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dearkusuo · 3 years

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Ch. 1 ☆ Last Christmas

Synopsis: You were intent on avoiding your ex-boyfriend all of winter break, however, your mom and her best friend had other plans lined up for you.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x reader

Tags: college au, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2.7k

m.list ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 1 ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 2

Thick clouds painted the darkening sky a dull grey while streetlights began to glow over the horizon. The cold air bit the skin on your cheeks, tinting them a shade of red the moment you stepped out of the car you parked by the curb. Your fingers fumbled to button up the coat you wore as a chill ran down your frame.

You opened up the trunk to take out your belongings stored inside, promptly closing it shut soon after. The siren of your vehicle went off once as you locked it up, and you trotted to your porch, suitcase trailing behind while you dragged it along.

Flashy decorations were displayed all over your front lawn, and colourful lights were strung on the tiles of your roof. You resignedly shook your head at the extravagant presentation.

Your parents tended to be overly zealous when it came to Christmas decorations. You’ve known that for as long as you can remember, but it didn’t make you any less hesitant to see the setup they arranged for the interior.

Your hand drifted over the doorbell, leaving it extended in the air for a long moment. You hoped they remembered that you no longer have a house key and got home from work early. The sound of the bell rang aloud as you pressed the buzzer.

You instinctively flinched back when the door flung open seconds later. Your mother let out a squeal, wrapping her arms around you in excitement while you returned the tight embrace, a small grin gracing your lips. She hastily pulled you inside when a gust of wind passed by, causing you both to shiver. The change of temperature warmed your frigid body.

The living room was lavishly accentuated with festive ornaments, just as you thought. Silver tinsel outlined the furniture while a heavily adorned Christmas tree noticeably stood at a corner of the room. Red stockings and green holly wreaths hung on the wall and the smell of gingerbread filled your nostrils.

Your brows lifted in surprise when you spotted your next-door neighbour sitting comfortably on your couch.

“This is unexpected,” you uttered.

Your mother’s best friend, Mrs. Saiki, stood up and ambled her way to you. She took your palms in her grip and greeted you with a hello.

"How long has it been?" She wondered.

"About a year," you answered plainly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

She brought both her hands over her lips to cover up a gasp. "It’s been that long? You really should come home more often."

A deep hum left your throat as you courteously nodded along in agreement. You turned your attention to your mother with a puzzled look on your face when she lightly tapped your shoulder

“Before you arrived just now, Kurumi and I were thinking that it would be a great idea for us to spend the holidays together, so we decided to have a small party on Christmas Eve,” she mentioned cheerfully.

You gave another nod and replied casually, “Alright.” The two women often spent time in each other’s presence, so it wasn't unusual for them to plan on spending Christmas together. It was probably just a get-together they were having with the rest of their friends. “You two have fun then.”

“Actually, it will just be both of our families attending,” your mother corrected.

Your tone dropped an octave lower, “Oh?”. The implication that you had to be present heavily dripped from her words. Were they really expecting you to tag along with them?

"We thought it would be a great idea since you don’t come home a lot, and all of us hardly see each other anymore."

“Kusuo just returned from college this morning, and even Kusuke is visiting for a while,” Mrs. Saiki blurted out excitedly.

"It'll be like old times," your mother added.

Like old times. When your families always spent time together. When you were together.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your mother and her friend happily beamed at each other, oblivious of your deteriorating mood. The turn of events left you unwilling to participate in the conversation any longer.

"I gotta go unpack,” you announced.

“Of course, you must’ve had a long day,” Mrs. Saiki exclaimed.

“It was nice seeing you again,” you conceded, keeping up a polite smile. She gave your hand a final pat before you retreated.

"Your dad is upstairs. You should go see him first," your mother suggested.

You mumbled an acknowledgement as you marched up the second floor with your luggage in tow. As was requested, you gave a quick greeting to your father before you entered your room.

The familiar space was left in a spotless and tidied condition that led you to believe that your parents regularly dusted and maintained it in your absence. Your bedsheet was neatly tucked in without a wrinkle to be seen, and your shelves were conveniently organized. Frantically, you went through your desk drawers to check if they had snooped through your personal belongings.

You faltered once you opened the last compartment. The sight of a wrapped present left untouched caused you to momentarily pause in shock. Your handwriting was scribbled out in black sharpie on the gift wrap, addressing it to Saiki Kusuo.

You never did get the chance to give it to him. Closing the drawer, you made a mental note to throw it out when you got the chance.

You looked out the window in musing. He must’ve known that you were coming back today. The dark, dull sky was tainted white by the snowflakes that began to descend to the ground.

