#maybe find to right recipient cause i do not believe it was meant for me

[hydrosspyross]

I got an anon that i think was not meant for me

But i cannot redirect, also it's very very historical geopolitics which is absolutely not my area of expertise

And i'd like to remind people that even tho i am bilingual i learned english as a teen, so sometimes when i'm too tired i cannot comprehend anymore

[greyturned]

letter prompts / accepting@fairyt0ld sent: [ REVELATION ]: a letter written that reveals the truth about an event(s) that the writer believes the recipient may be misinformed about. from mama!

Mom,

I'm not sure how to say this, I've been struggling with it since the moment I killed Snoke. I know you've tried getting me to talk about what happened that night, at the academy, before then, but only after Snoke was gone did I feel like I could talk about it. Even then, it's a difficult subject. I'm still not sure where to begin, but what is more, I don't know what you'll say, what you'll think, and...

It scares me.

I've known from the moment it happened that no one would believe me, and I was proven right on several occasions. With Sky--- With Luke back, I'm not sure what he's told you, or what you've heard before, but as we prepare for Exegol, I feel as if I must get my side of the story out somewhere, because I don't want to risk something happening without this having been said. I don't know how much I can even bring myself to commit to paper, but I'll try.

Here it goes.

I don't know if I was the cause of the academy burning or not, maybe I was, but I never meant for it to happen. I swear I didn't mean for it to happen. It wasn't what I'd intended, what I'd wanted. I was just--- my powers were reactive because I was scared. Lost and confused, recently betrayed and

I was angry, I was furious, but I never wanted to hurt anyone. The surviving Padawans couldn't see it, but in all honesty, it wasn't like I tried very hard to convince them otherwise. By the time they had confronted me, I'd stopped pretending that I hadn't already become the monster everyone saw me as, the monster Luke tried to prevent.

It all started in the moments before the disaster. I don't know what it was that brought him to my hut, but I remember waking up and finding Luke standing over me, lightsaber drawn and a look in his eyes that haunted me then, and still does now. I'd felt him in my head, whatever he saw set off a chain reaction that resulted in where we are now. He must have sensed what I would become, what I would do, and he--- I reacted and brought my hut down around us. I thought I'd hurt him, I didn't want to but I'd just needed him to stop---

You'll have to ask him why he did what he did that night, because I don't know. All I know is that I'm still afraid of what it means. Even now, with all I've tried to do to make up for what I did as Kylo Ren, that night hangs over my head. After all, Luke Skywalker was the one who saw the good in Darth Vader, the father he barely knew, after everything he did to him, his family, and the galaxy, and fought so hard to bring him back to the Light.

What does that say about me, that he wouldn't even try to do the same for the nephew he'd watched grow up? Was I already that far gone, is there even any hope for me now?

Despite whatever the answer to that may be, I want you to know that I didn't 'snap' that night, I didn't mercilessly slaughter all of my classmates. I did kill three of the Padawans that confronted me... but I can't entirely claim self-defense with all of them, this I confess. I regret everything death at my hand that night, for whatever it's worth.

I don't expect the others to believe me, but I don't care what they think. The only opinion that matters to me right now is yours.

If you wish to talk about this more after Exegol... I would be willing, granted we all are still alive after this. My only hope is that you'll forgive me, and that my legacy with my niece and Ani will be something worth remembering their uncle and brother for.

That, and that we'll see each other again.

Your son,

Ben

[thefanficmonster]

Bouquet

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having come clean about being single for a very long time now and considering herself completely out of the dating scene, Y/N’s confession is taken and responded to with a ton of kindness, especially from a special someone...

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it was such a joy to write! I’m so sorry for the long wait you had to go through but the fic is finally here and I hope you enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

I roll out of bed with little to no desire to start my day. We haven’t got a scheduled stream for today and the clouds glooming in the sky seem to be promising rain so really what do I have to get up for except that it’s a rule society installed?

Just kidding, I’m basically stalling and that’s all.

So what happened was the streamer gang and I were playing Among Us last night and our conversation during the pause between rounds somehow swerved into relationship territory. I stayed quiet the majority of if not all the time because I had no valid input to offer. 

If you know me you know I’m not one of the performers on the dating scene. I have never really confirmed it with my fans - well, until last night, that is - but I bet they have picked up on that fact considering I’ve been on YouTube for around a decade and have never had a partner. That being said, I’d have to also mention that I have in fact dated but someone but it was before my YouTube era started. Me choosing this career path, which back then was just a hobby, had nothing to do with the relationship ending but it still motivated me to not to actively look for a relationship while I’m still focused on my career. It’s too much work, too much stress and requires a lot of balance I most certainly either don’t have or I don’t have the energy to put in balancing my romantic and professional lives. Luckily, no one’s ever pressured me into finding a significant other, not yet at least, so no societal pressure for me!

But I gotta admit I felt real awkward admitting all this last night.

“Hey Y/N what do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet?“ Rae asks, causing me to jolt in my seat from where I’ve been reading my chat for the past five minutes, my mic muted.

I quickly unmute to reply, blushing ever so slightly, “Um, sorry I was reading my chat. What do I think about what?”

“The gesture of giving flowers to your significant other, is it romantic or a waste of money and plant murder?“ Rae explains, still managing to catch me off-guard with her question.

I ponder what my response should be for a little bit before deciding to level it to a neutral level where I almost sound indifferent, “It is in fact plant murder basically and artificial flowers would definitely be a better gift - plus they’ll last longer.”

“Mhmm yeah that’s true.“ Poki agrees with me, “But there’s still the question of whether it’s a romantic gesture or not. I personally don’t think it’s overrated or cheesy, I actually quite like it. What about you, Y/N?“

And now she’s got me in a real trap that I can’t wiggle out of without speaking my truth. I don’t know where this sudden anxiety around the subject came from but it now resides within me rent free and makes me feel self-conscious and embarrassed of the confession I’m inevitably make.

“Um, I wouldn’t know for certain, I’ve never received flowers myself...“ I say sheepishly, cringing at the sound of my own voice, “It’s not like I’ve dated plenty of people and the one guy I did date wasn’t really romantic or anything, I mean - we were teenagers, after all. But when I think about it in theory I think I’d like the gesture: it’s thoughtful, plus you get a temporary but beautiful piece of décor out of it.“

I’m gonna hope I didn’t sound too pitiful or desperate. Of course I’m not gonna check afterward on the stream cause I’d rather live in the illusion of having sounded humorous rather than be given the confirmation that I didn’t.

“Wait, wait, wait, did you date your last boyfriend like a decade ago?“ Corpse is now the one talking and that makes me feel even more anxious. This is not the impression one would want to give to their crush, is it? Oh well, no turning back now.

“Correct.“ I reply with a laugh that I hope didn’t sound as nervous as it was.

“And you’ve never, like in your whole life, received flowers from someone?“ He sounds astonished which sort of makes me want to shrink up in my shell like a turtle. Too bad I don’t have a shell though. I’m genuinely thinking of the option to rip the router out of the outlet right now to save me the troubles but I’m not that immature. I’m surprised I’m even reacting this way - this topic doesn’t usually bother me at all but now for some reason I’m red as a tomato and shrinking in my chair. 

I know what the obvious answer is but I’d rather die than admit to it.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds bad but I really don’t care.“ I make an attempt at changing the subject, swerving it back to the main topic rather than my lack of a love life, “I do, in fact, find the gesture sweet - it adds vibrancy to the relationship just like the flowers would add vibrancy and color to the space they’re put in.“

“Oh my gosh, that’s such a cool analogy!“ Rae gushes, “You’re totally right, it might be an old trick, but it’s aged like fine wine.“

Phew, God bless you Rae.

“Exactly, exactly.“ Corpse agrees as well but I don’t think he’s fully heard what Rae said since he sounds to have fallen in deep thought.

At least I got away with it with only making a SLIGHT nervous wreck of myself.

Yikes, was that horrible, though I don’t people will remember it for long. Sure, my fans have sent me thousands of lovely messages and pictures of bouquets and will maybe continue sending them for another day or two - which I highly appreciate, don’t get me wrong. I’m severely touched by this gesture of theirs and it almost makes me glad I finally ‘came clean’ about my romance-less life - however, it’ll fade overtime. I mean, who the heck cares if I’m single or not?

As I pour the milk over my cheerios which I’ve been snacking on dry for the past half hour as I rifled through the many notifications clogging up my lock screen, I hear the doorbell ring. I’m understandably puzzled by this, seeing as how I never get visitors so that doorbell rings only when I’ve ordered something, be it takeout or a random item off Amazon. However, I can’t remember ordering anything, at least not anything that should be arriving at the moment or even anytime soon - that glow-in-the dark curtain isn’t supposed to arrive until next week.  I make my way to the door, unbothered by the fact I’m still in my pajamas, and take a look through the peephole.

It’s a delivery guy...and he happens to be holding a huge-ass bouquet.

“What the...“ I mutter to myself as I unlock and swing open the door in the blink of an eye, “Hi?“

“Hi there, are you Y/N L/N?“ The delivery guy, who I’ve seen many times before and who I’m on pretty friendly terms with, asks me jokingly, sending a wink my way.

“I sure am.“ I reply, my gaze fixated on the breathtaking flowers he’s holding, “But those can’t be for me, that’s for sure.“

He fishes looks at his clipboard one more time, nodding before he looks back at me, “I double and triple checked, Y/N, they’re for you. Here, have a look if you don’t believe me.” He turns the clipboard  for me to see and he is actually telling the truth. I mean, I doubt he’d have any reason to lie to me but mix-ups happen all the time.

“Um, ok thanks. Sorry for the halt, it’s just...I’d hate to be the recipient of the flowers meant for another girl.” I apologize as I take the bouquet for him, still in awe of the fact I’m the one it was made and meant for and sent to.

I say a quick ‘bye’ to the delivery guy before practically running inside to inspect this bouquet for a card from the sender. I have my guesses: it has to be someone who was present during the stream last night and someone who knows my address. Hopefully it’s someone from my friend group and not a fan who watched the stream and just happens to know my address. I’d still appreciate the gesture, but I’d also install security cameras if that was the case.

Something about the color scheme of the flowers - pink and black - gives me Rae vibes since she constantly teases me about my aesthetics contradicting each other. But then again, Poki does it too so it could be her as well....

Oh...OH GOD IT’S NEITHER OF THEM

                                                               ~ ~ ~

I’ve been sitting here, keeping myself a safe distance from my phone so I’m not the first one to send her a text. So I don’t ask if she got what I sent her. So I don’t ask what she thought of it, how the bouquet looks in her living room, how it smells, how it makes her feel. I have so many questions so that phone is best off at a major distance from me. I’m the one who’s better off with such a huge distance between me and the device, to be perfectly honest.

Was it a bad idea? Should I have slept on it - or just thought about it longer cause sleep and I don’t get along? Should I have at least waited a day or two? Should I-

My phone vibrates with a notification and I practically fly to it from across the room, grabbing it and unlocking it asap. My heart sinks and takes off like a rocket simultaneously when I see I’ve been tagged in Y/N’s Instagram story. I nervously tap the notification that sends me to the picture of the bouquet I sent her with some text written over it.

“Thank you, Romeo ;)“

Somehow that one sentence answers all those aforementioned questions.

Is this what people refer to as butterflies in one’s stomach? Cause it feels significantly more like a crush...oh wait.

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[izyibel]

several things have happened. i think i let the school know i would like to take some time off when i was in the depths of grief still and grappling to gain some sort of control. but the more i ruminate over this change, the more excited i become, the less lost i feel. the less nervous i feel. i think it’ll take me awhile to find my footing again, but when i do, i believe i can flourish. maybe not do anything grand or great or “ethical”, but at least gain a sense of fulfillment somehow.

the plan is to take it a step at a time. i’m lucky to have love around me, i’m grateful to be the recipient of kindness from so many people, and instead of feeling encumbered by it all, i just feel like i can do anything because i have this support. i know i’m capable of learning anything, just need to be patient with myself.

i hate myself less and less as the days go by. i’m reminded of how when i was learning how to drive (here in brisbane we need to log 100 hours as a learner before we can take our practical test and drive without supervision). i was perhaps 50 hours in, and i had unknowingly left the lights on when i turned the engine off and began to exit the car, but because i had left the lights on, the car beeped as i opened the door. i was confused, puzzled and worried that i somehow caused a malfunction of sorts. my dad just said “you left the lights on” and so i turned it off. but i also felt shame and intense self-hatred that was so disproportional (the right amount is zero actually) to what the situation was. 

i remember telling myself “you’ve been driving for awhile now and you’re still making silly errors!!!”

then at the end of year 12 my friend E had already got her Ps so she could drive without supervision and moreover, drive her friends around. so she picked me and A up for a sleepover at her place. when she parked in her garage and we opened the doors to exit, her car beeped. both her and A were puzzled as to why it was beeping and E quickly closed and opened the door a few more times to see if the beeping persisted. but because i had done the same thing before, i simply said “you left your lights on” and E then exclaimed “ah! thanks izzy, you’re so smart” of couse what she really meant was “thank you for helping me”.

anyways i’m writing all of this because i want to remember that there is no point hating myself for simply experiencing things. and what i perceived as a “silly mistake” or “dumb error” was not that at all. it was simply an experience. and it was only because i had made those “silly errors” that i could help someone else meaningfully. and though it may not seem like there is anything good to draw from it in that moment, i shouldn’t be spinning it into something negative about myself. it was simply an experience. and it might come in handy one day.

[wynniewright]

Secret Santa (Drabble)

→  This piece is a part of the Secret Santa event hosted by @bwcsecretsanta and was created for @n8dlesoupguk

→ Rating: PG-13

→ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

→ WC: 2.4k

→ Genre: secret santa au

→ Summary: When you pick Yoongi’s name for the dreaded secret santa event at work, things didn’t go exactly as you expected them to.

→ Warnings: much fluff, some mild vulgar language (I tried very hard not to use the f word)

AN: Okay, it’s 4am and I don’t have the mental capacity to do tags and the proper set-up into the story so I did the absolute bare minimum until I’m awake and actually able to process what the hell is going on. AS MENTIONED ABOVE, it’s a secret santa piece for my dear @n8dlesoupguk. I’m sorry this piece took so long to get out but I hope you enjoy it, even if it is a little on the drabble side. Thank you for letting me be your secret santa and I hope you had a wonderful holiday season.~ <3 

PS: Sorry I forced you to wait until the last possible moment and thank you for your patience love!

It’s official. You were officially the worst secret santa in the history of secret santas and honestly, even that was giving yourself too much credit. You could barely call yourself a secret santa. The qualifications were somewhat loose, being that all you had to do was fill in a gift card for your own secret santa to receive while you received one from a co-worker. 

If you were honest with yourself, you wouldn’t have even signed up if you didn’t think your manager, Seokjin, wasn’t looking over your shoulder. Sure, he said it was optional, but you were looking forward to a promotion to serving role so that you didn’t have to bus tables anymore. If getting on Jin’s good side meant you had to participate in some cheesy holiday event for work then that’s exactly what you were going to do.

You couldn’t even blame your poor time management skills on your strict manager, since he specifically told every staff member the rules:

Gifts cannot go oer the $30 budget

Gifts must be ready for the exchange on the morning of the 24th

That was easy enough, right? Whoever’s name you pulled, you could’ve gotten away with buying them a candle or maybe some fuzzy socks and a sheet mask. It was supposed to be easy. But instead of ease, panic set in the moment you opened your locker and realized whose secret santa you were.

Min Yoongi.

Out of the twenty-something other employees at the restaurant, you managed to pick THE Min Yoongi. How? You wished you knew. 

Pulling his name from the hat wasn’t horrible because it was him, in fact, if you actually cared about the work festivities, you would’ve jumped for joy and screeched into your pillow the moment you got home. But you didn’t care about the exchange and had no plans to put any thought into a personalized gift for the recipient. Hell, by the time you actually bothered to take a peek at the name was nearly 72 hours before the exchange. That’s exactly why you were at the mall before your shift, less than 24 hours until the gift exchange in front of the other staff, in search for a suitable gift for the cute boy.

No pressure, right?

You tossed out your idea of fuzzy socks and body care products and immediately headed to the mom-and-pop candle store in search of fall-scented candles. There should’ve been more space for additional details because, c’mon, how many fall candles existed? Since it was the day before Christmas Eve, you expected to have plenty of options with fall scents - but not as many as there were.

It was understatement to say that there were plenty of options when the entire store was just one massive cloud of the perfect holiday fragrances, cinnamon and apple wafting right out the doors and flooding your nostrils before you even stepped into the place.

It took a whole hour for you to test all of the scents, a bulk of the time wasted on debating whether or not Yoongi was the Christmas cookie type, or if he’d like Apple Pumpkin or even Holiday Hearth, whatever that was. After the first 10 minutes of sniffing, all the candles started to blend together and smell the same as the one before it, leaving you defeated.

Shortly after leaving, there was a brief moment where you thought about checking out another store for some candles, but considering your nose was fried with all those powerful scents, you didn’t think you could sniff another freaking candle without losing your sense of smell. Perhaps the beanie on his list would’ve been an easier find.

Boy, were you wrong.

After shopping at three different department stores, you came to the conclusion that trying to find a beanie during the peak of the winter season was an even worse idea than the candles. You knew better than to waste time looking for one of the most popular items for the season so you weren’t sure why it was a shock to you when you couldn’t get your hands on one. The last item on his wishlist was sour watermelon gummies and although those sounded like a decent idea for a multi-item gift, there was no way you would give him a $30 bag of candy. 

With slumped shoulders and a pout, you decided to head into Guitar Center with less than a half an hour until the start of your shift. You didn’t know what to look for, only that you needed to find something budget-friendly that Yoongi would definitely take a liking to. The only possible solution was to give him a sad $30 gift card and call it a day, huffing your way across the mall to where the restaurant was located on the other side.

Technically, a gift card to Guitar Center was the perfect gift for Yoongi. There was a level of passion in which Yoongi spoke about his instruments, talking about music as if it were alive. That’s exactly why you couldn’t screw up the gift by getting him a gift card, right? Even if it was $30, that money could’ve gone towards something he wanted to buy in the future and even if it wasn’t much, you were sure he would still love it.

With a little newfound confidence, you strode through the open doorway and greeted your longtime friend, Jeongguk who stood behind the host desk, scribbling onto something you couldn’t see. 

“Hey, Gukie,” you offered a friendly wave, catching his friendly grin and returning it with one of your own.

“Y/N! I can’t believe you came in today,” he said, maneuvering his way around the desk to wrap his arms tightly around your shoulders. “Did you manage to find something good?” He whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help the sigh that pressed through your lips. 

You grumbled, “I got him a gift card?” 

His almond eyes rounded out, widening as if you had another head sprouting from your shoulder. “You totally forgot rule three.”

“Rule three?”

You thought back to Jin giving everyone a mini lecture on what was allowed to be given as a gift, running through rules one and two but ultimately coming to a blank.

Jeongguk brushed his lean fingers through his perfectly styled hair, causing some strands to fall in his face before he ruffled the locks in the back. “Rule number three, no gift cards or restaurant merch.” He deadpanned.

