to think about covert, cultural things that might have snuck through Wayne Manor that weren't overtly Jewish. Not that there isn't a world where Martha was openly Jewish, but I think it's much less likely after she married Thomas, for a variety of reasons. So, here are a few lingering cultural traditions I can think of:

Being superstitious (we Ashkenazim love that grey area haha)

Wanting to cook for and feed people as a form of love

Cooking a big meal Thursday night/Friday morning, usually a big stew or soup "just because" and homemade bread

Insistent on Bruce having the best education possible, not just the one that gets him to network the most with Thomas' friends' kids

Teaching Bruce about right and wrong from a young age, and using examples in Gotham even if they're "unsavory" for dinner table talk

Having a go-bag, back up plan, escape route planned if she and Bruce ever needed it. Alfred was the only one who ever knew about it and helped her divert the funds from various accounts so no one else would ever even have a paper trail

Dark humor, etc. She could crack a mean joke every now and then, to the surprise of people around her

Never forcing Bruce to go to religious services or ask him if he believed in God

Taking Bruce on long nature walks during fall of every year to pick apples and make cake (later he'd realize this was Rosh Hashanah)

Quietly spending the day "in bed" once a year (this was Yom Kippur)

Being openly critical of Thomas to his face when necessary. My favorite example of this is walking into a room, seeing my boyfriend at the time, and asking "why are you wearing that shirt?" No hello, no how are you -- immediately to the questions. Later, my mother saw him and asked the same questions unprompted. Jewish women, man.

Constantly worried about the future and about fitting in with Thomas' world

[ttshihiro]

pspspps.. totally not golden groovy woops

ANYWAYS HII!! heard u were open for requests. may i request tammy + qiu with and an artist reader :00

requests of my favorite fandoms are my catnip good gof woa who could this be‽‽ my reqs and my ask box are like always open btw >◡<

extra note/s: I refer to step 1 Qiu as he/him. Uhhh take this as platonic or romantic, I'll add an indicator for romance (𐙚) ^^

more under the cut > o

✧ At 10 years old, QIU's fascinated. How he discovers your interest and skill in arts varies but his reaction doesn't. He's impressed! Whether digital or traditional, Qiu would love to participate especially if you asked him yourself.

For this reason, he carries an extra pen and even those colored ones just in case you get bored or if you're suddenly struck by creativity when you two are playing :3

✧ The first time you show him one of your doodles you made during class, he's compelled to do the same whether or not you actually give him it. And ever since, you two've been exchanging these sketches during class. It's the cutest scene to walk into.

✧ URGH AND THE THINGS HE DOES WHEN YOU TELL HIM ABOUT ART BLOCK DEPENDING ON HOW AND WHAT YOU DRAW

You're into drawing sceneries? Trust that he starts telling you and Tamarack about more "special things" in the forest and/or the town.

Like the sky? There's this clearing a lot further into the forest at your backyards. Stargaze, watch the clouds and the sunset together?

✧ It's also necessary for me to mention that unlike his notes, lazily pressed against eachother and constantly on the run, anything you give him goes to a safe space probably in between a books pages, under the the matress of his bed or inside a drawer/container.

"They broke into my backyard accidentally, 'cause they were on a crazy investigation about a paper airplane. Plus, they got here a day ago and they're already looking out for me. Normally, I'm the one doing that."

"Besides, they're pretty. And they make me pretty. Look! Look how they drew me!"

✧ As for 10-year-old TAMARACK, she's curious. The things you draw, are they based on actual places? Actual people? Oh, you draw based on your imagination? Elaborate.

✧ At some point in the prologue, she says "All the forests in the world are different, and some places don't even have forests. I can show you good spots to find things since you're newer to this forest than me."

And I can't not think of her running up to you to give you all of what she gathered for you to draw like omfg

With all those leaves and tiny branches sticking out of her hair and sweater, she smiles brightly with her hands filled with her treasures. AUGH SHE MAKES ME SO SICK I LOVE HER

✧ Like Qiu, she has her own safe spot designated for only your drawings if you've given her any.

She shows off all of them. Especially if you've drawn her?? It'll be the only thing she talks about during literally any time for the rest of the month and the few months after.

"Out of all the friends I have here, you're the best one. We came to the same exact neighborhood, almost at the same time, and are he same age. You have fun outside and I do too."

"I think you're pretty. How you draw me is pretty! I've never met a kid who was just like me. That's important. That's serious."

✧ Now, 14-year-old QIU's pretty much no different. They're even more impressed when they see just how much you've improved. Nonetheless, they treasure your old drawings just as much as they do they new.

They take the liberty of providing you with both a pen and paper to draw on when you're together, in case you don't bring your sketchbook (if you own one).

On those days where you two just sit in silence in their hideout, their gaze drifts to your side quietly a few times to watch your progress. After a while, they settle with sitting right next to you and watching the stroke of your pen against the paper as the scene forms with each hatch.

✧ As a teen, they've actually been a tad bit farther off the town when they feel like taking a ride on their bike. They've seen many sights and burn the route into their brain for them to tell you about. They'd even be happy as to bring you there themselves.

✧ If you ask them to be your muse, good god you'd need to tell them what to do.

It's almost a funny sight. Qiu, the kid who knew what to do their whole life asks you, "Should I pose? Where do I look? Ah- what's my good side?"

𐙚 They can feel their breath hitch under your scrutiny. Suddenly, they're concious of every single thing about them. Where do their eyes go? Should they move their hands? Is their hair in the way?

They avert their gaze flusteredly, their head ever so slightly moving to the side when they do so.

And good god do their hands clutch the fabric of their pants when you tell them to look at you properly.

✧ Same goes for TAMARACK at 14. She's as intrugued as ever to hear about your work. She admires (you)r style from then till now and has learned to appreciate the time gone into things as simple as this, whether or not you've made it with her in mind. BUT GOD IF YOU TELL HER IT IS, it's always sitting on her desk and she thinks constantly about what you've done for her.

✧ And while she doesn't exactly bring you a pen, she's more than glad to hand you hers when you need it.

✧ Unlike before, she'd now be at your side when you two hung out at her backyard. She'd be sitting across from you, practicing the cello. The hum of her instrument accompanied by the sound of nature and the scratch of your pen against paper gives her a sense of calmness.

This may also be when she realizes she's been your muse! Her fingers trace over where your pen has been and boy appreciate isn't even enough for her to describe how she felt. It was definitely happy, but that wasn't the word either.

𐙚 Her heart pounds alarmingly as she admires your work. It's almost concerning to you that she sits silently with a blank expression as she held your sketchbook in her hands.

But that concern washes off you as soon as a warm smile curls the corners of her lips, tender adoration displayed all over her face.

[aayakashii]

Wait, since we were robbed of having an episode about Samhain and seeing them in a festival, let's indulge in headcanonery (?) rn

Inspired by @rottenzombrainz 's slice of life headcanons, I'm giving a huge kiss to your brain rn

What each house would prepare for a school festival – headcanons

Frostheim

Hhhmm, maybe they'd be responsible for the play! Frostheimers are the ones that are super cultured and fancy since they're all rich lol I think they'd have all the resources needed to buy beautiful costumes and props. Maybe they'd do some Shakespeare play like Hamlet, but I wouldn't put it past them to do a musical too, like The Phantom of the Opera, complete with a huge chandelier falling down :0

Vagastrom

They would be the ones responsible for the games!! All of those festival games like card flipping (menko), shooting, throwing, ball scooping, fishing yoyo, garapon (lottery machine) and other puzzles. I think Vagastrom students would have a lot of fun challenging festival-goers even if it's not a physical challenge lol. The whole place would be filled with the sounds of people having fun! Btw, Sho would probably open a little booth with snacks ofc hehe

Jabberwock

A safari exhibition, obviously. What better moment to sell tickets for a tour around the dorm than during a festival? I'm pretty sure they would go all out, though. Maybe the tour could be done at night (if the anomalies agree lol) and everything could be lit by fairylights. The caves would have ambient music, there would be wind chimes everywhere, and bubbles would be flying around to reflect the lights (courtesy of Towa). It'd be like a true fantasy experience for anyone who decided to participate!

Sinostra

They would run a cafe for sure. Romeo would NOT pass up on the opportunity to make some money. Also, it's not like Sinostra would care that much about the festival, so it'd be best to participate by doing something they're already used to. Since a lot of people would flock to Darkwick due to the festival, including kids, they wouldn't be able to sell booze nor anything of the sort, but they'd have great food, including a little bit of Italian cuisine – pizza, carbonara, lasagne, candied fruits, gelato, torrone, espresso... people would leave with the belly full and wallets empty.