You padded down the stairs late in the morning. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. Your father sat on the couch, watching the broadcast that was showing on the TV.

"Hey," he said with a wave of his hand. He briefly looked at you before returning his attention to the news channel. You gave a simple greeting in return.

"I made plans to meet with Chiyo and Kokomi today. We're eating out, so I'll be back in a few hours," you explained, already halfway to the exit.

"Alright,” your father responded idly, keeping his eyes trained on the screen. “Your mom and I made plans with the neighbours as well. We might not be home by the time you get back."

"Got it," you called from outside the door frame. You made your way to your car, hopping on the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life with a twist of the ignition.

The drive took a little longer than it usually would have, as the weather from the previous night left a thin layer of ice covering the road. Fortuitously, you had snow tires installed on your automobile beforehand, ensuring that you made it to your destination safely.

Your friends were already occupying a booth by the time you arrived at the diner. They bombarded you with conversation the moment you sat down, anxious to know what you’ve been doing for the past few months. You apprehensively informed them of what your mother and her best friend had planned for Christmas Eve.

"That's not gonna end well," Kokomi remarked.

"Tell me about it. What were they thinking?" Chiyo griped. "You’d think they’d know how awkward it would be for you and Saiki since you two are, you know, exes."

"I don't think they care," you grumbled in a distressed tone.

You crossed your arms over your chest, brooding over the unwanted encounter that was sure to happen.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Kokomi asked.

You shrugged wearily before responding, "I’ll probably stay for a bit, then dip whenever I can."

There was a high chance that you’d somehow get roped back into the party, but you currently didn’t have any other solutions to your dilemma. Anything was fine as long as you could spend as little time with him as possible.

A ruminating silence fell between the three of you.

“When did you guys break up again?” Chiyo inquired.

“Last year, on winter break. Around this time of the season.”

You directed your focus on the plate of food you ordered as memories of the previous December flooded your mind. Your nose crinkled in concentration.

“It must’ve been hard for you guys to be in a long-distance relationship,” Chiyo pronounced with a long sigh.

The distance was never an issue for the two of you since he could teleport to your location anytime.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

Towards the end of the relationship, it felt like you were the only one who cared enough to keep things afloat. You gave it your all while he usually lacked the initiative to make an effort out of the limited time your college workload would allow.

But it’s not like everything was his fault. You had to admit that you often pushed past his comfort zone when he was content with just spending the day peacefully at home with you.

It was your dynamic that ultimately convinced you to break up with him. The two of you simply weren’t compatible together.

You quietly chewed on your food as you listened to the carefree chatter of Kokomi and Chiyo.

You parked the car by the curb of your house. Snowflakes fluttered to the ground once again as you stepped out of the driver’s seat. You hurriedly walked to your front door, eager to get out of the freezing weather.

There was no response when you rang the buzzer.

You let out a frustrated groan as you remembered your dad saying no one would be home when you returned. They didn’t even bother to leave a spare key for you.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts to seek temporary shelter from a friend. Chiyo would only pry into your love life again, and you didn’t like running into Kokomi's brother.

At this point, your best option was to stay in a random store for the next couple of hours. Your teeth began to chatter as you walked back to the front gate, ready to start your car once again.

"Oh? Look who we have here."

Your head intuitively whipped around to the source of the voice. A man with pale blonde hair strode towards you. The headgear on his head strikingly stood out.

"Kusuke? What are you doing here?" you queried.

He cocked his head to one side at your bewildered gaze.

"Did nobody tell you I was visiting for a few weeks?”

Your eyes widened in realization as you recalled the previous night when Mrs. Saiki passingly declared that her eldest son would be returning for the holidays.

“Are you locked out?" he probed, observing your shivering frame.

You nodded timidly, unconsciously pulling your coat tighter over your torso.

"Why don't you come stop by for a bit while you wait for your parents?"

You grimaced. Knowing Kusuo, he was probably at home, minding his own business, and an interruption from both you and his brother would only put him in a foul mood. Likewise, you’d rather avoid him if you could help it.

"No, that's fine. I'll just wait at a friend's house," you insisted, shaking your head in refusal.

"But I'm guessing none of your friends are available."

You gritted your teeth. It was always difficult to break free from Kusuke’s snare. Judging by the smirk that crept on his face, he knew that his assumption was correct. Reluctantly, you let him usher you into the Saiki residence.

Kusuke offered you a cup of tea while you patiently sat on the couch. The heat it emanated warmed your numb fingers back to life. Your eyes roamed the living room that was decorated so extravagantly, it rivalled your own. At the back of your mind, you wondered if Kusuo had teleported someplace else while you remained in his house.