The moment those words left his lips, your mind flashed back to your manager saying those exact words and nearly lost your shit right as Yoongi and one of his best pals, Hoseok, strolled on in. 

“Are you fu-”

“-oh, hey, Y/N.” Yoongi flashed his signature gummy smile, reserved but enough to break some hearts as they stopped right by the two of you.

Your heart sank with the realization that you somehow managed to become an even worse secret santa than you managed before, which honestly would be an achievement for you if it wasn’t for the fact that Min-freaking-Yoongi was going to the one disappointed in you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you gave a half-hearted wave, trying your best to put on a smile while knowing full-well that it was flat and obviously painful. He passed by after a quick “it’s nice to see you again” and headed to the lockers in the back. 

Jeongguk watched the interaction and kept looking between the two of you as Yoongi walked further away, letting out a short whistle with a shake of his head. 

“You, my friend, are absolutely screwed.”

-----

You didn’t know exactly what you were thinking. A gift card? A freaking gift card? Seriously, how lame is that? People probably wrote poems about their recipient, shopped tirelessly for their favorite things until they were sure they were going to give the best gift a secret santa could give and there you were with a tiny, half-assed gift card that didn’t amount to anything nearly important enough and hoping that would suffice. 

You were disappointed in yourself. Sure, maybe time slipped by a bit too fast and left you with the last possible moment. Perhaps you could have blamed the sudden incline in hours after an excellent food critique brought an even larger crowd, telling him that’s why you didn’t have time to get something - anything - better. But that was just it. You couldn’t tell Yoongi that you didn’t care enough to buy a gift for anyone until you realized it was him. No way.

Feeling badly about the decision to get him a gift card, you managed to find a pair of fuzzy black socks - even though the color he put for his favorite was green but you knew that a majority of his closet was black - and a small, autumn-scented candle that anyone would enjoy with it’s subtle flair. You stuck those in the bag with the gift card, ultimately choosing to give both gifts despite them collectively doubling the budget. 

To say that nerves were getting to you wasn’t even the half of it. Your leg wouldn’t stop bouncing as each person around the circle was called to stand up and find the receiver of their gifts to hand them their early Christmas presents. The closer it got to you, the worse the bounding became, practically jumping up and down with every pull of your leg until you smacked it against your neighbor when they returned to their seat after their exchange.

“Alright, next is Y/N,” Seokjin clapped happily. You wished his positivity would’ve rubbed off on you and given you the strength to look Yoongi in the eye and hand him the monstrosity of a gift that you gave him. 

You pushed yourself up from the chair and and walked over to the other side, knees wobbling and hands growing slick as you neared Yoongi’s seat. With a deep breath, you extended the small bag his way and immediately ducked your head down when he took it, flying back to your seat on the opposite side and avoiding his gaze. 

It felt like hours going through everyone’s secret santa gift and you were too happy when Seokjin didn’t require us to open our presents in front of everyone. Presents were personal, right? Nobody wants to be exposed like that. 

You would’ve dipped on out of there as soon as the gift exchange ended but the nagging guilt forced you to make your way over to where Yoongi and Jeongguk were casually chatting. When you reached them, they both looked up at you with each of their own expressions: Yoongi’s eyes were dark yet curious as to what you wanted whereas Jeongguk knew exactly what was about to go down. 

“I’m actually going to catch Syd before she leaves. I’ll be right back,” he excused himself and made his exit, turning around the moment he was behind Yoongi to give you a supportive thumbs up. 

“Ah, right. I wanted to thank you for your gift, by the way. I really like the candle and I’m kinda digging the fuzzy socks so thanks.” Yoongi flicked his head to the side, pushing his dark hair out of his face as he smiled that heart-melting smile. 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” You nibbled on your lip.

How were you supposed to go about this? Was it something you had to sort of dance around and hope he’d understand or something you have to tell straight up? While neither answer seemed desirable, there was nothing more terrifying than the thought of having to say, “I bought you what I was going to buy for anyone else that was my secret santa”. 

“The gifts?” Yoongi raised a brow, no doubt confused with the way you were taking things.

“Yeah,” you puffed out. “Is there any way I could give you something else? I was the worst and I waited to go shopping and the things on your list weren’t available no matter where I looked. I would say I tried but I don’t even feel like I did… I’m so sorry for being so stupid, I can’t believe I actually got you th-”. 

“-I don’t want anything else, though. I already have more than enough.” He stuck his lip out, his cheeks puffing out as if he were a child being rejected for some sweets. 

“I don’t think you understand. I really messed this up and I’m so embarrassed,” you pushed further, lowering your head into your hands with a groan. 

Yoongi was silent, thoughtfully watching you have a meltdown in your seat as he contemplated his next response. “And if I said there was something?” He asked.

“It’s yours.”

In a blink of an eye, Yoongi closed the space between the two of you, lips crashing into yours in a gentle yet exploratory kiss. Fireworks shot off somewhere in the back of your mind as you shut your eyes and grazed his cheek with your thumb. The kiss didn’t last nearly as long as you wanted it to, but it took your breath away regardless. The last of him still lingered on your lips as you opened your eyes, cheeks flushed and eyes wide as you took in the situation.

Min Yoongi just kissed you.

THE Min Yoongi just kissed YOU.

“What was that for?” you murmured under your breath, almost as if you wanted an answer but didn’t even want him to hear the question. 

He hummed, a playful glint in his eye as he gave a shrug. “You said I could have something I wanted in return. That’s what I wanted.”

His words warmed your heart and turned you into a giggling mess, leaving you hiding behind your purse with nothing but your eyes peeking over the top. 

“You’re serious? You’re not serious, no way.” You spoke half to yourself and half to him, still processing the feeling of his soft lips against yours. 

“I’m serious. In fact, if you want to go even further to make it up to me, let me take you to dinner next Friday.” He stuck out a hand between your two bodies, the offer laying right there in front of you while you still couldn’t believe what was happening.

You gripped his hand as quickly as possible and bounced in your seat, beaming with excitement as he matched your enthusiasm. “Yes! I mean,” you coughed. “Absolutely, yes. I’d love to.” You grinned.

Little did you know that being the worst secret santa in history would lead you to give Min Yoongi exactly what he wished for: you.

[quicksilversquared]

Traps and Sneaks: Chapter 2 (of 2)

As the Guardian, it’s Marinette’s job to protect the Miracle Box and all of the Miraculous inside of it from evil. Obviously just sticking it away somewhere hidden isn’t going to cut it, so Marinette makes a box to hide it in. A booby-trapped box. A very dangerous booby-trapped box.

And if a certain someone gets their thieving little fingers caught in it, so be it.

links in the reblog

Lila sniggered to herself as she snuck up the stairs in the Dupain-Cheng bakery, unnoticed and unhindered.

Really, it had been way too easy to get in. All it had taken was feeding Alya a lie about how she had lent Marinette something to help her finish with their most recent Literature project but hadn't gotten it back, and she was worried about approaching Marinette to ask for it because, well, Marinette had been so busy recently that she probably thought that she had returned it. Lila was worried about appearing like she was accusing Marinette of stealing it if she asked about it, and they were only just starting to fix their relationship after getting off on the wrong foot. Alya had swallowed the lie like it was the most believable thing in the world, clearly thrilled that Lila and Marinette might be on the road to reconciliation, and from there all Lila had needed to do was suggest that maybe it would be easier for her to just fetch her things herself than it would be to ask Marinette.

Alya had been too eager to help, going into the bakery herself and getting permission from Mrs. Cheng to go in. Then she had let Lila in the side door- "I can't possibly go through the bakery myself, what if they recognize me and blame me for the time when Marinette got expelled and don't let me in!" Lila had exclaimed when Alya suggested that she just go in through the front herself- and made sure that she knew the way up before leaving. There had been a dicey moment when Alya moved to come up with Lila and help look, but Lila had waved her off with another excuse, insisting that she didn't want to eat up more of Alya's free time, especially when she knew that Alya and Nino had been thinking of going out for ice cream.

Alya had left, Marinette's parents would be busy in the bakery for hours, and Marinette herself was across the city at some sewing techniques workshop that she had won a full-ride scholarship for and hadn't shut up about all week. There would be no one to catch Lila and plenty of time for her to investigate Marinette's room and find- well, anything she could use against her.

A diary with embarrassing secrets, perfect for blackmail. Money, perfect for- well, money was always a good thing, and so was jewelry that she could pawn. Photos, also for blackmail. Sketches of designs for any other contests Marinette might have her eyes on, to copy and claim that Marinette had taken Lila's ideas. Maybe in-progress commissions that Lila could mess up, all the better to put a dent in Marinette's reputation if the damage wasn't found before she sent the pieces off to whoever had bought them.

One last flight of stairs, and Lila pushed open the door to the Dupain-Cheng apartment. Another set of stairs led up to a trapdoor that Lila could recognize as Marinette's (thanks to Alya's instructions), and she scampered up the steps and into the obnoxiously pink room at the top of the stairs.

The first thing she noticed: it was neat, unlike what Alya had warned her. There wasn't fabric draped all over the place or notebooks left out. On one hand, that would make things more difficult because she would have to search to find anything interesting, and unless Lila wanted to raise suspicion right away, she would have to put away anything she took out. On the other hand, well, it would probably be easier to find some things if she didn't have to dig through piles of fabric scraps or whatever it was that Marinette apparently usually had scattered around her room.

"Okay, first impressions," Lila said out loud as she glanced around. Marinette's school bag was by her desk- maybe she could tear out a couple pages of notes, so Marinette wouldn't have them to study from on the next exam. Next to the desk was a mannequin with what looked like a fairly complete outfit on it, leather pants with a lot of detail work and a matching jacket. Lila fingered the material, glancing at the seams on it. Since the piece was complete- or at least it looked complete- Marinette probably wouldn't look at it too closely before sending it off to its recipient. The recipient who, if the size of the pieces and the look of them was any indication, was probably Jagged Stone.

If she could mess with Jagged Stone's perception of Marinette and maybe mess up their working relationship, that would be perfect. Then he wouldn't feel inclined to do Marinette any favors like, say, coming in to call Lila out on her stories.

Lila decided that she would look for a seam ripper later, when she was poking around the desk. There was no point in stopping her assessment of Marinette's room now for that. After all, she had plenty of time.

The desk was otherwise pretty clear of anything interesting, though Lila was sure that she would dig through it later if she had time. The boxes on it probably just had sewing stuff anyway, and that- well, mixing it up or taking things might annoy Marinette, but she probably wouldn't think that much of it.

Across the room, though- well, there was a storage chest doubling as a bench, and Lila would be very surprised if there wasn't anything interesting in there. There might be a lock to deal with, but she had expected that and brought along her lock picking kit along. A few pokes and she would be in, ready to find out any secrets that Marinette might prefer stay hidden.

"Why couldn't she leave her diary on her desk like a normal person," Lila grumbled anyway, because it was also very possible that she would unlock the chest and find...nothing. Maybe Marinette didn't have any juicy secrets for Lila to exploit, and this whole trip would be- well, not for nothing, because she was still fully intending on causing ill-intentioned chaos, but not nearly as productive as she had hoped.

And considering that Lila was running quite a large risk with her lies to Alya about the thing she had 'loaned' to Marinette, a large payoff would be really preferred.

After a few more minutes of poking around- Marinette didn't keep a diary up near her bed, either, or any jewelry of any value, not that that stopped Lila from pocketing a few exotic-looking necklaces that she could always claim were gifts from people that she met around the globe- Lila turned her attention back to the large storage chest. The lock gave after a minute of working on it, and she flipped the lid eagerly, hoping that- well, hoping that there would be something interesting inside. Instead, she came face-to-face with...presents.

Boring. Knowing Marinette, they were probably all homemade and not worth anything.

Lila scoffed, wrinkling her nose at the pile of gifts. There was nothing interesting about Marinette being so disgustingly organized that she had gifts for her friends prepared well ahead of the holidays and their birthdays. She shoved a couple of the presents to the side, her nose wrinkling further at the next row of equally neatly-wrapped presents underneath.

Except... they were all labeled as being for Adrien.

Lila's eyebrows raised as she glanced at the top row of presents and- yep, all for Adrien. On closer inspection, all of them had little post-its on them with what event- and what year- they were meant to be for.

She sniggered. Marinette was a little obsessed, wasn't she? But as interesting as this was, it wasn't exactly something that she could easily use as blackmail. A bit disappointed, Lila kept digging, shifting packages aside. One more layer, and her fingers brushed against a dark wooden box, one that looked like perhaps Marinette had put it together herself.

It was exactly the sort of thing that a girl like Marinette- someone annoyingly craftsy- would store her diary in. Jackpot.

Smirking, Lila pulled the box out and considered it, her smile dropping as she did. Really, upon second glance, it was surprisingly sloppy, with uneven, dripping varnish and wonky nails. It was ridiculously heavy, even for its size, and especially considering that it was clearly made out of some cheap plywood. And oddly enough, it had two locks on it.

Frankly, the locks were the only reason why she didn't immediately lose interest. If they hadn't been there, Lila probably would have assumed that it was actually a failed project that Marinette was trying to hide.

"Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out which lock to try," Lila scoffed, setting the box on the floor in front of her and settling down more comfortably to work on it. "That second keyhole isn't even in the right spot!"

Really, had badly had Marinette messed up that she had managed to insert a keyhole in middle of one of the side panels, nowhere close to where the box and the lid had come together? It wasn't even straight- in fact, it was upside down. Shoddy craftsmanship, all around.

(The fact that Lila had never made anything like the box and had no idea how to even approach putting a lock like that on a box or even make any sort of box herself was, of course, completely irrelevant.)

Unlike the lock on the storage bench, the lock on the box wasn't very straightforward. There were more pins in this lock, and each one had to be individually maneuvered into place. Lila worked on it, scowling in concentration as she slowly picked it open.

Either Marinette had just happened to have a lock sitting around that she used, or there was something good inside of the box. No collège student was going to spend the amount of extra money it would take for a fancier lock like this for no reason at all.

With one last careful nudge, the lock gave. Lila grinned in triumph, flipping the box open. The lid seemed a bit heavy- for some reason it seemed to be lined with a strange metal band, but who cared- and there were a few stray papers and a thin journal sitting in the top compartment, on top of a wooden shelf with- you have GOT to be kidding me- another lock, just barely visible. Lila reached in to move them, and suddenly metal flashed, quick as a blink. Lila shrieked in surprise, automatically yanking her hand back, but she was far too late. Pointed metal teeth had snapped shut around her arm, keeping it in place, and- oh god.

They hadn't just closed around her arm. No, they had gone straight through the skin and- oh god the pain-

Lila fainted.

  Marinette had been having a lovely time at her sewing techniques workshop. Their instructor had walked the small class through all sorts of different ways of handling material, and next week they would be covering more tricky materials. They had gotten an entire binder with step-by-step photo reminders of what they had learned, and Marinette's already had notes scribbled up and down the margins.

She was so glad that she had won the scholarship to the class. It wasn't that she couldn't afford it herself- after all, with the commissions that she had done lately for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, she wasn't left wanting for money- but considering that she often had to miss things because of akuma attacks, Marinette wouldn't have wanted to spend the money on something that she might not even be able to attend. With the scholarship...

Well, if an akuma showed up, that would still suck. She was learning so much from the class and it would definitely up her design skills. Having to duck out on the class because someone got upset and Hawkmoth had to akumatize them would be a huge disappointment, because she would miss out on so much valuable instruction. But at least she wouldn't be spending her own money on it.

She still felt a bit guilty that she was doing the class and not spending the spare time working on learning more Guardian stuff, but the Order and Master Norbu had assured her that she should make sure to balance her superhero duties and her civilian life. After all, they didn't want her coming to resent her duty as Guardian because of everything that it made her miss out on.

The last section came to an end, and everyone turned off their machines and started packing up. Marinette tucked her sewn samples into her bag with her binder- at some point, she wanted to actually file the fabric pieces in next to their respective instructions, but that was a project for another day- and pulled out her phone, opening it up to check for messages. She had put it on silent for the class- silent with the sole exception of akuma alerts, thank you Max for that setting modification- so that no one would accidentally distract her. Sometimes the class chat blew up over the weekend, and having that pinging constantly throughout the class...

Well, it wouldn't give anyone a very good impression of her, that was for sure.

-and oh boy that was a lot of messages.

"My parents tried to call me ten times, Tikki!" Marinette hissed, all of the relaxation and good feelings from the day gone in a heartbeat as she tried and failed not to catastrophize. "Oh my god, what if one of them had a heart attack or a machine broke and sent pieces everywhere and they're at the hospital and it's really bad and I should have been there and-"

"Call them back!" Tikki urged, sticking her head out of Marinette's jacket as soon as they were clear of the rest of the group. "And- look, it was both of your parents calling, not just one or the other. So that means that they're probably fine, right?"

"Oh!" Marinette considered that for a minute, then dove straight back into her worrying. "Then maybe the bakery caught on fire and burned down and we're homeless and-"

"Just call them back, Marinette!" Tikki exclaimed, though she was looking worried, too. "Then they can tell you what actually happened."

Marinette wavered, then pressed Call. Her mom's phone rang once, twice, and then she picked up.

"Marinette! Ah, is your class over?"

"Yeah, we- we just finished," Marinette responded, her heart rate slowly dropping back towards normal. Her mom didn't sound overly upset, so- maybe it wasn't super-serious? "I- I saw you called? And papa?"

"Yes, I hated to call during your class, but- well, there was an incident," her mom told her, sounding a bit hesitant. "Right away- your dad and I are fine, the bakery is fine, the house is fine. But your classmate- Lila Rossi- she broke into the house and into your room. She got into your storage bench and- anyway, long story short, there was a box in there that was, ah, quite severely booby-trapped?"

Marinette's heart skipped several beats, jumping straight into her throat. The- that was the box where she hid the Miracle Box. It was very well hidden- after all, it had been in a locked storage bench, hidden under Adrien's presents, and then locked (several time over) itself- and she had assumed that that would be enough to keep it undiscovered. If Lila had gotten into it- even just into the first layer- that could be enough to put the Miracle Box in danger. The police might want to know what was in the box, or they might have broken it open to get Lila's hand out- because presumably Lila had gotten her hand caught when she tried to get the box open, and getting the trap open wasn't exactly straightforward- or maybe Lila hadn't been caught too badly and had somehow persuaded someone to open the box for her. "It- yes?"

"Whatever the box is hiding- well, it's still hidden," her mom assured her, and Marinette couldn't stop herself from letting out a sigh of relief. "The second level is still locked. And the doctors did manage to get it off of Lila's arm- well, after a bit of puzzling, at least, they said that set-up was very clever. That was why we called you, actually. We didn't want to bother you, but it was just taking the hospital and the police so long to figure out that lock mechanism and they had been hoping for a clue."

...well, at least her mom didn't sound upset with her. Yet, anyway.

"We've gotten the box back now," her mom continued. "And we've already dealt with the police, so you don't need to worry there. They understand that Lila wasn't meant to be in our house, much less your room, and that the box was securely hidden and locked up. The only reason they might want to talk to you is to learn more about why Lila might have broken in."

"To make me look bad, I bet," Marinette said dryly. "To steal things, or plant evidence, or try to find something to blackmail me. Why else?"

