#magical holiday piano

[diabolicrecreation]

Belated Merry Christmas, early Happy New Years, and all around Happy Holidays to all of you! It’s been one hell of a year and a very busy one for me personally but I’m intrigued as to what awaits me in the year to come. Thank you all for sticking around and for those who started following recently. Even though I’m not consistently active on here, I really appreciate the notes and tags y’all leave, it brightens up my day! See ya soon

Fun little fact: the mice in these drawings are based off a Christmas decoration that has these two cute dancing mice on a self playing piano. Probably my favorite Christmas decoration of all time.

[piastrixpole]

spinning into love - oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

genre: smau, written

faceclaim: buseksc

spinningaroundrecords just posted!

our new stock is here just in time for the holidays ft. our employee's recommendation wall curated by yn

liked by user3, user45, user27 and 3,419 others

user1: damnn yn's got taste

user2: do you guys have the chappel roan record in?

->spinningaroundrecords: we do!! in coke bottle clear and the coral anniversary addition

Yn had always wanted to work somewhere in the music industry. She lived, breathed and sleeped the euphoria of discovering a new favourite artist or record. From the moment she could remember, the thrill of discovering a new song, a new band, or a hidden gem in the deep corners of an album was enough to make her feel alive. It wasn’t just the act of listening; it was the feeling of music that consumed her. The electric pulse of a bassline, the bittersweet strum of a guitar, the raw, vulnerable emotion in a singer's voice—it all gave her a sense of connection to the world that she couldn’t find anywhere else. Since she wasn't the most musically inclined herself it she was extra passionate as a listener to compensate for it.

So, instead of focusing on creating music, she threw herself into the art of curating it. She spent hours browsing record shops, digging through stacks of vinyl, and chasing after obscure releases from up-and-coming artists. She was a listener, a connoisseur, someone who appreciated the artistry and emotion that went into every note.

It wasn’t long before Yn’s obsession became more than a hobby; it became her life. After years of working in different parts of the music industry—interning, managing small acts, or just helping set up gigs—she finally landed her dream job at Spinning Around Records. The record store wasn’t just a place to work for her—it was a sanctuary, a place where she could live and breathe music every day. And now, she was a permanent fixture there. She helped curate the store’s staff picks, hosted events, and even started her own little side hustle recommending records to people who had no idea where to start.

Today, Yn was standing by the store’s employee recs wall, carefully adjusting the placement of a few albums. It was a busy December afternoon, just days before Christmas. The store was filled with people rushing in for last-minute presents, some browsing, some frantically trying to find the perfect gift for that one person who seemed impossible to shop for. Yn loved the holiday chaos. There was something magical about the way music could pull people in, especially when the world was a little colder and people needed a soundtrack to their lives.

As she was straightening out the stack of vinyl, the door chimed, and Yn looked up, expecting to see the usual rush of people coming in from the cold. Instead, her gaze landed on a man—tall, with messy brown hair, wearing a jacket and jeans that somehow looked effortlessly stylish if it weren't for the drawstring style to the jeans. He was scanning the shelves, clearly out of his depth, a look of slight panic in his eyes as he searched for something among the rows of records.

Yn smirked to herself, watching him for a second. She knew that look. He was the kind of person who was very last-minute with his Christmas shopping.

“Can I help you find something?” she called over, her voice friendly and easygoing.

The man’s eyes shot over to her, and for a second, he looked a little startled, as though he hadn’t expected someone to speak up. He quickly recovered, flashing a smile that was just shy of sheepish.

“I hope so,” he said with a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m looking for a gift... for a friend. Not really sure where to start.”

Yn raised an eyebrow, noticing the slight hesitation in his voice. “Are they into music?”

He chuckled, looking almost embarrassed. “Well, yeah, but I don’t know what kind of music they’re into. He's picky...and plays a lot of piano ”

Ah, so he was one of those shoppers, Yn thought. The kind who had no idea what their friend liked, but was determined to get it right. She could work with that.

“Well, I’ve got a few ideas,” she said, pushing away from the shelf and walking toward him. “Do you have any idea what kind of vibe you’re going for? Do they listen to anything specific, or are you just looking for something cool?”

“Uh... cool is good,” the man replied, clearly relieved that she wasn’t judging him for his lack of knowledge. “Maybe something a little indie, or a bit retro? I’m just trying to find something that’ll stand out, you know?”

Yn's smile widened. “I’ve got exactly what you need.”

She led him over to a nearby display of albums, her fingers dancing over the spines of the records as she pulled a few out. “This one’s a personal favourite of mine," she hands him a copy of Dogrel by Fontaines DC "if you want something indie that might surprise him, this would be a good choice or if you want more of a classic album then I'm always going to recommend Grace by Jeff Buckley if he doesn't already have it. No collection is complete without it! .”

As she handed him a few records, she couldn’t help but glance at his face, noticing the way his eyes lingered on the artwork. There was something oddly familiar about him—like she had seen him somewhere before.

“Do you... work here?” he asked, finally taking a breath after looking over her selections.

Yn blinked, then laughed. “No I just give recommendations for fun and know where everything is...Yeah, I do. I’m Yn,” she said, holding out a hand. “I basically live and breathe music. If you’re really stuck, I’m your go-to.”

He shook her hand, his grip warm and firm. “Oscar,” he replied. “And... I think I might need more than just a go-to. I need expert advice.”

Yn grinned. “Well, lucky for you, I’m exactly that.”

Oscar hesitated, looking a little sheepish again. “I’m actually getting this for my friend. He invited me over to his family dinner, and... I need something that shows I’m not just a complete disaster at picking presents.”

Yn’s brow furrowed slightly, intrigued. “A friend? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Charles,” Oscar said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “He’s... I guess you could say we’re not exactly from the same world, but he’s been super kind. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t look like a total fool showing up empty-handed.”

Oscar nodded thoughtfully, looking down at the records she’d picked out. “I think these might actually do the trick.”

“Glad I could help. Just don’t show up without one of these,” she teased, before adding with a wink, “and maybe don’t tell Charles I’m the one who saved your Christmas dinner reputation.”

oscarpiastri just posted!

family dinner

tagged: charlesleclerc, arthurleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, leo

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, arthurleclerc and 691,203 others

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charlesleclerc: Always room for you at the table, mate. You’re family now. 🍷🎄

alexandrasaintmleux: So happy to have you with us! Next time, I’m picking the wine, though🫣

arthurleclerc: My nephew👨‍🍼

messages!

yourusername just posted!

life lately🎼🎧

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbsf, user45 and 2,134 others

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yourbsf: Bestie, you’re just casually glowing in every single pic?? Teach me your ways immediately. 😭✨ ->yourusername: It’s all the good vibes and late-night playlists 😌

user45: Not me zooming in to see what books and records are in the background 👀

user89: Can we talk about how Oscar Piastri is casually in the likes?? 🧐

->user34: Right?? What’s he doing here lol. ->user77: Someone’s a fan of more than just F1, it seems. 👀

user777: This is such a vibe—are you starting a Pinterest board for us, or what?

user90: “Life lately” but make it the main character of a coming-of-age film. 💿✨

oscarpiastri just posted a story!

[pic 1:🎶 ] [pic 2: Bake Off Ready?]

twitter

discogs!

profile: oscar81

recently added....

pools to bathe in ~ the japanese house

salad days ~ mac demarco

midas ~ wunderhorse

f1gossip just posted!

rumoured new wag yn ln was spotted at dinner with oscar piastri. could this be the mysterious record girlie behind his soft-launch posts?

liked by landonorris, arthurleclerc, yourbsf and 32,407 others

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user4: lando in the likes? he's so messy i love him

->user3: and arthur, they defo know something

user15: so when’s the hard launch? paddock debut in Aus or a Valentine’s post? place your bets, people

user11: i give it two weeks before he posts her blurry silhouette holding a coffee cup

yourbsf: @yourusername no way haha

->yourusername: 👀

oscarpiastri just posted!

now i'm lost in your melody

liked by landonorris, mclaren, charlesleclerc and 765,091 others

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yourusername: JEFF BUCKLEY?? i've taught you well☺️

->oscarpiastri: saving my music taste since we first met🧡

charlesleclerc: so this is who i have to thank for my present 😉 bring her to the next family dinner son i approve

->oscarpiastri: will do dad 🙂⬆️

landonorris: ok lover boy

mclaren: we can't wait to meet yn🧡

->yourusername: me too admin!!🧡

user7: sleeping on the motorway tonight

user29: love IS real

[dollishmehrayan]

# CELEBRATING CHRISTMAS WITH BATBOYS! ── .✦ ( how you celebrate Christmas with different batboys )

a/n: merry christmasss! I took a small christmas break so enjoyy this one this was supposed to be on drafts but tumblr deleted it for NO REASON. Anywayss enjoyyy, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick is all about family and making you feel like part of his world. He drags you to Wayne Manor for the annual Christmas gathering.

“You’re not just meeting them you’re officially part of the chaos now.”

He insists on matching Christmas sweaters—preferably something embarrassing but endearing, like sweaters with reindeer antlers or Santa hats.

When you two decorate the tree, he’ll lift you up to put the star on top, even if you don’t need the help. “It’s tradition!”

Christmas morning involves him waking you up early with hot cocoa and a million kisses before unwrapping presents.

He loves going ice skating with you after all the festivities, holding your hand and showing off his acrobatic spins. “Bet you didn’t know I could do that, huh?”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason keeps things quiet and low-key, preferring a cozy Christmas at home over big gatherings. He’ll grumble if you insist on dragging him to the Manor but secretly enjoys seeing you happy.

“If Alfred offers you eggnog, don’t drink it. Trust me.”

He’s surprisingly thoughtful when it comes to gifts. He’ll give you something heartfelt, like a first-edition book or a piece of jewelry with a story behind it.

Jason will absolutely read you a Christmas story by the fireplace. He tries to act like it’s no big deal, but you catch him smiling when you lean against him to listen.

Baking Christmas cookies together turns into a disaster. He somehow burns half of them but insists on eating them anyway. “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

At night, he takes you on a walk through Gotham to see the Christmas lights, keeping you close to shield you from the cold and doing that sidewalk rule thingy.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s idea of a perfect Christmas is you, him, and a stack of holiday movies to binge-watch while wrapped in a blanket fort.

“We’re staying up all night. Sleep is for New Year’s Eve.”

He’s a last-minute shopper but somehow always gets you the perfect gift. He’ll blush when you open it and say, “I just… figured you’d like it.”

Decorating the tree is a fun and chaotic process because he tries to turn it into a competition. ��Whoever hangs the most ornaments wins bragging rights for the year.”

He insists on taking a cute selfie in front of the tree to commemorate the moment, even if you’re in pajamas and your hair’s a mess.

You exchange heartfelt letters as part of your gift exchange, and his words always leave you teary-eyed.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit awkward about Christmas traditions at first, but he puts in effort because he knows how much it means to you.

He surprises you with a beautifully wrapped gift, probably something rare or unique that shows he knows you well. “I trust this meets your expectations.”

If you’re at Wayne Manor, he’ll grumble about the chaos but secretly enjoys seeing everyone together. He stays close to you the entire time.

You two spend part of the day at the animal shelter, helping out with the holiday rush. Seeing him with the animals melts your heart.

At home, he’ll insist on making hot cocoa for you. It’s surprisingly good, and he pretends not to notice your impressed look.

Late at night, he plays piano for you by the fire, begrudgingly admitting that Christmas music isn’t entirely awful.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce makes sure Christmas is magical for you. The Manor is decked out with elegant decorations, and Alfred ensures everything is perfect.

He gives you a tour of the massive Christmas tree, explaining how each ornament has a story. “This one’s from the first Christmas Dick spent here. It’s… special.”

Bruce is incredibly thoughtful with gifts. He doesn’t just buy something expensive; he finds something meaningful that shows how much he knows and cares about you.

You spend part of the day helping him and Alfred deliver gifts to shelters and hospitals. It’s a tradition he holds close to his heart.

In quieter moments, he’ll hold you close by the fire, watching the snow fall outside. “Thank you for making this Christmas so much better.”

He surprises you with a slow dance to soft Christmas music, making you feel like you’re in a fairytale.

[bweeeb]

🎄Christmas collection

LONELINESS

THEODORE NOTT X READER

Part 1

Warnings: Angst, maybe too much drama, idk, use of Y/n for once here. Very short. Nothing too much. there will be a part two of this ok?

I hope this makes you sad like it made me while I wrote it.

* Theo might sound like an idiot here, but things get better I promise *

Summary: Christmas has always been your favorite time of year, but things are starting to go wrong this year.