Kusuke asked you simple questions about your college experience, people you met, and your part-time job. He was being polite enough that you almost felt bad for anticipating he'd ruin the moment by being his usual overbearing self.

"Are you seeing anyone at the moment?" Kusuke inquired.

There it is.

You didn't see how that was any of his business. A short pause lingered between you two as you kept your mouth shut. You quirked an eyebrow up in bewilderment, waiting to see where he was getting at.

"Why don't you consider going out with me?" He grinned mischievously.

"That's a lame joke, even for you," you retorted.

"How can you be so sure that I'm joking?"

You scowled at him. Kusuke didn't like people. That was enough for you to believe that he was fooling around just to get a reaction out of you.

'What do you think you're doing?' a familiar voice rang in your mind, provoking your muscles to tense up and your jaw to lock.

He appeared out of thin air. The sight of green lenses and antennae poking out of pink hair caused you to internally panic.

"Kusuo, I was just having a chat with our lovely neighbour here." Kusuke gestured to you.

'Seems like harassment to me,' Kusuo scoffed.

"Don't be like that. It’s not like I had any ulterior motives." Kusuke chuckled. He turned to you again and imparted with a smile, "Don't take anything I've said to heart. I was just teasing you."

You figured as much, but you still couldn't help the annoyed huff you let out.

"Did you come down here because you were feeling left out? Do you wanna join in?" Kusuke asked his little brother in a disdaining tone.

Kusuo glared at the blonde man as he quipped, 'No. I’m here to tell you to be quiet. I can hear you from upstairs.' He shifted his attention to you. The blank expression on his face caused you to fidget under his gaze.

"I got locked out of my house, so Kusuke invited me to stay here while I wait for my parents to come home," you rambled, glancing down at your lap. Although he probably already knew that.

'I'll unlock the door for you.'

Kusuo's footsteps lightly echoed off the wooden floor. You looked up after a few seconds to see him waiting expectantly for you by the exit.

Placing down the unfinished cup of tea on the coffee table, you scrambled up from the couch. You waved goodbye to Kusuke before following his younger brother outside, softly trudging on the snow beside him.

“You look well,” you commented.

Kusuo only gave you a curt nod, a strained silence following soon after.

What did you expect? He wouldn’t bother wasting time on small talk with his ex when he was already so eager to kick you out of his house.

Both of you halted when you reached your porch. The sound of a click went off as Kusuo's hand hovered over the lock.

“Thank you,” you politely murmured, letting out a sigh in gratitude. You brazenly stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye. Kusuo's lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were downcast, as though he were contemplating deeply. You thought nothing of it, returning your gaze forward.

Twisting the knob, you pushed the door open and stepped inside your home. You turned your head over your shoulder to say a coy goodbye, but no words escaped your lips.

He leaned into you, stopping a few inches from your face. Your breath caught in your throat at the intense look he gave you. Your heart skipped a beat as your body ignored your brain’s protests telling you to move.

‘Are you doing alright?’ he mused.

You could only nod in reply.

‘I see.’

His brows furrowed the slightest bit as he pulled back. If you hadn’t known him for years, you might not have noticed the flickering emotion on his face. You turned your body around to get a better look at him.

Was he worried for you? It was a possibility. The two of you left on a bad note after all, and Kusuo never liked hurting someone’s feelings. Even if he didn’t care for that person anymore.

‘That’s not the case.’

"Huh?"

He vanished before your sight, leaving you standing by the door frame. The cold air breezed into your home as you wondered what he meant.

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.

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thewritewolf · 3 years

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Mari Christmas And A Happy New Adrien

Summary:

Lost in the aftermath of Hawkmoth's defeat, Adrien loses complete track of time and before he knows it, the holiday season is upon him. Will a Christmas visit to his girlfriend's house be just what he needs to move on?

Hello and welcome to my piece for the @mlsecretsanta event! My giftee, @lesslinette, asked for among other things, Adrienette, family bonding, fluff and just a bit of hurt/comfort and I aimed to please!

I had to do a good amount of research into French and Chinese Christmas traditions (including interviewing my long-suffering French friend - thanks @emsylcatac!), so hopefully I didn't get anything *too* wrong.

Read on Ao3

Enjoy!

Marinette 💖: You still up?

Adrien: Yeah Still not sleeping great House was always too quiet Never thought it could get more quiet tho lol Whats up?

Marinette 💖: :( Just wondering what u were doing 4 xmas Since You know

Adrien: Since father went to jail and mom died again? Haven’t thought about it Guess ive still got time to figure it out

Marinette 💖: … ..Its the 23rd of Dec Like 2am Not a lot of time left

Adrien: oh Guess uh Stay at home?