"Lovely girl." Her mom said something to someone else on the other end of the line, muffled and indecipherable, before she came back. "That's all, really. Will you be coming back soon?"

"Yeah, I'm heading for the bus stop."

"All right. See you soon!"

With that, the call disconnected. Marinette stared at her phone for a minute, then glanced down at Tikki. Her kwami looked just as worried.

"I thought that you had hidden the Miracle Box really well!" Tikki exclaimed. "That was a really nice place, and no one ever goes digging in there! Add in the fact that you had it locked, and it should have been fine."

"Yeah, but clearly Lila was digging around with the intention of finding anything that I had hidden," Marinette told her. She let out a sigh, the stress starting to inch back in on her, taking all of the relaxation from her sewing class away. Maybe the Miracle Box hadn't been found today, but- well, this was hardly going to be the end of this whole fiasco. If (when) Lila got akumatized again, she would probably go after the box again to see if she could break it. She might tell people at school about it- changing, of course, the reason why she had been in Marinette's room in the first place and making up completely different circumstances as to how she had ended up with her hands on the box. While Marinette really had no choice but to return the box to its previous spot for the moment- after making sure that it was re-set, of course- it wouldn't be completely safe for the long term.

At least summer break was coming up soon and she had already been doing research on how to DIY hidden compartments. Clearly she would need to use that knowledge earlier than intended.

"Maybe she'll actually get in trouble this time," Tikki offered hopefully. "I mean, breaking and entering, trying to steal- you could try to press charges."

"Maybe, but considering how injured Lila probably is, she'd probably pull the sympathy card." Marinette groaned. "I don't understand how she even got in! We've been keeping the side door locked, and mom knows better than to let Lila into the house."

"If she got through the locks on the bench and the box, Lila probably knows how to pick locks," Tikki reminded her. "She might have just picked her way through the door downstairs."

That was a terrifying thought, honestly. That someone like Lila could just pick her way past a door lock and get in her house...

"If that's what happened, I'm definitely going to petition my parents to get better locks." Marinette checked her room again, then headed back down the stairs. Tikki flew after her, phasing into her purse. "I don't think they would agree to put in booby traps, too, but- ugh, I'm going to be worrying about people getting into the house now."

"Maybe it's just a matter of the lock being old and needing to be replaced," Tikki suggested. "Hopefully your mom knows more."

"I hope so!"

It felt like it took forever for the bus to come, and then it trundled along the streets far too slowly for Marinette's taste. She spent the entire trip worrying over different scenarios where Lila could twist things around to make Marinette look like the bad guy and trying to figure out where she could add a hidden compartment to her room, somewhere where no one would notice the addition.

This far, she was coming up blank. Maybe she could put something on her balcony- but that just didn't seem secure enough. It would be far too easy for a passing akuma (or, perish the thought, a passing supervillain) to accidentally knock into and destroy a hidden compartment. No, it would be better to get creative inside her room.

Once she hopped off of the bus, Marinette wasted no time in hurrying home. The bakery was still open- hopefully business hadn't been interrupted too much by Lila's injury- and she headed in, sparing a quick smile for a few regular customers that she recognized. Her parents had one of their normal bakers working the counter in her mom's place, clearly finishing up the day so that the Dupain-Chengs would be able to deal with the mess going on in their home.

Hopefully it wasn't messing production up too much. If both of her parents were upstairs and they had one of the normal back kitchen bakers at the counter, that meant fewer hands on deck to start preparing things for the next day. And since the staff wouldn't stay overtime, that meant that her parents would end up working long hours.

Freaking Lila. Of course she just had to make life difficult for everyone else simply because she was spiteful and fixated on revenge.

Not wasting any time, Marinette headed upstairs. Her mom was in their kitchen and on the phone, her back to the door, but her dad wasn't anywhere in sight. That meant he was probably downstairs, which suggested that she actually wasn't in trouble because she had the trap. If she had been, her dad would be there too, his arms folded and a frown on his face.

Her mom, though, was more than making up for the frowning as she argued with whoever was on the other end of the line.

"No, I am not arguing the definition of 'breaking and entering' or 'trespassing' with you," Mrs. Cheng snapped into the phone, mere seconds after Marinette entered the room. Marinette paused, blinking over at her mom in confusion. Normally her mom didn't raise her voice over the phone. "You are not a resident here, you do not get to let people in who we don't want inside. That is outright irresponsible behavior- no, I do not care what your interpretation of the situation was, I already told you that. And I will be contacting your mom about this. Perhaps she can get it through your head how unacceptable your actions were. Good-bye."

With that, Mrs. Cheng hit the end call button with a flourish, scowling at the phone for a moment before noticing Marinette. Her scowl was promptly replaced with a smile. "Marinette! How was your class?"

"It went well," Marinette told her, biting back the urge to gush. That could wait until dinner, after the more pressing issue of Lila's break-in had been dealt with. "Who was on the phone?"

"That was Alya," Mrs. Cheng told Marinette with a sigh. She pocketed her phone and washed off her hands before returning to her dinner prep. "I was calling to ask her if- well, she stopped by earlier to get something, so I wanted to know if she saw or heard anything out of place while she was here. I just wanted to try to get a better idea of when Lila might have broken in so we wouldn't have to go through as much security footage-"

"Wait, why did Alya come over?" Marinette interrupted, frowning in confusion. She hadn't borrowed anything from Alya recently, and normally Alya at least texted her to let her know if she was borrowing anything from Marinette for some reason while she wasn't home.

"I was getting to that, don't interrupt," Mrs. Cheng gently chided her. "Anyway, Alya seemed pretty surprised about us having a break-in... until I mentioned that it was Lila."

Marinette groaned. She was getting a sinking suspicion that she knew where this was going. "Please don't tell me that Alya let Lila in."

"...Alya let Lila in," Mrs. Cheng confirmed, sighing. "...on the plus side, at least she didn't pick her way in through our doors. I would be looking into swapping out our locks if that were the case."

"Why on earth would she think that that would be a good idea in any way?" Marinette exclaimed. "And- well, presumably she let Lila in and then just ran off instead of supervising her, which- even if Lila somehow made up some reason for having to stop by my room, why wouldn't Alya at least have the common sense to stay with her?"

"Well, from what Alya said, Lila said that she had loaned you something and you had forgotten to give it back, and she was worried about bringing it up and making you upset... because you might think that you had already returned it and think that she was trying to frame you. Or something." Mrs. Cheng pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. "It sounded like Lila was making it sound like you two were starting to mend bridges. And I told Alya that Lila was found with a lock picking kit and some jewelry from your Nonna Gina in her pockets, but she's still insisting that it was all a misunderstanding. "

"How- how much did you tell Alya?" Marinette asked suddenly, brain all of a sudden dancing with pictures of Alya hearing about the trap and trying to dig into what, exactly, Marinette was trying to hide. She presumably had enough sense to not go digging through Marinette's things in hopes of an interesting discovery, especially considering how hurt Lila had gotten, but that didn't mean that Alya wouldn't incessantly ask her questions, and within hearing distance of other people, too.

Not that Lila probably wouldn't bring up the trap on her own- or would she? Why would she? There would be no way to talk about it without making herself look bad. But if Lila's reputation was tanking anyway, maybe she would bring it up just to make Marinette look bad, too.

"Not much," Mrs. Cheng assured her. "I didn't have to. I implied that Lila got into a locked box of sewing things and cut herself that way, which is very believable. Your fabric scissors are sharp, as are your rotary cutters, and it's not hard to believe that someone who wasn't familiar with that box might get themselves injured. I'm not going to tell your most inquisitive friend about your very mysterious and heavily-guarded trap box."

Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief.

"On a related note, I suspect that Alya might not be very keen on coming over here for a while," Mrs. Cheng added. "I was not subtle about how irritated I was with her. And she just kept on digging her heels in more whenever I pointed out things that she wasn't considering or just flat-out missed." She paused, looking slightly sheepish. "And I may, before you got back, have insulted her investigative and observational skills. Just a little bit. I just got too mad about the fact that she fell for such an obvious lie and didn't even try to check with you about it before she went ahead and let Lila in."

Honestly, Marinette couldn't blame her mom for exploding. She couldn't believe that Alya would have done that- and apparently still thought that she was completely justified in doing it. If Lila hadn't gotten herself injured and had gotten away without being caught, who knew what sort of damage she could have caused or what information she might have gotten her hands on?

Frankly, if things had gotten to that point, once she realized what had happened, Marinette probably wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to pull out the Horse and Portal Lila to somewhere dangerous. The arctic, maybe, or the surface of the Moon. She wouldn't be able to cause trouble there.

After a pause, Mrs. Cheng nodded towards the couch. "Your box is there. I think the police said that it's currently disarmed, but be careful with it."

Marinette nodded, scooting around the table to grab the box off of the couch. She was planning on being super careful. After working so hard on the trap- well, she had once gotten a cut on her finger while she was assembling the booby trap, and that had been without any force behind it. She had no intention of becoming acquainted with those same blades with force behind them.

Besides, the box was completely safe when it was disarmed, and Marinette really didn't think that she was likely to ever just forget to disarm it, not with all of the safety measures she had deliberately built in. All that took was unlocking the second lock first- the crooked one that looked like it had been a mistake, or just a practice run on a spare piece of wood that ended up not being a spare piece- and then she could unlock the lid itself. There was a visible latch on the inside that would give away- to her- if the trap was set or not, and she always checked it just in case before sticking her hand in.

"I know how to open it safely and make sure that it's disarmed before I put my hand in," Marinette assured her mom. "After all, I designed it. I won't forget how to do it."

"Honestly, I figured that much. It wasn't a reassurance when I looked at the box at first because honestly, it doesn't look like an expertly engineered box." Mrs. Cheng smiled over at Marinette. "But that's deliberate, isn't it? No one would suspect that there's anything inside when it looks like a beginner's project."

"It was either make it look like that or try to make some sort of ornate box with a hidden key hole so that no one could figure out where the lock was, but- well, I don't have the time or skill to do that sort of carving." Marinette ran one hand over the box, remembering how much effort it had taken to make the box really solid and then go back and make it look like a beginner's project, ramshackle and not at all sturdy. If the person looking at the box knew anything about construction, the presence of the lock would probably give away the fact that she knew what she was doing, but Marinette was willing to bet that most people wouldn't know that. "It would have been cool, though. I've seen some locks online where people would never figure out how to open it unless they had been shown how, and that would have been nice."

Hawkmoth would probably just try to slice the box open then, but- well, if he did, he was in for a surprise. The wood might crack, but the enchanted metal underneath wouldn't budge.

"You've done quite a bit of research about this, then." Mrs. Cheng considered Marinette for a long moment, and she resisted the urge to squirm. "Honestly, there's a part of me that really wants to question the box and say no to you having it, because it's clearly dangerous- I mean, I saw the damage that it did to Lila- and even though I know you'll be careful, it's hard to be comfortable with the idea of that being in your room. But clearly you've been responsible with storing it, and I trust that you wouldn't have gone so far out of your way to get the materials and do the modifications to that trap if you didn't think it was important to protect whatever is in there." She took a deep breath, and Marinette could tell that her mom was severely torn about whatever she was about to say. "So your dad and I are going to allow it, and we won't ask about what you have in the box. Heaven knows you deserve some privacy."

Marinette let out a sigh of relief. "I- thank you."

"And- I didn't want to say anything over the phone, but the police had originally wanted to talk with you about why you had that trap on the box," Mrs. Cheng continued, and Marinette's heart dropped right back into her feet, the moment of relief gone. "Because- well, normally kids your age don't have stuff like that. But- oh, you should have seen it. Your dad got very puffed-up and huffy with them about how this was the second time in less than two years that a classmate of yours had been caught breaking into your room with ill intentions and were you not allowed to protect your things? And one of the police was Officer Raincomprix, so of course he was in a pretty big hurry to drop that line of questioning. Particularly when he was reminded that his daughter was the other classmate that had snuck in."

Marinette hastily muffled a laugh. She would have loved to see that, honestly. "And they didn't say that they would, like, come back later or anything?"

"Only to get a statement from you that Lila wasn't meant to be at our house at all. Your father and I discussed it, and- if it's all right with you- we'd like to pursue pressing charges. We've heard enough about Lila that we want to make sure that she won't be bothering you in the future. Breaking and entering is just- she's taken it too far. She's been taking it too far, and I apologize for both your dad and I that we haven't taken it seriously. No disorder is going to compel someone to target you to the degree that she has been, much less plot to break into your room." Mrs. Cheng shook her head, clearly disgusted at herself for having fallen for the lie. "At the very least, we want to look into getting a restraining order. That should keep her away from you."

"What if Lila spins some tale or tries to get sympathy and we can't get the order?" Marinette asked. Even with their evidence- well, from the sounds of it, Lila's hand was probably pretty mangled, and she didn't have the magical healing potion that Marinette kept on hand just in case to put it back to normal. "What if they decide that her hand is punishment enough?"

"Then we'll argue that." Mrs. Cheng's voice was firm. "If you testify about what Lila has been like, then the courts will know that she's likely to just go back to school and cry about her wrist to get sympathy. And they've seen people like her before, I'm sure. They're not going to be as easily fooled as your teachers and classmates and- well, and your dad and I."

Marinette swallowed and nodded. That would be nice. That would be really nice.

"And if they do- well, and even if they don't- I will be talking to Lila's mother. There's no way she knows what her daughter has been up to, if she still was letting her run around." Mrs. Cheng nodded once, sharp, and Marinette knew that there would be no stopping her mom now. She was determined to keep Lila away from Marinette and force her to see the consequences of her actions, and so it would happen.

Honestly, Marinette had the best parents ever.

  Marinette let out a sigh of relief as she tucked the box back in its spot, piling the presents for Adrien back on top of it and shutting the lid of her storage bench. It locked with a thud and a sharp click, sounding sturdy and secure.

It was too bad that that was a lie. Marinette ran her fingers over the lock, wondering if she should try switching out the lock for a different style, something that would be harder- or, even better, impossible- to pick. It might be hard to do that without attracting attention, though, and if she messed it up?

It would be better to not have signs of tampering on her bench, just in case. Maybe she should practice with putting in and taking out locks on a bit of scrap wood first.

A blanket went over the bench, set at a jaunty angle, just casual enough that it didn't look arranged. Marinette's backpack went next to it, the perfect picture of nothing here to see.

And still Marinette worried her lip.

"It'll be fine, Marinette!" Tikki told her, zipping up next to her shoulder. "Downstairs is all locked up, the box is hidden, and the bench is locked. No one is going to be breaking in- and Lila is in the hospital anyway."

"I know, but..." Marinette trailed off, glancing around her room. Whenever someone entered her room without her consent- when Sabrina broke in, after Jagged Stone's camera wandered in while broadcasting live to all of Paris, and then now with Lila- she always felt thrown off kilter and uncomfortable, out of place and not as secure as normal in her own room. It wasn't ever a nice feeling.

She couldn't even safely leave her diary out in her room. Not her diary, not anything that might be the least bit valuable, not any signs of her crush or anything that might even hint at her double life. Maybe it would be a good idea to tuck those things away anyway, but there was a difference between having to simply put things away instead of leaving them out in the open and having to lock everything away under several layers of protection.

Marinette was starting to get the feeling that once she was older and had her own place, there would be a lot of personalization with false walls and hidden compartments where she could hide away- well, everything, really. All of the parts of her life that she might be at all leery of anyone finding out about.

It was always going to be a good idea to hide the Miraculous stuff, especially while Hawkmoth was active, but Marinette should be able to expect some measure of privacy in her own room. The fact that she apparently couldn't...

Maybe it was a better idea to not dwell on that too much. And, with any luck, they wouldn't have any trouble going forward. She and her parents had talked over dinner and come up with a new rule for letting in friends and classmates: all visits had to be approved by Marinette before they set foot through the door. If she let them in herself it was fine, of course, but if they came in through the bakery and wanted to be let up then Sabine had to have a text on her phone from Marinette approving it. There would be no more surprise visits from her friends- or at least no truly surprise visits, since she would at least get a couple minutes' warning from her mom's inquiry text- and no more people going up to her room when she wasn't there 'just to grab something really quickly, honest'. If someone tried to come over as a surprise and Marinette didn't see her mom's text right away- either because she was just busy or because she was out as Ladybug- then that was just too bad. They didn't just get to saunter up and poke around in her room unattended until she got back.

That- well, security reasons aside, it was a really good change. There had been multiple times lately when Marinette had been in the middle of trying to catch up on homework and one (or more) of her friends burst in and interrupted her, and that had both thrown her completely off and eaten up time that she really didn't have to spare because she felt bad about sending them away when they had come over to see her. There hadn't been any times yet where Marinette had been out as Ladybug and came back to find someone in her room, but, well, she couldn't get lucky forever. If they hadn't made the change, then it would probably only be a matter of time before Ladybug slipped into her room after a long fight and found Alya waiting there.

(That would be a disaster.)

"At least I hadn't gotten around to painting the trap with the poison that the Order sent me," Marinette commented after a pause, pushing away thoughts of her new visiting arrangements and how she really should have implemented them earlier for the time being. The poison was a new suggestion from the Order, something to completely ensure that Hawkmoth wouldn't be able to steal the Miraculous, and it was a suggestion that made her really, really nervous. She fiddled with one of the tassels on the blanket, then resolutely turned and headed up to bed. "The police might have been fine with the bear trap- if only barely- but a bear trap coated in poison? I would have gotten in so much trouble."

"I still think it would be a good idea to put it on," Tikki told her. "I know it ups the scary factor even more, but in case Hawkmoth finds the box and he doesn't pass out from the trap- or if it doesn't catch him as much as it sounds like it got Lila, since he might be expecting a trap!- then it should still keep him from getting away scot-free. You have the antidote and the healing potions, so you should still be safe!"

"In theory, at least." Sure, the Order had assured her that it would take some time for the poison to kick in, enough time for her to get to her remedies- a delay of sorts, followed by it absolutely flooring the unfortunate person affected- but that still depended entirely on her keeping her head long enough to actually get to them.

Maybe she needed to consider a rearranging of where things were so that there would be less distance between the box and the antidotes, just in case that very dangerous and (hopefully) very unlikely scenario of the box snapping shut on her ever happened.

Ugh. More things to do, as though she didn't already have enough on her plate. But Tikki was right- Hawkmoth was too much of a threat to keep putting off the secondary level of protection. She would just have to be super careful around the box- even more than she had been before- and prioritize getting her remedies located closer to the hidden Miracle Box.

That, and she definitely had to make sure that she kept her remedy up-to-date, no slacking and letting it come close to expiration. And, well, she had to make sure that she didn't use up the healing potion- the potion that would immediately reverse the damage from the trap in case something went wrong- with injuries that she got while sewing or tripping over her own feet.

At least she knew how to make the healing potion. As long as Marinette kept an eye on how much she had- and her (poorly) hidden supply of potion ingredients, those had to be next on her list of things to build hiding spots for after a new spot for the box and a close but not too close location for the remedies- and made sure to top it back up whenever she got low, using it for other injuries shouldn't be a problem.