The castle had never been as silent as it was that night. It wasn't surprising that the Slytherin common room was empty, or that the Great Hall was quieter than it had been all year, or that the snow-covered courtyards were devoid of any foolish students breaking a bone by jumping off a snow-covered stone. It was Christmas Eve, and the pitying glances of the teachers, and especially the smug looks directed at me, had kept me cooped up in the common room all week. I wasn't supposed to be here; I was supposed to be in Paris, or anywhere else, as long as he was holding my hand and pulling me along with him. Theo and I had made plans, but he'd simply vanished after hearing rumors that I was flirting with the Hufflepuff, Mason Mount. Since when is getting help with Potions class flirting? Anyway, Theo and I had argued, and the next morning, I'd waited for him, not having any idea he'd gone and left me here. I waited an entire day, wondering if maybe he'd just gone to buy some Christmas socks and those funny, tacky clothes we'd planned to wear on Christmas, but no, he'd just gone. He knew I had no one else, and yet he left me here on my first Christmas alone. It's not very nice when even the ghosts are talking to each other and making strange noises, and I haven't had a normal conversation with anyone in over 96 hours.

Sometimes I'd see a couple or two climbing the stairs, their faces lit up with joy at the peace the castle was exuding at this time of year. Sometimes I'd see students who were simply used to spending their Christmases alone, studying because their families didn't celebrate. But not me. My mom had always made sure that our Christmases were the most important event of the year. Dad would help me make cookies, eating them all before I could finish decorating them, while Mom played the piano. The fireplace was warm, and for three days, we'd sit on the fluffy white rug in front of it, a mug of hot chocolate in our hands and the tree lights twinkling as we played Christmas-themed guessing games. If I'd known that last year would be my last with them, I would have locked us in and stayed there forever.

I curled up further into the green leather sofa in the common room, watching the fire consume the logs. The common room was one of the coldest areas of the castle, and even though there weren't many windows, the cold wind seemed to dance through our hall. As stupid as it seemed to stay downstairs in this cold, my room was even colder, and the blankets I'd conjured with magic hadn't become warm enough. Mom had always told me that our magic was only as strong as our belief in the magic around us, so maybe that was why nothing was working very well. My pajamas weren't warm enough to keep me cozy, since my heavier winter robes were far away and had somehow gotten caught somewhere along the way, and even magic hadn't worked its magic.

Shivering against my own body, I snorted, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. The clock struck midnight, and a shaky sigh escaped my lips. I hated how ridiculous I looked now. The only group of three students passed by me. Even though it was late, the bedtime curfew on holidays was relaxed, so it wasn't unusual to see some of us out and about. They wished me a Merry Christmas and disappeared, leaving me there. Now that I figured hardly anyone else would show up, my tears streamed down my face like waterfalls as I buried my face in my arms, my knees drawn up to my chest.

Christmas wasn't supposed to be like this. At Christmas, there should be nothing but tears of joy, but it was so hard not to feel pain.

Somewhere between my crying and exhaustion, I fell asleep. I closed my eyes and no longer heard my sobs.

__________________________________________

Part two

[thenightshadowqueen]

The best character from each longform

(in my biased opinion)

This is (obviously) a long one, so if you do want to read it, more below.

(Also I left out the Patreon plays. I might do a separate post for them later; we’ll see.)

Jimmy (Tom, Toby’s Secret Pocket)

Look, Jimmy is the best. He’s adorable. He’s the representation we as the autistic community needed. He has happy flappy stimmy hands. He can’t walk through doors. We love him. (STOPINTHENAMEOFTHELAW!!!!!)

André Beetroot (AJ, Burglary and Bobsledding)

André Beetroot (André Beetroot) was iconic the first time around, but his return as the first recurring SFTH character obviously had to be memorialised.

The boy witch (Sam, Moist and Magical)

I was tempted by the witchfinder general, but the boy witch won out with “Henry Cavill with a wasting disease” and his thick accent. Also the cheeky little look he gives his grandma (Luke) when he flips her off wins him a lot of points.

Hugh’s mum (Tom, Marigolds Bluebells and Hugh)

She’s, like, a fair bit unhinged, but she has good intentions. She’s got amazing quotes, too; “why couldn’t you have just stayed in my womb forever” and “if you love something, lock it up” are both deeply concerning, but I love them.

The wife (Tom, Murders in Space)

This one is kind of an obvious choice. I mean, her quotes are glorious, and honestly “have you ever heard of feminism, James?” gets her top spot automatically.

Mario the sheep (Sam, the Lighthouse)

Was this even a question? I love Mario intending to be a one-scene character and then being forced to star in the whole play. I love the human bits. I love “🐑fuck you🐑”. I love the sheep (aka Sam) having a fucking breakdown at the end. 10/10 all around.

Titch (Luke, the Unrelenting Aubergine)

Listen, I was very tempted by Old Lady Margery (and by Derek), but in the end, canon queer guy with commitment issues and insane amounts of blindness around his own feelings won out. What can I say, I have a type in fictional characters.

Troll Son (Luke, Wine Under the Bridge)

Everything about this character is perfect. Screaming as hello? Colourful troll as a metaphor for being queer? Correcting a geography fact? It’s got it all. It’s perfect. I love Troll Son and his wine bar in Ipswich.

Juliet (AJ, Caesar and Juliet)

Is anyone surprised? She’s a murderous girlboss. “[My mother] said you have to be careful about men; they can be corrupted with power. But what she didn’t know is that so can woman.” They can, and I’m here for it. She’s bathing in blood and her skin is glowing. I love insane women.

Watson (Sam, the Mystery of the Midnight Circus)

Watson, driven mad with grief over his divorce and his one-sided love for Sherlock, becomes a murderous clown. Am I supposed to not love this? Is there even another choice in this play? And his breakdown at the end was gorgeous.

Priscilla (AJ, Pricilla’s Final Petal)

I was very tempted by both of her mums, and also a bit by the groundsman, but ultimately, Priscilla won out. She’s the title character. She’s confused, but she’s got the spirit, and she’s working through her trauma with a buttercup and a piano lesson. Good for her.

Marty (Sam, the Evil Make-a-Wish Kid)

I considered the seven-year-old detective, but in the end, Marty won. He’s evil. He’s a make-a-wish kid. What more can I say? He’s got an iconic smirk. He burns down all the petting zoos on the entire planet (and his mum). He dies at the end. He’s brilliant.

Derek (Tom, Susan’s Holiday)

There were a lot of great options in this one, but “I like looking at the back of another man’s head” was too good to pass up. Also, I adore the whole monologue he has while he’s waiting to be buzzed in.

The gasoline salesman (Luke, Beetroots and Murder)

Okay, I know he’s only in, like, a quarter of a scene. I know that. And I can’t tell you why I love him so much but I do. He’s just. I just love him. I can’t explain it. There are so many great characters in this play, but the way he says “could be, could be” has captivated me. If you understand the way my brain works, please contact me, because I don’t.

Peter Steven (Tom, the Milkman)

I love so many characters in this play. I love Gareth, and I love the Texan bartender, and I love David the milkman. But Peter Steven is the sweetest, most traumatised little boy and I want to protect him. I will adopt him and I will never make him walk on his knees again. I will throw away the PS5 and I will let him dig up the back garden as many times as he wants.

Johnny and Janae (Luke and Tom, the Neighbour’s Under the Bed)

I know they’re two separate characters, okay, but they’re a set. I want to keep them together. And I just can’t choose, okay? They’re two autistic children whose neurodivergence presents in opposite ways, and their parents don’t know what to do with them, and oh look, I’m back to wanting to adopt traumatised children.

Captain Egbert (Luke, the Leftenmost Window)

Shoutout to the mum, but Egbert won this one. He’s, like, kind of an idiot. I’m here for it, though. He’s got the iconic “diluileayilybilyeilysilym” speech. He wants to go to the ~astral plane~ but he’s waiting for his birthday. He lets his wife dip him into a kiss even though it’s 1940. I love him.

The king (Sam, the Prime Minister’s First Day)

Listen, I love several characters from this one, but I’m going with this one. He’s unapologetically a dick. He wears impenetrable armour made from diamonds stolen from Indian subculture. He’s impossible to beat. He’s brilliant. (Also did anyone else kind of find Sam hot as the king or is that just me?)

Franz Haberburg (Sam, the Excited Chinchilla)

Obviously fuck Nazis (god I hope that’s obvious). That being said, some of SFTH’s best characters are Nazis, and this is one of them. He’s glorious. I have never seen such a brilliant rendition of a Nazi chinchilla.

The Italian detective (Tom, the Ingredients)

He can’t pronounce paella. Do I need another reason?

Chip (Sam/AJ, the Cardboard Stegosaurus)

Oh look, another traumatised child! I want it. (No, but seriously, I love Chip and his English/French seizures.) Also he’s one of the few characters who switches actors mid-play, and I love that.

Persephone (Tom, Wild Wet and Worrisome)

She’s amazing. “HEY!” is a gorgeous siren call and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. She deserved a happy ending and I’m still sad we didn’t get one. I like to think she swam to the shore and found Geoff again, and they lived happily ever after on a boat at sea, singing and not having to kill anyone.

Full Set O’Hands and his love/bother (Luke and Tom, No! I Always Loved that Caravan)

I know, I know, another set of characters, but you really can’t separate these two. They’re insane. I adore them. They’re just… Honestly, these two are comedy gold. Good for them because they are fucking timeless.

Andrew (Luke, All Eyes on Nigel)

Listen, Andrew is a naive little thing, and he must be protected at all costs. He goes through so much shit in this one, and I just want to wrap him up in a blanket and send him to rehab.

Magnus O. Puss (Tom, BUS)

Okay, this was a VERY close one between them and Arthur B. D., but Magnus is a genderqueer icon and we love them for it. Also, I feel like this is some of the most unhinged Tom content we have and I live for that.

Jeremiah (Luke, Inside the Mysterious Cube)

I was so torn because I love Bubba, too, but I’m trying to avoid putting sets of characters where possible, and Jeremiah just edged past Bubba because his death scene was gorgeous. (That is a mildly concerning reason to have a favourite, I will admit.)

Lord Lafayette (Tom, the Midnight Mystery)

You may be noticing a pattern; I adore Tom’s insane characters. We just don’t get to see that often enough. I love his very sexual flirting with Lady Lafayette (Sam). I love him making fun of the detective’s (Luke’s) shirt. I love “what does any self-respecting rich man do when he has a little boy in tights” followed by “captured—and only captured” as a save. I love him.

Dangerfield (AJ/Tom/AJ again, Once Upon a Time I Killed Mum)

I love the confusion when Tom briefly takes over as Dangerfield; it’s not often we get to see AJ understanding something that Sam doesn’t (I say this with all the love in the world). Dangerfield is so fascinating to me. He’s a “cleaner” for a crime lord, but he has mixed feelings about the things he does. I want to know how he got into it in the first place. How did he come into this life? I want to know.

Barry’s wife (AJ, the Hare who Wore a Sweater)

I don’t remember her having a name, but I could be wrong about that. She’s so sweet; she just wants to knit sweaters for the hares in peace. And then Jimmy the hare gets shot, and she and her husband go on a revenge plot. I’m here for it. I love her.

The king/tank commander (AJ, the Oopsie Daisy Bulge)

He’s obsessed with tanks. He used to have gay sex with his fellow tank commanders, but only as a joke. He sailed all the way around, through the other landlocked counties, into the east of France, and they never saw it coming. He drove tanks into the ocean. He’s so stupid he’s almost smart. I love him.

The landowner/farmer (Luke, Too Big to Be a Jockey)

He farms peasants (Luke, you genius). He’s such a dick, with his classist remarks about Johnny Jones, but somehow I love him anyway. His interview process is looking at a photo of someone and then hiring them, and he’s honestly wonderful. I love him.

Larry (Tom, Long Johns—Strike!)

Literally the only thing he does on screen is die. That’s it. That’s his whole purpose. And he does it beautifully.

Wizard Asceroth (Sam, the Dark Moons of Slough)

ASCEROOOOTTTHHHH!!! (I don’t have another reason. I don’t need another reason.)

The French waiter (Luke, Lost in Your Eyes)

I don’t know. I really don’t. But something about this character has stuck with me since the first time I watched it. Gorgeous accent. He kisses Amanda (Sam) for no reason at all. He gets stabbed by a gun. I love him.

The Lady of a Thousand Don Juans (Luke, the Meringue Haberdashery)

She tricked her husband for years. She murdered her own child. She has been a curse on all the Don Juans in this town. She’s one of the only villains who win at the end of a longform, and that’s very impressive. I love her.

Xavier (Tom, Oh my God is This a Joke?)