Marinette 💖: Adrien Its been like two months Youve been going crazy in there Youll just be stuck in there all by yourself Why don’t you come over?

Adrien: I don’t know… I don’t want to bring anyone down Or ruin anyone’s christmas

Marinette 💖: Adrien ‘Kindest Boy in Paris’ Agreste

Adrien: Oh no she used my middle name

Marinette 💖: You are coming over tomorrow And letting me pamper you And letting my family - your REAL family - love you And that is the end of that ...Is that okay with you?

Adrien: Whatever you say ma’am

Marinette 💖: Good Be here no later than fifteen hundred Let me know if I need to pick you up

Adrien: Will do

Adrien laid back down, his face lit up only by the glow of his phone and the only noise in the room being Plagg’s snoring. Putting his phone to sleep, he turned over, closed his eyes, and honestly smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time.

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Adrien reached the door to his girlfriend’s house with a gift under one arm, an envelope in his pocket, and a weak smile on his face. The latter wasn’t because of a lack of feeling on his part - the exact opposite, actually.

It had been hard to go to sleep after their conversation that night, a swirl of mixed emotions keeping him from getting the rest that he craved. Last night wasn’t much better and he was left exhausted. He’d even been half tempted to call and say that he couldn’t make it, but somehow that only made him feel worse.

So here he was. He’d shambled his way to the car, driven himself there through blurry eyes and frequent yawns, and turned the doorknob. Maybe they’d understand if he just dropped off the present and headed home.

Well, maybe not home, but just where he lived.

The instant the door opened, a wave of hot air buffeted him. Not only did it warm his freezing face, it brought all sorts of wonderful smells on it. There were the expected scents - baked potatoes, salmon, chicken. But then was something else, something a little harder to place.

After puzzling over it for a moment, he shook his head and stepped into the house. No sooner had he closed the door behind him than he heard some voices calling out from deeper inside.

“Wait, was that the door? The family wasn’t supposed to be over until tomorrow, weren’t they?”

“Tom, that has to be Adrien!”

There was excitement in Sabine’s voice that warmed his heart, but not quite as much as when he’d taken a couple steps into the house and was blindsided by Marinette bursting out of the living room to wrap him in a hug.

“Worried I might not show?” Adrien whispered after they parted from their kiss.

“Not even for a moment, chaton.” She smiled up at him before her eyes wandered down to his arms, a suspicious look on her face when she saw the one present. “Looks like you showed some restraint this year.”

“Of course!” At her continued doubting look, he added. “Come on, I’m perfectly capable of giving reasonable gifts.”

“Last year you tried to give me my favorite restaurant.”

“But I didn’t!”

“Only because I hid your checkbook and credit cards!”

Adrien snorted. “Details.”

Rolling her eyes, Marinette tugged on his coat sleeve. “Follow me, you ridiculous man. You can put your gifts under the tree, we’ll open them tomorrow.”

She led him into the living room, where their Christmas tree had been set up in all its glory. There were red paper chains wrapped all around it and a huge variety of homemade ornaments - including a few that he’d made in years past. Ever since he and Marinette had started dating, he’d been welcomed into their household with open arms. And even before that, they’d been nothing but kind to him.

His eyes poured over the tree, looking for one specific ornament. It didn’t take him long to find it - with its poor quality, it stood out among the beautiful glass orbs and painted baubles. His fingers brushed over the patches of glitter, a nostalgic smile spreading across his face as he took in the patterns of melted wax inside it. His first ornament. They’d barely been dating a few months when he’d made that one.

Had it really been four years already?

Arms wrapped around him from the side and he looked down at Marinette’s chin resting on his shoulder, peering up at him with big blue eyes.

“What’re you thinking about, hot stuff?”

“Old memories, that’s all.”

“Hmm…” She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You just about ready to make some new ones?”

“With you? Always.”

“You two want to come in and help us finish cooking dinner?” They both jumped when Sabine’s voice reached them.

Blushing, Marinette reluctantly let Adrien go and headed toward the kitchen. “Coming, maman!”

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A few hours later and the four of them were seated around the dining room table. Some things had been moved around from what Adrien remembered from the usual arrangement, and a long table had been set up. Most of the spaces were empty - with the four of them, only about a third of the table was occupied. But while the chairs were mostly left bare, the table was not.

Even though he had helped make some of it, Adrien was still amazed at how good the food all looked when laid out on the table like this.