Hotarubi

They would do plenty of presentations!! Odori, taiko, koto, shamisen – everything that's related to japanese traditional culture, they'd give a huuuuge show. A lot of people would flock to Hotarubi to watch Subaru give a little snippet of his abilities as a kabuki actor too, and it'd probably be one of the most visited dorms in the whole campus! I think they'd also give a few mini workshops of tea ceremony, ikebana, puppet theatre, and origami.

Obscuary

A huge, beautiful and extremely creepy haunted mansion/labyrinth!! Obscuary is literally the perfect place for a haunted attraction. The Victorian-esque visuals of the dorm would attract a lot of people who want to test their courage, especially with all the rumors about a real werewolf and a real vampire living in that place. The mansion would be eerily silent, just the sound of creaking wood and the whoosh of "ghosts" flying around to have people on their toes, so the jumpscares would be even more efficient.

Mortkranken

They would 1000000% do an interactive medical exhibition. The students could guide the visitors throughout a day in the life of a scientist/doctor! Showing them which instruments they use for surgery (even teaching how to suture wounds); which meds are useful for certain diseases; how to measure blood pressure and auscultate heart and lung sounds and so on and so forth... a little LARPing as a doctor for an afternoon hehe

[karlachismylife]

Me: scrambling to finish homework before my linear algebra class

My brain: can you imagine fem!ghoap tho?

I can't, I'm my biggest fucking enemy. BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE FEM!GHOAP THO?

Fem!Soap has absolutely Harley Quinn vibes, batshit crazy with a sprinkle of pyromania and several decades of unmedicated ADHD. If Soap got his haircut inspiration from some local punk band in his hometown, fem!Soap was the leader of said band, adding to Mam's grey hair every time she returned with new tattoos. Was playing football, when a new kid tried outcasting her cuz she's a girl, went on to beat the shit out of him.

That story about a higher ranking officer Soap punched? Sleazy motherfucker was harassing other women on the base and was unfortunate enough to choose fem!Soap as a target.

Walks around in tank tops and sport bras, all muscle no boobs, probably has a couple fake teeth, always is the one fellow female soldiers turn to when they need to get rid of assholes in the pubs they go for drinks to. Absolutely relishes in being called a "fucking butch" and whatever else those pathetic men try to throw at her, quickly fizzling out when they realize her biceps is the size of their thighs. She worked hard to be better than them, no matter how much some of her family wanted her to be a bit more... traditional. Not her Maw, though, Maw always said if her little Jenny wanted to be a soldier, she could be a damn good one.

Regularly participates in armrestling matches (banned in several pubs where she got carried away and broke someone's wrist) and pays for the round whenever she wins.

All those girls (and some guys) hanging off her elbows, and everyone assumes she's going home with one (or several) of them every time.

And fem!Ghost? She might have a horrible reputation, people spreading disgusting rumors about her past and what's under that mask (doesn't bother her, truth is so much more gruesome). Keeps to herself, grim sense of humour doing nothing to make her seem more approachable. A looming shadow, the personification of horrors they tell about what war and captivity do to women - and that's for those who actually know she's a woman. Most people just assume she's a big fucking guy, loose hoodies helping pass, deep, hoarse voice - never came back as it was from the time with Roba, broken by her screams with an ugly scar on her throat on top - only adding to confusion.

Too much baggage to unpack, all those things done to her easier to cut off with the dirty blond hair she buzzes to avoid the fuss. Every chance of having a family robbed of her in horrific ways, loneliness feels safer. Easier. Everyone's better off without needing to bear all those tons of crap she hoards on her broad shoulders.

Sits apart from the main company on those outings, nursing her bourbon and freaking people out - if she gets hit on, she sends everyone off with a few words. Even Soap, the blasting (sometimes too bloody brightly) sunshine, seems to fail with illuminating that shadow, all her attempts to get closer shut down. Maybe not as harsh as the others, but Ghost thinks - everything she touches is destroyed in torturous ways.

Soap shouldn't suffer because of her.

Until one day the chair in front of her lone table gets dragged back with a disgusting screeching sound, a heavy thump signaling of a huge (drunk) body plopping down across. Ghost doesn't need to look up - she can detect Soap by the stupid mutt's loud breathing, for fuck's sake. How many did she have?

Too many, thinks Ghost when a tanned arm lands on the table, resting on the elbow in a ready to wrestle stand. Must've been some kind of bet, no one else brave enough to challange big Scottish butch - so bored Soap, naturally, comes to one person she probably deems a worthy opponent.

"Not gonna let me back out, are ya?" Ghost shakes her head with a chuckle and finishes her bourbon, putting the glass down lazily and forgetting to pull the mask back down.

Soap's arm hits the table so hard it nearly cracks the wood - mere seconds.

Disarmed by a crooked, scarred smirk her big blue eyes are so obviously glued to.

"What now? Buy me a drink?" Ghost tilts her head. There's a shocked crowd around them, someone collecting a hefty win.

"Buy ye two and ye owe me a rematch."

Stupid mutt with blue eyes. Ghost wonders if she'll whine like a puppy riding her burly thigh.

i have somewhat a part two here

[kanagenwrites]

So. Tuesday sucked.

We've all had a chance to come down from the "what the fuck" of it all, and we're starting to see the usual circular firing squad. Lots of lib centrists are doing everything they can to throw trans people, minorities, and basically anyone who isn't a finance bro under the bus, as is (very tiresome) tradition after both victories and defeats in the Democratic Party. I will be 42 years old in a few months, so this is far from the first time I've seen it, and sadly, I'm sure it won't be the last. To the lib centrists and those carrying water for them: This never works. Please stop trying it. Trans issues were not a major motivator; I'll get into that below. Sit down, kids, it's time for Auntie Kana's Fireside Dialectics.

One thing I've noticed is that a lot of my followers are significantly younger than me. (Imagine that, an audience that skews young on Tumblr.) A lot of you folks probably haven't been following politics for very long, and you've been able to participate in them for even less time than that. For some of you this is probably your first election as an adult, and it kinda feels like everything blew up in your face, doesn't it? I was about your age for 2000, when the election was nakedly stolen by George W. Bush, and not much older for 2004, when despite his disastrous presidency Bush the Younger rode a wave of 9/11-brained racism to the last popular vote victory the GOP had prior to (likely) this year. So I get it. I really do.

If you're living in the USA you have probably had a subpar education in politics and civics. This is largely by design - education is horrendously underfunded and there is a sustained attack on the ability of teachers to even discuss things like the Civil Rights Movement, the legacy of slavery in the United States, the genocide this country was founded on, and so on and so forth. Economic education isn't much better; you very likely got a short lecture on basic supply and demand and an argument-from-authority that "socialism doesn't work." All this combines to leave a lot of folks totally baffled as to how something like this election happens.

But it's pretty simple. It's just material conditions. That's it. What the media isn't telling you (because there's no profit in it, and the media is nothing but a clickbait engine when they aren't open propagandists) is that there has been a massive anti-incumbent wave of elections across the world. How massive? Japan's LDP, which has held power almost uninterrupted since the establishment of Japan's postwar democracy, managed to lose their recent election.

And why are material conditions so shitty? That's a complicated question, but a lot of it is the fact that we had a lengthy period of low inflation followed by a period of extremely high inflation due to the absolutely botched response to the Covid-19 pandemic. A bag of Doritos used to be 2.50, and now it's like 6 bucks. That's worse than all the inflation (and naked price-gouging, because there's a lot of that going on too) I experienced in my life prior to 2020, squeezed into the space of a year or two. This smacks everyone in the face every time they buy groceries, and while the government and the Federal Reserve were doing everything they could to manage inflation (and understand what a big deal it is for me, the anarcho-communist, to say that the US actually did an extremely fucking good job of doing it, because every other country on Earth had it worse than we did), they did fuck all to actually improve the material conditions people were experiencing. Wages were not keeping up with the cost of living, and price-gouging wasn't being dealt with.

Remember the 600 bucks Joe Biden still owes you? The American electorate sure the fuck does. Invisible backrooms liberal wonkery does not connect, regardless of whether it works or not, but going back on a promise? People remember that shit.