(Please refer to my previous statement about Nazi characters.) Okay, look. He’s a horrible person. But we as a fandom choose to disregard that because Tom looks amazing in a leather jacket and scarf. I am not above this. I am, in fact, a part of this. Tom looks amazing in a leather jacket and scarf. “I will die as I have lived…. Shirtless!” has to be one of the most iconic lines of all time. There was never any competition.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Bella Goth's (Actually Cozy!) Winterfest Celebrations - And a New Ring 💍

Bella Goth loved the holiday season. Even when she was unhappily married to Mortimer for years, she could always get into the Winterfest spirit. She'd always been fascinated by Father Clement, who could seemingly be everywhere at once every Winterfest Night. If families celebrated, he would come. You might even say the inexplicable magic of Father Clement was her gateway to a lifetime studying occults and paranormality.

Now, of course, she was dating the Grim Reaper himself, and to mark the season she prepared a plate of Hallacas - a traditional holiday dish passed down from her Selvadoradian grandmother, Enriqueta, at the request of her beloved sons.

Alexander was grown and had started a family of his own, and Dexter would graduate high school before she knew it (I don't think I've shown a picture of him since he was a toddler, so there he is in the green jacket, looking pretty much nothing like Mortimer). Bella cherished their excitement over the savoury dish - a mainstay at Goth family Winterfests year after year. They knew the best Hallacas in the world were the ones their mother made!

Once Alex and Lydia lit the menorah to introduce their son, Jagger, to another part of his heritage, most of the Goths went to bed. The cats, Spatula and Victory, stayed awake sniffing around the Hallacas, while Bella played and sang a tune on the piano.

She was in a good mood, waiting for her beloved Grim to return from his latest reaping. They didn't get to see one another enough, but they more than made up for time apart each time they came together. "My love," she said warmly. "I adore you. Come in from the cold."

Grim couldn't feel temperatures, exactly, but his entire being buzzed with a fire he hadn't felt for millennia whenever he spent time with Bella. But one thing in particular had always bothered him - her insistence upon wearing the oversized engagement ring from her ex-husband, Mortimer, as a fashion statement.

He'd grown tired of looking at it, quite frankly. "I have a gift for you," he said. She lifted the lid on the medium-sized box with excitement, gasping when she spotted the velvet ring box inside.

"You didn't!"

"I didn't. I asked @deardiaryts4 to design a custom ring just for you. A new fashion statement. I know how much you love her work, and I hope you like it. She did an incredible job, and considering how close it was to Winterfest when I asked her to design it, she pulled it together in no time."

The stunning bauble glistened under the lights of the Winterfest tree at their backs - a massive black diamond set on a white gold band dotted with dozens of smaller black diamonds. "It's incredible, Grimmie, I love it!"

The ring fit Bella like a glove, but they had to cut their cozy celebration short. "Sorry, duty calls," said Grim, before disappearing outside in a cloud of black smoke.

Bella went to bed satisfied though Grim couldn't stay by her side, and she awoke to the excited murmur of Winterfest morning streaming up the stairs.

Soon after breakfast, her daughter Cassandra arrived with her husband, River, and their sons.

Bella made spiced hot cocoa to greet their arrival - another common treat at Goth family holidays - and she pulled out a retro game console Cass and Alex used to play with when they were children, introducing her grandson Michael to the simple, colourful joy of earlier, more pixellated video games.

(I see you plumbob. I've been so good. But the event rewards task box was in the way!)

She even managed to wrangle all nine of them for a family portrait by the tree, and then the family put on some Winter Holiday music to dance off some of their festive energy.

clockwise from top: Dexter Goth, Alexander Goth, Jagger Goth, Lydia (Kim-Lewis) Goth, Cassandra (Goth) Nesbitt, Bella Goth holding Samuel Nesbitt, River Nesbitt, Michael Nesbitt

(Jagger also needed a diaper change, so dance party done.)

These moments with her family, surrounded by the love of her children and grandsons, meant everything to Bella.

But Grim, and the gorgeous ring she wore as a symbol of their love, meant something, too. As she grooved with her family by the fire and spent time with her beloved crow, Obsidian, this cozy celebration reminded Bella she was one of the luckiest women in the world.

Cozy Celebrations posts with Hazel & Nicola: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Nicola Enters Dating Deanna

NOTE: I didn't give this installment a part number because it's not technically canon but IS canon, if that makes sense. The ring is real and the portraits are going on the wall, but Michael, Samuel, and Jagger are all older than they were during in-game Winterfest (and aging them back down meant trying to pose infants through a couch and I honestly couldn't be bothered!) But I allude to the idea that the holidays come around every year, even though it's actually closer to every 15 years of actual game time. A sim year is 8 days, but the calendar year is 112 days because I like to fit in as many holidays as I can. So last year Cassandra, River, Michael, and Samuel were with the Nesbitts, but "this year" they rotated to the Goths, because I absolutely needed a family photo with them in it.

I know the Hazel/Nic play on Cozy Celebrations turned out to be the complete opposite, so this is like a palate cleanser, finishing the last two days of the event tasks with another side family in this legacy, instead. Not everyone's out here having a bad time!

WCIF Bella's ring? You can't, I'm sorry! This post came about because I got an exclusive and it's gorgeous, but @deardiaryts4-rb posted about the white diamond version here, and let this be my endorsement that it's stunning! If she puts either swatch up for public download I highly recommend this ring for any of your luxe sims! Thank you Zen!!

WCIF Portrait Poses? I used 9 of 19 poses from @somneasims Our Legacy posepack, and with the exception of River giving jazz hands where that would be behind another sim's back and a missing infant on Michael's lap, it's a perfect fit! And these are so minor, like it's absolutely acceptable to give jazz hands or look like you're fidgeting in a family photo. Also, Dexter should be carrying an infant, but River's hair disguises his empty hands. Thank you for sharing this, I love the results!

(And yes I considered adding Mortimer and Karl since he and Bella are on such good terms, but in the end I decided they went on a vacation because this shot is wonderful.)

And I've used the same acha-sims' Lovers 2 pose for Grimbella before, but it's so perfect and really puts the ring front and centre, which this post deserved!

[serenastark-official]

🎄✨ Merry Christmas, everyone! ✨🎄

This time of year always reminds me of the things that matter most—family, friends, love, and a little chaos (because what’s Christmas without a little Stark-level drama, right?).

Christmas in the Stark household is never just about the lights (although Dad insists on a ridiculous amount of arc reactor-themed ornaments) or the presents (Morgan and I are in an ongoing debate about who the better gift-wrapper is—hint: it’s me).

It’s about family.

As I sit here, with Morgan’s laughter echoing through the halls and Dad’s holographic reindeer projection gone rogue, I feel so incredibly grateful for the people in my life. Mom’s in the kitchen trying to outdo last year’s Christmas dinner (spoiler alert: she’s already winning), and somewhere, Loki and Laurya are conjuring “festive mischief” involving enchanted snowflakes.

Life isn’t perfect, and it’s not supposed to be. But in moments like these—when everyone I care about is under one roof, teasing, laughing, and just being themselves—I realize how much warmth and light we can create for each other, even in the coldest of seasons.

Here’s to twinkling lights, cheesy holiday movies, cookies that may or may not survive Morgan’s "taste test," and to the people who make this season bright.

I hope your holiday season is filled with love, laughter, and maybe even a little magic. Sending hugs and Christmas cheer your way. Remember, you’re never alone. You’ve got me

Love always, Serena P.S. Dad says we’re naming his runaway hologram Rudolph 2.0.

[writing-relatedactivities]

A Very Ask A Manager Thanksgiving

So I love advice blogs (I maintain that comment sections on advice blogs are the best free tool for writers to explore different viewpoints, which really enriches your characterization), and for a few years now, I have had this idea that I want to do a do an Ask A Manager themed dinner, purely to delight myself. Meant to do it as a cookout this summer, but timing never worked out, so I broached the idea of doing it for Thanksgiving. My partner, who is also a nerd and therefore very supportive of my advice blog love even though it is not one of their interests, was down, with their only condition being that I should still make my cider bread with maple butter.

The menu:

Appetizers

Chips with:

Guacamole in honor of Guacamole Bob, of "ordering extra guacamole is wasteful of member dues” fame. (This being on the menu may also have been a factor in Partner being willing to have our holiday take on an Ask A Manager theme, as I once took a community education course on grilling that taught me nothing about its ostensible subject matter but did teach me to make a bomb-ass guacamole. The secret is that your first step should be to pulverize an entire head of garlic into a paste in your mocajete.)

Three store bought salsas, where the trick is to "fold" the salsa to get the best flavor

A bottle of hot sauce so we can get fired after a coworker steals our spicy food

Main Course

"Duck club" sandwiches in honor of the secret office sex club where you get points for sex in different locations, and quacking is involved. (These were very decadent and if anyone's interested in a great duck recipe, I used the Duck with Lemon recipe from A Feast of Ice and Fire.)

Sides

Cheap-ass rolls that I definitely deliberately brought to upstage you, yes you, the person who signed up to bring Hawaiian rolls! It's definitely not an overreaction on your part to declare that "they can all take Santa and stick it up their ass!" You're definitely not getting fired for being wildly hostile! (These are actually homemade rolls, but I weighed "buy actually cheap rolls and be done" or "spend a couple hours adapting a corgi butt roll recipe to a human butt roll," and chose in favor of the pun.)

Dessert

Bribery cupcakes, from that time a letter writer brought some cupcakes over to chat with her neighbor, the son of the Chief of Police, about a disruptive noise issue in her workplace and some commenters decided this constituted bribing a public servant. (The recipe is in the comments on that link; I made the carrot cake version. However, I realized halfway through that I was somehow low on vanilla despite obsessively buying fancy vanilla extract every time I am in a spice shop, along with a bunch of other things I don't need because buying cool spices makes me feel like a wizard. Anyway, half of these had vanilla in the filling/icing, and the other half had cardamom extract.)

A birthday cake that somehow crosses boundaries by...being too fancy? Being paid for a staff person? Not involving the wife in the planning? Anyway, the real answer to the letter writer's question is, "Eh, I don't think it's a big deal" because different offices have different norms around birthdays and it's whatever, but sometimes a low-stakes office norms question hits just right and you get 630 comments of people debating The One True Way to Do Office Birthdays, and whether or not buying a cake means you're angling for an affair. (Okay, not all the comments are about that particular letter. Anyway, I picked up this fancy-ass cake at Marc Heu Patisserie, and appropriately enough, the guy ahead of me in line was picking up a cake for his boss.)

And of course, what Ask A Manager column would be complete without chocolate teapots?

Beverages

Mudslides, because "girls love chocolate." And magic tricks. And being played "You're So Vain" on the piano with a mournful stare. Partner and I are both notorious lightweights but I had been snacking all day as I cooked so I was mostly immune. Partner took one sip of this drink and immediately began loudly telling me how their one colleague doesn't sing enough to his Pre-K students, and "this classroom will do anything if you sing to them!" After dinner, they lay down on the floor and sang the Slippery Fish song.

The full spread:

[chuuyrr]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ SANTA DOESN'T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO — DAZAI OSAMU ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𐙚₊ CW(s): f! reader, exes to lovers, angst to fluff/comfort, christmas/holiday setting, he still calls you pet names like baby, love, and sweetheart

𐙚₊˚⊹ SYNOPSIS: underneath the twinkling christmas lights, you and osamu embrace the promise of a love rekindled

𐙚₊ NOW PLAYING: santa doesn't know you like i do by sabrina carpenter && new years day by taylor swift ᝰ.ᐟ

in the heart of yokohama, where the winter winds whispered secrets and the city adorned itself in festive lights, you find yourself wandering around in a deep sigh, clutching yourself with your coat adorning you.

the city exuded warmth, and the scent of roasted chestnuts, gingerbread, and an open fire from christmas markets and stores mingled with the laughter of children and adults enjoying the holidays.

as you strolled through the festive scene, you couldn't escape the echoes of your shared past with dazai.

you then stop in front of a familiar bar which was decorated with bright christmas lights and wreaths, and at that moment, you find yourself lost in a sea of memories, reminiscing about the shared moments with osamu, before the inevitable drift that led to your breakup.

among those recollections, two particular scenes painted themselves vividly in your mind, haunting yet bittersweet.

one memory that lingered like a gentle melody was the night you and osamu ventured into the same dimly lit bar, saying that you two deserve a treat.

the air hummed with the soulful tunes of saxophones and pianos as you two nestled into a corner booth. the ambient glow cast a warm aura, reflecting in dazai's brown sugar eyes as you and him clinked glasses of your high-ball whiskeys, toasting to the beauty of the night.

your laughter resonated with the rhythm of the music, creating a symphony of shared joy. osamu, with his enigmatic smile, leaned in to whisper secrets that only you could understand amidst the jazz-infused atmosphere.

it was a night where time seemed to suspend, and your connection deepened through the language of music, laughter, and stories which lead to a shared kiss that became your first.

another memory that tugged at the corners of your heart was the night you spent at osamu's apartment. the air was thick with familiarity as you found solace in the haven he had crafted, even if it was quite empty and rather mininalist, considering how he didn't have much.

either way, you and osamu talked about everything and nothing, the conversation weaving effortlessly between trivialities and profound truths—some even about his day at work, how annoying working on reports was. you even find yourself dancing with him around his kitchen in the middle of the night.

as that night unfolded, osamu's clothes became a comforting embrace, wrapping you in the scent of familiarity. wearing his oversized shirt, you found a sense of closeness, a tangible reminder of the intimacy you once shared.

the cityscape outside his window faded into the background as you and him reveled in the simplicity of being together in his futon, you in his warm embrace, head tucked beneath his chin as you lay on his chest, and he hummed a peacefully melody with his fingers running through your hair to lull you.

the quiet hum of his apartment became a sanctuary in those stolen hours, and even he thought it became a place he could call home when it was previously simply a scarcely filled space, and now it felt more than that. that is, until the fall arrived.

it was a night where the barriers between you and him melted away, leaving only the echoes of whispered confessions of "i love yous" and sweet nothings, along with the soft rustle of borrowed clothes.

now, you stand alone with the weight of these memories, you couldn't help but wonder if those moments were fragments of a love that had slipped through your fingers.

the bar and the borrowed clothes became artifacts of a time when you and osamu reveled in the magic of each other's company, a magic that time, circumstances, and perhaps your own choices had dimmed.

and still, you held onto those memories, recognizing them as delicate fragments of a past that was, in its own way, a testament to the beauty of what you two once had.

the air was crisp, and the city bustled with the festive energy of the holiday season, and you were about to turn away from the bar only to walk and bump into a familiar figure.

there, in the midst of the bustling crowd, stood dazai, and time seemed to freeze for an instant as your eyes met his ever same, warm brown sugar eyes, and the weight of unspoken words lingered in the air—a moment suspended in the delicate dance between past and present.