Most of it was pretty traditional, at least from what he knew. A lot of the time his experience with Christmas dinners were meals allowed to grow cold until he gave up on his father showing. But the roasted chicken was still steaming when they cut into it, the smoked salmon and toast still holding the heat of the oven on them. Add in the gratin dauphinois and this was just about the ideal Christmas dinner he could imagine.

Naturally, it got even better with Sabine’s contribution - spring rolls.

As Adrien shoveled them onto his plate, he asked Sabine, “Is this the only Chinese dish for today, maman?”

“Just you wait, dear.” She smiled over her plate. “Today was Tom’s turn to make dinner. Tomorrow will be mine and you’ll definitely have your fill then.”

“I can’t wait!” Adrien took some of the chestnut sauce to pour over his chicken. Which reminded him… He glanced nervously toward the oven. “I don’t suppose you made foie gras, did you?”

Marinette made a face and shivered.

Tom quickly shook his head. “Oh no, son. Back when Marinette was… what? Eight, nine? She found out how it was made and made us promise to never have it again.”

“Eleven years later and we haven’t broken that promise yet,” Sabine finished. “There are plenty of other foods in the world.”

“That’s good.” Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “It always made me uncomfortable when my father ordered it.”

“Ordered, dear?” Sabine gave him a confused look.

“Oh, we never really cooked our own dinners.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “Not even Christmas dinner?”

“Nope. Sometimes he’d have to order the dinner prepared the day before and then we’d reheat it the day of, since no one wanted to come into work on Christmas day, you know?”

“I see…” Tom shared a look with Sabine, but the meaning was lost on Adrien. “Well, you make sure you have your fill, son! We’ll be making more for tomorrow, so this is all for us.”

“Thanks,” Adrien said with a grateful smile.

The conversation meandered and for the most part Adrien was just content to listen in, drinking in the company after spending so much of his time recently just by himself. Well, mostly by himself. Marinette would visit whenever she could get the time between college classes and internships. Nino and Alya were more elusive, if only because they were outside the city so often these days.

But there was one person who was his constant companion, Adrien thought with a smile as he peeked into the breast pocket of his T-shirt…

...Only to see that it was empty. Maybe he’d gone to visit Tikki and the kwamis of the miracle box? Adrien was drawn out of his thoughts when Sabine directed a question at him.

“Are you ready for the pre-dessert snacks, dear?”

“Oh! Sure, yeah. What do you have?”

“You’ll love it!” Tom excitedly got up and hustled over to the kitchen, Sabine right behind him. He raised his voice to be heard as he went to the room next door. “We know how much you love camembert so…”

Adrien’s eyes widened. They didn’t…

Tom returned with a platter of cheeses in his hands and a frown on his lips.

“Something wrong, papa?” Marinette’s eyes glanced between Tom and the cheese platter.

“No, no… its just… I could have sworn I bought more cheese than this. And I was so sure that I had purchased camembert.” He rubbed his chin. “Ah well, there is more than enough for the three of us anyway.”

While Sabine set down a large bowl of salad in the middle of the table, Adrien glanced at Marinette. At his side, Marinette was biting her lips and pointedly staring into the middle distance, trying her hardest not to laugh. For his part, Adrien was frustrated that he couldn’t go anywhere without Plagg making a noticeable dent in the food supply.

His annoyance with Plagg was so great he almost didn’t enjoy the Yule Log that Tom had made for dessert. Almost, but not quite.

Once they were done with dinner, they cleared the table.

“So, how’d you like the meal?” Marinette asked as she dried off the dishes while Adrien washed them.

“Definitely better hot. And homemade.”

Marinette chuckled. “I’m glad the bar was so high for us. Really makes us feel like we accomplished something here.”

“How about…” Adrien bit down on his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “It was the most delicious meal I’ve had in months.”

“Ooo, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Years even.”

“Good, good, go on.”

“I had never known food could taste so delicious until you graced me with your heavenly meals.”

Marinette’s eyes gleamed with restrained laughter, the hint of a barely contained smile ruining her deadpan. “Glad I could finally weasel how you really feel out of you.”

“Yeah you’re pretty good at that, aren’t you?” Hands still in the sink’s soapy water, he leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“No fooling around now, we still have to help put up the last decorations before we relax for the night.”

“What sort of decorations?”

“Paper lanterns and paper chains. That sort of thing.” At Adrien’s politely confused look, she added, “It’ll help make mom’s side of the family feel welcome. Plus they look pretty cool.”

“Well what are we waiting for then? Let’s kick this into overdrive!”

Adrien suddenly worked in a flurry, Marinette scream laughing as she got splashed with some of the water thrown up by his breakneck pace. Marinette could barely keep up between her giggling, but she somehow managed.