"I'll tell Mom no babysitting next weekend, and do the poison then," Marinette said, realizing that she hadn't said anything for a minute. "If I do it right away and the police end up wanting to see it again, then that'll be an issue. If I give it a little time, then I won't end up putting the poison on and then having to take it right off again. And I need to get some more supplies- a dedicated paintbrush, and some gloves so that my skin doesn't come in contact with it at all."

Tikki nodded, approving. "I didn't think of that! That's a good thought. I think that should be fast enough. And it'll give you time to think about ways you can shake up your set-up so that no one else will know about it again!"

"The biggest changes there might have to wait to summer, honestly," Marinette admitted. The amount of work it would take to make a hidden cubby- and to make it fast enough that no one would notice it- would be absolutely insane, her biggest project yet. "But I'm sure that I can make some changes to up my security before then, and dream up improvements that I can make so that I'm ready to hit the ground running as soon as I have enough free time."

Her mind was whirring with more ideas already, actually. She would have to ask the Order to enchant more metal so to be Miraculous-resistant, pieces that she could put inside of the storage bench and keep it from being destroyed. If Hawkmoth (or his akumas) couldn't pick locks, that should be enough to stop him. And then if she practiced with taking out and putting locks in, then she could put in a lock like one she had seen online most recently, the one that had a hidden keyhole. Both improvements wouldn't affect her ability to get in- which was a good thing, since speed was super important during akuma fights- but should make things for difficult for anyone with nefarious intentions.

It would be a lot of work, of course, and might mean skipping out on a few outings with her friends to get things done quickly just in case, but she could make the Miracle Box safe and secure again. It might even end up helping her in the long run, since now she knew where the weak points in her security were and could fix them before they were put to the test by an akuma or Hawkmoth. Sure, it wasn't ideal that people knew about the box at all, but- well, it wasn't worth crying over spilled milk.

Marinette would come back from this, and she would come back stronger.

[devildompotato]

Deep Freeze

*A/N- I may have shared this from my other blog when I originally posted this, as it was for a SFW gift exchange and I didn’t want this blog getting attached to that and maybe bringing minors to me. So if you’ve seen it before, that could be why. I’m not tagging the recipient or the exchange, since that has all been said and done. I felt like a month has been enough time for me to post it on my main OM blog- this one! So here you go!*

Slight T rating, for innuendo.  Mammon/GN!MC  Lucifer/GN!MC Angst, Unrequited Love

Mammon watched you with a small smile, amused at how delighted you were by the snow. You looked so cute all bundled up in your coat and hat, grin as bright and sparkling as the sunlight glittering in the snow. He started to get up from where he was perched on a stump when he saw you fall flat on your face, breaking into laughter instead when you sat up and howled with laughter at your own clumsiness. This trip to the human world had been a fantastic suggestion. He hadn’t seen you look so carefree and exhilarated in quite some time.Letting your good humor pull him in, he began walking toward you, intent on joining you in your snowball fight against his brothers. Before he got close enough for you to see, Lucifer appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Extending his hand to you, he smoothly pulled you up and into his arms, murmuring something with a small, soft smile. Mammon had thought your face was red from the cold but it was nothing compared to the blush that bloomed on your cheeks with a shy little grin at whatever Lucifer had whispered in your ear. Watching as you grasped his brother’s coat to stretch up and meet his kiss caused an ache in his chest that Mammon hadn’t felt in millennia. Turning away, he swiftly made his escape on silent feet. He felt nauseous at the sight he’d just witnessed. Seeing Lucifer in such a soft moment left him feeling dirty somehow, but that wasn’t what was making him breathless. He should have known you’d choose his brother. Perfect, smooth-talking Lucifer, always ready with his low voice and poetic words, carefully curated to get exactly the reaction he wanted. Of course you’d choose him over the hyperactive, immature Avatar of Greed. Mammon knew he was exactly the opposite in every way. There was nothing suave about him; he tripped over his words, overwhelmed by his feelings for you and pushing you away instead.

  He knelt in the snow desperately gasping for air. Somehow this managed to feel like losing Lilith again, in a completely new way. He had grieved his sister, knowing he would never see her again. But you… you were right there. He’d have to see you every day, watch the soft smiles and lovesick looks directed at his brother when it should have been him. The very thought of it left an unbearably heavy weight in his chest. He sniffed, trying to hold back the tears burning his eyes. His jeans were uncomfortably cold and wet from kneeling in the snow, but he couldn’t seem to care. The roar in his head seemed to calm just in time for him to hear the soft shuffle of feet in the snow. Desperate to hide his heartbreak, he quickly wiped some snow on his face. Hopefully, that would explain the evidence of his tears. His heart dropped just that much more when he heard your voice behind him. “Mammoney?” Please don’t call me that. Don’t use endearments when you’ll never be mine.

“What are you doing here all alone, Mammon?”  Of course Lucifer would be with you. He just couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“Thinkin’.”

“That’s a new endeavor for you. How is it working out? Have you hurt yourself yet?” Mammon plastered a smile on his face and turned around just in time to see you gently smack Lucifer’s chest with the back of your hand. “Be nice, Lucifer. Mammon isn’t stupid, no matter what you say.”

His heart swelled at your defense of him, but he simply couldn’t agree. Clearly, he was the biggest idiot of them all to fall in love with you, let alone hope you could love him back. Still, he forced out a cocky laugh. “That’s right, human. They don’t call me the GREAT Mammon for nothing, ya know!” “Mammon, literally no one calls you that,” muttered Lucifer. “Shows what you know,” he quipped back. His brother merely rolled his eyes at him. “So, what are you two doing here? Looking for a bit of ‘alone time’?” He made sure to throw in a leer to make his meaning clear. If they thought he was joking, maybe they wouldn’t see his shattered heart. The flush on both of your faces told him he’d hit the nail on the head, and he suddenly wanted to be sick. “I missed you Mammoney. I was just trying to find you,” came your quiet voice.

 “Ah, well, you found me! I’m just fine, as you can see. So I’ll just leave you two alone.” He noticed your hand reach for him as he turned on his heel and darted away as casually as he could, but he simply pretended he’d hadn’t seen. You’d just straight up lied to his face. Your musical voice followed him, calling him back to you. He felt like an ass, but he couldn’t face you just then. Maybe not for 100 years. Maybe never. All he knew was that he needed to get away. He turned in the direction of his brothers just in time to see Lucifer pulling you the opposite way, behind a small copse of trees. He was lost in his misery as he walked, causing him to be completely surprised when a snowball exploded on his face. “Haha yes!!!” Levi whooped triumphantly. “Once more my tactical genius has led me to a most satisfying victory! All hail King Leviathan!”“Why do ya always talk so funny when you’re playin’ games, huh?” Mammon sputtered through the snow. “I do it because it is the only proper way to celebrate defeating my foe!” “I’ll show you foe,” growled Mammon, bending down to scoop up some snow and preparing to return fire. He lined up his shot, wound up his arm, and got beaned on the back of the head with a snowball just as he let go, missing Levi completely. “Direct hit! Wonderful shot, Satan!” crowed Asmo. He was sat on a large stone, refusing to get involved with the fight and risk ruining his expensive coat, so he claimed. When Mammon turned to his assailant, Satan was bowing to his audience of one. “Thank you, Asmo. But it isn’t hard to miss a head that big.” Asmo’s gleeful shout of laughter was cut short by Mammon’s snowball. “I’m a pretty good shot when I’m not bein’ sabotaged ya know! And ya aren’t even movin’!” His younger brother’s beautiful face was marred with fury, but Mammon had accomplished his goal and made Asmo get involved in the game. For a short, blissful time, his heartache was a dull throb as he and his brothers chased each other around, pelting one another with snowball after snowball. Their shouts of laughter and mock anger filled the little area of the forest they’d trekked to and for a moment Mammon felt like life was normal. Until you and Lucifer rejoined the group with messy hair and disheveled clothing. “Oh ho! Having fun in the snow, I see! How positively naughty of you!” teased Asmo. “That’s disgusting,” muttered Belphie. “No one wants to think of Lucifer that way.” “Oh I do it often,” purred the Avatar of Lust. “If you could please cease this inane conversation, we should probably head back to the cabin.” Lucifer sighed. The group set out for their warm shelter while Mammon silently seethed at the sight of you and Lucifer walking with your arms casually slung around each other. Your sweet laughter floated back to him, making his heart clench. He had a feeling this pain was going to get worse before it got better, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to hide it. You would try to comfort him if you found out, which would be the very last thing he would want when you were out of reach. Lucifer would reach as yet unheard-of levels of smugness that Mammon was sure would mean the two of them coming to blows. As the cabin came into view, you fell back to walk with him. “What’s wrong, Mammoney? You’re awfully quiet, and that concerns me.” “It shouldn’t, it’s a nice change of pace and we don’t want to ruin it!” snapped Belphie. Mammon felt his face burning before he curtly replied, “It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

“Poor thing. Maybe you should take a nap before dinner? You can use my room, it’s the quietest.” He couldn’t help the small smile that graced his features. You were always so sweet, so selfless. Too good for him, to be sure. “Thanks, maybe I will.”   You reached down and gave his hand a squeeze before heading back to Lucifer’s side. As the 8 of you entered the cabin, there was a flurry of boots and coats being tossed around, and the stern voice of Lucifer reminding everyone to take care of their wet outerwear instead of simply throwing it in the corner. It proved to be the perfect distraction and allowed Mammon to sneak away unnoticed. Well, mostly unnoticed. You followed him to your room, concern still etched on your face. “I promise I’m fine. I just need a little bit of rest, that’s all.” He said.

“If you’re sure…” “Positive.” “Okay, well I guess I’ll leave you to it. Have a good nap.” “Thanks. Goodbye.” A startled, slightly frightened expression crossed your face. “Goodbye? What does that mean?” “Slip of the tongue. I meant to say good night.” “Uh huh…” He knew you didn’t believe him but he climbed into your bed and ignored the way you stared. After a moment you left, leaving him to enjoy being surrounded by your scent. Just for a little while, he told himself. He had no idea how long he’d been lying there before you came to check on him, but he quickly tried to look relaxed and deeply asleep. It must have worked since you silently snuck in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before tiptoeing back out. He heard you tell someone you were going to let him rest a while longer and soon the faint sounds of his brothers sitting down to dinner floated up to him. Perfect, he thought. Throwing the covers off, he left your room as quietly as you had, sneaking down the hall to the room he was sharing with Asmo. Fortunately, he hadn’t unpacked much so it was easier to get everything back into his duffel bag. He’d just leave his coat and boots behind. He might be uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t be particularly cold or in any danger the same way a human would if he traveled in regular clothes. He dropped his bag from the window, waiting for a moment in case anyone had heard. The cacophony of voices and laughter continued without so much as a brief pause. He hadn’t known when he got here that having a room on the opposite side of the house than the kitchen would be so advantageous. At least he had that tiny bit of luck. He jumped out of the window, grateful that the snow was cushioning his landing a bit. It may be easier for him to jump from the second story without breaking bones than it would be for a human, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he jogged towards the nearby town. It wasn’t long before he heard you shouting his name from the cabin. The voices of his brothers followed shortly, but they quickly grew faint and faded away. He ached at the thought of you worrying about him, but he figured his brothers would be ecstatic to be without him. He knew they would help you forget about him, Lucifer especially. No one would miss the scummy idiot, right? Eventually, he came upon a highway and stuck out his thumb. One last thought of you passed through his mind, but he pushed it away so that he wouldn’t lose his nerve. It wasn’t like he was leaving forever. He just needed to let his heart freeze first.

[aislingeu]

hello!! i’m kq ( aka kelsey quinn! ) i’m twenty five, livin in the est, usin she / her pronouns!! much like the good buddy who turned me on to this rp, i don’t know a ton about percy jackson!! but mythology was one of the few subjects that held my attention in school, so i hoe i have a good handle on it! :D for now, i manage a comic book store from thursdays - sundays, so i’m scarce those times but i’m usually on discord!!

⟨ ABIGAIL COWEN. CIS FEMALE. SHE / HER ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, AISLING DUNN is actually a descendant of H Y P N O S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old PAINTING MAJOR from DUBLIN, IRELAND has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite CLEVER & COARSE.

this got way longer than i intended im so sorry... 

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

she was born on march 12th, 1997 to a pair of irish musicians ( conor and dierdre dunn ) and, unwittingly, one greek god ( hypnos ) in dublin, ireland. her parents met and married shortly after her conception and neither of them suspected that conor wasn’t aisling’s father, until she was claimed.

as an only child, her parents didn’t have much to compare her too in terms of overall strangeness. for years, they wrote off her abilities as kids just sayin’ the darndest things. they remained blissfully unaware of the impact of their daughter’s words, rolling their eyes fondly, when she told them about the man in the cave, who came to her in dreams. they smiled and laughed, when she strangers at the supermarket that she thought erwin was a fine name to give a teddy bear, no matter what anyone else said. how were they to know that she was unearthing the fond childhood memories that passersby had almost forgotten? 

when she enrolled in primary school, they realized that she was... strange, if not special. she was recognized as a bit of a space case, often staring at nothing in particular, while her teacher droned on. her worksheets were seldom turned in complete. instead, aisling began gifting poorly drawn family portraits on the blank sides of her papers, likenesses plucked from the memories she explored when her mind wandered, in class.

eventually, after her skill had developed and people stopped writing off the stick figures as ‘coincidentally accurate’, people began to truly take notice. they speculated that she was a medium, silently communing with the dead and painting their pictures as she did. how else could she know what her art teacher’s late father looked like? and what color tie he always liked to wear? she had to be a psychic. recipients of her art were always so focused on their perception of the little girl with the gift of sight that they hardly even realized what she had tweaked, brightening up their darkest memories, just so they wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. she hardly even realized, herself.

without a reason to believe otherwise, she told the man in her dreams that she was a psychic, but he knew differently. he told her that that wasn’t so. she was special, yes, but not in the ways that the world thought her to be. hypnos let her in on the secret he’d been keeping for the past twelve years and, just like that, aisling could make sense of herself. once she knew the truth, she chased sleep. she spent as much time as she could, communicating with the one person who understood who she was. he saw her hunger for belonging and pointed her in the direction of the camp nearest to her hometown.

after a summer away, she came home faced with a challenge in morality that she’d never considered, as a child. she came home to a world where she could no longer fit. her party tricks had lost their luster the moment she realized that true value of a memory, however sad, was worth far more than the cheap smiles that her alterations had afforded. with that realization, her art took a darker turn. unable to shift the memories she saw into the light, they haunted her. she now saw their fears and heartbreaks for what they were: unchangeable. and, now, they lived within her, too. putting them to paper was the only way to get them out. but, pieces like those weren’t the kind that could be sent home to mom and dad. pieces like those were the kind that got her meetings with guidance counselors and haunted, fleeting looks from those whose memories she’d never meant to disturb. after a year of that, aisling went back to camp, full time.

once she was a year round resident of the camp, she found herself more comfortable around people who understood; there was nothing she had to hide, among those who were like her. each one of them was fighting an uphill battle of their own. they didn’t have to hide it. even if she never allowed herself to get too close, aisling never felt all that far away, at camp.

at eonia, aisling spends most of her days painting, sleeping, or working. raised by a pair of mortal musicians, finding a job at fireside records felt like a natural progression. where her godly parent thrives in silence, she finds her comfort in noise. it’s easier to block out the things she doesn’t need to see when there’s something immediate for her to focus on. at the other end of that spectrum, aisling finds her mind most open in visual arts club, trying to keep her other creative skills sharp, while she keeps her primary focus on painting. in search of inspiration, her mind reaches out in tendrils, dipping into another’s until she finds something she can work with. she only needs to leave the room before they’ve realized what she’s borrowed. 

𝐏����𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

aisling is a naturally empathetic person, always wishing she could do more to help those around her. unfortunately, she knows that she can’t always honor that instinct. her abilities and self-imposed limitations have left her with a hardened exterior that isn’t easy to break through. those who pass through her walls see a softer side: a steadfast friend, always there to put a peaceful end to their sleepless nights or calm their worst nightmares, with a gentle run of her fingers through their hair. but sometimes, she’ll wall herself away from even those she’s closest to after she finds herself in the middle of a particularly harrowing memory. because of this, maintaining close bonds for long is a difficult thing. given her propensity for accidentally rifling through the fondest and most fearsome parts of peoples’ pasts, she’s been known cut them out of her life when she sees something that she has the urge to alter.

𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

MEMORY RETRIEVAL — for as long as she could remember, aisling knew things that she shouldn’t. at first, her parents just dismissed her gift as imagination and observation combining in a perfect, creepy storm. it wasn’t until she started attending school, picked up her finger paints, and started to draw out moments from the pasts of strangers that people started to truly take notice. sloppy scenes from the librarian’s wedding day graduated into well sketched portraits of her bus driver’s dalmatians. she liked to take those happy moments, immortalize them in art, and hand them off to the owners of the memories. she liked to make people smile. sometimes, she took that a step further. too young to see the value in sadness, aisling would tweak the memories that were harder to bear; even if she couldn’t bring someone happiness in the present, she hoped she could bring them comfort in the future. it wasn’t until she was claimed that aisling saw the flaws in her intervention. it wasn’t until she was taught the consequences that she knew she had to stop. although the memories came to her unbidden, they didn’t belong to her and she had no right to change them. instead of focusing on the alteration of memories, aisling opted to try to learn how to shut them out. like her other powers, though, there’s a direct correlation between her emotional state and her ability to keep a wall up. when she’s feeling something strongly or hasn’t gotten enough sleep, she sees things that she doesn’t mean to.

HYPNOKINESIS — you are getting very sleepy… what proved to be a fun tool at sleepovers had more practical applications than aisling knew possible. the skill of inducing sleep was easy enough to come by and influencing dreams was as simple as altering memories. and while ( without intending to ) she’d been known to cause visions when tensions ran high, refining those visions into ones that took the shapes she wanted them to took practice. even more difficult than that was learning to astral project, but that became a necessity, coming hand-in-hand with building her mental walls. when the uninvited memories start to weigh on her, she’s learned that it’s best to remove herself from the immediate vicinity. even if she’s only technically leaving in her head. 

OTHER ABILITIES — ( levitation ) a skill she only possesses in sleep, predominantly when her dreams are eliciting strong emotions. ( seeing the gods in dreams ) this is how she formed and maintained a relationship with her father, despite her parents being unaware of their daughter’s godly lineage. on occasion, she’ll encounter gods that she’s less familiar with and, in most of those cases, she’s been known to force herself awake.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

there are so many cool, fun things runnin through my brain right now!! i think it would be lovely for her to have forged a friendship with an insomniac or maybe someone prone to nightmares that she could help! and those fun customer service relationships with record store regulars!! or maybe a former friend or significant other, who aisling left behind? maybe even altering their memory slightly, if the parting of ways was ugly! who knows! the possibilities are endless!! and i’m always up to hearing other peoples’ ideas because the Sweet Lord knows i am not the most imaginative person in any given room!!!

thank u for reading ilu!!! 