It's a rare incumbent that could win in an environment like this, especially when tied to a track record of doing exactly fucking nothing to actually help people from the perspective of the vast majority of the population. Kamala Harris was not that incumbent. She was a singularly uninspiring candidate who failed to connect with voters so thoroughly that she was on track to lose her home state in the 2020 Democratic primary. Nobody liked her (except a few very eager and very loud fans in the K-Hive), and speaking as someone who lives in California, I am not surprised she ate shit. She was a terrible choice for VP and a terrible choice of successor for Biden, but because Biden('s handlers) insisted on pretending he wasn't obviously declining before our very eyes, Harris, a singularly uninspiring candidate, had three months to build and run a campaign.

And it was still weirdly close.

Now, there's two possibilities: Either she actually ran an amazing campaign and it's incredible that it was even this close, or Trump is just so loathsome that even in a massively anti-incumbent environment he didn't bring anyone new to the table. Given that Trump is on-track to receive less votes this time than he did in 2020, and how many of those votes seem to have been cast for Trump and no one else down-ballot, I think it's more of the latter than the former. Trump brought the usual suspects, while Kamala successfully drove away voters that even Joe fucking Biden and Hillary fucking Clinton were able to bring home. Not on the left, not in minority demographics, but across the board. After all, if things are horrible and you're being promised that "nothing will fundamentally change," (literally an early-presidency quote from Joe Biden, whose agenda Kamala Harris 100% aligned herself with) and keeping in mind that the average American voter is not nearly so plugged into the minutiae and the day to day of politics (as evinced by the sudden peak in google searched for "Did Joe Biden drop out?" on Tuesday), why the fuck would you bother to vote?

Hopefully you have a better idea how we got here now. The question, of course, is where do we go from here? I will probably continue posting about this from time to time, especially if there's interest, but my advice is this:

We are still here. We will be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and so on. Plan accordingly.

Things will get fucked up. Things will always get fucked up. That is the nature of things no matter who is running the government. Plan accordingly.

Organize. Develop parallel structures of power and assistance, because the government is likely going to be even more useless to directly assist you than it already was. Our greatest strength is each other, and our ability to care for and help one another.

I have been here before. You will be here again. It always feels like it's the worst thing ever to happen. That never really goes away, but your ability to deal with it, to plan around it, to endure it, and to rise up again on the other side of it and say "No, fuck you" is entirely under your control and within your capabilities. And you will get better at it as you do it. And you are not doing it alone. None of us are.

Do not give up. Do not surrender. This isn't the end, or the beginning of the end, or even the end of the beginning: it just is.

Now go watch a video of a cat doing something cute, or read some smut, or whatever gives you joy. You can't take care of others unless you take care of yourself. That's General Order #1: Take care of yourself.

Solidarity, y'all.

[jerzwriter]

It's Christmastime - and Ethan is thoroughly unimpressed. Luckily, he has Kaycee to turn that around - but can she make it happen?

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,411 Summary: See above.

A/N: Participating in @choicesholidays winter event - New Traditions - they have a few in here! :) Also, @choicesdecember2024, I think Miracle is the best match! lol

The line felt like it stretched the entire length of the mall, accompanied by all the annoyances that came with it: frazzled parents, sugared-up kids, and the occasional beleaguered adult questioning their life choices. It didn’t take long to determine what group a tall, scowling doctor with his arms crossed in front of his chest belonged to. Ethan Ramsey was firmly in the last group, and Kaycee couldn’t have been more amused.

He should have expected this, she thought; after all, this was their second Christmas together, and he had already survived year one at her side. She smiled at him, the picture of holiday cheer in her red sweater adorned with tiny reindeer. That sweater wasn’t a split-second decision. No, Kaycee had taken months to find the perfect design and purchased two, one for each of them. Ethan was wearing his, too. It would be visible if he took off his leather jacket, but he had made it clear before they left his condo... he was NOT taking off his leather jacket.

Kaycee’s eyes were full of mischief as she gently nudged him with her elbow. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she said with a slight smile.

Ethan let out an exasperated sigh. “You dragged me here against my will. Can’t you just enjoy my silent suffering?”

Chuckling, she stepped closer and leaned into his side. “Stop it, grumpy! You enjoy this, too! You’re just too much of a curmudgeonly old man to admit it!”

He arched an eyebrow, looking at her with a frown. “Negative,” he deadpanned.

“Yes, you absolutely are!” Kaycee insisted. “You’re so lucky to have me here to fix all this bah-humbug of yours! Besides... remember what I promised you later... if  you’re a good sport.”

His demeanor seemed to change on a dime, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. He leaned in close and whispered so only she could hear him. “I seem to remember a promise that involved scanty red lingerie and mistletoe. Can you remind me of the other details again? It might make this whole experience a little more bearable?”

“Sorry, babe,” she answered with amusement. “There will be no reward until we finish the task at hand, and your chances are better if you do it with a smile on your face.”

The line continued to shuffle forward at an excruciatingly slow pace, and though he tried to contain it, Ethan’s grumbling continued. “This is ridiculous.” “You realize we’re adults, Kaycee.” “We really don’t belong here.”

She bit her lip to refrain from laughing, her amusement growing with each mumbled complaint. She peeked ahead and saw it wouldn’t be much longer; the jolly man in red was getting closer with every step. “Stop it, Ethan! You know I’m right about this.”

“Right? Right about what?”

“That this is going to be fun. Admit it—deep down, you’re excited.”

Ethan snorted. “The only thing I’m excited about is how you’ll be repaying me later.”

She looked up at him with a smirk and playfully punched his arm. “If you keep torturing me here, I may just renege on my promise!”

Ethan looked stricken. “You wouldn’t!”

Kaycee didn’t get a chance to answer as they finally reached the front of the line, where an overly excited elf dressed in green and red tights greeted them with an almost eerie smile. “Hi there! Are we going for the basic photo package or the deluxe? The deluxe comes with extra prints, digital downloads, and even a festive frame!”

Before Ethan could say a word, Kaycee jumped in. “Deluxe, please. I want as many prints as possible to send to all our friends and family.”

Ethan’s eyes went wide. “That was not part of the deal,” he protested.

Kaycee remained the picture of holiday bliss when she smiled at his side. “Ethan, but it’s Santa!”

How had he ended up here? He was almost forty. He should be home with a glass of spiked eggnog by the fireplace. He ran a hand down his face and grumbled. “This is absolutely absurd.”

He was about to complain more when a tiny voice from behind interrupted him. Ethan felt the little hand tugging at his jacket just before the words hit his ear. “Mister, are you saying you don’t believe in Santa Claus?”

Ethan froze, turning to find a little boy of no more than six staring up at him. His wide eyes were filled with innocence, almost begging Ethan to offer a reassuring response. Ethan glanced at the boy and then at his parents, standing behind him. They watched with an amused expression as they waited for his reply.

Ethan hadn’t asked for it, but in that moment, memories from his own childhood rose to the surface. When he was about this boy’s age, he would spend his whole year compiling lists for Santa, three to be exact. One was a compilation of all the good things he had done, and the second was confessions of the not-so-good stuff. That one had an attachment with explanations and how he attempted to atone.   Then, there was his Christmas wish list. Each year, when he wrote it, he was sure he wouldn’t receive most of the things he asked for. He might have been young, but he was smart enough to know his family was struggling. He could tell when his Mom put an extra sweater on him instead of turning up the heat, when his dad insisted on taking extra shifts even though he was tired, and when his parents would put a few items back before they checked out at the grocery store. He was young but bright, and he knew.

Yet, every Christmas morning, it seemed like a miracle took place. He had no idea how it happened, but most, if not all, that he wished for would be wrapped beautifully under the family Christmas tree. Back then, he took that as proof positive that Santa was real. There was no other way. He hadn’t thought about that for years, but standing before this little boy, he could feel the emotion welling inside.

There was magic during the holiday season. It didn’t come from mythical creatures in red suits or tiny reindeer – but from the people who loved us the most. It came from parents who worked hard to create that magic, including his own parents, who did without themselves just to see the look in his eyes on Christmas day.

It came in the form of the beautiful woman beaming at his side. The one who knew him better than he knew himself and was not about to let him spend the rest of his days thinking wonder and hope were something that had died long ago. She insisted they had a place in his grown-up life, and looking at her now, it was apparent, the message was received.

He knelt down to the child’s level, his voice soft and tender, his eyes warm. “Of course I believe in Santa Claus. Santa is all about the magic of the holiday season. And you know what? That magic is real. One hundred percent real.”

The boy’s eyes sparkled with his reply. “Really? You mean it!”

Ethan nodded, wrapping his arm around Kaycee, who was beaming up at him with so much affection it made his chest tighten. “Really. It’s all around us – it’s surrounding you and me.”