With the last fork, plate, and glass sparkling clean and put away, Marinette shook her head and dabbed at her slightly damp shirt with a fresh towel.

“You’re a dork, you know that?”

“So my girlfriend tells me.”

Adrien relished the sometimes quiet, sometimes loud evening he spent with the Dupain-Chengs. When he went upstairs and cuddled Marinette in the cozy darkness, Adrien felt only excitement for the next day

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Morning came swiftly, but Adrien rose to meet the dawn’s first light with a smile on his lips and a spring in his step. Marinette was… a little less eager, but he managed to coax her out of the bed, eventually.

When they finally got down the stairs and made it to the kitchen, Sabine’s eyes widened and she even froze in the middle of folding one of her dumplings.

“Marinette? I’m surprised to see you up so early.”

Bleary eyed, her daughter simply jabbed a finger toward Adrien and grunted. Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled.

“I knew you’d be a good influence on her, sweetie.” Sabine patted his cheek with a warm smile. “Now, once you’ve had some breakfast I’d really appreciate some help out here. From you especially, Marinette, since you know exactly how to do it the way I like it.”

“Can’t Tom help?” Adrien made some toast for him and Marinette, doing his best to stay out of Sabine’s way. “Not that I’m not willing to lend a hand, but he’s got to be pretty good at it after all this time, right?”

Sabine laughed and even Marinette cracked a smile. “You’d think so, but no. The man can make almost any dessert known to French mankind, but I’ve yet to see him finish one spring roll or dumpling in all our years of marriage. Just about the only thing I’m trusting him with today is the roasted pork.”

“Not even the cheese plate?” Adrien asked, tongue in cheek. To his surprise, Sabine shook her head gravely.

“We don’t make one for Christmas day. After all, everyone that is going to be here is from my side of the family and we’re all lactose intolerant.”

“Oh.” Adrien glanced at Marinette, who shrugged.

“I got lucky and got papa’s tolerance for it, I guess.”

“Huh… well, can I help?”

A few hours passed, most of which Adrien spent doing vital but unskilled cooking like stirring and kneading. Although they did let him try to fold a few dumplings. It ended up nowhere near as well done as Marinette’s, but she still gave him a kiss on the cheek for the good effort. From what he gathered, Tom had never even managed to get it to stay together.

They had just put the last batch in the oven when they heard a knock at the door, Sabine quickly taking off her apron as she rushed to answer it.

Adrien’s ears perked up when he heard a conversation in Chinese start up, but between him being a little rusty and them speaking so fast, he couldn’t pick out much.

A few moments later, Sabine walked back into the room with an older Chinese couple. Marinette pulled him towards them. Sabine put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and introduced them.

“Adrien, these are my parents. My mother, Ling,” she said, gesturing towards the grey-haired woman currently hugging Marinette. “And my father, Zheng.”

The older man’s grey eyes sparkled with excitement as he held out a red envelope for Adrien, who just now noticed that Marinette had also been given one. He froze, eyes widening. Was he supposed to have gotten them something too? He hadn’t realized that anyone would be getting him anything, except maybe Marinette. There was a moment where he was about to decline but he took a shot in the dark and accepted.

The moment his hand touched the envelope, Zheng spoke in Mandarin, “Best wishes for the New Year!”

“Thank you very much!” Adrien replied automatically in the same language. While the finer points might escape him, Adrien was fluent in niceties.

Zheng’s eyes widened before he nodded sagely to himself. “Ahh, I see you’ve picked up some Mandarin from my daughter, yes?”

“Oh, no, sir. I’ve been studying since I was fourteen.”

Once again, Zheng’s eyes widened before he chuckled and looked knowingly at Marinette. “This one is definitely a keeper! I approve.”

Marinette’s cheeks were almost as red as the envelope, but she still smiled.

The bright, enticing red of the envelope made him want nothing more than to open it right then and there. But Adrien took a nod from Marinette, who had very pointedly left it sealed even as she refused to set it down. He chose to follow her lead as they all made their way to the living room.

While the Dupain-Cheng parents and the Cheng parents were getting settled there, Marinette volunteered them to go make some tea. Once they were in the kitchen and out of earshot of the new arrivals, Adrien held up his envelope with a raised eyebrow and curious look.

“You can go ahead and look at it now, it’s just not polite to do it right when you get it.” She carefully unsealed the envelope. “It's this Chinese tradition - good luck money for the new year, you know?”

Adrien followed her lead and found one ten, one twenty, and one fifty euro note inside. Glancing over, it seemed Marinette got the same. He was half tempted to just give her his euros since he didn’t have any need for it, but decided that might be tacky. If she would even take them at all. After stashing the envelopes away in a kitchen drawer, they came back with tea for everyone.