"osamu," you murmur softly, the name escaping your lips almost as a reflex. his gaze, once distant, softened with a recognition that mirrored your own.

a tentative smile played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the shared history that bounds you both, "hey, fancy meeting you here," he remarks, his voice carrying the hint of a memory you both couldn't escape.

as the crowd flowed around you and dazai, you find yourself standing in a pocket of stillness, a space where the weight of your past lingered.

"what are you doing out here? looking for presents, dear?" dazai strikes a conversation, but you can tell he seemed to be trying to hold himself back. you can tell he was very much ecstatic to see you again despite before.

"no, i was just going for a walk," you respond, rubbing your arm as you blink softly at him.

"just going for a walk this holiday, huh?" he narrows his eyes, a small chuckle escaping his breath, and his gaze soon draws towards the bar where you two would go for a drink, dine, and date.

like a canvas of unread stories, his eyes then hold, a mix of emotions, "funny how memories have a way of catching up with us," he replies, his gaze tracing the invisible threads that connected your past to this chance encounter.

"you know, sometimes, i do wonder if our memories are trying to tell us something," dazai muses, his words resonating with a quiet introspection as you two stood there, grappling with the unspoken question of what these chance encounters meant.

dazai's eyes, once filled with the mischievous sparkle that characterized him, now furrows in a subtle frown as he observed your quiet and somewhat awkward demeanor. the cheerful and festive background chatter of the city around you seemed to fade, leaving only the palpable tension between you and him.

"so," dazai began, a playful lilt in his voice as if attempting to break the uneasy silence, "you've become the epitome of quiet contemplation, i see. is this a new tactic to throw off my deductive skills?" his words were accompanied by a teasing smile, a familiar attempt to coax you into banter.

however, your response remained trapped in the awkwardness that seemed to have enveloped you. reminiscing memories had resurrected emotions that you struggled to articulate, and the weight of unspoken words hung in the air.

his playful demeanor faded slightly, replaced by a genuine concern mirrored in the subtle downturn of his lips. "heh, you're usually more... animated," he mutters, his gaze searching for clues in the quietness that now defined you.

"i guess i've changed, dazai," you mumble, attempting to offer an explanation for the unspoken shift in your dynamic. the words, however, felt inadequate, like leaves carried away by the wind before they could settle.

dazai's eyebrows knit together in a mild frustration, especially when you no longer address him as such, "change, my love, is a curious thing. but this quiet version of you doesn't quite suit the narrative i had in mind," he teases, yet the tease carried an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

as he continued to speak, the air between you two seemed to thicken with unspoken tension. his attempts at light banter fell against the backdrop of my quiet contemplation, creating a dissonance that neither of you anticipated.

a sigh escapes him, a subtle acknowledgment of the unforeseen awkwardness, "i thought we could maybe reminisce and laugh about old times, but it seems like i've stumbled upon a different scene altogether," his frown deepening.

in that moment, the vulnerability beneath dazai's usual charm became apparent. the frown on his face reflected not just confusion but a genuine longing for the familiarity, the connection that once flowed effortlessly between the two of you.

"hey, since we're already in front of the bar we used to frequent, do you mind sharing a drink with me tonight?" he asked, his tone carrying a mix of nostalgia and vulnerability.

your eyes widen a bit in shock. you know you shouldn't, but it just feels so right to say,

"no, i don't mind at all."

memories of laughter, music, and stolen glances resurfaced, painting a vivid scene against the backdrop of the night in the bar of cozy glow of christmas lights and laughter and merriment, yet the weight of those moments hanging in the air.

dazai's gaze became more introspective, his words chosen with care as the two of you sat together by the bar on the cushioned stools with your usual high-ball whiskeys.

"you know, i've been doing a lot of thinking lately, about us and everything that happened," he starts quietly after taking a sip from his drink, "there are words left unsaid, and i think it's time to address them."

as dazai spoke, a rare sincerity colored his voice, unraveling the layers of complexity that often shrouded his emotions, and the night now became a stage for a conversation that held the potential for healing.

"i suppose so," you say back quietly as you swirl your drink around, holding it by the rim and making the ice cube clink against the glass.

you turn to look at dazai, and you see him a take a deep breath as he places his hands in the pocket of his sandy brown coat.

"i want to say sorry," dazai continues, his eyes searching yours for a reaction, "sorry for the moments i let slip away, for the words i said and didn't say, and for the distance that grew between us, and i never meant for it to end like that.."

the rare vulnerability in his admission hung in the air, a bridge between the past and the present. the ambiance of the bar now stood witness to a moment of genuine confession.

"and i miss you," dazai confesses, his gaze never leaving yours, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice, "i miss the laughter, the shared silences, and the way you understood the chaos within me, and if i can be completely honest, i still love you."

the weight of those words settled in the air, carrying with them the echoes of a love that had weathered storms and yet lingered in the recesses of the past. the quietness between you two even seemed to amplify the significance of the moment, as if the universe itself conspired to create a space for the honesty that had long been overdue.

your heart, a mosaic of emotions, responded to his words, caught between the scars of the past and the possibility of a future rewritten.

you, too, couldn't deny the resonance between you and him, "i guess, christmas has a way of making even the coldest hearts nostalgic," you say in a quiet giggle, your gaze meeting his.

the chilly night seemed to warm however.

"i'm sorry too. i'm sorry for giving up on us," you sigh, taking sip of your drink for liquid courage as the unspoken words became spoken now, "i just, it felt like there was no other way, and that this is for the best for us, osamu."

"you called me osamu again," a smile now tugs on his lips, his eyes lighting up with hope.

"oh, shut up," a smile, too, breaks on your face but you sigh softly once more as you look at him once more, "but i mean every word, osamu."

"i know you do, sweetheart," dazai says with a nod before he raises his glass to you.

"yeah," you hum softly as your raise the glass in return to his, toasting to him.

amidst the snowflakes and the soft glow of christmas lights outside, dazai and you find yourselves in the midst of an unexpected reunion, the chilly air echoed with warm memories, and beneath the twinkling stars.

this festive season really had a peculiar way of unraveling emotions, and as you crossed paths with dazai and it was evident that the connection between you two was more than a mere coincidence.

after a heartfelt conversation of unspoken words between you two with a few drinks at the bar, dazai offered to take you back to your place since it was quite late despite the holidays.

however, in a quiet corner just near your place, away from the laughter and merriment, dazai's eyes met yours as he walked right by your side.

"what is it?" you ask, looking up at him.

a subtle smirk plays on his lips as he pauses his tracks, and so do you, "you know, santa doesn't know you like i do."

it was a statement layered with memories of shared secrets and intimate moments.

as you exchanged glances, the familiarity of your history danced between you two, like a delicate snowfall. you genuinely smile nonetheless at his words, "maybe we've been on the naughty list for too long," you teased, a hint of nostalgia in your voice.

dazai took a step closer, his hand reaching for yours, "and santa may not understand us, but perhaps we can rewrite our story," he suggests, his gaze holding a sincerity that transcended the mask of indifference he often wore, "yeah?"

surrounded by the symphony of the season, you can't help but feel a little emotional as a genuine smile tugs on your lips as you nod and whisper, "yeah."

the clock struck midnight, time reaches its crescendo, and the world around you both seemed to pause in reverence to the magic of christmas, and just like that, coincidentally beneath the mistletoe that was hanging on the street light, his arms wrap around you and pulls you to him.

dazai's lips then meets yours in a kiss that spoke in volumes—a reunion of past and present, a bridge between shared memories and the promise of a love rediscovered.

as you two pull away, breathless, the quiet acknowledgment between you two lingered in the cold air of christmas eve. snow falls as he leans in again, and dazai holds you in his embrace like he always does.

"merry christmas, my sweet girl. i love you," dazai softly whispers in your ear before planting a kiss on your cheek this time around.

𐙚₊ A.N.: advanced merry christmas from yours truly my lovelies ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ hope ya'll enjoy this christmas dazai fic i cooked in the kitchen—this is also my first time writing an exes to lovers fic, especially with dazai, so yeah !!

𐙚₊ TAGGING: @anqelically (here's ur food <3), && @dazaiyohane @lovedazai @osaemu (my dazai lover moots too ofc hehe, i think you guys will like this- ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ )

[blue--ingenue]

soft!sebastian headcannons - Christmas edition

Author's Note: happy holidays to all who celebrate! i've been making decorations and gathering gifts for my friends, and these thoughts have been floating around and demanding that i write them down :)

when he was little his parents told him that Santa Claus put coal into the stockings of naughty children. a few days before Christmas he and Anne were playing gobstones when she beat him in record time, and he swears she cheated. his twin denied this, of course, but he decided to take justice into this own hands. after everyone had gone to bed, little Seb had toddled downstairs to the fireplace. his magic was beginning to come in spurts; there wasn’t enough of it to channel through a wand, but his power sensed what he was trying to do and obliged. he watched as a still-smoldering chunk of coal floated over to Anne’s stocking, plopped inside, and promptly set it ablaze. nobody was harmed in the incident, but his parents later dedicated hours charming every inch of the house to be fireproof

once, before he began officially courting you, he felt incredibly jealous on Christmas eve. the annual Slytherin holiday party had been raging for hours, and would continue for many more. you, Ominis, and Sebastian had settled onto a plush carpet before the fireplace with three mugs of eggnog spiked with cheap firewhiskey. Ominis drained half his mug in one go, and emerged with a sizeable foam mustache. he was either too drunk to notice, or didn’t care, but either way Sebastian teased him for it. his laughter quickly died off as you gently wiped the foam from his top lip and licked it from your finger. Ominis had the sense to blush profusely, but Sebastian had seethed

by the next Christmas you are several months along into your courtship. he works nightly shifts for Sirona for weeks to save up for your gift. it’s a beautiful locket made of goblin metal (he commissioned it from a goblin artisan Sirona had told him about. after fifth-year he felt ashamed of his prejudices against goblins and has been trying to better himself). he’s pasted a picture of himself inside, and the exterior has an intricate carving of the Sallow family crest

he is absolutely the type of guy to kiss you under every mistletoe within a five-foot radius. if there are none in sight, he’ll simply conjure some on the spot

he never wears a hat when it’s snowing. despite the fact that the Scottish winters are brutal and he runs the risk of catching a cold, he refuses. Ominis scolds him every time, but he thinks it’s worth it when you take the time to brush the snowflakes from his curls on your walks to Hogsmeade

he has a love-hate relationship with baking gingerbread cookies. the whole process feels too much like being in potions. his patience isn’t long enough for all the measuring, mixing, and waiting for the biscuits to bake. he’d much rather pilfer treats from the kitchens, but when he sees how excited you are he makes it his mission to like the infernal process. you’ve conjured a lovely little kitchen in the room of requirement, and he’s all too happy to enchant the piano in the corner to play Christmas melodies

he absolutely makes a mess and then chases you around the table with flour-covered hands

his favorite part is cutting the dough into shapes. your cookies are impeccable, an army of gingerbread mooncalves, snowmen, and nifflers waiting to be slid into the oven. he tries to shape his into hearts. they look alright at first, but after baking they’ve melded into a series of blobs. he’s about to tell you to throw them out when you delightedly exclaim that they look just like the little puffskeins you’ve been caring for. he calls the night a success and you fall asleep together in front of the fireplace with a now-empty cookie plate beside you

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Taglist:@mlktea13, @mrsbrookesallow, @ithinkweallsing, @snickette, @crispywiz

[rosie-b]

The Magic Melody

Wrote a little something for the mwg prompt exchange : )

He wished his mother would come back. But she couldn’t, and Adrien couldn’t celebrate Christmas the way he used to. The carols he heard snippets of every time he went outside made him want to cover his ears; the holiday lights decorating the windows of every shop he passed made his head hurt; the cookies Marinette had brought into class tasted no better than the handful of dirt he’d eaten once on a dare.