The boy grinned as he turned and hugged his parent’s knees, and Ethan met the gaze of the woman he loved. “YOU are all the magic I need,” he murmured placing a kiss atop her head. “Thank you for reminding me of who I used to be.”

Kaycee’s eyes filled with tears as she held him tight, he didn’t know it, but he had just given her the greatest gift of all.

“Uhm, so... the pictures?” The now irritated elf asked.

“You heard the lady,” Ethan stated. “The deluxe package, in fact, make it two!”

Before they stepped into the winter wonderland that served as a backdrop to Santa’s throne, Ethan turned to Kaycee once more. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he said with a smile she’d cherish for all time.

“Merry Christmas, Ethan,” she whispered back.

Ethan took her hand and led her down the candy cane-trimmed path toward Santa, knowing precisely what he’d say when the jolly man asked him what he wanted for Christmas. He already had his gift, and she was standing by his side.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[olderthannetfic]

As someone who some times works with disabled people who do handcrafts. It's not actually an accessibility support to make those thousands of sizes, so I really get your issues with it.

Most of those patterns work like shit. Most of the physically disabled people still do their own patterns and adjustments, they just need tools that are better suited their individual needs. A person in a wheelchair or with one arm has to adjust things, but the ones I've worked with, who've been into their crafting hobbies for decades, can do most these things themselves.

People with mental disabilities (lower functioning (IDK if Anglospeakers still use that term tho)) can't get a use out of these hundreds of pattern types because they need a different kinda help when attempting them. (Easier standard patterns with good instructions are way better than advanced patterns ranging from the XXXXXS to XXXXXXXXLs, basically)

All in all, these "inclusive" patterns whatever else falls into it is just another one of those "THINK OF THE DISABLED!!!" when in most cases it's performative and seems to be more of a "Lazy ppl/Hustlers use disabled people to demand/sell something."

--

Godddd.

The latest crochet thing was an issue where the pattern is written in a normal, traditional style. It has a lot of shorthand. It also explicitly says that it isn't for beginners. The free versions are a video or one of those oldschool blogs with bajillions of ads that make it impossible to read.

Now, I can see why this would be a problem, especially if you aren't willing to cough up the $5 for the download.

However, the solution is to either teach a person to read traditional-style patterns with their nice, succinct abbreviations or find them a crafting buddy who can work with them one-on-one on that particular pattern.

Learning to read patterns sometimes isn't easy. That's true for everyone with every type of brain. That's why it's a thing you teach. The moaning about this is like someone going "Some books are harder than See Spot Run and that's bad!"

The wank was a combo of people wanting every pattern written out fully in sentences the way one on etsy from last week would be and of people wanting to participate in some stupid viral tiktok trend and thus "needing" an accessible version of that specific pattern.

(Someone created said accessible version... i.e. they drove traffic away from the blog post with the ads. Good job, genius. Both this person and the pattern designer have ended up with a million haters descending on their heads, of course. Everybody lost.)

--

I'd trust a designer like Skeindeer Knits to have some idea how to design a sleeve that can fit over my upper arm. I would not trust Andrea Mowry and her weird stick arms ideas about biceps circumference. I love her patterns and especially her promo photos, but jesus.

I think there's a poisonous pattern of both ~needing~ to make what everyone else just did (so all patterns have to be all things to all people) and of everybody just picking whatever designer looks most aspirational in their photo shoots.

I'd have way more respect if "I only promote size inclusive patterns" was followed by "Here are designs from designers who found a plus size model or who are plus size themselves" instead of "I checked the size range listed on ravelry." (Who am I kidding? Of course they won't do that. So few big designers bother to get a plus size model that it would mean tons of extra work for the youtuber doing a pattern roundup.)

So it all ends up back at "The sophie scarf looks good on everyone!!!"

It's the holidays.

Everyone is making that overrated dishrag as a gift for their 20 nearest and dearest.

Kill me now.

[flyingwargle]

sakusa is at onigiri miya, seated at the bar beside suna, osamu preparing orders on the other side of the counter. he stares at his future brother-in-law, in disbelief at his request. "why does it have to be me?" he asks. "why can't you do it?"

"it's because 'samu breaks down laughing every time," suna says. "also, he sucks at it."

"and," osamu adds, "it's mariah carey. i ain't signin' those lyrics ta my twin."

"have you considered a different song that doesn't address an object of affection?"

"it'd be funny, 'specially if yer doin' it!"

sakusa takes a contemplative sip of tea. this is his first year celebrating with the miya family, which apparently takes christmas very seriously, since it includes a mandatory performance of a holiday song.

"'tsumu hates doin' it." osamu shapes rice in his hands. "he threw a huge tantrum when we were kids, an' after that, he never participated. he just sits there without his hearin' aids. s'why we were surprised that he's bringin' ya home this year."

"it's because my parents and siblings are overseas." that explains why they've never celebrated with osamu and suna, despite how much atsumu values his family.

"apparently, 'tsumu got ya a pass, sayin' we shouldn't scare ya with our freaky traditions, but it'd be fun if ya joined in," osamu tells him. "whaddaya say?"

the irony of atsumu having his audiology appointment at this very moment isn’t lost to sakusa. he takes an onigiri. “to reiterate, you want me to learn, memorize, and perform a jsl version of mariah carey’s all i want for christmas is you in two weeks?”

“yup.”

“you’re ridiculous. i’ll do it.”

osamu smirks. “glad ta have ya onboard. happy ta supply ya with all the umeboshi onigiri ya want.”

“we might be on holiday break, but i still have to watch my diet.” his phone goes off out of the corner of his eye. sakusa glances at the notification. “atsumu just finished his check-up. no change in his hearing loss.”

“isn’t that the greatest present of them all?” suna remarks, only half-sarcastic. sakusa and osamu nod in agreement.

that night, sakusa watches the video that suna sent him. fortunately, the translated lyrics are in the description, which he follows while listening, and afterwards, he slowly signs each word to get a feel for the rhythm. he’s watched sign language covers of songs before. surely he could pull it off?

the bathroom door opens, and atsumu sits on the couch beside him. sakusa has closed the video, reading an article instead, glancing over when atsumu taps his shoulder. “what are you reading?” he signs.

“motoya sent me an article about volleyball-related head injuries. he must be talking to himself,” sakusa says and signs. atsumu’s eyes crinkle in silent laughter, leaning against him while going on his phone.

two weeks isn’t a lot of time to practice, but sakusa makes it work. osamu and suna help by distracting (terrorizing, really) atsumu, dragging him away to buy presents, taste-test dishes, and playing holiday songs through his hearing aids via bluetooth. it makes him grouchy, but sakusa cuddles him until his tension melts away.

finally, it’s time to drive to the twins’ childhood home in hyogo. sakusa and atsumu decorate while osamu and suna cook, and on christmas eve, he meets the extended miya family, cousins, aunts, and uncles that he only heard in passing. he’s introduced as atsumu’s partner, bowing politely with his arms by his side. no one tries for a handshake; he gives his partner a grateful look, who smiles back in response.

christmas day is lively, with cousins running amok, aunts in the kitchen with osamu, and uncles shoveling snow outside. sakusa finds himself surrounded by the smallest cousins, who hang off his long limbs and squeal when he folds his hands to his wrists. an aunt herds them into the kitchen for a snack, giving him the chance to escape upstairs for a break.

atsumu joins him a few minutes later. “everything okay?” sakusa asks, knowing how easily overwhelmed his partner can get.

“yeah. i’ll get a break durin’ the singin’ tonight.” atsumu sits beside him, knees knocking together. “i don’t like listenin’, but watchin’ is fun, i guess.”

dinner is extravagant and rowdy, and soon enough, everyone is squished into the living room for the yearly tradition, an uncle mc’ing the event like a televised singing contest.

they sit together, atsumu without his hearing aids, hands held over his lap. cousins, aunts, and uncles sing to music playing from the speakers, the audience singing along. the smallest children hide behind their older siblings, most sing their hearts out; a few aloof ones mouth the words, cheeks bright red with embarrassment. their parents laugh, phones out to take pictures and record videos.

“next, we got osamu an’ suna,” the uncle announces. “with a special guest, sakusa-kun!”