Over the next few hours, more and more family members funneled into the house. Adrien, used to seeing maybe four people during the holiday season, thought the room would be close to bursting after the first aunt arrived with husband and two kids in tow. But then came the uncle and his family, then the second aunt with her boyfriend and by the end of it fifteen people were packed into the living room. For some reason apples in boxes became involved? Adrien thought that was a pun but that was more his pun sense than his linguistic skill.

Before anyone could get too settled in, they finally got to opening presents. Despite his fears from the red envelope, no one else seemed to have gotten Adrien anything.

At least, none of the extended family had. The Dupain-Cheng family, however…

“Here you go, dear.” While the rest of the room was chattering among themselves, Sabine placed a package about as big as a shoebox on Adrien’s lap. Before he could react to it, Marinette had shoved a bag stuffed with packing paper.

“Let me go get your-”

Adrien felt a tug on his arm and looked down at Marinette seated beside him. “Open your gifts first and then we’ll open the ones you got us.”

“Okay, okay.” Adrien looked at the box on his lap and tore it open. He tilted his head in confusion as he lifted the fabric that he found there out of the box. His eyes widened when he realized it was an apron with ‘Kiss the Chef’ on it.

“Its for when you come over to cook with us!” Tom beamed down at him proudly. “Now you don’t need to borrow our aprons any more - you’ll have one of your very own!”

Adrien felt his eyes get misty and he bit his lips to keep himself from crying. After a few moments of pulling himself together, he managed to say, “Thank you, guys. I’m really looking forward to wearing it!”

“Speaking of…” Marinette prodded the bag she left with him.

“Right, right.”

Adrien removed the paper and pulled out what turned out to be a sweater, cream colored and decorated with mistletoes and black cats in red scarves. It felt amazingly soft as he slipped it on over his head, embraced in a warm hug that - he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a deep breath - yes, smelled exactly like Marinette. For now at least.

“Do you like it?” Instead of replying, Adrien wrapped his arms around Marinette and pulled her close to him, nuzzling his nose against her neck. Giggling, she smacked his arms lightly. “I’ll take that as a yes, now let go!”

After he pulled his arms back, he stood up and stepped between the Cheng family members and made it to the tree before heading back to the little corner of the living room that they had claimed. He passed the envelope to Tom and the box to Marinette.

“A… gift card for an appliance store?” Tom said, his brow furrowing.

“I wanted to get you an actual new stove because you’re always upset at it,” Adrien explained in a rush, feeling embarrassed that his gift felt so… impersonal compared to theirs. “But when I went to the store I had no idea what actually made a good stove and searching it up on the internet only made it more confusing and… yeah,” he finished lamely.”

He glanced up at them and felt better to see them smiling back.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Adrien! Thank you, we’ll make good use of this.”

Beside him, Marinette began opening her gift, which Adrien was much more excited for. Not because he had spent any less for it, but because that at least he knew exactly what to get.

He knew he’d done good when she gasped as she pulled out the expensive fabric she’d once stared at longingly from the otherside of a store’s window in Paris. Which, of course, meant that he was also expecting the smack on his arm from her as well.

“Adrien! This is expensive! You definitely shouldn’t have bought this.”

“Actually, you’ll remember that I get to spoil you exactly three times a year - birthdays, Valentine’s, and Christmas.” He gave her the most innocent look he could manage. “So you like it then?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know I absolutely love it, you cat.”

“Then that’s great!” He continued with the overly chipper and oblivious tone, knowing how much it bugged her. He rubbed his hands together. “So… when’s dinner?”

-----------

After a Christmas dinner packed with Chinese dishes, they slowly returned to the living room.

Adrien sat in a corner of the room, taking in the warm and inviting atmosphere, the excitement and energy of so many people gathered together in such a small space.

Holding Marinette close, Adrien felt like he was part of a real family for the first time in a long time.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Love Square #Tom Dupain #Sabine Cheng #ml secret santa exchange #my writing #Mari Christmas and a Happy New Adrien

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

Text

Gavin’s Mini House In Detail 🏡

During the Mini House special events, I obtained all the furnishing items and had already unlocked all the furniture in the home so I thought for Gavin’s Birthday Week, I would share all of the little secrets it contains!

Gavin has four sections of the house including-

Living Room

Loft

Courtyard

Basement

This post also includes MC’s commentary and quotes from special happenings associated with Gavin. Special furnishes will have the coziness points indicated next to its name.

Please enjoy!

Living Room

Soft Stool

The white soft stool next to the tea table.

This stool is a must when Gavin watches soccer games.