At least this Christmas couldn’t be as bad as last year’s. Nothing could beat Santa Claus getting akumatized, after all!

Adrien almost gets akumatized, but maybe a song and a visit from Ladybug will help him feel better. You can read the story below or on AO3!

Adrien hadn’t always hated Christmas. He still had fond memories of playing festive songs on the piano with his mother, or decorating the Christmas tree, being held up by his father so he could hang his ornament higher than anyone else’s. There wasn’t usually a big party, and Adrien had never received as many gifts as Chloe did, but the calm, happy time he’d spent with his family was what had made the winter season a special one.

Now, Nathalie and the servants were the ones to decorate the tree. Adrien still played the piano, but none of the songs his father wanted him to practice were the ones he’d played with his mother in past years. He wasn’t even sure he’d want to play them if he’d been given the sheet music; Adrien knew what had made the songs special and it had nothing to do with the musical arrangement of each piece.

If he let himself sit in the undisturbed silence of his room for too long, Adrien found himself giving in to the horrible ache in his chest, falling into a deep well of emotions he knew he should be bottling up so Shadowmoth couldn’t use them. 

They were so much harder to control now than before. The break-up with Kagami had gone… as well as any break-up in Paris seemed to go, but it left him feeling even more alone. If he couldn’t even manage to move on from Ladybug, how was he supposed to move past the ugly pain that he felt around Christmas? He had no one to talk to about it, no one he felt comfortable weighing down with the immature hurt and rage he was feeling, at least. No, Adrien had to deal with this alone. 

So, while Plagg napped in an empty container of camembert, Adrien found himself wishing again that this Christmas could be like the ones he’d celebrated when he was young. He wished Nathalie had invited him to help hang the tinsel she’d professionally placed on the real evergreen in the foyer. He wished his father would come out of his room and celebrate, or at least show up for dinner on Christmas eve.

He wished his mother would come back. But she couldn’t, and Adrien couldn’t celebrate Christmas the way he used to. The carols he heard snippets of every time he went outside made him want to cover his ears; the holiday lights decorating the windows of every shop he passed made his head hurt; the cookies Marinette had brought into class tasted no better than the handful of dirt he’d eaten once on a dare.

At least this Christmas couldn’t be as bad as last year’s. Nothing could beat Santa Claus getting akumatized, after all!

At that thought, Adrien let a smile force itself onto his face. He twisted it into the expression gracing so many of Paris’ billboards, the carefree grin that implied the happiness Adrien really should be feeling. Maybe, he thought, if I try hard enough, the smile will make me feel at least a little bit as joyful as it makes me look. He’d tried that trick before without success, but surely one more attempt couldn’t hurt.

It was the yo-yo zipping just centimeters past his face that snapped him out of the trance he’d fallen into.

“Adrien!”

Following the sound of the familiar voice, Adrien turned and looked into the wide, frightened eyes of Ladybug as she steadied herself beside his couch. Behind her, the window he kept cracked open sent a strong breeze through the room.

“My— Ladybug, are you okay? Is there an akuma nearby?” he asked, feeling concerned. He couldn’t think of another reason for her to be there, but if there was an akuma, why hadn’t he received an alert about it? Shouldn’t Ladybug have sent a message to her chaton before heading off in pursuit?

Ladybug looked away and hung the yo-yo back at her side.

“Oh, no, not to worry! I mean, there almost was, well, it got too close, but everything is under control. There is currently no threat, and I’m okay!” She paused, looking back at Adrien with furrowed brows. “Are… you okay, Adrien?”

Adrien blinked. None of what she’d said was making sense. “Am I okay? I’m fine, Ladybug, just like always!”

Ladybug glanced down and then back up. “Yes… I mean, no! You’re hiding it, but you’re not okay, are you?”

Adrien plastered an Agreste-brand smile on his face, carefully keeping any trace of Chat Noir out of his expression. “I’m not sure what you mean. You’re the one who broke into my room all of a sudden—not that I mind!—looking out of breath and concerned. I think between the two of us, that makes you… well, more likely to need assistance. So, how can I help you, my— hero?”

Ladybug clasped her hands together. “Don’t worry about me! Really, what I came in here for… well, you were right the first time, actually. There was an akuma, a butterfly I spotted while I was, um, on patrol. I followed it here, and I’m pretty sure if I’d been any later, Shadowmoth would have gotten his next victim, and it would have been you. So, I know something’s wrong, Adrien! And I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”

There was no trace of dishonesty in her gaze as she looked at him, blue eyes silently pleading with him to tell her about the negative emotions she’d literally traced back to him.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Adrien stalled, feeling his palms beginning to grow clammy.

Ladybug put her hands on her hips. “Then I’ve got time to hear it. It would be irresponsible of me to leave you feeling so bad, Adrien. If you still want to help me, do it by letting me help you!”

Adrien glanced over to the container where Plagg had been resting. The kwami had left to hide himself, so there were no risks there. Besides, he didn’t want to turn down some time spent alone with his lady, and she did have a point. If he was Chat Noir right now, he wouldn’t want to leave a civilian at risk of being akumatized.

“Fine. We can talk on the sofa, if you’re comfortable with that,” he offered.

Ladybug nodded and promptly walked over to take a seat there. She patted the spot beside her, and Adrien obediently followed her and sat down, though his heart was racing at the proximity.

“Now, what’s been bugging you?” Ladybug asked.

One side of Adrien’s mouth curved up in a barely-there smile.

“Aside from a giant ladybug and a purple butterfly?” he cracked, unable to hold back the joke.

Ladybug gave him the usual glare, and then backpedaled immediately, seeming to realize that he was not, in fact, Chat Noir. She blushed and waved her hands around, exclaiming, “Sorry! Sorry, I’m used to telling my partner to shut up and— just keep going! Sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Adrien said. “It was a bad joke.”

He fell quiet, wondering how much he wanted to tell Ladybug. They weren’t partners right now; he and Ladybug were just two well-known faces meeting by chance. She probably didn’t care about his sob story any more than she cared about the hundreds of others she heard every month. She’d stick around until she was convinced he wasn’t an akuma risk anymore, then leave. It was just a matter of finding the right words to say, the right smile to put on.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ladybug said hesitantly, after a long moment had passed, “is this related to what happened last year?”

Adrien turned to her in surprise. “You remember that?”

A rueful smile covered her face. “Santa Claus got akumatized. Of course I remember,” she said. 

Adrien’s heart fluttered again. It was just the circumstances, he told it. I’m not special to her.

Ladybug shifted. “Is… Christmas not a good time of year for you?”

Adrien’s mouth fell open. “What do you mean?” he rasped out. “It’s just another holiday! There’s nothing that special about it, I mean, I celebrate it but I don’t… it’s more fun when you’re a kid,” he finished lamely.

Ladybug leaned forward. “But it used to be more enjoyable, then. Something happened to change the way you feel! Even last year, you seemed excited. But now?”

A new emotion swam in her eyes, and Adrien’s stomach clenched. 

“I think I know what it is,” Ladybug said softly. Adrien sat stiffly, willing himself not to flinch as she concluded, “It doesn’t feel the same as it did when your mother was still here. Your father hasn’t been present, and your friends can’t do much to help while you’re not at school, so you’re feeling lonely. Is that right?”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth, clearly unwilling to press the issue but still hoping she’d been correct. 

Adrien nodded and looked down at his lap. “I guess you could say I’m haunted by the ghost of Christmas past,” he whispered, and oh, that joke did not come out the way he’d wanted it to. “I miss the way it was when we could celebrate as a family. My friends do try, but even Nino can’t convince my father to have another Christmas party or let him stay over for more than an hour at a time. I have a lot of time to sit and do nothing, and I hate it! I should be relaxing, or at least practicing my Chinese or the piano pieces my father wants me to learn but…”

He closed his eyes as he realized what had been stopping him. He looked back at Ladybug, who was still listening, her face turned towards him in open concern.

“We used to play Christmas songs together every year. She’d play from this old book of classics, it used to have a green cover but it fell off one year and we never found it again. And when we finished those, she’d play other songs, arrangements of modern tunes she’d found and liked. And I…”

“You can’t play the piano without thinking about her,” Ladybug finished for him. 

“Yes,” he breathed, and felt the ache in his chest sharpen as he bent over, pressing his palms to his eyes as if that could stop the tears from forming. One moment later, a hand landed on his shoulder. It hovered there as Adrien took a shuddering breath, and then Ladybug began gently rubbing circles on his back.

“I’m so sorry, Adrien,” she earnestly told him. “I wish you had been able to talk to someone about this before! Your father should be more understanding; I know he misses her, too. If you want, I could try to talk him into letting you out of piano practice for a while! Would that help you?”

Adrien hesitated, and then slowly shook his head.

“I’m so tired of being sad about this,” he admitted, wiping his eyes and sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t want to hide from it, either. It’s just… you’re right, I don’t have anyone to talk to about this.”

A pang went through his chest as he spoke, because technically, he did have Plagg. But even though Plagg understood loss, he wasn’t the best at talking about it or dealing with ‘icky’ human emotions. And none of his friends had gone through something like this, and his father would never open up enough for such a discussion.

“Well, you should know that I am here for you,” Ladybug said in a determined voice. “I know we aren’t really close, but I’ve seen how good you are. You’re kind to those around you, even the people I wouldn’t be as willing to trust. The fact that when you’re hurting, no one can help you the way you help others… it isn’t right! It’s not fair, and if you’re ever going through something like this again, you should call me. Er, leave a message on the Ladyblog! I’ll see it eventually and come over. If that’s what you’d like! You can tell me to just leave you alone, you know? I can do that now if I’m being intrusive!”

Ladybug was blushing and playing with one of her pigtails when Adrien looked over at her.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said quickly. “That’s a really generous offer, Ladybug. I know you’re busy, especially now that… uh, now that Hawkmoth has two Miraculous at once,” he finished, remembering that Adrien Agreste had no way of knowing about Ladybug’s responsibilities as Guardian.

“I meant it, Adrien. I really do want to help you,” Ladybug insisted.

She looked the same way she did when she was about to solve her Lucky Charm and win the akuma battle, like she wasn’t going to let anything get in her path and stop her from achieving her goal. Seeing the serious expression on her face, Adrien couldn’t help but smile, and while it was small, it was more genuine than any he’d worn in the past few days.

“Thank you,” he said in a small voice. “That means so much to me. Just knowing somebody cares this much helps, but I’m wondering… I think it might help if I did play some of our old songs, but with someone new. I have to move forward at some point, and I’d rather keep the memories with me instead of trying to box them up.”

Ladybug tilted her head. “You want me to play piano with you? I’m honored, but I’m afraid I don’t know how!”

Adrien stood up and offered her a hand. When she took it, he pulled her up off the couch and led her over to the place where his piano had been sitting untouched since noon.

“You don’t have to. You just have to promise not to make fun of me when I can’t remember how any of the songs go,” he joked.

Ladybug wrinkled her nose in offense. “I would never,” she huffed. “So, you’re sure about this?”

Adrien nodded as he sat down at the bench, tapping the empty spot he’d left expectantly.

“I’m positive, m— my dear Ladybug,” he confirmed.

Ladybug’s eyes never left his as she sat down beside him. There wasn’t much room on the seat, and their legs brushed as Adrien positioned his fingers over the keys and tried to pick which tune to play.

He didn’t feel like any of the classic tunes right now. He’d heard his fill of them over the past weeks, anyway, and while they were fun, his heart felt too raw for any of them. 

Instead, he picked a slower, gentle song his mother had always liked.

After tapping out the first few chords and confirming that he was in the right key, Adrien glanced at Ladybug. 

“This one is called ‘The Snow Path.’ It’s from Canada, and it’s normally sung, but Mother found a piano arrangement she liked, so we played that. And later, I played while she sang,” he remembered, and his mouth twitched. 

It felt like he wanted to smile and cry at the same time. Suddenly nervous, he started playing, remembering the right notes as he went and sometimes pausing to replay the same bar a few times until he got it right.