“time ta do this.” osamu jumps to his feet, suna already plugging the aux cord into his phone. sakusa pulls away from atsumu, who grabs him in alarm, eyes wide. “omi, what are ya–“

he places a finger to his lips, silencing him. then, with his other hand, he signs, “watch.” standing, he joins the pair in front of the tv, their makeshift stage, impossibly tall among the seated audience. however, he only has eyes on one person.

the music starts, which elicits a few hoots. osamu and suna start singing, and sakusa as well, with his hands raised. instead of the exaggerated movements that the pair make on either side of him, his gestures are more deliberate, precise. no one understands them, at least not at his pace, and it might even look comedic.

sakusa doesn’t care. all he sees is atsumu and his reaction.

realization gradually creeps onto him. his eyes widen, mouth falling open. as the song goes on, his lips twist into a grin, hands pressed together in front of him gleefully.

“all i want for christmas is you,” sakusa sings, ending his sign with a flourish. cheers roar as osamu and suna bow, a few whistling between their teeth.

he catches osamu’s eye, who nods at him, and sakusa turns toward atsumu, who is pushing through the crowd. panic flares, and he gives chase. “wait, atsumu!”

he catches him upstairs. atsumu is opening his hearing aid case, roughly shoving one of them in his ear, suppressing a hiss when he winces. sakusa touches his arm, feels him flinch, head flying upwards, freezing when their eyes meet. “let me,” he says, signing along. atsumu lowers his hand, lets sakusa put them in. after a beat, they turn on. “atsumu–“

“did ‘samu ask ya ta do this?” atsumu doesn’t look at him, voice tight, hands braced on the table.

“yes. i’m sorry, i thought it’d be funny, and–“

“i ain’t mad. how can i? ya…” the crack in his voice is slight, but the tear that rolls down his cheek is not. “ya learned jsl fer me, an’ then ya signed an entire song fer me fer as a joke. it ain’t a joke ta me, ya hear? i…”

he lifts his head, eyes brimming with tears. “ya signed mariah carey,” he chokes out. “ya signed those lyrics ta me. joke or not, that means somethin’, doesn’t it?”

“of course it does.” sakusa steps toward him, wraps him in a hug. “i meant every single sign. i want you, and everything your family offers, freaky traditions or not. i’ll keep saying it every time you need to hear it – sign is just another way to communicate. i’ll do whatever it takes for me to understand you.”

atsumu sobs into his shoulder. sakusa strokes his hair, whispers into his ear, clear as the falling snow outside. “i love you, atsumu. thank you for bringing me to your home this year.”

“love ya too, omi. happy holidays.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hiiiiiii

If it’s not too much trouble, could you do a platonic team star x team star member!reader who became a dragon type specialist squad leader and joined because they got bullied for being a fan of other famous dragon type users like Lance and Raihan?

(Sorry if this is too specific)

Oh no worries, I like specific so it's all good!

..........

"I'm gonna be just like them one day.." Sighing dreamily, you sat down at the cafeteria table, watching a video on your rotomphone while chowing down breakfast.

It was footage of a fierce Pokémon battle in Galar--a showdown between two of your idols, who were among the most famous dragon trainers of all time: Lance and Raihan.

Of course, you looked up to many other dragon type users in Paldea, but these two in particular kickstarted your dreams of becoming one yourself, inspired by their interviews and fierce determination.

You also hoped to meet them and have a battle, although that was a little too farfetched for you right now..

Yet you didn't let that discourage you from forming your own dragon team, using your studies at Uva/Naranja Academy to teach them all the best moves and remember type matchups.

Tatsugiri was your main partner, and when combined with your Dondozo..it was an absolute powerhouse in double-battles--albeit this academy usually focused on the traditional single battles.

You were also currently raising a Drakalok, Cyclizar, Arctibax, and Sliggoo, and you cherished all of them dearly. Tatsugiri was a bit of an attention hog at times, though, and always wanted to stay out of its ball and on your shoulder.

You didn't mind it, of course. Whether you're heading to class or to a tournament where dragon trainers were going to participate, you always went together.

Life was perfect.

Except for-

"Still prattling on about being the next famous dragon gym leader, huh?"

-one of your bullies already ruining your day before it could even begin.

For some reason..a few kids at the academy really had it out for you simply because you admired famous dragon trainers. You didn't think there was anything wrong with looking up to your idols. But apparently they thought you were being too "obnoxious" about it and sought to make your life utterly miserable.

It only got worse when you spoke up about it to a teacher, as that bully got off with nothing but a slap on the wrist--that being to train their Pokémon as "punishment".

By sheer convenience, they had ice and fairy types. And that teacher only gave them the chance to make their team stronger and further intimidate you...to the point where you're afraid to go outside, fearing they'll drag you into a battle.

You've kept silent since, hoping to avoid them at all costs and try to keep your grades up. But unfortunately, Arceus wasn't smiling upon you today...and quite frankly, you were tired.

Huffing, you switched off your phone and scowled up at the bully. "Still following me around campus, huh?" You mocked, with Tatsugiri hopping on the table and mimicking your expression. "That's kinda creepy if you ask me."

"Well those stupid fangs of yours are creeping everyone out." They sneered, pointing out your sharp teeth. "Halloween is over, y'know."

"I've already told you..these are canines, and they are real."

"Yeah? More like real freaky."

"Look, just leave me alone before you anger Tatsugiri." You warned, watching as their gaze shifted to your ace, falling silent for a moment or two...

Before erupting into laughter. "Oh wow, I'm soooooo scared of your stupid sushi roll! What ever will I do??" They shook their head. "If you want my advice, dump this thing and get yourself a real dragon. Like a Charizard or-"

"You don't get to decide WHO I can have as a partner!!!" Your hands slammed onto the table as you stood up, fists clenched with anger. Even though you could see people's heads turning in your peripheral vision, you didn't care. "Tatsugiri may not look it, but it's more powerful than you'll ever know! You don't know our bond, so just back off already!!"

"Oooooh, I didn't know you knew Outrage..better not hit yourself in confusion." They snickered.

"...why are you like this?" With slumped shoulders, you frowned at them. "Why do you keep tormenting me day after day?! I've done nothing to you. Is it a crime to admire my heroes? To wanna be like them?"

"No, but you'd be an embarrassment to every future dragon tamer. I mean who'd wanna see a pathetic thing like that in the Elite Four? Or on a Champion's team? Raihan and Lance would laugh in your face and crush you if they saw-"

"STOP IT!!" You finally snapped, hitting the table again before taking out one of your pokeballs. "Do you want a battle?! Is that what you want?!! Then you'll get it-!!"

"[Y/n], what is the meaning of this?"

Hearing the voice of the director made all the color drain from your face. The bully just smirked as you slowly turned to Harrington, seeing him looking at you with a frown.

"This is the second disturbance you've caused in this same area. You know battles aren't permitted inside the academy."

It's only then did you realize everybody in the cafeteria was staring..and you shrunk back in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Director. I didn't mean to shout. They were just-"

But when you tried to point out the bully, they were gone.

How convenient.

"From how it looks..you were intimidating them. And you should also know we have a zero tolerance policy for such behavior."

"But I wasn't..they-!" You tried in vain to defend yourself, yet the look on Harrington's face told you he didn't wanna hear any of it.

"We can discuss this further in my office. Return your Tatsugiri to its pokeball and follow me, if you will."

"....yes, sir." Defeated, you gathered your things and put Tatsugiri back into the pokeball (much to its dismay), before commencing the long walk of shame to the director's office.

Maybe he will believe you.

.......

"He didn't believe me either. What's the point of "standing up for myself" if I'm just gonna get in trouble?! What's the point if they're always gonna get away with it while I face suspension?!"

"Suu.."

"I know I kinda let myself go back there, but...th-they kept pushing me and pushing me! Why couldn't he understand that? Why doesn't anyone here understand-?!"

"Tasu!"

Calming yourself down a little, you looked to Tatsugiri, who sat on your bed and looked up at you with sad eyes, wishing you weren't being so harsh on yourself.

"....well, I know you understand me, buddy." You quietly sighed and sat down, bringing it into your hands as it nuzzled your cheek. Immediately your shoulders relaxed. "I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm just...it's been frustrating. But I swear I'll never replace you for any other dragon. Not even for a shiny Charizard."

"Yip-yip?!" It cried out.

"Believe me! I won't." You chuckled, although you stopped as you thought over this morning's events...

And suddenly you felt sick to your stomach.

Just thinking about going to your afternoon class today made you feel ill, wondering who was going to harass you two next...and if you'll be able to do anything about it without getting into trouble with the director.

Now that you've gotten your second strike, you had to be careful not to lash out like that again.

But what else were you supposed to do?