[omgrachwrites]

May Queen (Loki Laufeyson)

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x OC

Summary: Astrid, the princess of Vanaheimr relocates to Asgard to seal a betrothal to the youngest prince and an attempt to escape unforeseen forces. She soon finds happiness and a multitude of new friends. Unfortunately treachery and deceit lie in the court of Asgard in unlikely places, and she learns that true love never dies.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Words: 1788

Part Thirteen - The Clearing

It was the fourth time in about two weeks that Mara excused herself from the breakfast table; she ignored the way that Astrid looked at her suspiciously. Though, Mara couldn’t falter, not now because there was too much at stake, she had to carry on with her plan. She took a deep breath – feeling very relieved – as she walked into her own chambers as she pulled out a thick wad of parchment, along with a quill and some ink.

She dipped the quill into the emerald green ink as she started constructing her letter. It took her so long to just write one letter, most of the early tries were all balled up on the floor behind her; she couldn’t sound guilty if her plan amounted to anything.

About an hour later, the door opened and the princess walked in, with a distressed look on her face and her eyes were tearing up, “what’s the matter?”

“I was wondering whether you could help me. I can’t find Loki and I’ve looked everywhere for him. I really need to speak to him; I want to make things right with him. I want to take him on a picnic to that clearing in the woods that we found a few months ago. I thought that considering he wasn’t mad at you, you might have better look finding him.”

Mara sighed with a sad smile and she nodded, resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “of course.”

Astrid smiled in relief, “thank you so much,” Mara nodded with a sweet smile.

Astrid and Loki had been having relationship problems – which delighted Mara – they had gone away somewhere together and when they had returned they were at odds. But, to keep Mara’s façade up, she had to actually act like a friend. Though, she would rather finish off her letter and send it to the recipient.

The fairy searched everywhere for Loki. She couldn’t believe that Astrid wanted to organise a picnic for Loki in the clearing that used to be Mara and Loki’s favourite place. Mara and Astrid had both found the clearing while they had been on a ride. It hurt Mara.

She finally discovered Loki in the library with his head in a book. He looked up at her with sadness in his blue eyes, “Astrid is looking for you.” she sighed at him.

“Well, you can tell her that I don’t want to see her.”

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

It had been at least two weeks since Astrid and Loki had left that beach in New York, she hoped that Steve and Bucky were doing well. She hoped that they were safe. Despite what Loki thought, she had never wanted to hurt him. She just wanted to know what it felt like for someone to like her just because they wanted to, because once she married Loki, she would never have that. Astrid had tried to explain herself to Loki but after that awkward conversation on the bifrost, he didn’t want to know.

Astrid had barely seen him over the two week span, she had spent most of her time in her garden and she took her meals in her chambers along with Mara. Speaking of Mara, she had seemed to really happy and she was writing a lot a letters lately. It was very strange, it was very unlike her. Though, Astrid had bigger things to worry about, like her fiancé. She had a plan on how she was going to make it up to him. She just needed to find him first.

Her chamber doors opened with a click and Mara walked in with a soft smile on her face, “did you find him?” Astrid asked, chewing her lip. Loki wasn’t angry with Mara so Astrid thought that Mara might be in with more of a chance to find Loki.

Mara smiled and nodded as she sat on the window seat, opposite Astrid, “he was in the library with his head stuck in a book, as usual,” she giggled, “he didn’t look angry, he looked more upset. Maybe he’d be more willing to talk now?”

Astrid sighed as she looked at her friend, she didn’t want Loki to be sad, it was worse than him being angry, “I looked in the library and couldn’t find him!” she exclaimed, feeling confused.

Mara shrugged “maybe he didn’t want you to see him; I think the Queen has been teaching him some illusion magic?”

Astrid nodded numbly and stood up from her window seat, she didn’t much care if Loki didn’t want to see her, and she had to make him forgive her. On the way to the library she stopped by the kitchens, she smiled as she saw the covered basket that was waiting for her on the table. She grabbed a bottle of watered down Asgardian mead – after making sure that it was okay by the kitchen workers – and two goblets before she took off in the direction of the library.

The Asgardian library was huge – much bigger than the one in Vanaheimr – it was a room with high mosaic ceilings and rows upon rows of bookcases. It also had two floors which meant that it took her a while to find the prince. Astrid eventually found him, tucked away in the corner with his eyes on a book. He heard the princess approach him because he raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t look up from his book. She cleared her throat as she stood up before him but still, he didn’t look up at her.

“What are you reading about?” she asked and Loki let out a hefty sigh, his blue eyes still locked on the pages, “it’s a Midgardian book of legends about a King who has a magical manservant,” he licked the tip of his finger and turned the page.

Astrid sighed, she knew that she utterly deserved the way he was treating her but it didn’t make it any less painful, “look,” she started, plucking the book out of her hands. She held it out of his reach – at least he was looking in her general direction, “I’m really sorry about what happened when we were in New York. But maybe instead of being angry or upset with me, we can talk about it and work it out like adults?”

The prince looked up at her face – finally – his blue eyes clouded over with sadness, “I’m not angry or upset, Astrid,” he hesitated, “I’m disappointed. I really thought that we were getting along and making the best of this whole arranged marriage situation.”

Astrid sat down next to him and looked at him sincerely, “I really am sorry but we can still make this work, we can make our marriage work. After all, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was possible. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this to work. Now, will you come somewhere with me, please?” she asked, offering her hand.

Loki finally let out a weak smile and took pity on her as he nodded and took her had, “what’s in the basket?”

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you more than that,” she smiled, causing him to laugh.

The prince and the princess walked out of the palace and they walked far from the grounds, a group of guards were tailing them to make sure that they were both safe. They walked into the thicket of trees that surrounded the kingdom and Loki raised an eyebrow. He looked confused still as they strolled over a beautiful wooden bridge that had carved fairies adorning it.

In no time at all, they were in the forest clearing where all of the beautiful wildflowers grew and a trickling stream ran through it. The sun blazed through the gaps in the trees which dappled the sunlight. It really was such a magical, beautiful place. Astrid turned to look at Loki who was gazing about the clearing with a look of beautiful awe on his face and maybe even a little bit of sadness mixed in.

“Loki? Are you okay?” Astrid asked and he nodded, not taking his eyes off the pretty scene.

“I’m fine, it’s just that, I used to come here until I was about eighteen, it was a place that was really important to me. How did you find it?”

Astrid was shocked that he used to come here, “I found it when I was out riding with Mara. She said that it felt like a place of immense sadness, she didn’t much like it. I just think that it’s a place of beauty and magic.”

“I agree with you, I always loved coming here, it feels like a dream to be back,” he suddenly turned to Astrid and grinned, before cupping her cheek and kissing her full on the lips, “thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome, I thought that it would be the perfect scene to have a picnic,” she grinned at him.

The delicious food – and the watered down Asgardian mead – went down extremely well. Soon enough, it felt like there had never been any bad blood between them. As they laughed and joked, things felt normal again, in some ways they felt even better.

“So, what were you like as a little boy? We’ve been betrothed to each other for as long as we can remember but we never met each other,” Astrid smiled as she picked a sugared raspberry from the top of a tartlet and she popped it into her mouth.

Loki had to think about it for a second as he took laboured sips of his mead, “um, well. I haven’t really changed all that much. I probably resented my father less but apart from that, I’m pretty much the same. I did always dream of the beautiful princess that I was going to marry, and now I’ve found her. I’m very lucky,” he grinned at her and kissed her cheek.

Astrid flushed and reverted her eyes back to the green grass, “well, I guess that we were both pretty lucky. My betrothed certainly could have been an old man with no hair or teeth,” she giggled.

“It certainly did work out very well,” Loki smiled as he picked a blue wildflower and he put it in his princesses’ curls, “as my future wife and my future Queen, will you attend the summer festival with me?”

Astrid giggled and nodded, kissing him, “I would simply love to, Loki, thank you for asking me.”

He smiled and kissed her again, against the trunk of the huge oak tree. That was how they spent the rest of their afternoon, stealing sweet kisses and giggling. It felt like a dream that was too good to be true.

---------------------------- 

@void-imaginations​ @theonelittleone​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​

[winterune]

A comfortable sort of feeling

A Persona 5 Fanfiction

@shuannweek Day 1: Night In/Night Out

Rating: G | Word count: 1381

Also available on: AO3. 

~*~*~*~*~

Ren was hunched down on her sofa beside her, typing away at the laptop he had set on the coffee table in front of him. He had been in that position for the past two hours with no breaks but the occasional back stretching and neck rolling. He was doing one now, before reaching over to one of the papers scattered about his computer and reading through it.

They were supposed to have a date that night. A nice outing and a nice dinner. But Ren had called earlier, saying that he had a sudden assignment he had to submit that very night and asked if they could, maybe, just watch some movies at her apartment instead.

Pouting hadn’t helped, as Ann knew how much this assignment meant to him as modeling was to her. He was a college student and a member of his university’s press club. Ann had been surprised when she learned Ren wanted to pursue journalism in college. Yes, she knew of his ideals, and thanks to their phantom thievery era, Ann understood just what Ren would do to achieve justice and uncover the truth. But, in all honesty, she had never thought of him as a writer. Despite his quiet countenance, Ren was a talker and an executor. He had that way of talking that made people want to support his cause. A kind of political leader, or a teacher or lecturer who would pass on his idealism to his students.

When Ann had asked him about it, all Ren had said was, “I want to seek out truths, and help people speak up.”

Ann hadn’t known quite what to say when she first heard it. But now if she thought about it, it did seem very much like Ren.  That kind, quiet, yet strong and unyielding voice. Even when he first transferred to Shujin as a kid with a criminal record, he had been that lone sparkling star, fearless in the face of his adversaries. No wonder people were drawn toward him.

“What are you staring at?”

Ann blinked. Ren was staring at her, his fingers poised over his keyboard as though he had been in the middle of typing something. A smirk graced his lips.

Ann cleared her throat and carefully looked down at the forgotten magazine on her lap, ignoring the heat slowly creeping up her face at the realization that he had been staring at her for some time. How long had she been daydreaming about him?

“Is it wrong for me to look at my boyfriend’s face?” she asked, but it only made Ren grin wider.

He leaned back. “What? Did I make your heart skip a beat?”

Despite her best efforts, Ann couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Oh, you!” she said, grabbing the cushion from behind her and smacking his arm with it. “Hurry up and finish your assignment or we’ll never have that movie you promised me.”

Ren caught the cushion with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll be done in a sec,” he said, before turning back to his laptop. “Just need to finish this up and then I’ll send it over to Mishima.”

Right. There was also the fact that somehow Mishima and Ren got into the same university, the same major, and the same club.

Ann turned her gaze back to her fashion magazine. She flipped one page after the next, but her eyes seemed to only glaze over them and she couldn’t comprehend anything she was reading. In a sec probably meant half an hour. She glanced at Ren sitting beside her, then over to the scattered papers on her coffee table, and to the mug standing there, forgotten. She peaked over the rim and found it empty.

“Want me to make you more coffee?” she asked.

“Nah, that’s okay,” he said. “I’m already finished.”

That surprised her. Ann looked at him, then at his laptop. She scooted over to peer over Ren’s shoulder and indeed, she caught a glimpse of several documents filled with words from top to bottom being saved and closed before Ren moved over to his email and attached those same files. He typed Mishima’s email address at the recipient column.

“And…send.” He clicked the red button and they saw the notification that the email was sent appeared. Ren sighed in relief, stretching his arms high above his head. “I finally finished it.”

“You actually finished it,” Ann echoed in feigned astonishment.

He glanced at her. “What’s that look of wonder supposed to mean?”

Ann looked up to meet his gaze and the proximity of their faces threw her off guard. Those intense gray eyes were so close, and despite half-hidden behind his unruly black hair and black-rimmed glasses, Ann could almost make out her reflection in them. A tiny uncharacteristic pout on his face made her giggle, but it was cut short when Ren stole a kiss from her—a quick brush of his lips against hers that silenced her.

How long had they been together? Two years…and a half? Yet Ren had never failed to make her stomach do a somersault every time he showed her his affection in the most unexpected, cheeky ways. He grinned.

“Let me recharge for a moment.”

“Wha—Ren!” But before she could do anything, Ren had already laid his head on her lap, stretching his arms and back before settling down with a sigh.

“God, I’m tired,” he said softly as he crossed his arms and shut his eyes.

Ann stared at him, dumbfounded. Her arms were still frozen midair, her magazine hanging limply from one hand. She looked at his face, to his laptop, to their forgotten dinner—pizza with extra cheese—on the kitchen counter at the other side of the room.

“Hey,” she called. He didn’t budge. “Ren.” She shook her leg slightly to get him off of her, but still Ren ignored her.

Instead, he rolled to his side and sighed deeply. “Your lap’s really the best pillow I could ask for.”

Ann scowled at him. Her fingers pinched his cheek, not enough to hurt but enough to tell him that she’s annoyed. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

Ren’s shoulder shook with a quiet laugh. “Of course not,” he said. “I’m saying that I feel comfortable around you.”

Her cheeks tinged pink, Ann scoffed and looked away. “Charmer.”

“I’m serious!” He shifted back onto his back and looked up at her. “Hey, I think you can recharge me better than any food or sleep.”

“Now that’s an exaggeration,” Ann said with a laugh. She put her magazine down on the armrest then pushed at his arm. “Come on, your pizza’s waiting and you still owe me a movie.”

“Aww, come on, let me stay like this for a while,” Ren whined. “You got to stare at me as much as you liked, yet you won’t let me stare at you for as much as I want?” That made Ann pause. She looked down at him, and regretted it a moment later. The triumphant smile he had on his face didn’t bode well. “So, what were you thinking about?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked slowly, though her mind clearly knew what he was talking about.

“When you were staring at me,” he elaborated. “Were you thinking about how cool I was?”

Ann pinched his nose this time. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”

Ren batted her hand away with a laugh. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking now?”

“No?”

But Ren didn’t listen. He brought her hand to his chest where he laid it down with his hand over hers. She could feel it—the soft thumping of his heart beneath her fingertips. Thud. Thud. Thud. Her own pulse seemed to match his into a slow, calming rhythm.

“This is how I feel when I’m with you,” he said. “A comfortable-sort of feeling.”

Ann stared at him, at the soft lines on his face and the eyes that spoke of safety and warmth. Her hand moved on its own when she started brushing back those silky-smooth strands of hair. “And here I thought I’d find your heart racing for me,” she teased, but she was smiling, and so was he.

“Believe me,” he said, interlacing their fingers together. “It does.”

~ END ~

[lurafita]

SIM Tony x Peter, part two

I’ll warn you all upfront, I haven’t gotten any better at writing smut, and this chapter has zero. Actually, this chapter doesn’t even have Peter in it. It’s just a lot of introspection into Tony’s character and how I envision he could slowly slip into SIM-mode. You will likely find this pretty boring.

If you are still willing to read, however, THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

Read the first part here: part 1

SIM Tony x Peter, part 2

He had drunken himself into a stupor after Peter had left first the living room, and then the tower.

Alcohol had always been one of his vices, and admittedly not the greatest coping mechanism. However, no matter how truly stupid, and sometimes even abhorrent, he behaved under its influence, the morning after often brought with it a new insight and understanding for his problems.

As well as a headache. Jesus!

“Jarvis, hangover protocol.” He rasped at the ceiling.

The A.I. complied immediately with the demand, lowering the shutters on every window to dim the natural light in the penthouse, and started the coffee maker in the kitchen.

“You should find some Tylenol in your bedside drawer, Sir.”

Tony blindly grabbed for the bottle after prying the drawer open, and swallowed two pills dry.

“Should I order you breakfast, or would you prefer to further endanger your health by ignoring your basic bodily needs, as usual?”

The billionaire let out a long and tormented groan as he got up from his bed (for which he mentally patted himself on the back. It wasn't often that his intoxicated mind managed to get his drunk ass into an actual bed, before he passed out)

“Remind me to program the sass out of you later, J.”

He wouldn't

“Certainly, Sir.”

Tony slowly made his way across the room, already able to smell the godly brew that was coffee.

“And that's a no for breakfast. But remind me in a few hours to order something hearty from that one restaurant I like. I'm starting on a new project, and I probably shouldn't 'endanger my health' – as you put it – too much before I get to finish it.”

The coffee was too hot and too strong and exactly what the genius needed right then.

“A new project, Sir? Does this have anything to do with Mr. Parker's visit and subsequent departure yesterday? I should caution you on making any rash decisions. Research shows that people are very susceptible to such upon experiencing rejection.”

Tony winced at that, but blamed it on the temperature of the coffee.

“Okay, J, one: we are not calling it a rejection. Peter loves me, he is just too worried that something might happen to me, if we started a relationship. That's not rejection; that's fear. Two: while this may seem rash, my new project is possibly one of the sanest, safest, and best decisions I have made in my life.”

Which Tony actually believed to be true.

No matter how much he wanted to be angry at Peter for the younger man's unwillingness to take that step with Tony, he couldn't.

Peter's rejection (god how he hated that word) might have been a fear based response, but it wasn't a groundless one. Everything Peter had said last night was the truth.

His enemies were deranged and obsessed with making Spiderman suffer.

Tony was vulnerable without the suit, and there had been instances when his technology had either malfunctioned due to outside tampering, or he himself hadn't been aware of any danger or not fast enough to activate his suit.

The losses Peter had suffered due to his superhero alter ego, had left the younger man scarred and traumatized, and Tony could hardly fault him for that.

Arriving in her personal lab (a space he usually loved to share with Peter, but after the events of yesterday evening, the brunette would probably avoid the lab – and the tower as a whole – for a while) Tony had narrowed down three major obstacles that stood in the way of him and his love.

The first was his suit.

Peter was right. Technology wasn't infallible, and Iron Man was due for an upgrade anyway. For years now, Tony Stark had spearheaded any advancements there were in the field of engineering. It was time to take the next step.

A press of a button and a command typed into his holographic interface, brought up the specs of all of his suits. From the clunky and uncomfortable Mark 1, to the sleek nano-technology Mark 75.

The second problem, was the fragility of his human body.

There would be no point in creating the perfect Iron Man suit, if he fell victim to things like illness, infection, or senility. The age difference between him and Peter was another sore spot. Meeting and falling for the Spiderling when Tony had already been in his late 40's was bad luck, because it would leave them with that much less time to spend with each other. Bruce and Peter, both sharing an interest in the sciences dealing with biology, cross species dynamics and mutations, had figured out that the spider bite that had given Peter his powers, had also slowed down the rate of cell decay in his body. They had estimated that the brunette would likely live way past a hundred years. Which meant that he deserved far more than the maybe 30 to 40 years that Tony still had in him. If Tony wanted to be with his Baby Boy for as long as possible, the too short human lifespan was a hurdle that needed to be overcome.

More tapping on the holographic keyboard opened up all the files he had on the Extremis virus. The genius had isolated the cause of it's recipients exploding two years ago, and fixed it. The only reason he hadn't utilized the new and improved Extremis sooner, was that it was one of those 'too powerful for humanity' things, that morally uptight people like Rogers would frown upon. Also, he hadn't felt that he needed it, placing far more trust and value into his suits. Just goes to show, doesn't it? Even Tony Stark was wrong sometimes.

The third major stepping stone were Spiderman's villains.