“Sorry,” he apologized perfunctorily.

Ladybug shook her head, and her pigtails brushed his cheek. “Don’t be. It sounds lovely so far,” she whispered.

Adrien nodded and continued, playing until he reached the end of the short piece and then pausing. “I want to play it again,” he said, and it wasn’t just because he wanted to get all the notes right this time.

“Then do,” Ladybug encouraged, and so the song began again.

Somehow, this song had always felt nostalgic, but now especially, it was bringing tears to his eyes as he remembered the past and the vision he’d always had this time of year. Paris never got much snow, but when he heard this song, he could picture a curving trail through the woods, already blanketed by snow, with more falling around him as he walked along. There was an older couple ahead of him and a girl on his left. They’d just left their cabin and were enjoying a nice walk before they’d head back for hot chocolate and then bake cookies. They’d decorate the tree, and Adrien would let the girl hang her ornament up higher than anyone else’s. They’d hang tinsel, and string on the lights, and just sit there together, talking about everything and nothing, listening to music and eating the cookies they’d decorated.

It was a beautiful dream, one he’d had for years. But it was one Adrien could never have.

A sudden touch on his cheek stirred him from his thoughts, and he realized he’d stopped playing.

“You’re crying,” Ladybug whispered, her face close to his. She wiped a tear from his cheek and started moving back, but Adrien grabbed her hand and brought it back to his cheek.

He struggled for words, unsure of what he wanted to say. Sorry for crying and ruining the song? No, besides, she wasn’t the type to care about that. I’m not sad, I’m just happy? They both knew that was a lie. Then what?

“I’ll be okay,” he said eventually. “I’m sad, of course; I miss her. But I’m also happy that you’re here. I’m glad someone gets to hear the music and maybe remember her with me. It makes her feel less distant.”

Ladybug’s face smoothed out, the worry leaving her eyes. “I’m glad you chose to share her memory with me,” she said. “I’m happy to be here with you, and I’m glad I could help, even if it’s just a little. So thank you, Adrien, for letting me.”

Adrien found it was becoming easier to smile, so he did as he slowly released her hand. Ladybug blushed and clasped her hands together in her lap.

“Do you mind if I play it one more time?” Adrien asked.

Ladybug smiled. “I would love that,” she said.

Adrien began to play the familiar tune, feeling more confident this time, and hummed along to the melody. Softly, Ladybug began to join in, and he smiled encouragingly. She blushed a little, but didn’t stop, instead leaning against him and humming a little louder.

This time, when Adrien pictured the snowy path in the woods, he didn’t think about the couple ahead of him. He forgot about the cabin and the tree and the cookies and just thought about the snow falling gently around him and the girl at his side. He let himself smile, because even in the cold, he was sure that the love in his heart would keep him warm.

At the end of the song, tears were still stinging his eyes, but they didn’t threaten to fall. The ache in his chest was still present, but it hurt much less than it had before. He felt strong enough to stop playing, to turn to Ladybug and thank her, to say goodbye without worrying about one of Shadowmoth’s butterflies finding him and preying on the negative emotions which were beginning to fade away.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and in the comfortable quiet of the moment, he was sure it wasn’t just Ladybug who heard. There was a warm presence at his other side, calm and reassuring, reminding Adrien that he was never truly alone. 

“You’re welcome, Adrien.”

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2023.12.03

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Bought and Paid For by @jtimu [E, 10k]

►Harry runs his fingers across the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up to his forehead. “Are you telling me that you bid a thousand galleons for the pleasure of my company-” [...]

2. Dark Artistry by @sightedkarma [E, 26k]

►Draco Mallory liked his life after the war, in his little flat in Brighton, with his group of muggle friends and a career that let him put something beautiful out in the world. He'd left the Malfoy name and baggage behind years ago and created something new for himself to be proud of. That was until Harry Potter had to show up, covered in ink, and bring it all back.

3. dueling is their foreplay by tinaakitten [T, 2k]

►“Oh, sorry,” Harry teased. “Did I not tell you? We duel to submission, and I don’t recall saying I was done.” /// Auror partners Draco and Harry have a quick surprise duel in the training room.

4. Predicting the Present by @xx-thedarklord-xx [T, 7k]

►Malfoy—of all people—was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Harry didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. “Professor Malfoy said we’ll be learning the basics on how to cast a Patronus!” Oh really? That, Harry had to see.

5. scarves by @anticomedygarden [T, 1k]

►Harry and Draco have fun at a winter festival. That's it.

6. Tickling the Ivories by @annanother-thing [E, 5k]

►Harry has a misbehaving magical piano, a very pushy best friend, and a very unexpected afternoon. feat. Hermione doing what Hermione does best (sorting Harry's life out), Harry's vivid imagination, and Draco's green lacy knickers

---

Fest/Exchange

1. An accidental courtship by Anonymous [E, 6k]

►“The courtship starts with the offering of a single burgundy rose at exactly seven days before the winter solstice. The courtee may formally accept the continuation of the courtship – if they wish – by placing a single kiss on the flower.” ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

2. A Christmas in Heat by Anonymous [E, 3k]

►Despite all odds, Harry and Draco become friends while working at the Ministry. Their friendship is very intense, and the need they have for each other takes them both by surprise. Then, one day, Harry begins to desire Draco in a way that frightens him. [...] ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

3. Elf Affairs and Unwrapped Hearts by @picklesonjupiter [M, 1k]

►As Harry reluctantly takes on the role of a mall elf during the holiday season, he finds unexpected camaraderie with Malfoy, another elf, whose civil behavior surprises Harry. Working together, Harry discovers a side of Malfoy that intrigues him, leading to an unexpected invitation. ★ HP Yuletide Bliss 2023 | @hp-yuletide-bliss

4. The Pale Ferret Café by Anonymous [G, 3k]

►Harry's visits to Draco's café are a source of annoyance. Or are they? ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

5. Thickets by Anonymous [E, 17k]

►When Draco returns to the UK after two decades of building his career as an internationally-renowned artist to look after his ailing, estranged father, he crosses paths with his former flame, Harry Potter, in the most unexpected way. ★ H/D Erised 2023 | @hd-erised

[j-jupit3r]

Headcannons Fyolai

Fyodor is a tea lover, and Nikolai always comes up with whimsical desserts to accompany him, only to have Fyodor try to hide his pleasure as he tries them.

Nikolai insists on sitting at the piano while Fyodor plays, swinging his legs like a child, sometimes making up silly lyrics to the songs.

Nikolai loves to mess with Fyodor's perfectly calculated plans, just to prove that he can make them more exciting. Strangely, the changes always work.

Nikolai likes to show up with colorful flowers, saying they suit Fyodor. Fyodor always tries to ignore it, but Nikolai knows he puts them away later.

When Nikolai gave Fyodor flowers, he put them in a book as a poetic omen, but he forgot and ended up crushing them.

When they fight, Nikolai is the first to apologize, usually with something silly on colored paper with "Sorry! Love me again!" written on it.

Nikolai has a playlist called "Songs that irritate Fyodor" with super loud songs.

Fyodor has a secret diary where he writes down philosophical reflections. Nikolai found it once and wrote random jokes in between the pages.

Nikolai invents holidays like "Appreciate Fyodor Day" or "Make Nikolai Laugh Day", and always makes a scene until Fyodor participates.

Fyodor loves chess and Nikolai insists on "improving" the game by creating new rules, like pieces that teleport. Despite the confusion, Fyodor always finds a way to win.

Nikolai often volunteers to choose the wine or dessert at dinner parties, but Fyodor insists on being the one to make the final decision, giving him a "you have no taste" look.

Nikolai tries to teach Fyodor how to do magic, but Fyodor always finds his explanations too absurd.

Fyodor carries a simple crucifix, and Nikolai, during a playful or intimate moment, often holds it up and mutters something like "Do you believe this can save you from me?" Fyodor, in response, just smiles.

Nikolai has a fascination with abandoned cathedrals and churches, places he finds beautiful sights. He drags Fyodor to one of these and asks him to tell him his sins. Fyodor, with a wry smile, replies, "I confess only to my Creator. You can be content with the crumbs of my silence."

Nikolai once whispers to Fyodor "I need you to live, but I also need you to burn me down".

[kirans-wonderland]

Meet Jaspar Hallows:

twisted from jack skellington

Name: Jaspar Hallows Birthday: 31st October

Age: 20

Height: 216cm

Homeland: Ephemeral Hollow

Occupation: NRC Student, second year

Club: Science

Favorite Subject: Ancient Curses

Hobbies: Piano, Paper snowflakes

Talents: party planning, conflict resolution, waltzing

Background: Jaspar grew up as the only son of a prominent family in the Ephemeral Hollow. The Hollow has long stood a neighbor to the Valley of Thorns and is deep rooted in tradition. Jaspar was expected to follow such tradition from a young age but he always yearned for something different. The only one who understood his desire was his childhood friend Salem. Eventually, he was able to escape from the restriction of the Hollow for NRC. Though they had already done most of their schooling in the Hollow, they wanted to start fresh and experience the outside world together.

Unique Magic: "Spirit's King" allows him to summon ghosts to his command. He founded it when he was young as a way to not feel lonely before he met Salem. This ability caused others to deem him creepy and off putting. The ghost he summons most often is the spirit of a dog he named Zip. He has been Jaspar's longest friend and now acts as his familiar.

Fun Facts:

Holidays from other places are his favorite thing as there were basically none from his homeland.

He has a huge paper snowflake collection that only Salem knows about.

He likes to think he's a jack of all trades. He'll try anything once but the majority of the time, he's not the most successful. He can get over ambitious very easily.

His families prestige meant he was raised to be a gentlemen and was most affluent in classical piano and the waltz.

Most things he experiences are new to him and he's easily excitable like a puppy.

[surrealisticduvet]

Album Review: Infinite Rider on the Big Dogma (1979)

What is it? 

Infinite Rider… on the Big… Dogma.

What?

With this album, I decided to go with the “write as you re-listen” method of reviewing, since I knew I had so much to say about many of the songs individually. I hope this is as half as enjoyable to read as it was to write. As always, please let me know if you have any comments or dissenting opinions, I would love to hear them!

Without further, or really any, ado, we have “Dance”, a frivolously thrilling and unusual new style from our Michael. I am always a little shocked by its usage here as an opener, so used to it being the outro to Elephant Parts, in which many Infinite Rider songs feature. The instrumentation is rich and complex, in stark contrast to the lyrics –  “All I wanna do is dance and have a good time”. In some ways it leaves you confused as to why this wasn’t a big radio hit - is it the way he sings it, almost ironic in its empty-headedness? Is it just his bad luck? The song is too short to let you ponder for long. 

Next, we have “Magic” – my main gripe with this song, unfortunately not a bug but a feature, is the kitschy way he sings some of the high notes (we know for a fact he can hit them without so much falsetto fanfare) but it does add to the subtle irony of the song. Hidden underneath that facade, buried in the full, sustained notes of the chorus, is his true capacity. This song has a bit of a festive undertone with the bells lightly jingling, adding to the feeling of, genuinely, magic. Once again, this song is expertly produced, musically (aside from the background vocals “do-do-dooing” which I think is sometimes overkill) - there are a lot of layers which prevent it from sounding like a cheap holiday commercial.

I completely stand by the belief that “Flying” is an Eagles parody. Listen to this, and then listen to something like “One of These Nights.” I maintain also that this song is at least a parody of something, with lyrics that are deceptively genuine at first before dipping into deep unseriousness, all sung as straight-faced as ever. The middle eight here is again just exquisite. I wish there was an instrumental of this track particularly, although his vocals are so good that I wouldn’t push too hard for it. This song sounds like it ought to be played to a packed arena, something almost on the same level, musically, as “Comfortably Numb.” As the song fades out, you get a bit of a better listen to the drum and rhythm section, which has a unique stylistic blend and flare that, once again, adds depth to what otherwise might be called a boring album. (Misguided Rateyourmusic users have called it his “most accessible” album [read: contemporary, standard-issue, basic! – more on this at the end] but I disagree, at the risk of sounding pretentious… Infinite Rider is a complex and borderline experimental album; it just so happened that he was experimenting with things that happened to be in popular music at the time.)