Let them continue to bully you around and make your poor partner feel absolutely worthless? How was that fair to either of you?

At this point, you've ran out of adults in this academy to talk to...besides the nurse, of course, although she seemed more adept at healing Pokémon than counseling students.

Even if she was willing to listen, you doubt anything would change.

Nobody here took your side or could possibly understand what you were going through-

"Roto-to-to~"

Your rotomphone started ringing, displaying an unknown caller ID. Normally you'd ignore it, although Tatsugiri had a better idea and decided to slap the screen with its fin, answering it.

"Tatsu!" You grumbled, pulling it away from your phone before addressing the stranger, feeling embarrassed. "Sorry! My Pokémon-"

"Greetings, am I speaking to [y/n]?"

".....uh...yeah?" Your eyebrows furrowed with confusion, not expecting to hear a distorted voice on the other end of the line. "And who am I speaking to exactly?"

"My name is Cassiopeia. Leader of Team Star."

"Team Star?" You blinked, remembering all of the rumors you've heard about this organization. They were a small group of kids who got bad grades, skipped school often...and sometimes harassed others into joining them or pulled pranks on teachers.

Why would their leader contact you?

Or better yet...how did they even get ahold of your number?

"Correct. We've been watching you for some time, and we see your pain. It must feel awful...being pushed around and intimidated all because you admire some famous trainers. And when you finally have the courage to defend yourself and your Pokémon...suddenly you're the bad guy? It's so unfair."

"How do you.....l-look, um..Cassiopeia. I got a lot going on right now." You mumbled, hoping to end this conversation quickly. "I'm facing suspension if I cause one more scene, so I don't think I should be talking to delinquents like-"

"That is a lie. Team Star isn't a group of delinquents. We're so much more than that." They interrupted you, sounding a bit annoyed. "The truth is that WE are the victims. We who were shamed and excluded for the crime of being ourselves. The system has failed us, [y/n], and we formed this group as a way to stand up and stand out."

"...ah, I see." Now you were growing a bit more understanding and sympathetic towards them. You always had a feeling that your classmates overexaggerated how "evil" this team really was, making comparisons to Team Rocket and organizations that were legitimately evil and criminal.

But obviously, you never put your two cents in. You were already getting bullied enough just for saying Lance and Raihan are cool dragon trainers you wished to meet.

You were already getting bullied enough just for admiring some famous dragon trainers.

"So...obviously you're trying to sell me something." You huffed, kicking your feet up on the desk. "You want me to join your team as one of your goons-?"

"Oh no. I actually have something much better in mind." Cassiopeia cut in once more. "We've seen how you battle with dragon types. Very impressive, I must say. You never back down from a challenge. You're fierce, protective..and you demonstrate incredible leadership."

That felt flattering to hear, considering all the times you've gotten criticized for your battling techniques during Ms. Dendra's class.

Recently, she actually made you apologize to your classmate, whose Pokémon was actively bullying yours and provoked it into using a powerful move that knocked it out in one hit.

Why was that such a problem?

Because you weren't supposed to be battling, but the bully kept pushing you into one--and of course, Ms. Dendra didn't see that part.

Only the part where you broke the "No-OHKO" rule she had written into her lesson plan for that day.

Now you were struggling to get your grades back up in battle strategies, which was hard since you gained a reputation as being "too aggressive"..when in reality you were just so afraid and fed up that no one would listen to you.

So hearing this complete stranger give you praise felt genuinely good.

"Oh! Ah...thank you." You decided to bite the bullet. "So what's your offer?"

"We believe you're a good fit to be a squad leader. We have one more slot available. Interested?"

Your heart immediately jumped at the opportunity, although part of you was still holding back.....wondering if it was worth getting mixed-up with people like Cassiopeia and Team Star's revered leaders.

This could very well throw away your entire future and your goals of becoming the next dragon type gym leader. You could be expelled for sure, or even blacklisted from partaking in tournaments.

But at the same time, you were so tired of living in fear and dealing with all of this alone.

Why should you have to? That's setting a terrible example for your Pokémon--they shouldn't have to see their trainer living like that. You had to be brave and stronger, but that was almost impossible if you were just going to suffer repercussions for trying.

Cassiopeia took your silence as hesitation. "I know this is a lot to think about. But trust me, [y/n]. Team Star can do more for you than the Academy ever did. You'll get to train without limits. Your name will be known by all, and nobody will mock you or Tatsugiri ever again. That is what you want, isn't it? To grow stronger together? To stand up against those who wronged you?"

Hearing them mention your partner made you look to the Mimicry Pokemon in your lap. Seeing the way they put their fin on your hand and gave you a small nod ultimately solidified your answer.

You weren't turning back now.

"We can discuss this tomorrow if you'd like-"

"No, I made up my mind. I'll take it. When do I start?"

..........

"Looking sharp as always, Revavroom."

With a sharp-toothed grin, you gently patted the head of your Starmobile--specifically the Revavroom attached to it, as it rumbled in happiness.

Then you hopped onto the vehicle, climbing up to the stage where you could survey the rest of your camp, observing your goons hanging out by the vending machines and driving around on their Cyclizars.

This was the Achird Squad base stationed at Casseroya Lake, and for about a year or so...you've also called it home.

The location was perfect for a mighty dragon leader such as yourself, allowing you to keep watch over the Tatsugiri and Dratini herds you'd see in the waters from time to time.

It was far better than the cramped dorms of the Academy. They would never have let your dragons roam free like Dragapult, Baxcalibur, and all the rest were doing right now..

Ever since joining Team Star, you never looked back and never regretted your decision. You became fast friends with the other bosses, with Atticus even designing some cool armor plates for your outfit that resembled a Kommo-o's scales.

Although things have been...rather weird as of late.

Especially since it was the anniversary of the incident.

Back at the Academy, you and all of the leaders came together with the ultimate to confront your bullies once and for all. It was meant to finally settle who was the strongest, and how you were sick of being pushed around.

Least to say..the tables have turned, and everyone knew your names.

The bullies ended up running scared, barely putting up a fight themselves before scrambling to heal and recall their Pokémon.

You felt pretty good about it, especially when you knocked out that jerk who made fun of your teeth and admiration for dragon trainers in one fell swoop.

But then you looked around and saw everyone's scared faces. Many were recording the battles, spreading them all over social media, or shielding their own Pokémon from potential harm--even though you never intended to hurt them whatsoever.

It turned into a huge scandal over who was in the right or wrong, although in the end your bullies played the victims, dropped out of school, and ended up being listened to the most.

They made you out to be monsters who just attacked them for no reason..and it almost got you all expelled.

However, Cassiopeia took the blame, and while you were pardoned, Harrington, the deputy director (who tried erasing all records of the scandal and bullying to "preserve" the Academy's image), and many teachers left, guilty that they didn't do more to prevent this.

It would have been a bittersweet victory for Team Star---had your leader not also vanished, their last message being a call for the organization to disband.

To this day, none of you understood why they'd do that...or why they think you'd ever wanna leave this team and go back to your studies.

How could you after the faculty messed up this badly?

How could you after they still sided with the bullies?

How could you after they tried to cover up what really happened?

In the end, you all promised to stick together, abiding by your codes and living out on the squad bases. You occasionally met up for discussions and battle plans, although you always held onto hope that if the team kept going long enough....Cassiopeia might come back.

You've tried contacting them through various means, yet none of your Rotoms could retrace their calls nor social media posts. Everything was gone.

As though they wanted you all to forget ever meeting them..

It never made sense to you, considering you could really use a leader back then.

But what's done is done, and you winded up assuming a de factor leader position, given your team was the strongest out of all of theirs. Of course, Ortega was less-than-pleased about holding a vote on it, but you won the majority and he eventually got over it.

Now you've been training your Pokémon more frequently, and only because there's something called "Operation: Starfall" going around--and apparently some Paldean trainer was going around tackling each base with the hope of claiming their badges.

One of the codes was that being defeated in battle meant surrendering it, and that means...

Someone was dead set on shutting down Team Star for good.

But you wouldn't let them. The other bosses were your friends, family..and you'll be damned if you lost them, too.

"Boss! The others are comin' in!" You heard one of the grunts shout, and you looked towards the horizon in surprise.

She wasn't kidding.

Ortega, Mela, Eri, Giacomo, and Atticus were at your base's entrance, waiting for you. Although you were eager to see them after being occupied with training for so long...it didn't concern you that all of them chose to show up at once.