This was both the easiest and hardest to fix. The easiest way (and quite frankly the one Tony himself would prefer) was to kill them. Again, Peter was right. It didn't matter how many times the spider-themed hero beat them and handed them over into Shield custody, they always found a way out of their imprisonment. And as soon as they did, their main goal was to make Peter pay.

However, Tony also understood why Peter could never bring himself (or allow anyone else) to eliminate them for good.

Harry had been his best friend since childhood, Conners and Octavius had been mentors, and Eddie Brock had been a pseudo older brother. And even disregarding the personal feelings and history that bound Peter to each man, non of them were technically evil.

Harry had been a terminally ill teenager, hoping to escape his father's fate. The serum he had thought would cure him, had molded and messed up his body and mind, akin to someone who had been drugged or brainwashed.

Conners and Octavius had been decent, even honorable, men, who had sought to use their intelligence and research to help people in need. It had backfired and, as with Harry, twisted their minds, and in Conners case, mutated his body.

Brock had simply been unfortunate to be so compatible with the symbiote that Spiderman had managed to resist and fight off. Being bonded to Venom so thoroughly had changed the man.

The fact that each of the four knew who Spiderman was underneath the mask, but had never shared that information with anyone else, had manifested the believe in Peter that somewhere, deep down, their original, good, selves were still alive. That there was still hope for reversing the transformations, restoring them to the men they used to be.

And while Tony thought it naive, he also understood. After all, it was this penchant to hope where others would have long given up, this forgiveness and purity, that had attracted him to Peter in the first place, when they had just gotten to know each other years ago.

So, no. Tony could never make Peter change his stance on his 'No killing' policy, and he didn't want to.

But neither did he want for his love to keep being haunted by the people who had, if anyone were to ask Tony, lost their right to a second chance long, long ago.

Which meant that Tony would just have to deal with them himself.

More holograms popped up, this time displaying all the information that had been gathered on Doctor Octopus, the Lizard, Green Goblin and Venom. Tony zoomed in on the black alien parasite.

And he knew just where to start.

_______________________________________

I thank you all very much for reading and hope you have a wonderful day. Remeber to drink enough water and give yourself frequent breaks if you start getting stressed. Be fair to yourself and treat yourself with kindness, as you deserve no less. Find at least one thing to truly smile about today (and every other day). Also, never be too hard on yourself should you fail at something. Nobody is perfect, and it is often through defeat, that we learn how to overcome many of life’s difficulties.

Tagging: I simply always tag anyone who commented on the last chapter, if you don’t want to be tagged, drop me a quick message, please.

@sassy-starker @momobaby227 @retroxvailles @grimalkinmessor @bbalienbae @deliciousflapbanditfarm @starkersenses @kirakishou @von--gelmini @kaddiisarat

Kaddiisarat for some reason didn’t work? I’m really sorry honey, I tried!

Please tell me if I forgot anyone!

[whenrainbowscrash]

Praise from professors is interesting.

I have a strong reaction to it - as I have a strong emotional reaction to everything - a mix of wildly uncomfortable and highly pleased.

I'm trying to change this. It don't think it's super good to react so strongly to this in particular.

Bc I can get into a funk - what exactly did that phrase mean and are they lying or exaggerating and exactly what level of good at this subject should I reevaluate myself to now stand at and Ugh...

A professor earlier this year wrote "philosophy needs you" to me as feedback on a paper. Well, obviously 18 yr old me wasn't god's gift to philosophy but, at that time I wouldn't admit it to myself that I really wanted to major in philosophy so I was of course my usual mix of embarrassed and really, really pleased someone I respected would write that to me.

Also, being me, I began to wonder exactly what that meant. Was I good? Was I really good? Was it that I stood out as a student in a 100-level class? Was it that they thought I had potential to do well in the major? Further than that? What did the praise mean???

I got my answer, bc I actually asked them what it meant (I stood out as one of the top students they've had at that level and thought I should consider phl as a major) but something I failed to consider was did it really matter?

I'm not sure. In some ways it gave me the courage to really consider phl as a major. But, in others, I could've handled it differently I think.

Compliments say more about the complimenter than the recipient I think. They express a feeling - I see your writing, and it is pleasing to me, and fits this idea I have about what good writing should be, and I want to tell you about this feeling and make you feel good.

So, that's why denying a compliment hurts the other person, cause it's like saying "your feeling is invalid" which of course no one likes. You can't really say a person does or doesn't feel something.

Is praise from professors a form of compliment? Are these things different or the same, regardless of whether it's supposedly a highly knowledgeable person doing the judging?

I don't know! This semester, I've been told I'm an "talented scholar" and "exemplary student"; I've been told by professors they believe in me or that they would be more than happy to write a LOR for grad school for me if I ever need one; I've been told more work is outstanding or that I'm talented in a subject and they are glad I'm continuing with it...

And, god I don't write about this to brag, (ugh) but merely to show the things that I've been so tempted to deconstruct into what they mean.

Are they just trying to make me feel good? Are these things they're telling everyone? Is it ultimately meaningless? God god god make it stop

I want to find a way to appreciate these w/o deconstructing them, if that makes sense? Say, hey, that feels nice, and move on.

Maybe that only comes once I have more self confidence, a stronger sense of "me"?

Right now, it's just waves of emotion.

[bytheangell]

Desperate Hours

(Read on AO3) (Coda for 3x13 and compliant with the 3x14 sneak peek of Magnus&Lorenzo, so spoilers for both ahead)

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Magnus says, stepping inside Catarina’s apartment.

“Of course, Magnus. You’re acting like it’s some huge struggle to pencil you in, and not like I wouldn’t gladly welcome a visit from one of my closest friends any time.” She smiles at him but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes - she knows that this isn’t just a social call. Magnus wonders if she could hear the desperation in his voice over the phone… or maybe she put two and two together when Lorenzo undoubtedly contacted her to forbid her from assisting him after he started asking around.

That wouldn’t surprise him. He’s tired, physically and emotionally, and there’s only so much faking he can do before he has to let his guard down at some point. Catarina, bless her, is the unfortunate recipient of his unfiltered woes.

“Drink?” She offers. “I don’t have much, but there’s some beer or a cheap bottle of wine with your name on it.” She grabs a bottle of beer for herself in the meantime.

“No, thank you.” Now this, if nothing else, sets off a red flag. He’s trying to appear nonchalant but the way he fidgets gives him away. Plus, the last time he came over focused enough to not  share a casual beer with her was when he showed up to tell her about Ragnor. Concern flashes across her features.

“Magnus, what’s wrong?”

Where to begin?, he wonders.

“Everything?” He jokes, attempting for sarcasm but there's a bit too much truth in it to be comfortable. “Isabelle came to me for help earlier. It was important, a matter of her heath, and all I could do was stand there and watch her hurt. She lied and said she was fine to spare me the regret of being useless.”

The irony isn’t lost on him that for all the years he complained about everyone coming to him to help solve their problems, now that he couldn’t he actually missed it. How long until no one bothers to ask in the first place? A week? A month? How much time does he have left before word gets around that Magnus Bane isn’t capable of anything that goes beyond a trip to the market in town or something he can look up in a book already in his possession, unless you’re willing to wait for him to taxi to the nearest reference?

How long until Magnus Bane, as the world knows him, is entirely obsolete?

Cat sighs. She always could read him best and it’s easy to hear the strife behind his words.  “I’m sorry.” Magnus doesn’t look her in the eyes just yet, knowing the pity he’ll find there and not wanting it. He’s done with pity. He’s done with trying to get used to an existence he doesn’t want. “What do you need? You know I’ll help however I can.”

“For Isabelle? Burdock root, native to L’Isle-Adam, which I do need, yes. But that isn’t the whole reason I came…”

Magnus keeps his expression stoic, unwilling to betray the trepidation he feels at the path his current thoughts take.

“I need to get my magic back... I was reading up on a reversal of the spell Asmodeus used on me. Instead of taking magic, the caster would give part of their own to another. There isn’t a lot written on it, but… I think it can work.”

“...I’ve heard about that.” Catarina says, and Magnus’ face falls. He was counting on the fact that, by some small miracle, she hadn’t. Because if she knows what he’s talking about then Magnus already knows what’s coming next before she even opens her mouth.

“You can’t seriously be considering that so soon, can you?”

“I know it’s primarily been used on Non-Warlocks-”

“-all of whom died from the rejection of the magic in bodies not meant to hold it.” Cat supplies quickly, making sure he couldn’t skip around that fact.

“But it does have documented attempts on Warlocks, too.” He continues.

“Yes. Attempts to transfer magic which have resulted in uncontrollable powers at best, and, again, death at the very worst.” Cat looks at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. “You can’t possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I don’t have any ideas, good or bad. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to find that seems even remotely helpful. And it’s never been used on a Warlock with no magic before. All of the previous complications with warlocks were from having two different sources of power fighting within the host. If I only have one…” he trails off. He doesn’t know what will happen with just one, of course, but he’s desperate enough to find out.

“Your magic - your specific signature - is a part of you. To put some foreign essence inside of you like that, the chances of your body rejecting it like a bad transplant, the chances of it going wrong-”

“-are all chances I’m willing to take. I can’t keep living like this, Cat. You don’t know… you can’t imagine how empty I am. How wrong it feels to just exist like this. I haven’t stopped since I got back because every time I’m too still--.” He pauses, looking up at her with pleading eyes just shy of tears. He can’t bring himself to talk about it anymore, it’s too overwhelming. “I need your help.”

“Magnus...”

“I can’t perform the spell on myself and no one else will so much as speak to me about it, by direct order of the High Warlock of Brooklyn.” Magnus spits the title out with bitterness.  

“Magnus, I can’t. Not because of Lorenzo - you know I want nothing more than to help you get your magic back, and if I thought giving you part of mine was the solution I would, I really would, consequences be damned. But I’m not powerful enough for something of this scope. Not with how much magic I use every day with work. And even if I was…” She hesitates. Magnus wants her to stop there. He almost cuts her off because the idea that it was simply a matter of her not being able to, that he could compartmentalize and store away. But it isn’t, and they both know it. He remains silent as she continues. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You’re upset, and you’re frustrated, and you haven’t given this enough thought.” She’s only looking out for him. If he were actually thinking clearly he’d see that. But instead all he hears is that she thinks he’s being foolish. That he’s making a mistake, just like the mistake he made in giving Lilith that potion, and in thinking he was strong enough (or clever enough) to deal with Asmodeus. Just another mistake to add to the list that would be the end of his legacy: a great man buried by an avalanche of missteps.

“I’ve given it nothing but thought. Thinking is all I can do since I’m useless everywhere else now.” Magnus shakes his head, defending himself but no longer working to convince her. They’ve been friends long enough for him to know when her mind is made up.

“You’re not useless and you know it. There’s more to you-” “-oh just shut up already.” Magnus snaps. “If one more person tells me I’m more than just my magic, I’m going to scream.”

There’s a heavy pause immediately following his words in which Magnus knows with no uncertainty he fucked up.

“I think you should go home.” Catarina’s tone isn’t angry, but it is colder than the comfort she offered before. “Take a step back and give me a call later. I’ll have the burdock root for you then.”

Magnus winces, her controlled politeness worse than any anger she could respond with.  “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She pauses. “You know what else I know? That you came here to ask me to help you perform a spell that might kill you, or have any number of consequences we don’t know about - and that would all fall on me. The Magnus I know would never put his friends in a position like that.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again, because it’s all he can seem to do. She’s right, of course. And it’s why he didn’t want to go to her in the first place - he wanted to find someone neutral, someone he could pay off to go through with it no questions asked. It was a solid plan until Lorenzo went and complicated everything.

So Magnus was forced to go to Catarina because if anyone is willing to go to extremes to help him, it’s her. Perhaps that’s the very reason he shouldn’t have - he’s abusing her good nature for something selfish. What if she agreed and something happened to her? How could he live with himself?

Not to mention if something happens to him. Magnus knows the risks and accepts full responsibility for them, which would do nothing to stop Cat from blaming herself if he dies with her magic coursing through him. Maybe he isn’t thinking clearly, but the longer he goes on without magic the worse he imagines that problem will become. He certainly isn’t going to grow more rational the more disconnected he feels from himself.

Magnus is broken out of his thoughts by the sound of Catarina’s voice. “What does Alec have to say about all this?”

Magnus winces again and remains silent.

“You haven’t told him, have you?” Her tone turns accusatory again.

“No need to if it isn’t going to happen, is there? I’ll worry him when there’s cause to. He has enough on his plate right now without my wild goose chases.” He shrugs, mentally cursing the dead-end Lorenzo caused him, when a thought occurs to him. He hates it, but it gives him a flicker of hope just the same.

“We’ll figure this out,” Cat continues, unaware of his epiphany. “We can do more research on the reversal spell first - we don’t have to write it off entirely - and keep looking for other alternatives. Safer alternatives. There’s a solution out there and none of us are going to stop until we find it, alright?”

“Alright,” he says, distracted, and hears the word fall flat. Magnus is careful to throw a smile her way and brighten his tone, which is an almost impossible task given the stomach-turning idea that crosses his mind just then. If he’s really going to go through with this he needs to make sure Catarina isn’t keeping tabs on him. He needs her to believe he’s dropping it, at least for now… at least long enough to make one more visit.

“Of course. You’re right. I’m rushing into this… I’m not thinking clearly.” Magnus nods. “I’m mortal now, but it isn’t like I’m on my deathbed. There’s time to figure this out.”

He says the words in response to Cat but his mind is elsewhere, thoughts racing at a possibility of one last place he can turn. Catarina eyes him suspiciously but decides to embrace the change of heart as a good thing. And why shouldn’t she assume he’s fine for now: with no Warlock in the city willing to help him it isn’t as if he can run out and do something immediately, right?  

“Just promise me you aren’t going to do anything stupid. I’ve nearly lost you twice now, I can’t do it a third time.”

“You have my word.”

It isn’t a total lie because he’s convinced this isn’t stupid. Risky, yes. Humiliating, certainly. His absolute last resort is enough to make his skin crawl to even consider, but it’s the only option he has and he needs to try.

There’s only one warlock with access the level of power he needs. One who won’t bat an eye at the potential side-effects to him. The only warlock who isn’t forbidden from helping him, because he’s the one who gave the order in the first place.

It’s time to pay a visit to Lorenzo Rey.

[lovesickjily]

present: me

Summary: When Lily Evans is assigned to be a stranger's Secret Santa, she has no idea that by the end of the night, she was the gift that James Potter had wanted the entire time.

give me some love on ao3 or ffn

okay hi merry christmas!!! sorry this fic may sound a bit rushed, but i really wanted to finish this by christmas and i did it? i hope you all enjoy xxx

There were, as Lily speculated, many feelings that people felt when it came to the topic of Christmastime, a time in which everyone showed their love towards friends and family through the gifting and receiving of presents that consequently caused them to end up with so little money that would bring Santa to tears.

Feelings of mirth and joy were expected on the holiday that foresaw snow, but frustration? She didn’t expect any of that days before Christmas.

It wasn’t that Lily hated watching her bank account come to a horrible decline during this season, because the one thing that she absolutely loved more than receiving gifts was buying them. She revelled in watching the eyes of such gift recipients, especially when they lit up like a Christmas tree, and it made her money deficit well worth it.

With Mary, who was known for her embodiment of the concept ‘the more the merrier,’ it was easy to find a gift for her, whether it was one based on sentimentality or one where the price tag had been taken off of it, Mary accepted anything and everything, so long as it wasn’t unattractive in design and form. With Petunia, who was one for the traditional gifts, it wasn’t difficult to find an expensive vase from online that appealed to those who prided themselves in outdoing every single one of their neighbours. She bought an expensive watch for Petunia’s husband, because it seemed like a good gift simply because of the price. Whether he decided to sell it or keep it was honestly up to him, though she hoped very well that it wouldn’t end up rotting in one of his sock drawers.

Now, shopping for a stranger was something entirely on its own.

She’d no idea what Remus had been thinking to invite her to a party where she knew only one person and was even more confused when everyone was assigned a person at random to bring a gift to. From the conversations in the group chat that she had been added to, she could tell that everyone else knew one another well enough, if one could conclude from the jabs that ‘Prongs’ and ‘Padfoot’ continuously sent towards one another.

Eventually, that chat was put on mute, and she’d told Remus— as well as Sirius Black, who was apparently the host of the party— to inform her of any updates about the party. Asking the latter, it seemed, had turned out to be a poor decision on her part, because it seemed as if his sole intent on living was to pester her to the point that she often found her finger hovering over the ‘block contact’ button, only to stop since he unfortunately was the host. There was also the fact that clicking such a simple button was probably exactly what he wanted, and she was definitely not going to let this stranger win.

The last thing that she wanted was to show up in front of his house and be greeted with an infuriatingly cocky on his face.

On the other hand, the first thing that she wanted now at this very moment was to know what exactly to get whoever this ‘James Potter’ person wanted for a gift, but asking Constellation Boy only resulted in responses such as “He wants you for Christmas” with an absurd amount of winking faces.

If she was to browse the Internet in search of gifts to give to strangers, what if there was the chance that he was also her Secret Santa and was on that very same website?

No, she was going to put her utmost creativity into this gift, whatever it may be.

The only question was how she was going to do that.

She couldn’t exactly throw some sentimental value into it, not when there was no sentimental value to be thrown in the first place, but she didn’t want to at all give him something cheaply overdone, like an expensive bottle of perfume or wine. There were rules about gifts, and there was unanimous agreement that one should never get a person such items for Christmas— that is, unless their name was Vernon Dursley.

It was in these moments that she’d taken advantage of the annoying group chat— currently named “Jingle My Balls,” and she could bet all the toys in the world on who had decided to name it that— to scour for any valuable information that could give her an idea of what James Potter had an interest in.

Deer, it seemed.

Lots and lots and lots of deer.

She couldn’t understand his obvious fixation for deer and its venison counterparts, but she sincerely hoped that Remus wasn’t acquainted with someone who prided himself in the slaughtering of deer just for the fun of it. It could help to explain his ridiculous nickname, and she’d almost roped herself into believing that Remus Lupin was the only sane one in their friend group, only to learn that he had been named for a reason that could only be related to the act of mooning.

If she were to get James some sort of food for Christmas, it surely was not going to be of the venison sort.

Perhaps she’d bake cookies for him and call it a day, but they didn’t last forever, not unless he decided to preserve it for reasons unbeknownst to her, and she wanted to create a lasting first impression on him.

James Potter, what in the world could you want?

Could he be interested in pottery, if one could go by his last name?

Obviously, she wasn’t going to put minimal effort into his gift, and he obviously was far from a Petunia, so a ceramic vase— no matter how expensive it was— was just not going to make do. There was nothing wrong with homemade items, and she’d actually greatly prefer homemade objects over the store-bought pieces.

Perhaps…?

Hopefully, he’d love what she had planned for him.

The final obstacle remaining was that she’d never in her life taken a pottery class.

+++

There was a difference between going all out and doing exactly what it was that this household had seemed to do when it came for Christmas decorations.

Lily liked to think that she fell in the former category, having decorated nearly every inch of her flat with pretty fairy lights and a giant Christmas tree in the corner of every room, and even the bathroom contained a small Christmas tree resting atop the counter. Tinsel lined the tops of the mock fireplace in their living room, and in every part of the flat, there was some Christmas decoration of some sort.