Much like taking songs from The Prison out of their context as a soundtrack in order to review them musically, it is critical to take “Tonite” out of the context of Elephant Parts, in which it is evergreen in its evocation of the special as a whole – they were literally made for each other. The lyrics are weird, for Michael - on a first listen, you’ll be a little put off by them, until you get to the bridge and chorus, which swings back to the sort of strangeness that you’re used to, and now the old Hollywood oddness from the beginning starts to make a little sense. Three for three, these songs have so much going on musically that you never have a chance to be bored or question his intentions. There’s expert use of a piano/synth solo here which in some ways really dates the album as being from the late 70s/early 80s but that’s what I like so no complaints here. As the song ramps up towards the end (nearly unrecognizable from the moderately paced introductory verse) Michael slips into a rougher tone and drives the whole thing home. Careful listeners will catch the “I’m still inside of a little glass tube - I’m still inside of this room” as it fades out; a tasteful callback to the final scene of Head (1968), or just a bit of before-its-time commentary on the effect of fame on an individual’s psyche? Infinite Rider gives you no time at all to chew and swallow thoughtfully - the next song is already upon us.

“Carioca” is the first and only real reprieve you’ll get on this album, and it is still a wonderful song. Much like “Rio,” this song is inspired by what we can assume to be Michael’s fond memories of seeing Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in Flying Down to Rio (1933). His ability to belt out a chorus shines here, supported by pleasant instrumentation. Take a breath while you can, because up next we have…

… “Cruisin’”. If you’ve heard any song from this album already, it’s probably this – and you’ve probably seen a little bit of the music video from Elephant Parts, too. The verses are low-key and casual, and the whole thing reeks of sun-tan oil and hot tarmac. Whether or not you consider this to be Michael’s coming-out party, it’s still a compelling song much in the style of something like the Traveling Wilbury’s “Tweeter and the Monkey Man.” On its own, the song is fairly middle-of-the-road; it’s the music video that really makes it pop, with visual cues lining up perfectly to the song and Michael’s own performance of it (in those sunglasses...) 

From “Cruisin’” we dive straight into “Factions,” perhaps more memorably titled in early versions as “The Daughter of Rock n' Roll.” He didn’t invent anything new with the song, but definitely proved that he could keep up with the times, musically. The things he does with his voice here are almost foreign, a tone and gravel that we’ve never heard from him before. The song itself is good, with clever lyrics and an interesting story, a classic Nesmithian take on the contemporary “rock ‘n’ roll song about rock ‘n’ roll.” It’s not at the top of the album for me, but any song that effectively uses and rhymes the word “Boogie” gets a free pass for me. 

Take another deep breath at the end of this one, because you’re about to experience what is possibly, maybe probably, my favorite song of his ever: “Light.” Immediately, he has dropped the ironic and performative vocal quirks, and is once again singing in his own sweet tenor, with just a few humorous dips to keep you guessing. This song effortlessly blends bleating saxophone solos with laid-back steely drum meanderings, quivering organ overtones, and a sturdy, pulsing bassline. The lyrics are simple, yet powerful – “but the light from the window is the brightest of all” among others. I find it interesting that the song is called not “lights” plural, but “Light,” singular, implying that these eclectic lights are all interconnected, blending together from and into one infinite form. Once you have seen the music video for this, you’ll never listen to the song without its dancer flashing and jumping through your mind, it’s truly mesmerizing and at times otherworldly – again, the visions of the dancer and Michael are melded together by the use of mirrors and cutaways to create a mind bending effect. “Light” clocks in at 3:21 and feels even shorter; it ends almost abruptly, with the sax trailing off. I usually have to listen to it at least a second time to really let it sink in. 

One Tumblr user has in the past posited that we should “kill Horserace and replace it with a second Light” (Surrealisticduvet, 2024), and I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment. Much like “The Other Room” is on From a Radio Engine to the Photon Wing, “Horserace”’s placement here is jarring, uncouth, and downright disrespectful to the rest of the album. Okay – now that I’ve gotten all that out of my system, let me explain why it just doesn’t work for me. While many songs on Infinite Rider have lyrics that are tongue-in-cheek, parodical, and dare I say intentionally silly, “Horserace” feels to me almost sloppy. Many words are rhymed with each other in such a way that it doesn’t feel intentional, meaning that by default it sounds amateurish. Michael here utilizes the same growl that he does on “Factions” and to some extent “Dance,” but it overpowers the track to the point where I had a hard time focusing on the music. (When I managed to, I confirmed to myself that it wasn’t as intricately crafted as any of the first 7 songs, and certainly not the last one we just listened to.) I’ve always said that even Michael’s worst songs are still worth listening to; such is not the case with “Horserace.” Listen to “Light” a second time and then hit that skip button.

“Capsule” is another one of those songs that Michael co-wrote with a few other people, and it is, dare I say, obvious. I like what he was trying to do, and the song sounds interesting, with a cool, jazzy swing. I don’t think it’s among his best work, either vocally or lyrically, and it’s a bit of a disappointing closer to an otherwise fast-paced and densely enjoyable album. 

I have to give a little shout out to the album’s outtakes, which I actually didn’t even know about until very recently. “Rollin’” is a real foot-tapper that takes his old song “Roll With the Flow” and revamps it in late-70’s radio-rock fashion with a “Mama Rocker”-style piano breakdown that sweeps up and down the keys. The whole song is pretty simple, but fun and effective, and I really like it. “Walkin’ in the Sand” is an interesting track, a true outtake in the sense that it breaks free from the one-word-title constraint he set for himself on this album. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard from him, ramping up his affinity for minor-keys to a new level, with a glaring bass riff like something from the Arctic Monkeys (sorry, I can’t think of a more period-appropriate comparison). I’d be curious about what he could do in this style if given a whole album to play with – but if all we ever got was this one song, I’m still thrilled. 

Conclusion:

I think Infinite Rider, despite being perhaps more well-known during its time than his other albums, is largely misunderstood. (To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to enjoy his… oh, god, listen to me.) Some reviews call it his most accessible album, and laud his return into the sphere of pop music. I have a hard time explicitly agreeing with these assertions; I don’t think the album’s true intentions are as wholesome, simplistic, and popularity-seeking as some may claim. Much like The Prison was written as a soundtrack, Infinite Rider was written as a “video album” – to listen to “Magic” or “Cruisin’” on their own, without the music video, is to experience only half of the song. Even tracks which were not released with a visual component, I would argue, must still be considered within this context.

Critics also say that this album was overproduced and that there’s too much going on, instrumentally; this is just a difference of taste – I like an album you can listen to half a dozen times over and still hear something new. One amateur reviewer (my peer, I suppose) said that they appreciated the album since, despite its tongue-twisting title, it was easy to enjoy without having to crawl into Nesmith’s head to “get” it. Well, I guess I can’t argue with that – Infinite Rider’s appeal lies in the fact that to the casual listener, it is a good rock ‘n’ rollin’ time that ends after 38 minutes and 15 seconds; for anyone with enough time on their hands to dig a little deeper, rest assured that Michael will not disappoint.

[angelosearch]

The other day I posted an FFVIII Christmas-ish fic on ao3. I wrote it for my health; I love sappy ass Christmas movies and such. But I was embarrassed about how poorly it was preforming, so I took it down.

I am posting it here under the cut where it's existence as a written work of mine feels more ephemeral. There's less data. If it doesn't do well here, it means a lot less 😂

Anyway. It's probably bad but I like the folktale I came up with. What can I say, ever since I finished Chaos Theory my fiction writing abilities have evaporated haha.

For your lame holiday viewing: The Tale of the Winter Sorceress

Julia Heartilly and Fury Carraway’s Light Night parties were things of Deling City legend.

On the coldest, darkest night of the year, their mansion would be covered in a kaleidoscope of glass bulbs. The rainbow lights (blown into a variety of shapes and blinking at various intervals) turned the home into a spectacle that rivaled the city’s landmarks in its grandiosity.

Guests would cross their stone footbridge, adorned with fresh pine garlands imported from Trabia, to their front door and pass through a veil of snow. Or, a veil of white puffs emitted from a machine. They just looked and drifted to the ground like snow.

Julia would spend her night at the piano, rearranging classic Light Night carols into jazzier stylings more suited to her voice. The band that usually recorded with her in the studio would join her on the stage in the middle of the mansion’s ballroom. They’d play together all night.

Fury was the master of the guestlist, inviting the top brass of the Galbadian military and every who’s-who on the continent, as well as important people from around the world. But it wasn’t hard to attract guests to the celebration. Invitations to this festive and extravagant event were sought after.

Of course—who wouldn’t want to come to what was basically a private Julia Heartilly concert?

Rinoa loved the Light Night party. Her mom would always dress her in something floofy and tulle covered, glazed with sparkles.

“Look, Fury,” Julia would say. “Our angel walked right off the tree!”

She felt like the star of the show, her mother allowing her the solos of some of the more childish songs. The crowd would oooh, ahhh, aww, and cry to their duet of “Have Your Self a Merry Little Light Night.” The chefs would let her cut out some of the cookies and proudly announce that she had assisted. And then her dad would let her do her favorite thing—light the tree.

Rinoa liked looking around the room during the dim, breathless moment before she pushed the plug into the socket. Then she’d do it, and the tree would ignite into its blinding radiance, multicolor lights refracting endlessly beneath fistfuls of tinsel. Each moving and sound-making ornament came to life at once, making a very specific and pleasant cacophony. She felt like she had some special power to summon the magic of the holiday as she plugged in the tree every day of the season—but nothing quite compared to plugging it in on Light Night.

Rinoa loved the Light Night party. But she didn’t know how to be excited about it this year, now that the most important person wouldn’t be coming.

---

“Cid, you can’t go… You know this is going to be their last Light Night together!”

“I’m sorry… But I have to,” Cid sighed. “I’m only going to be able to secure those contracts for the shelters if I find funding by the new year… There’s going to be a lot of folks there… maybe something will come through.”

“All the way in Galbadia? On Light Night? …What about that Shumi fellow?”

Cid mumbled, “He’s… not my first choice.”

Both Cid and Edea brought their voices low, too low for Squall to hear from the doorway. He tightened his grip on his Moomba plush in concern.

“Yoooo, what are they sayin’ over there?”

Squall turned to Zell and slowly shook his head.

“I think Mr. Cid is leaving…”

“Wait, like, FORVER?!”

This idea startled Squall, and he threw his Moomba out to his side.

“NO!” he yelled, mad at Zell for even thinking it. “Just… just for Light Night.”

Little loud-mouth Zell got word around the orphanage quickly, and it wasn’t long before all the children were huddled in the living room.

“If Mr. Cid isn’t here, who’s gonna take us on the midnight snow walk?” Quistis wondered sadly.

Selphie gasped. “Does Matron know how to set up the train?”

Squall sat with his Moomba in his lap. He looked down at its mane and played with it's hair nervously. It felt like the Light Night celebration lost a person every year, and he didn’t like it.

“Shut up about all that dumb stuff,” Seifer muttered as he sat on the back of the couch. “What you really gotta be worried about is our presents. I bet we’re getting nothin’ this year.”

Irvine turned and looked up at Seifer from his spot on the floor. “Are you sayin’ I’m not gonna get my Ruby Rider BB gun?!”

“You weren’t getting that anyway! You’ll shoot your eye out!” Seifer snapped. “Look, we don’t get much as it is and now Mr. Cid is leavin’? I’m telling you guys, were getting nothing, I know it.”

“Hey! You don’t know everything!” Zell said. “Whattabout the Winter Sorceress?”

Seifer sputtered. “You can’t tell me you still believe that kiddie story…”

“You’re lying,” Squall said from the corner. “She’s real.”

Seifer laughed and jumped down from the couch, approaching Squall with his arms folded.

“Aw, you too? What, you want a special gift? She can’t bring Sis back, ya know.”

Squall dropped his toy, ready to push Seifer.

Matron walked through the doorway with purpose, drawing everyone’s attention with her entrance.

“Children, I would like to dispel any rumors that are being spread… Come now, let’s gather round…”

Matron sat on the center cushion of the couch and waited for all her little ones to form a circle.

“So, yes, Mr. Cid will not be with us on Light Night… But he will be back the morning after, he’s promised me.

The children collectively sighed in relief.

“Now… We all know Quisty is joining her new family next month, and we’re all going to be moving soon, so we’re going to work together and make this Light Night really special anyway, okay?”

“Whattabout our gifts?” Zell quipped.

Matron grimaced. “Yes, well… we might have to focus on making the day special… in other ways.”

“See! What did I tell you!” Seifer pointed.

---

Rinoa’s nanny handed her a shiny, red velvet dress.

“Here’s your outfit for the party, dearie.”

“But… it’s not sparkly.”

“Your father thought this would be very becoming on you.”

Rinoa liked how the fabric felt in her hands, but she’d never seen an angel that wore anything like that.

She didn’t like how everything was different this year, like how her dad expected her to act like a grownup, and how the tree was decorated by staff the day before Light Night with new white lights and soulless baubles. She was used to hearing her mother hum music all through the season, but this year, the house was quiet.

“Ms. Annabelle…” Rinoa said shyly. “How can we have Light Night without Mommy?”

The nanny gave Rinoa a sympathetic look.