But you refused to show any sort of alarm, huffing as you jumped off the stage, mounting your partner Cyclizar. "Let's ride!" You barked, allowing it to sprint towards the group at full speed.

Your cape fluttered in the wind as it leaped across a small stream, all while Tatsugiri--who was resting in a small basket attached to it--held on for dear life.

Upon arriving, the bosses stopped their chatter and turned as you slowed down, stepping off Cyclizar. You gave it a small pat on the head, assuring that it could rest, before looking at the group.

"So we meet again...what's with the sour faces?" Your eyebrows furrowed at their expressions. When nobody was immediately speaking up, you huffed. "Come on, out with it. You can't come all this way to my base just assume I can read your minds-"

"We come before thee bearing..a warning." Atticus muttered, bowing his head in shame. "The student you've spoken of hath proven to be quite the adversary."

"Is that so? Surely they haven't claimed all of your badges, have they?"

"........"

"Why is no one talking-?"

"Because we got our asses handed to us." Mela bluntly stated, clenching her fists. "We got absolutely smoked...and now you're the only one left."

Your eyes widened in shock and horror, although you didn't get the chance to respond as Ortega cut you off.

"Now before you freak out on us all..we did try our best. We did everything you and Cassiopeia taught us. But this kid....they're good. Almost too good. And this guy named Clive was helping them out the whole time, getting under our skin and everything...."

"Well I wouldn't say that." Eri looked at the fairy trainer, crossing her arms over her chest as she frowned. "He wanted to know where we're coming from and why we're doing all of this."

"...and you just told him?"

You could see everyone tense up, and you just scowled, wondering why they would do this.

"What makes you all think he would care...or why anybody from that academy would care about us now?" Your eyebrows furrowed as Tatsugiri sat on your shoulder, mimicking your expression. "Nobody cared when they hurt us...nobody cared when we were literally begging for help. Look, I know keeping this group together was hard, but it's no excuse to-"

"Honestly...I'm kinda tired of this charade. At least someone's willin' to listen to us now.." Giacomo remarked, frowning a little bit. "But here's the lowdown, [y/n]: we got beaten into the dirt and followed our code, so now we're here to give ya a little heads up before this kid comes after you next. We're sorry. But we tried."

"And we still don't know who's really behind this sting operation.." Mela grumbled, shaking her head in worry. "Someone wants to shut us down for good, and it's definitely not either of those new students. They're just being used to carry out the dirty work."

"I might have a good idea on who it is...and I swear, they'll answer for this." You bared your teeth. "But I'll save my dragon rage for this trainer. Wherever they are, whatever they're doing...I hope they know I'm ready. Because I'm gonna defend Team Star...defend us....until my last breath."

"Su! Su!!" Tatsugiri trilled in agreement, nuzzling your cheek, to which you couldn't help but smile a little bit.

"Well whatever happens next, you have our full support, [y/n]." Eri smiled as she patted your shoulder. "Badge or no badge, we stand behind you."

Everyone else chimed in with agreements, smiles on all of their faces as well--although Atticus' wasn't immediately noticeable, you could see it in his eyes.

Knowing this group still cared about you and believed in your battling skills made all the tension leave your shoulders.

"Thank you, my friends. Hasta la vistar ~☆"

""""Hasta la vistar, and good luck, [y/n]!! ~☆""""

[greensagephase]

Miguel and Gabriella | Easter 🐇

Disclaimer: I know not everyone celebrates the day but as someone who does, I just had this on my mind and couldn't help the fluffiness. I just love thinking about Miguel as a dad to Gabi 🥺 so these are just some random thoughts on it, if only things were different! I also want to add that I know some people celebrate differently, or have different takes/opinions on it or on certain traditions/activities, so please take no offense from this post. This is based on things my family used to do for the kids of the family when we were all children, so a lot of this was normal for me growing up.

This is meant to be a lighthearted post on Miguel being a dad to Gabriella and embracing his dad energy, so I hope you enjoy it for what it is. Thank you! :)

Masterlist

In an alternative timeline, Lyla took the photo with the bunny filter because it's almost Easter and she thought it would be funny. Miguel is grumpy about it.

In this alt timeline, Gabriella didn't die. That means Miguel had the opportunity to introduce her to the Spider Society and the fact that he's Spider-Man. So when Miguel returns from the mission to HQ, what's the first thing Lyla does? Show Gabi the picture, of course, which makes Gabi laugh. Miguel can't even be grumpy about the picture anymore. The sight of his daughter laughing, along with the endearing sound of it, erases any negative emotion regarding the photo and the mission. Miguel is just a happy dad!! 🥹

With Easter around the corner, I'm imagining Miguel and Gabi going shopping for her Easter dress. Miguel lets Gabi choose whichever one she wants. She probably chose a lilac-colored one (crying over a dead fictional child rn).

Because Gabi knows of the Spider Society, I imagine she knows the HQ building very well and it's like a second home to her, and due to that, Miguel plans a BIG Easter egg hunt for her and the other spider kids like Mayday. He makes it clear it's open for anyone. It's just a little fun time for the kids!

I'm imagining him and maybe a few other spider adults going to HQ at night to set up for the next day and when the kids arrive they spot Easter eggs everywhere. There's spider webs in corners with cute little Easter eggs stuck in them. Other Easter eggs are simply hanging from the ceiling with strings of web, and of course, there are more hidden in less obvious places to make things fun for the kids.

I don't know if Miguel would give Gabriella her own web shooters, at least not until she's older, and that's if she asks for them. Or, maybe he does but he has a whole lecture with her about using them appropriately. If Gabi doesn't have any web shooters, I can see Miguel carrying her on his shoulders so she can get the Easter eggs up on the ceiling. The whole time Miguel is grinning from ear to ear, loving Gabi's cute giggles of excitement due to the egg hunt (give me HAPPY DAD MIGUEL CONTENT, SONY, I'M BEGGING YOU).

And when Gabi is on her feet, running with her Easter basket in hand (also gifted by Miguel, of course 🥺), Miguel simply runs along with her, probably encouraging her and giving her little hints sometimes - "Mija, look, there's one right there!" and "Gabi, look up, mija!" and "Good job, hija, you found another one!"

Miguel is just having so much fun during this whole thing, he's smiling the whole time as he accompanies Gabi from sector to sector finding Easter eggs with the other spider parents and their kids.

And by the end of the egg hunt, him and the others probably prepared some food for everyone to eat and the kids are all talking about where they found eggs, or how many they found. It's just a wholesome moment for the Spider Society and those who decided to participate.

Okay, and also, with Miguel being so happy and having full on dad energy, he probably arranged for there to be some kind of Easter egg hunt for the teenagers, too (for those who celebrate or for anyone who wants to participate just for fun), because they're still kids but of course, he knows that a lot of them will be like, "I'm too old for easter egg hunting," so Miguel makes it into some kind of competitive Easter egg mission and that's how he gets some of them to participate. Miguel's just smiling in amusement as he watches the spiderlings go through it (I like to think even Hobie joined just to do the opposite of what Miguel expected from him, which was to not participate - Hobie and Pav probably won tbh)!

At the end of the day, everyone goes to their respective universes. Miguel and Gabi go home. Gabi's basket is full of Easter eggs and she's still full of energy because she's had a lot of candy at this point (and Miguel knows she's going to pass out asleep by like 8:30pm). They arrive home and Miguel is smiling because there's still one little surprise left for the day that will keep Gabi entertained while he cooks dinner for the two of them.

As soon as they step into their home, Gabi sees it. Another Easter gift basket, Spider-Man 2099 theme, the one she saw at the store a few weeks ago. It's sitting right on the floor and as soon as Gabi's pretty brown eyes land on it (no, seriously, crying over this child rn. She's so sweet 😭), she's off. She's immediately all like, "Daddy, look! It's the basket we saw at the store the other day!" and Miguel just stands a few feet away, smiling fondly at his daughter's excitement. "Si, mija, mira lo que te trajo la coneja!" ["Yes, mija, look what the [Easter] bunny brought you!"]

Miguel helps Gabi unpack her basket (we have Lyla taking pictures of them) and afterwards, while Gabi plays with some Spider-Man 2099 action figure, Miguel happily cooks dinner for them. 🥕🐇🥕🐇🥕🐇🥕🐇

I'm gonna go and cry about Miguel and Gabi

[gliphyartfan]

Gliphy, I love how you're feeding us good lately. That being said... *Desperately hold out a measuring cup* Sugar please?