But this house— mansion?

It was on a completely different spectrum of its own.

The front lawn seemed as if it had taken everything that could be seen in the Christmas outdoor section featured at every store, and in places where snow hadn’t fallen, fake snow was used to create the illusion that the place was a magical castle in a kingdom where winter was eternal. There were, of course, a line of deer made entirely out of lights lining up the pathway, and at the very end stood a dog made of lights and a pair of antlers atop the animal.

If she had any doubts about whether or not she’d come to the right place, then these doubts were put at ease.

“This is the place,” she said to Mary, though it came out more as a question rather than anything else.

“The one and only.”

“Are you sure we aren’t— I don’t know— planning a heist? Following the plot of the Bling Ring?”

“Maybe next time,” Mary said nonchalantly, “But I don’t see why you should when you’re being offered free food here. Remember, stay safe, and please bring me a plate of whatever food they have there.”

With one last look, Mary gave her a reassuring beam as she bent down to begin her search party, as her phone had fallen off of the dashboard and slid off to who knows where. It ultimately meant that she was going to dawdle in the car for an unreasonable amount of time because she didn’t want to step out into the cold so quickly, as it was just characteristic of Mary to do stay in her comfort zone for as long as she deemed possible. It was for that reason that Lily decided to knock at the door before the frosty air could hold her captive as well.

The door thankfully opened quickly, and amidst the sweet smell of cookies and all the positivity that embodied Christmas, she caught sight of, well, reindeer. It wasn’t off-putting that it was reindeer. It was off-putting that it was reindeer. Atop each other.

She wasn’t being subjected to real-live reindeer, of course, as they were graphics that appeared on the sweater of some bloke bold enough to wear it to the party. If the sweater hadn’t had the reindeer engaged in such an illicit act, it probably could have been a lovely sweater.

They could have matched, actually, because she was wearing a sweater similar to his, the only main difference being the fact that her deer were nowhere near one another, and hers was mainly black while his was mainly blue.

She felt her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sight, and she blinked twice. “You must be James.”

She’d finally managed to tear her eyes away from the deer to look up at him, and she’d nearly fallen onto her knees at the fact that he was so attractive to the point that he absolutely had to know how attractive he was. It didn’t help that there was a pair of antlers atop his head, and they only served to draw attention to his messy hair, hair wild enough to make her thoughts wander off into territory that they shouldn’t have stumbled upon in the first place.

And then her gaze flickered right back to his sweater, where the reindeer seemed to be mocking her.

It was only then that he’d been able to somewhat redeem himself when he opened his mouth, and how how how could a voice be equally as attractive as his physique?

“Yeah? What gave it away?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got reindeer fucking on your sweater.”

He let out an embarrassed laugh, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks pinked at her observation. He let out a soft sigh. “I can’t believe the prettiest person I’ve ever seen in my life knows me as the bloke who wears sweaters with graphics of reindeer procreation. I swear I’m being forced to wear this right now.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “I was beginning to feel concern for you, a stranger. I still do feel concern, actually. I assume it was Sirius who put you up for that?”

He nodded grimly. “We made a bet. Signed a contract to wear it if I lose and everything.”

“I’m so sorry that he’s disgraced deer like that. No one should ever involuntarily wear clothing that display any form of animal procreation.”

Her words seemed to have some sort of a strong effect on him, and he began smiling so wide that she could make out a dimple growing on the left side of his face. He opened his mouth to respond, when a piercing voice rang through the air, as if the evil form of Father Christmas had awaken to fill all of their stockings with coal.

“Close the fucking door, you fucking—” There was, of course, only one person whose voice that could have belonged to, and her eyes met grey, comprehension growing in his eyes as he realised who she was. “Fuck. Close the door. I’ll be right back.”

“Sirius,” she said simply.

“Unfortunately,” he replied, and he looked out towards the car, “Is your friend coming in?”

Lily regarded his question with little interest and shook her head. “She’s just dropping me off.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. “You’re Lily, right?”

“Unless you were expecting the actual flower, that would be me.”

“I’d say you came to please, then. You’re just as pretty as one.”

She didn’t know what to say in response, because it wasn’t as if she was unconfident in her looks, but it was the mere fact that he’d managed to flirt with her twice in the span of a few minutes. “You can definitely do much bet—”

She was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps once again, and Sirius returned with something green in his hand. She already knew what it was without even having to get a close look of it, if the deep sighs coming from James were of any indication.

“Padfoot, I swear if you bloody hang that over our heads—”

“That’s quite presumptuous of you to think that I’m trying to incite non-consensual kissing between strangers.”

“Then explain why you’ve got mistletoe in your hand.”

Sirius hung it over his own head. “I’m doing everyone a favour by giving all of you permission to kiss me, the one and only Sirius Black. This is a one-time offer, so I’d say you should take advantage of this opportunity.”

Lily concealed any feeling of disgust that he’d stirred up from his horrible offer, because she came to this party with absolutely no intention of kissing anybody, let alone Sirius, who she honestly thought couldn’t possibly be a horrible person and that his way of texting merely gave off strange vibes. Perhaps he wasn’t a terrible person in the sense that he was decent enough for Remus to befriend, but, as she’d already known long before, looks gave no clue of how a person was on the inside.

“Right, so where do I place this down?” she asked instead, holding up her present that she’d wrapped carefully.

“Don’t know about the box, but you could place yourself down on James’s—”

“Beneath the Christmas tree should be fine,” James had cut in, and he placed tentative fingers on her shoulders, to which she felt warmth spreading throughout her body, “Here, I’ll show you where it is.”

“It’s right there—” she began, but upon realising that he was helping to whisk her away from Sirius, who looked as if the being who he’d successfully been able to bag was Death itself— what with his pale skin and body covered head-to-toe in all black, save the small bit of his red shirt peeking out from beneath his leather jacket— she stopped herself. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

It was a problem, actually, because she thought she’d resolved every single one of her worries when she’d finally finished making his gift for him, but she’d been far too busy dwelling on making it so that he would enjoy his present that she hadn’t even stopped for a moment to consider that he might actually fall under the category of men that seemed to make her heart do backflips. And when Sirius was unsubtly running around with mistletoe in his hands, it was obvious that both her and James were to be subjected to uncomfortability, similar to the way people wanted celebrities to date one another on the basis that they were both attractive people.

She didn’t speak her thoughts, instead choosing to plaster a smile on her face, which in all honestly wasn’t at all difficult to do, not when the interior of the place was just as festive as it was outside. The tree stood taller than any tree that she could have ever put up at her flat, and it must have taken a painstaken amount of time to decorate all of it. At closer inspection, she noticed the tree had a good number of ornaments containing images of who she assumed were either James or Sirius at different stages of life making funny faces at the camera.

“Don’t judge,” he said from behind her.

“Oh, I can assure you that I’ve expected no form of normality in this household since you’ve opened the door.”

He grinned at her. “Yeah? Have my expectations been up to par, then?”

“Somewhere up there,” she allowed, “Though, I don’t think there’s too much pride you can have in how stranger perceives you, especially when it’s on the low end of the metre.”

“I take immense pride in that, for your information. I’m taking it as a good sign, since you’ve yet to pelt an ornament at me.”

“I’d say you’re going to only have good signs, then. I, contrary to popular belief, do not pelt ornaments at people.”

“I’d pelt an ornament at any idiot who would believe you more than willing to do such a thing.”

She couldn’t help the laughter bubbling from her lips at his words, and it seemed that he took great pride in getting a laugh from her, because her actions had spurred him on to smile just as widely. Somehow, he’d managed to find a way to be such a dork while still simultaneously coming off as charming.

The ring at the doorbell snapped them out of it, and he flashed her an apologetic smile. “Duty calls— rings? Dunno which word is more fitting, but I’ll have to go greet the other guests. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I’ll remember to not pelt any ornaments during the wait,” she smiled, and it only served to make his dimple greet her once again as he grinned.

“I knew you’d understand.”

With that, he left her to her own devices. Someone— most likely Sirius— had begun blaring Mariah Carey, the spirit of all things concerning Christmas, and if that didn’t add to the strangeness of it all, she didn’t know what did.

She placed the gift down carefully beside a red gift bag decorated with white snowflakes, and it was quite possibly the most normal sight she’d seen in the house so far— perhaps the only normal sight she’d be seeing for the night.

It was, most definitely, going to be a long night.

+++

For a place that could have possibly housed an entire army, there weren’t as many people as Lily had thought would show up.

There were so much more than she could have expected.

She’d thought that they’d only invited their inner circle of friends if she were to judge from the small number of people in the group chat, and so it would be a complete understatement if Lily said that she thought that she’d feel completely out of place in a room where inside-jokes populated the conversations. It seemed that James, who was the owner of this house— or at least one of the owners, seeing as his parents had been away on a business trip and wouldn’t return until the week of Christmas— was just as surprised as she was by the amount of people showing up.

It seemed that somebody had decided to pass on the message that anybody who learned about the details of the party was invited, and at one point, James literally had to lock the door so as to keep people out, but when Sirius had brought up the point that people could easily climb in through the windows and over the fences, his efforts were rendered futile.

It would be an absolute miracle if the neighbours didn’t call the cops on them.

Sirius, once one got over his many bouts of inappropriate behaviour, was actually a somewhat hilarious person who, in a way, seemed to understand her. It wasn’t her fault that her eyes kept wandering over to James, who’d taken to putting a pillow right over his chest so that he could cover up the cursed image of the reindeer, because she still couldn’t fully fathom how a person could be so attractive without doing anything even remotely interesting, and it definitely wasn’t her fault that Sirius was ribbing her for it.

Sure, Sirius was the conventional type of attractive, but when someone like James was there, Sirius was merely a rock and James a diamond.

It didn’t help that everyone— save for James— was painfully aware of her staring. She felt shame welling up inside of her, because she knew all too well that there was so much more in a person than their appearance, and she herself hated when people merely saw her as nothing more than how she looked. Now, though, she was doing the exact same thing she was entirely against, only, it was with James.

She didn’t even know him that well, and as much as she’d like to say that she’d spent the majority of her time conversing with him, she knew that would be an absolute lie, as she had barely talked to him since she’d greeted him at the door. She’d caught glimpses of his personality through the texts that he sent to the group chat, and she’d be an absolute liar if she wasn’t at all intrigued by his mannerism and himself as a whole.

She wanted to learn more about him, learn about his strange fixation with deer, learn everything there was to know about him, like if he was really the type of man her parents would have liked to see her walking down the aisle with: the type of man who made her completely and utterly happy.

Sirius leaned over to her, because of course she would be the one to end up sitting beside him, even if for just a short period of time. Of course he would, yet again, pick up on her stares. “You can’t fuck if you don’t talk to each other first.”

“I’d say in some extreme cases, that would be a complete lie.”

“I’m prone to agree, but since that idiot has only had unsuccessful dates this entire year, I’m obligated to step up. You’d make his entire bloody new year.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t exist for the sole purpose of making one single person happy.”

“Of course not, but we all know how you’ve been fucking James with your eyes, so spare yourself of wasted time and sit on his lap. He wouldn’t protest.”

“I’d protest,” she replied scathingly, “And he’s talking to his line of admirers.”

‘Talking’ was a word being used loosely here, because he seemed to be the only person speaking, having gone on about a story about himself from when he was younger. It seemed that he’d been engaged in a conversation with Remus earlier, but after the first three women came from nowhere, Remus had left him alone with them, and so he’d been forced to conversate with them, unless he fancied being found in a ditch the following day. She could already sense his discomfort from just the way his smile seemed permanently glued on to his face.

“To cut the conversation short,” Sirius began, feeling no sense of empathy for his mate, “You’re holding back.”

“I didn’t come here for you to play matchmaker.”

“But little do you know,” Sirius sighed.

“Pardon?”

“What?” Sirius asked, “You’re forgiven.”

“I’ve absolutely no reason to apologise—”

“There’s always a reason to apologise. For one thing, you’re stealing me away from the other guests. Everyone needs an equal share of Sirius Black—”

She blanched. “Right, well, that’s already enough incentive to walk away from you right about now.”

“That’s the spirit,” he replied, “Repulsion is the first step to a blossoming friendship. Let me be best man, if that isn’t too much to ask.”

“You didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t offer. I’ve got to take matters into my own hands.”

She scoffed lightly at him. “It was nice meeting you formally, Sirius.”

“Not sure if that’s sarcasm or if you’re being genuine, but either way, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

She had to hand it to him; she wasn’t sure just exactly what he was capable of, but if Sirius Black was ever handed the opportunity to take over the world, he’d turn down that chance just to find his own means of world domination.

She watched as he walked over to the group with James, said a few magical words, and the next thing that she knew, Sirius had taken the women off of James’s hands as if they were moths and he was a flame.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was to see Sirius pushing James directly towards her, and it seemed as if he was a reindeer soaring through the sky, but the metaphor suddenly seemed unsuiting when she found him crashing right into her.

Or, nearly crashing, and she could already feel how awkward it would have been if he’d fallen atop of her, what with their bodies right up against one another and his face merely centimetres away from hers.

In reality, though, Sirius’s pushing was merely a light shove, because his arms just weren’t strong enough to move somebody across the room and acted only as encouragement more than anything else.

“Hello, hi,” James said, and he sent a glare towards Sirius, “We meet again. Your reindeer are still living in solitude, I see.”

She couldn’t help the smile growing on her face. “I see yours are still going at it. Do they ever stop?”

“Right? It’s quite rude to all the guests around here. They need to find their own time and place to make love.”

She nodded. “They are domestic animals. I expected much more from them. Do you want to go somewhere more quiet? Mariah’s gotten a bit annoying after the first five rounds of All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

“Sure, as long as it’s not for the purposes of love-making. I’d like to at least take you out on a date first.”

“Then, to your room?”

“If you insist,” he joked, and she felt her lips curling upwards once again.

+++

“Why the fixation with deer?” was the very first thing that she’d asked once they’d entered his room. She’d noticed that his devotion to Christmas only seemed to continue on behind the privacy of his door, as even the bedsheets had been changed to mimic Christmas. There was, of course, a Christmas tree in the corner of his room, and rather than the small ones that some people put, the tree was of average size. Beneath the tree were the gifts that were brought for the Secret Santa ceremony, which James had relocated in case any of the uninvited guests had decided that it would be a good idea to snatch them.

She made herself comfortable on his bed, patting the space beside her to motion for him to sit down, that she wouldn’t falsely made accusations at him if he got too close to her. He chuckled at her question. “Its antlers look like a crown, and we both know that I am the most majesty being in the world.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him, because though she hadn’t known him for that long, seemed like such a him thing to say. “A real answer, please.”

“You’d laugh.”

“Only if it’s funny.”

She watched his lips rise at the corners. “I took a quiz about what my spirit animal would be, and I got a stag. That’s what made my interest stagnant, I’d say.”

She unceremoniously let out a huff of air. “You made that pun on purpose.”

“Ah, don’t tell me you don’t have an appreciation for puns.”

“I have an appreciation for the funny ones.”

“I’m actually so offended right now. I’m not funny?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you’re funny. Your puns are the ones that need some work.”

“It was hilarious.”

“For you perhaps, but since you base your pride on the beliefs of strangers, your opinions don’t seem to matter in this scenario.”

“Oi, my puns are the greatest, thank you very much. I think your opinion is skewed because you’ve been too distracted by the reindeer fornicating on my sweater.”

She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re laughing, which means that I am completely and utterly hilarious.”

“If you say so,” she sang, “Will you pelt an ornament at me so as to convince me otherwise?”

“Violence is never the answer. I’ve other alternatives, like begging and pleading you to please fuel my ego as it so desires.”

“I’m sure looking in the mirror gives you enough fuel to last the entire week. Month, maybe.”

“Are you calling me handsome?”

“I’m certainly not calling your puns funny.”

“I don’t know whether I should be turned on by the fact that you think I’m attractive or off because you think I’m unfunny.”

There was something in his tone that made her think that he was edging near the former option rather than the latter, and the manner in which his breaths were coming out more slowly was even more of a signal that he wanted something to happen between them just as much as she did.

“Maybe,” she started, and her fingers began moving up his thigh, inching upwards until she was cupping his chin, feeling the light stubble on his face, “We could reach a com—”

She was cut off by the sound of the door bursting open.

It was, of course, Sirius, who looked unsurprised at the sight of them on the bed together. “I’m going to assume that I interrupted you lot, but I’d say that you deserved it, because both of you were too slow to jump the other first thing when you laid eyes on each other.”

“What do you want, Padfoot?” James grumbled, and he removed a hand from her arm, which she hadn’t even noticed had been on her person.

“A lot of things, actually.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. Perhaps the eggnog that they’d served had gotten to his brain, if the alcohol that he’d dunked into the Christmas drink hadn’t done so already. “Anyway, we need to open presents. Oi, you lot. We’re opening presents, and no, that doesn’t include me.”

Sirius clapped ostentatiously to attract everyone’s attention, as if his random outburst hadn’t been heard by perhaps the entire neighbourhood. “We do not need a hearing aid for a present this Christmas,” Remus said as he walked in, and he regarded his mug of eggnog with disdain, as if it was Sirius in the form of a liquid.

It seemed that Sirius had already gathered all of the people who were involved in the ceremony, as a few other people walked in afterwards, and only Peter seemed sympathetic enough to flash them a look of apology for intruding on them.

“Never said anything about a hearing aid,” Sirius replied, “Maybe you need the hearing aid.”

“After your outbursts, I reckon we’ll all need hearing aids. Calm your arse, yeah?” James put in, and Lily felt that had the opportunity arisen, she most definitely would have paid to hear more of his lovely voice.

“He’s excited for presents,” Peter Pettigrew added, “I’m excited.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I made sure that no one got Pete for Secret Santa,” Sirius drawled, and Lily whacked him lightly with a nearby pillow.

“That’s completely unsuitable for the occasion.”

“It’s fine, Lily,” Peter started, “He says things like that all the time. I’ve built an immunity to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to tolerate it.”

“If this helps,” James began, “I was your Secret Santa. Your present is the one with the gold wrapper, because I use only the finest materials.”

Peter scrambled up to grab the present as described, and this was more or less how it had went on, with everyone having an unspoken agreement on who could throw the most jabs at each other. Sirius was, unsurprisingly, Lily’s Secret Santa, and he’d thought it hilarious to include a gag gift in with the real gift— a pink scarf and an insanely giant framed picture of himself. It went on to show that the size of a present truly didn’t make it a good gift, and she’d have to find some open space in her closet to hang the portrait up on. It would have been quite rude of her to not put up the portrait.

Annoyingly enough, Sirius was completely and deliberately delaying her from giving her gift to James, and when the time finally came for her to give James the concrete embodiment of her hard work and effort, Sirius again was unsubtle in hiding his motives. She took her previous thoughts back. He could definitely not conquer the world, no matter how hard he tried.

“I’ve going to take a sh—”

“If you finish that last thought, I will throw you out the window,” Remus threatened.

“Remus and I will be going— actually, no, let’s all go together.”

“I am not going anywhere near the bathroom with you,” Remus interjected, looking aghast at the prospect.