“Oh, sweet girl… Your mom would want you and your dad to have a nice Light Night no matter what,” Annabelle said, stooping to Rinoa’s level. “It’s going to be different, but try to have fun, okay? For her.”

The food was fancier this year, brought in from somewhere, so Rinoa couldn’t help with the cookies. Julia’s band was still on the stage, but no one was singing. It was all instrumental classical arrangements of the songs that Rinoa couldn’t sing to—not that she felt like singing, anyway.

Many people came—maybe more than ever—and the piles of gifts they carried for her were larger and shinier than before. And yet, the adults all gave her a sad stare as she greeted them.

Adults always looked at her that way now. She didn’t like it.

Rinoa felt heavy as she stood on the edge of the ballroom, watching her dad talk to men in military uniforms. He wasn’t smiling. He hadn’t smiled for months.

In the mansion, it looked like Light Night, but it didn’t feel like it, not to her. Rinoa wondered if, somehow, Julia had taken all the magic of the holiday with her when she passed.

“Rinoa, it’s time to light the tree,” Fury said, summoning her to the grand salon, where the twelve-foot tree stood proudly in front of a massive arched window.

This was her chance to bring the magic back.

She held the plug and looked around the room at all the expectant faces, barely visible, bathed only in the oblique light coming from the other room.

She thought hard about her mom and plugged in the tree.

The tree lit up brightly and efficiently. But it was monotone, and the absence of sound was deafening. There was a second of silence before the crowd began to clap, and Rinoa began to quietly cry.

The adults filed out, ready to start playing their strange gift-giving games and drinking their bubbly drinks. Rinoa found a spot between gifts to lay down on the floor, directly beneath the tree, so she could look up into its branches like she always liked to do. The shadows of the needles looked harsh in the cold white light of the tree.

There was a loud sigh.

“Guess that’s it…” a man said.

Rinoa carefully pulled herself out of her hiding place and looked up at the man. He was wearing a red vest.

“Oh!” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“You’re sad?” Rinoa asked. She sat on the floor and looked up at him, his eyes invisible in the light that the tree cast on his glasses.

“No, no… Don’t worry about me, I don’t want to ruin your holiday, young lady.”

“I’m sad…” Rinoa admitted.

The man slowly and silently made his way over to the armchair beside the tree.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Rinoa nodded.

“It’s okay to be sad on Light Night sometimes,” he said, near-whisper. “Especially if you miss someone real bad.”

“Everyone says I gotta be happy… Cuz Mommy would have wanted that…”

The man frowned deeply.

“I have a little boy; he lost his sister… I think she would have wanted for him to be happy on Light Night, but only if he was actually happy. She wouldn’t want him to pretend,” the man said wistfully.

“I want the magic back…” Rinoa whimpered, feeling sad all over again.

The man paused and then said, warmly, “Little girl, have you ever heard the story of the Winter Sorceress?”

---

Edea sat down with a book in hand and a smile across her face. The fireplace crackled behind her. Her skin looked orange in its glow.

“Alright, settle down… It’s time to tell the tale of the Winter Sorceress.”

Matron cleared her throat. Then, she immersed the children in the story with her melodic and measured reading voice.

“Centuries ago, on the longest nights of the year, people would struggle to persevere through the winter. It was hard to feel safe in those times. Children were afraid of the frigid darkness, and with good reason. Food would become scarce. Monsters roamed freely. People would become cruel in their fear and harm others. The Winter Solstice, back then, was the most frightening time of the year.”

Despite the fact that Seifer had called the Winter Sorceress a myth, he, like the rest of them, was pleased to be wrapped in a blanket and cradling a cup of hot cocoa as he listened to Matron read.

“One night, a benevolent Sorceress was hiking through the Trabian countryside—Yes, Selphie?”

Selphie’s arm was straight as she held her hand emphatically in the air. “Where was she going? What was she doing? Was she the same Sorceress from the movie?”

Matron laughed.

“No, this was long before the Sorceress Knight movie. There have been many Sorceresses throughout time… Not all of them were good…” Edea’s voice took on an air of sadness. “People get afraid of Sorceresses sometimes. She was going to hide in Trabia, because she didn’t think anyone lived there… and she’d been chased from everywhere else.”

Matron took a beat and then started reading again.

“A benevolent Sorceress was hiking through the Trabian countryside. She came upon—Selphie?”

“Did she have a Knight?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure. We’ll have to read some more books about it, okay?”

Selphie nodded furiously.

“She came upon a village at the base of a mountain—”

Matron broke off again, about to call on Selphie a third time when Zell interrupted.

“JUST LET HER TELL THE STORY SEFFIE!!”

Selphie brought down her arm and crossed it over her chest. She stuck her tongue out at Zell. Seifer snickered.

“Let’s hold questions til the end,” Matron said. “Now, where was I…

“She came upon a village at the base of a mountain and stopped there because she heard crying. There was a child who could not sleep because they were too cold. They wandered out of their home to sit by the fire in the middle of the village, but it went out, and they couldn’t start it themselves. The Sorceress was moved by the child’s sorrow. She wanted to help them.

“’Child,’ the Sorceress said, ‘How may I stop your tears?’ The child did not answer, as the voice came from the darkness, and they were afraid. The Sorceress summoned small orbs of light from her fingertips and affixed them to roof tops and trees until she and the child could see each other clearly.

“’Child, you can see me now,’ the Sorceress said, ‘But you still tremble.’ The child did not answer, because their teeth were chattering in their mouth—they were too cold to speak. The Sorceress lit the fire pit with a flare spell and gathered bundles of pine kindling so that it would continue to burn through the night. She pulled down the clouds and knitted them into a blanket, leaving a clear December sky above. She threw the blanket over the child.

“’Child, you are warm,’ the Sorceress said, ‘But you look weak.’ The child did not answer, because all they could think about was how hungry they were. The Sorceress went to every door and woke the people, asking them to feed the child. Enchanted by the lights and warmed by the fire, they were willing to cook and share their richest food.             

“Child, you have been fed and loved,’ the Sorceress said, ‘But you still cower.’ The child tried to answer, but the roar of a Snow Lion interrupted their words. The Sorceress belted a song that echoed over the snow, scaring away all the monsters of the night. The village rose up in song and continued singing to keep the beasts at bay.

“Child, you are safe,” the Sorceress said. The child smiled.

“The village gathered together and joyously went out into the snow, no longer afraid of the dark or cold or monsters. They invited the Sorceress to stay with them, and they feasted and sang and told stories in the light, all night.

“When the morning came, the Sorceress decided it was time to leave, as she wanted to give this gift of hope to other villages, all over the world. The child became sad when the Sorceress said goodbye.

“‘Child, why do you weep?’ the Sorceress asked. And the child replied, ‘I have been so scared and so cold and so hungry and so alone for so long. What if these times come again? After you are gone? How will I know they will pass?’

“The Sorceress smiled. She used her magic to summon artifacts from the wilderness—special stones, Phoenix feathers, star fragments, crystals of all colors—and fashioned them into gifts for all the villagers to enjoy. These mementos held magic within them, to keep the villagers safe and warm and happy until she could return the following year.

“We open our homes to the Winter Sorceress, gathering together, singing the songs she sang, marching out into the snow at midnight to show we aren’t afraid. We banish the darkness with light. But, most importantly…

“Can anyone tell me what the most important thing is?”

“The gifts, obviously,” Seifer said. Quistis nudged him for being so crass.

“That we put up decorations, like the train around the tree!” Selphie suggested.

“Is it that we all hang out together? For the whole day?” Irvine guessed.

“You’re very close,” Matron said, reaching down and mussing Irvine’s hair.

The room became quiet as everyone contemplated the question. Matron’s eyes fell on quiet Squall.

“Do you know the answer?” Matron prompted.

Squall hesitated. He looked at the floor as he spoke.

“Sis always said… it’s about helpin’ people who need it.”

Matron beamed.

“That’s right. Light Night is all about giving to others. It’s kindness that keeps our nights warm and bright this time of year… Squall, since you guessed it, would you like to light the tree?”

Squall did not want to light the tree, but he also did not want to say no to Matron. He left his Moomba plush carefully propped up on a pillow and went to the wall to plug in the tree.

“Alright, on the count of three. One, two, three—!”

The plug went in, and the little plastic tree came to life, the glitter from the handmade ornaments glinting in the light of the yellow bulbs. The toy train at the base of the tree began to do its circles, its engine loudly chugging. Squall looked up at the Winter Sorceress atop the tree in her flouncy blue dress.

Everyone clapped. Selphie threw herself next to the tree, watching the train with her legs kicking in the air behind her. Quistis excitedly went into the other room to gather the ornaments they’d made earlier in the day.

After dinner, and the snow walk, and the caroling, the children went to bed. Long after their departure, Edea lingered in the living room, staring at the tree, deep in thought. Squall, as he often did, wordlessly wandered out of the bedroom and came to Matron’s side. She gathered him onto her lap and played with his hair.

“Matron, what’s wrong?”

“Light Night is just going to be very different next year… I am going to miss nights like this,” Matron mused. Then, she added more hopefully, “But… I’m sure the Winter Sorceress will find some way to bring us all together.”

“Is the Winter Sorceress real?”

Matron took a moment before answering.

“I think… I think she was a real person once. I am not sure if she’s still around. But Sorceresses are real… And some of them want to do good, just like her,” she said. “Her magic is real, Squall, and we can all use it.”

Matron chuckled at Squall’s thoughtful expression.

“Are Knights real too?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Matron grinned. She angled Squall’s face upwards and pushed his bangs out of his face. “You know what, you look a little like that movie Knight, Zefer?”

Squall gave her a rare smile.

“Seifer’s gonna be so jealous.”

---

Rinoa sat at the kind man’s feet and listened, rapt, to the tale of the Winter Sorceress.

“The moral of the story is… The magic that Sorceress uses... it’s something we all have and can give each other.”

Rinoa hopped to her feet and proudly proclaimed, “I wanna do magic!”

“That’s wonderful,” the man said. “Is there anyone you can help?”

Rinoa pondered, looking around the room, and then back at the man.

“That boy who lost his sister… you think he’d want some gifts?”

The man laughed good naturedly.

“Oh, yes, but I have many children. I run a whole orphanage! I couldn’t take something back for him and only him.”

Rinoa said nothing and started grabbing her gifts and stacking them in front of the storyteller.

“Little girl… what are you doing?”

“If you take all of these… is that enough?”

Once the man got over his shock, he requested that before she do anything, she go ask her dad if she could give her gifts away. Fury was at the door sending people off by time Rinoa came looking for him.

“DADDY!” she yelled as she barreled into his legs.

“Where have you been all night, Star Light?”

Rinoa was heartened to hear her old nickname being used again. Maybe the magic was already working.

“I want to do magic! I wanna give my gifts to that guy!” Rinoa said, dancing on her tiptoes and pointing at the man walking up the hall.

Fury searched Rinoa’s face for a moment, attempting to steady her excited squirming by putting his hands on her shoulders. Then, he looked up at who she was pointing to.

“Mr. Kramer?”

“General Caraway… Please feel no obligation. It seems your daughter has really caught the Light Night spirit.”

 “Is this what you really want?” Fury asked Rinoa.

She nodded and smiled.          

“I wanna give em’ all away!”

A smile crept across Fury’s face and his eyes sparkled in a way Rinoa had never seen before.

“Looks like the angel walked right off the tree… Alright, Star Light. Your mom would be… very proud.”

Rinoa cheered, feeling like she just lit up a tree.

---

“Anyway… that’s the story of my best Light Night. What about you guys?”

The table was silent for a long time as all eyes were trained on Rinoa.

“That was you?!” Zell shrieked, standing in his seat.

“I basically opened my entire childhood library that morning…” Quistis said in shock as she held a hand to her face.

“Dude!” Irvine exclaimed. “I didn’t get my BB gun but… hell, that’s how I got my first cowboy hat!”

“So, then it was actually a cowgirl hat?” Seifer smirked.

“A hat’s a hat!”

Rinoa looked around at her friends, and then to Squall, who was staring at her with a cool amazement.

Rinoa gasped as it all clicked together. She stared at Squall, wide-eyed.

“WAIT! That was Cid? I didn’t recognize him! So then—the little boy—”

Squall shrugged.

“I think that was the day I got my first set of Triple Triad cards.”

“That’s sooooo cuckoo bananas!” Selphie said. “I think that was my best Light Night too! Cid coming back with all those gifts… it was like magic for sure!”

Rinoa was overcome with emotion. That day, she had given those gifts away to random children in the hopes it would bring them joy. She could never have imagined the joy coming back to her, ten-fold, in the form of a Light Night with her teammates, her friends—her family.

It was magic after all.

While everyone was still reeling and talking excitedly, Squall squeezed Rinoa’s hand beneath the table.

He leaned over and whispered, “I always knew the Winter Sorceress was real.”