How does the Chain feel about marriage? Do they all agree to share (Y/N) (if she even agrees to it at all) or have they accepted that maybe seeing her walk down the aisle is off the table? How would starting a family work for them?

Oooh, toughie….

(For answering purposes, Wind is grown up here!)

Another long one…meh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean most of the heroes would reluctantly agree to share her, putting aside rivalries to ensure she’s as happy as possible.

Time and Warriors would definitely insist on ground rules to avoid competition between them getting out of hand.

They’d ultimately want to present a united front and show that they can prioritize her happiness over their own possessive feelings.

Buuut despite this agreement, let’s face it, some rivalry would still linger, particularly between Wild and Sky, who both have strong feelings and aren’t afraid to subtly (or not-so-subtly) try to win her favor.

For a proposal? They’d likely collaborate on a massive, unforgettable proposal, each hero bringing something unique to make it special. Time might carve a ring, Wild would prepare a feast, and Sky might craft a small wooden carving symbolizing their love. They’d all want to contribute to the memory of that moment

The wedding itself would be an elaborate event, something reflective of both (y/n)’s world and Hylian traditions.

Or a small one if that’s what she prefers.

They’d want to make sure that she feels truly cherished and would honor any customs from her world if they know they’re meaningful to her.

They’d each insist on making vows. (Because of course)

Some, like Twilight and Four, might craft sentimental promises, while Wild and Twilight’s might be more heartfelt and grounded in their experiences with you.

Now…

If she DIDN’T accept.

Some of them, like Wild, Wind and Four, would come to terms with it more easily, respecting her wishes while promising that they’d stand by her forever, even without a formal commitment.

Time, Warriors, Twilight, Legend, and Sky might feel more disappointed, struggling with the idea of never fully ‘claiming’ her. (The possessive gremlins)

Of course They’d still show her through actions how deeply they care, subtly hinting that their offer is always open.

For Hyrule, this would be especially difficult, as he sees (y/n) as the closest thing to a fairytale come true. He’d likely feel some hurt but would ultimately accept that simply being near her is (has to be) enough.

They’d still be devoted and protective, willing to fight for her and protect her just as much as if she HAD married them. To them, marriage or not, she’s theirs in spirit, and they’d make sure she knows that.

And with no marriage to bind them, rivalries could be harder to suppress. (Cause they never know if she may change her mind and THEY want to be the apple of her eye)

Time and Warriors would likely take the role of mediators, ensuring that any competitiveness remains good natured and doesn’t cross any lines

Legend might throw a few jabs or sarcastic remarks at the others, particularly Wild or Sky, but as I said, he’d ultimately respect her decision. Twilight would be slightly more possessive but would keep his feelings in check, out of respect for her boundaries.

For kids?

If they got married, having children would be a more interesting issue.

Some, like Wild, Sky, Hyrule and Twilight, would be excited to start a family, (some absolutely more than the others, which is saying something).

while others, like Legend and Warriors, might need more convincing, uncertain about raising children in their unique situation. (If they settled down already though, they’d be over the moon)

If they didn’t get married and she still wanted children in the future…well…

She doesn’t have to look far to find willing participants~

….ALSO TWILIGHT WEAVES HER BABY CRADLES.

He learns from Uli and I will NOT accept any other headcanon for that!

[matan4il]

Israel's 76th Independence Day

-> Geek fact: Today is the 14th of May, but also the fifth of (the Hebrew month of) Yiar. The Hebrew and Gregorian calendar only coincide once every 19 years. Since Israel was established, this is only the 4th time when we get to celebrate it on a day which is both the Hebrew and the Gregorian date of its founding.

-> Israel's Independence Day start the eve before, with a ceremony that both concludes our Memorial Day for our fallen soldiers and terror victims, and transitions into celebrating our independence. I don't think anyone can understand life here, or the Israeli people, without getting this impossible, yet necessary emotional transition.

-> This year, more than ever, the two days, commemorated one right after the other, feel impossible to separate.

-> We have an Independence Day ceremony. Every year, it celebrates the best of Israeli society. All of it. Jews and non-Jews. 12 Independence Day torches are lit (representing the 12 ancient tribes of Israel) by individuals who stood out in making a change for our society. As you might imagine, this year the ceremony was more emotional than ever before, with an incomprehensible number of heroes of all kinds.

-> Some highlights for me included the lighting of a few torches in the scenes of the massacre instead of all being light on Mount Herzl in Jerusalem. For example, families of some of the murdered at a southern Israeli beach, invaded by sea, lit together a torch at the place where their loved ones were taken away.

-> The Jewish prayer for the release of all hostages, sung by Lior Elmaliach in front of 132 empty yellow chairs (same color as the ribbon that people wear to call for this return).

-> One of the released hostages singing a mash-up of two songs about the sun (re-finding it, and discovering that the sun is inside us), while all the violins around being lit in yellow, and the yellow ribbon for the hostages' return looming larger than life in the background.

-> An Israeli soldier, who fought in this war in Gaza, performing a love song to the Land of Israel on his violin (it was performed in that moment without the lyrics, but the song goes, "The land of our people, the land of our eternity, a land in which we were born, a land in which we will live, come what may"), lit in white, while all the violins around him are lit in blue, the two colors of the Israeli flag.

-> That moment when Iris Chaim, whose son Yotam was one of the three hostages accidentally killed in Gaza by our own soldiers, who right away sent a message to those soldiers that she understands, she's not angry at them, and they're invited to her home, who's been working to lift and unite people's spirits before and since, when she was saying she's the mother of... she named her first born son, but then she had to stop and take a deep breath before saying Yotam...

-> When the flag bearers, outstanding soldiers carrying the flags of all the units of the IDF, did the traditional portion of the ceremony where they form different shapes, but this year they started by spelling the Hebrew word נזכור (nizkor, we'll remember).

-> How soldiers wounded in the current war (enough to need crutches or wheelchairs) participated in multiple sections of the ceremony, including the more physical ones, like the flag bearers' formations (in the pic below: forming Israel's flag).

-> They had a group of kids from different northern and southern Israeli communities who are still, even over 7 months since the start of the war, internal refugees. They got to perform as singers and musicians together with several very successful Israeli singers. The second song they performed felt especially fitting, as it's about going out into the world, strengthened despite adversity.

-> It's not easy to celebrate when the pain is so endless. The other day, I shared this list for our Memorial Day of just some of our victims that we lost, but will never forget. One of them was 24 years old Baruch Korichman. On the eve of Purim 1924, he was walking to his home in Tel Aviv. Out of nowhere, two Arabs showed up and shot him to death, then fled the scene. Even though the British Mandate was in place, meant to hunt the murderers down and bring them to justice, meant to take care of Baruch, no one really did anything. The body was taken to the courtyard of a hospital, Baruch's mom was called, and a small crowd of locals started gathering around, angry and protesting the injustice and the lack of proper treatment. Baruch's mom turned to the crowd and asked them to be quiet, and not stop Jews from celebrating Purim.

IDK how she managed to do that, care about other people's joy even as she was going through the worst nightmare of any parent. IDK how Jews during the Holocaust managed to find it within themselves to go on celebrating Jewish holidays. I just know that they did. And if they could, so can we. We can remember the Holocaust survivors, who survived the worst of what human nature is capable of, who came to the Land of Israel right after the end of WWII, and who saw the founding of the Jewish state, who got to celebrate its creation and first Independence Day. Most talked or wrote about it in terms of a miracle. The State of Israel is still a miracle. All the hatred we've seen turned against it even on Oct 7, while our people were still being massacred, is proof of that. And it is a good thing to remember that, even while we hurt.

On Oct 7, Israeli civilians went out to save their own, because the State of Israel has given them the tools to be able to, to know how, to have the strength, courage and self-confidence to go and tackle the enemy. On Oct 7, Israeli civilians knew that someone was coming to save them. Even if it took time, even if there was no way of knowing who would get there first, they knew an army that cares and wants to save them is on its way, and when I think about my Jewish People, in the shooting pits in Europe, about to be massacred by an antisemitic army, knowing for sure that there is no one on the way, that no one cares, that no one's interested in saving them, I know that as difficult as Oct 7 was, it's not the same, and it will never be the same, not as long as Israel exists. So I will continue to celebrate its independence, even as I know there is no cure for antisemitic hate and violence. We can't eradicate them. But all of us here together have created something that gives us dignity as human beings and as Jews, that our ancestors were denied. We are here, and we are the People of Israel, and we can stand tall in the face of the worst of our haters and murderers. Am Yisrael chai!

(for more of my posts regarding Israel, click here)