“You’ve no choice—”

“I always have a choice,” Remus replied, and Lily had been looking on with such amusement that she’d been a bit surprised when he turned towards her, “I am so sorry for his behaviour.”

“I am so sorry that you’ve had to endure him for, what was it, the entirety of your life?”

“That’d be about right,” Peter cut in with a nod.

“I can’t believe you’re all ganging up on me.”

“You can’t honestly expect to intrude upon James and I for open gifts, only to unsubtly leave us alone when it’s time for James to open his present, can you?” she asked Sirius.

“That only makes it even more fun for him,” James said beside her, “And I’d rather they leave now than never.”

“You love us.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get out, and I’ll see about that.”

James, at that point, had taken to escorting them out of the room, and with one swift motion, he closed the door shut and clicked the lock in place. He walked towards the tree, picking up the very last gift that remained before seating himself right back beside her.

“You couldn’t have possibly found a way to clone yourself, have you?”

She found her cheeks growing red, and she shook her head. “Not unless I also found some way to shrink myself.”

He smiled softly at her response. “It’s only that I think that the best present I’ve gotten so far is meeting you.”

“Honestly, if you don’t think that this will be the best present you’ve ever seen in your life, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut off all contact with you. I worked too hard on this gift for it to only be second to myself.”

She watched his smile blossom into something nearly as radiant as a flower at her words, and he shook his head, looking a bit bashful. “Nothing could ever beat you.”

His hands drifted down to the bow that she’d tied on top of the box, slowly pulling it off, and she was glad to see that he was not one of those monsters that destroyed the wrapping paper in order to get to the gift faster. He did the action with some speed, though he was being awfully considerate in not tearing it either, and when he did accidentally make a small rip, he let out a small apology to the paper, as if he was hurting it.

Her heart only moved quicker at that action.

When he opened the box, pulling out the mug that she’d been putting all of her painstaking effort into creating, he let out a nearly inaudible gasp at the sight. He scrutinised every inch of it, and his face didn’t even once diverge from amazement, even when there was so clearly a mistake in the way she’d made it.

“You made this?” he said inconceivably, and she nodded, “How could anyone make something so bloody nice? Fucking— you’re so talented.”

She knew that his words were making her face turn so red that she had to be the living embodiment of the colours of Christmas now, because it was one thing for him to compliment her appearance, but it was something completely difficult when he was praising her work.

She’d made him a ceramic mug, having used so much of the patience that was a gift she could never have gotten from anyone other than her parents and the universe.

She’d done all of it herself, even going the length of digging out and cleaning her own clay in the back of her yard because it would take far too long to ship clay to her home, and on the side of the mug, she’d painted, of course, a reindeer.

He placed the mug down onto his bedside table and took her face tentatively in his. “Can I—”

“Please.”

He smiled widely at her, and with that, he pressed his lips to her, the taste of the eggnog he’d prepared filling her senses. There were so many things that she’d imagined to happen when he’d gotten his gift, which included— but was not limited to— him simply thanking her, or, had he turned out to be a malicious person, would have slammed all of her effort onto the ground, effectively splitting the mug into a million pieces.

She didn’t realise that she’d end up kissing him. She didn’t realise that she’d love kissing him.

There was something so tantalisingly sweet about the way he was holding on to her chin and something so utterly desirable about the manner in which he was kissing her. It wasn’t too slow or too fast, and it wasn’t even helping that her heart had taken to soaring throughout her body as if it was a shooting star, sending wonder towards every single one of its witnesses.

She’d found it too much of a coincidence that he’d end up being the person who she had to get a gift for, found it too much of a coincidence that she’d wind up being added to a group chat in which everyone but her was close with one another, and—

“Oh my goodness,” she said against his lips, and she pulled away, her eyes opening so that green could meet gold.

It was not a coincidence.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, and the way in which his glasses were skewed only added to his confusion.

She nodded. “It’s just— aren’t you peeved?”

“Peeved?” He looked more perplex. “About what?”

“We’ve so obviously been set up, and it took me this long to realise it.”

“We’ve been…” he repeated, and he blinked once, then once again. “What?”

“It’s so obvious now that Sirius set all of this up so that we could meet. Don’t you—” Her eyes widened slightly when his cheeks flared up, signifying that he knew something. He knew something. “James.”

“Right, yeah, I didn’t realise that this was a set up until after you were added to the chat, but I swear— I just thought that you were a cool person because you’re on the phone with Remus a lot. I didn’t think Sirius would take the initiative to do all of that. I— are you mad?”

Was she mad?

No, she didn’t think she was, or, at least she wasn’t mad at him.

“No,” she answered honestly, finding his rambling to be cute, “I’m not mad at all. I got to meet you, didn’t I? I think that’s enough compensation.”

“But we both agree that Sirius isn’t getting away with this.”

Her lips curled upwards. “After a few more rounds of kissing. And the sweater goes off.”

“I thought you were starting to warm up to it.”

“I could honestly never,” she laughed, but he complied anyway, pulling the cursed top off of himself. Her fingers lightly roamed over the exposed skin, and she found him kissing her once again.

There were many feelings that people felt when it came to the topic of Christmastime, but right now, all Lily could feel was joy.

There was also that small bit of wrath felt towards Sirius, but when joy was the dominant feeling, who cared what else she felt?

All she focused on was joy. Joy and joy and joy.

[solarcelest]

Sand Man

All of my fics can also be found on Ao3 @solar._.celeste

It had been a long last few days. With yet another Arkham breakout the night before, the dynamic duo of father and son hadn’t been able to retire to their beds until near sunrise.

Not only that, but it had been Wednesday. This meant school for Damian and W.E. for Bruce. Only two hours of sleep for the both.

After far too many coffees, Bruce brought Damian to school on his way to the office, arriving at eight thirty. He then suffered and somehow managed to stay awake through seven meetings before leaving at three to pick up his son.

Damian was silent as usual when he climbed into the backseat, throwing his school bag carelessly next to him. Bruce has decided that he was too tired to attempt to force small talk, it never worked anyway.

From the looks of it, Damian was just as exhausted as his father. Bruce watched in the review mirror as his son tried (and barely succeed) at keeping his lolling head up and his closing eyes open.

They followed a fairly normal routine when they returned to the manor. Damian retiring to the kitchen for some of Alfred’s customary after school cookies and milk. Bruce turning upstairs to finish the days paperwork.

Then, if the world be willing, the two would spar and train with each other for a couple hours before dinner and then patrol. But tonight was an off night.

Instead, they had to prepare for a charity gala that both of them would rather opt out of. Bruce didn’t feel like putting on his ‘Brucie’ facade tonight and Damian didn’t like the crowds. he didn’t like any crowds, too many people and too much happening. So of course he had to try his hand if getting out of the gathering.

“ Father, I see the meaning for yours, but I do not know why my presence is needed.” Said Damian, sitting in the plush chair at the corner of the master bedroom. He wore a small monkey suit, a haphazardly tied bowtie, and a pair of red converse. His legs swung slightly.

“ You wouldn’t have to come, but Alfred had plans he needed to attend to and I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“ I would be able to manage.” Damian glared.

“ The answer is no.” Bruce, was stern. There would be no changing his mind.

“ Well then I’m sure Pennyworth can reschedule.”

“ Son, listen. I know you don’t want to do this, believe me, I don’t want to go either but I have to. We need maintain a civilian identity as well. just give me tonight okay? then we can go anywhere you want this weekend, alright?” Bruce kneeled and began to properly fix the boys tie.

“ Anywhere?” Damian asked, his father was giving him immense power. And there was one place in particular he would love to go.

“ Within reason, but yes.” Okay.... a little less power but still, power.

“ Deal.” Damian held out his hand. They shook on it.

“ Alright boy, lets fix that hair of yours before someone tries to bring you to the zoo.”

After slightly more grumbling about ill mannered imbeciles from Damian, Bruce had finished styling his sons hair and the two made the short car ride to the gala.

Bruce decided being nice was exhausting about thirty minutes after arriving. After and hour, he was really tempted to call it quits and snap at he next person that asked him about stocks. And he totally would have, if not for knowing it would certainly earn him a look from Alfred.

Even if the butler wasn’t there to see himself. Nothing got passed Alfred.

Damian acted as he usually did during galas. He stuck close to his father, glancing anxiously at the crowds and talking only when spoke to (his own preference) or when he wanted another soda or juice.

The crowds though, are what caused him the most exhaustion. Both his prior teachings and his anxiety told him to be extra cautious of the crowds. Don’t let yourself get distracted, don’t take your eyes away, don’t let your guard down and pay attention to everything. It was exhausting.

It was only a few hours into the party when Bruce was talking to a reporter about his latest deal that he felt Damian stumble into him. He took a moment to pause the conversation and look at his son. Damian was steadying himself and rubbing watery eyes with fists and looking all too cute for his own good. The whole seen made Bruce doubt that his son hadn’t just fallen asleep on his feet.

He didn’t really think about it, just reached down and put his hands under his sons arms, lifting Damian to his hip, red converse dangling quite pathetically. The reporter literally cooed and Bruce was surprised Damian didn’t attempt to leap from his arms and attack her or refuse being held all together.

Damian didn’t really understand why his father had picked him up. Had he caught his stumble? Was there danger? Had Damian missed something in the crowd during those brief moments he decided to close his eyes?

But after a moment of looking around there was nothing. And Damian decided that maybe this was just something parents did. And it was sad really that he couldn’t say for sure. But it showed their progress when he seemed to decide that he felt safe enough in his father’s arms to finally close his eyes and get the sleep he’s been needing for days.

And Bruce was shocked, because this wasn’t something that Damian did. Because Damian was so tiny. So light, too light, and he had been too busy to notice. But now he noticed, and even let out a fond smile when he saw how Damian’s tanned cheek was smushed into the collar of his suit.

“ His looks are going to get him in trouble one day.” Came a voice somewhere to Bruce’s right, he turned to see Selena.

“ Don’t remind me.” He answered, chuckling softly. Stroking baby soft black hair from his sons closed eyes.

“ He takes after his father in that.” She continued, Bruce smiles softly. “ He should be in bed.”

“ Are you telling me how to raise my kids?” Asked Bruce, but it was playful.

“ You should be in bed too.” She came closer at this, putting a hand on his shoulder, months ago he would have pulled away, But they had become closer and now he fought leaning into the touch. Instead, he used his free hand to wave at the party around them.

“ Go home.” She continued. “ And get the rest I know you’ve both been needing for days.”

“ I can’t just leave, Selena.” He says incredulously.

“ Say he’s sick.” She gestures at Damian and says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“ Something tells me Damian wouldn’t like that.” He’s still smiling he realizes, perhaps he should stop.

“ I don’t hear any objections.” Says Selena, putting a hand to her ear to pretend she’s listening. Bruce only finds himself smiling harder at this.

“ Spread the word for me?” He asked, already grabbing his and his sons coat from one of many hooks.

“ Do you have to ask?” She watches the Bat as he wrangles his son into the small and puffed red winter coat.

“ Thanks Selena.” He says, giving up on hiding his grin and smiling once more before turning to leave. He walks back out through the doors to the fundraiser hall the charity event was being held at. The cold winter air of Gotham hits his face and passes easily through his suit jacket. He was born and raised in Gotham though, and the cold snowy air doesn’t bother him like he knows it does the little desert boy in his arms. He speaks with a valet about his vehicle and moves to pull his own jacket tighter around his son

.

The car comes around soon enough and he nods a thanks and takes the keys. He unlocks the doors of the black Tesla and moves to the back. He shifts Damian into his grey and blue carseat and begins to strap him in both thankful and surprised that the boy hasn’t been woken by all the movement.

The drive home is even quicker than the drive to the event had been and upon arriving. Bruce quickly scrawled a one handed note to Alfred telling him that they had arrived earlier than originally planned and would both be in bed by the time the butler returned.

It almost seemed surreal to Bruce as he made his way to his bedroom with Damian in his arms. As he stopped briefly in his sons room to grab the boys batman footie pajamas, both because he wanted to and because they would be easier to put on his sleeping form.

And the Dark Knight found that he couldn’t lose his smile as he lay Damian on his giant bed and began removing his child’s small clothing. How when he folded the tiny suit and untied the converse he was reminded that yes, Damians clothes were still bought from the kids section and no, he wasn’t even wearing boxers yet.

And Bruce didn’t mind that he couldn’t suppress the slight feeling of hope in his chest that Damian still has some childhood left and that the boy could be salvaged. That maybe the damage his mother and grandfather had done could no, not be reversed, but possibly mended. And he relished in the fact that he felt like such a dad when he considered waking Damian up so that the boy could brush his teeth and use the bathroom, because he had had so much sugar and drank a lot of liquids at the gala.

Bruce didn’t even feel guilty when he selfishly decided he wouldn’t because he knew the boy would insist on returning to his own bed if he had the chance.

So instead he changed into a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, grabbing his son once again, placing both him and his boy under the blankets. Drawing Damian as close as possible and breathing in that wonderful scent of children’s shampoo.

And he he couldn’t help his closing eyes or that fact that he smiled himself to sleep because things just couldn’t be anymore perfect.

And if when Alfred opened the door to the master bedroom the next morning to see both his charges asleep and cuddling, he had been too silent to wake them. And if he retreated back downstairs with nothing but a thousand photos, if he picked up the phone to call both the school and the office to tell them the Waynes would be taking a personal day, well, no one would have any proof.

Accept for all the recipients of the next Christmas card.

[adamjamesglass]

Roswell, New Mexico Ep. 9

So after this episode I liked some things, didn’t like other things. I explain all of it down below, and I realized this is the longest post I’ve done so far. 

Of course, there is another alien. Not necessarily obvious if you are a first time viewer, but having watched the original I knew there would have to be other aliens around. Though I don’t like how they are, probably, going about it. I believe this other alien may be involved in causing other’s to do things that they don’t want to do and not remember them. Just had a thought, what if the vagabond from when they were kids was actually an alien. And that he isn’t dead. Because that scene was weird that he didn’t react to any of the powers they were using. Or maybe the alien was controlling him.  

Starting from the beginning now, I was wondering what their explanation would be about Isobel’s disappearance. Really stupid and flimsy if you ask me; especially since now, all of a sudden, their mother is gone. Which, ugh, Claudia Black, I need more of her. She was really emotional when Isobel, supposedly, didn’t want to see her. How did she react to not seeing her at all now? 

There was no lead up to the flyer Max had. Couldn’t we see him find it? If it was in the show, I must have missed it. The Alex and Guerin part was cliché but okay. The thing I don’t like is, and I see it a lot, when the more ... I don’t want to say bottom, because we don’t know that, but you get the sense of who’s the top and who’s the bottom with these things. Although they aren’t always right. But I see bottoms always doing the running, the pining, the wanting of the big strong man who’s rugged. I want a strong independent bottom who doesn’t need no man, but would be okay with one. Alex seems strong and independent, but he really seems to needs Guerin. 

I wanted Guerin to fight more for Alex. He says he loves him but I’m not seeing it strongly. I mean, this is a fictitious show, that seems to be playing with reality more than it should, and I’m not just talking about aliens. So why can’t a thing like true love exist in this world, where some people decided, ‘I love this person and I’m not going to stop until they see me the same way I see them’. And not in a stalker way, in a way that they know there is love between them and wants them to see how strongly they feel. 

Guerin gives up too easy for my taste. I don’t care if someone says we can’t be together. You stop them, and tell them you love them and you know he loves you too. And that you aren’t going to stop. Then you prove to him through different gestures. Not just flowers, or candy, but other things. You tell him what it was like the first time you kissed. Tell him what it was like the first time you made love and how it changed your world and what you thought of it. He hated this place, but Alex makes it better. 

Sure, in real life most people probably wouldn’t try that hard. Someone says it’s over then most of the time it’s over. You can try but it’s probably not going to happen. Besides in those instances one person obviously loves the other more. But this isn’t real life, and we know they both love each other so what’s the deal. 

Next, Alex get’s pulled over by Cam, she has a little more character development and decides to work both sides. Then the military service comes up. So we get to know more about Alex. And I was cringing the whole time at it. So Alex was part of an Air Expeditionary Group. Then she says he was in two tours, was she just leaving out the third, or did we change it. Because I was sure he did three. So what happened to the third one. Then she goes on to talk about the medals he was recommended for. Oh God that part hurt me. I guess they were trying to find a way for us to know how great Alex is, and maybe show that she’s smart. But I don’t need this information. We know she was also in the military. And we know Alex is great. We at least assume it. 

Cam was talking about the Air Force Medal of Honor and the Air Force Cross. Which he was only recommended for and didn’t get either of them? That’s kinda harsh. He really could only get one of them I believe. The Air Force Cross is awarded if your actions don’t justify the Medal of Honor. So he didn’t even get that. What a joke. Obviously someone thought he deserved one, so why didn’t he get one? Maybe it’s still in the recommendation process and he’ll get the Medal of Honor. I say that because obviously he has to be that good. But usually Medal of Honor recipients are ... no longer with us. Only a few are alive today who hold that medal.    

Since I was wondering about the intelligence side of things I looked up the Air Expeditionary Group and they are usually support groups. So they can see combat and some won’t. They may also have some intelligence specialist with them. The only thing I think now is that maybe he got hurt in a move from base to base. But the medal recommendations don’t make me think it was a simple move. And later we also learn he is coming off of enlistment? What? He is supposed to have PTSD, as well as this injury. He should have been either medically separated or medically retired. Which with medically retired he’d get more money but it would depend on his disability rating. If his disability rating is high enough he could be medically retired and since he lost a leg and has PTSD he may have a good chance.

I’m getting off on the topic I should get back to the point. I’m surprised he is still in. Now, it could make sense if his job was just intelligence. He could maybe keep working. But since he has PTSD I would think that may be a problem. The leg really isn’t since he wouldn’t really see combat.

Skipping over Max and Liz getting together, because that would make this post longer. But I just wanted to say, how is Max a nerd? Okay, I’m going to talk about Guerin again. He sleeps with Maria. I’m happy it was an off screen thing, but I wanted the kiss off screen as well. That we just learn about it. Oh well. I read another post that someone mentioned that Guerin meant to have Maria’s necklace to dangle in front of Alex’s face. What would be the point of that. Just to make him jealous? I mean I kind of believe the person. What was he doing all day before Alex got there? Walking with it in his boot. Driving back with it in his boot. Must be smelly. Then waiting for Alex to show up? Maybe they should have had Guerin run into him somewhere else. So we can think he really planned it out. This was just lazy writing, I think. 

To be honest I rather it have been held back that he slept with her until later. I love drama, that’s the reason I watch these things. I wouldn’t have mind it taking a while for that to come out. Speaking of drama, unless Guerin packed condoms with him, they had unprotected sex. I wonder what would happen then? Alien baby?

They talk, Alex is like ‘I’m not running away anymore,” and talks. I rather him throw something back at Guerin like. “Oh, I see you already moved on. I thought maybe I was too harsh earlier and wanted to try to work things out because I loved you. But I can see you never really loved me.” Something like that. I don’t like this meekness. And even though it’s supposed to be a strong moment; I don’t see it that way. The only way I see it as strong is that he needs to get information about Guerin, and that’s not love.

That was a long one. For those that read, thanks for sticking around until the end.