The leather surface is very soft, and its height is just right for watching TV on.

Want to know the trend of the soccer lottery recently? How about asking about it?

It seemed to have won all the recent games, and is both happy and lonely.

If his favourite team loses, Gavin will sit here alone. (#sad)

White Sofa

With so many pillows, you don’t have to worry about having no support behind you.

Is the white sofa difficult to clean?

The bolsters are very comfortable.

Curled up on the sofa with soft ginkgo aroma.

“Gavin, do you remember what you told me?”

“I just want to be with you, just like this...”

“You still remembered!”

“I won’t forget what I’ve told you.”

“Then... Do you have anything you want to tell me this time?”

Gavin kissed MC’s forehead gently.

- This special happening (Starry Sky) refers to the Furniture City Date!

White Table

“Gavin’s Pad is placed here too.”

(It has a photo of MC and she says she will change it into the both of them next time.)

“I can add a snack box, but Gavin doesn’t really eat snacks.”

Hallway Cabinet

“Gavin waters the plants regularly.”

“These are often loose change on the cabinet which we can take before going out.”

“The silver ornament is a souvenir I bought when we went to Disneyland.”

The “Wavy Thing”

“I noticed a little “go for it” written on the most recently scrawled page of the notebook.”

“I found a magazine that puts people to sleep in a second, which was necessary for insomniacs.”

Zoombot

The black Zoombot.

Today I’m again busy all over the place saving Zoombot.

It’s a bit stupid and often gets stuck after hitting the furniture.

Makes a buzzing sound when working.

You threaten it: If you hang again, I’ll replace you!

Music Stand

The music stand bought by Gavin.

On it are sheets of music scores printed by Gavin.

It will sometimes think that the small black table next to it is a bit short.

Sometimes Gavin uses in in the hanging chair to record melodies.

Gavin will print the music scores and put them on it to practice.

Flowers on the Wall

Each flower is carefully selected by Gavin.

The front wall stores a variety of flowers.

The flowers on the entire flower wall are all preserved fresh flowers.

Black Table and Seat

Looking at it closely, it is the song that Gavin played last time. (Music score sheet on table.)

It is also very comfortable with the little black seat cushion next to it.

The soft black cushion stuffed with cotton.

My exclusive seat for Gavin’s recital.

I bought it with Gavin when we were shopping at the furniture market.

Hanging Chair/Rose Hanging Chair (Coziness 88)

A great napping spot.

Here in the Leisure Time special happening, MC and Gavin talk about the swing they had in high school. MC is surprised that Gavin knew about the view of the sunset when being on it. He says he “passed by” sometimes. MC notes how the ginkgo leaves danced in the wind. He says, “they were gifts from another person”.

Heart-Shaped Chair (Coziness 28)

A cute small stool and a convenient storage box.

Gavin’s expression was a bit subtle while he sat on it first.

Alternating blue and pink hearts, as it’s a Valentine’s Day limited edition.

Surfboard Cabinet (Coziness 42)

It’s a new surfboard. Bring it next time we travel.

There are also other surfboards. Guess where they are?

It says fly on the surfboard, like I can leap through waves with it.

(THEIR CUTE SHOES ARE NEXT TO IT AHHH)

Blue Lamp

A lamp that always blows bubbles from the bottom to top.

It’s beautiful and dreamlike when switched on at night.

Black Table on the Left

“This looks like the score that Gavin played on the beach last time. I suddenly feel a bit nostalgic.” - This refers to the Slightly Drunken Date!

“I found a picture of an asleep Gavin. He was sleeping soundly.”

Claw Machine and Carpet

A dream-like claw machine. Gavin will add new dolls in it.

The inserted game coins can be taken out from the back of the machine and then reused.

A small black carpet in front of the claw machine.

I bought it together with the large carpet.

Red Bunny, White Bunny, Pink Bunny, Red Bunny, Grey Bunny.

Motorcycles

The blue motorcycle sometimes want to compete with the opposite motorcycle.

The colour of the motorcycle displayed is sky blue.

Maybe its name will be “Azure”? (because Gavin uses colours to individually name items.)

Spring Landscape Display

The landscape has been embedded into the window, like beautiful paintings.

Maybe there is a new world inside.

I can't help stopping to enjoy the view each time I pass.

Is designed for a wider view, improving your mood even when you're tired.

Winter Landscape Display (Coziness 61)

A corresponding landscape should be changed into winter.

Such heavy snow! Frozen river! Unfortunately, they are all fake.

You can enjoy the red maple leaves and snow even at home, isn’t it wonderful?

Loft

Painting

This is a word map that covers the entire wall.

Looking at it, Gavin and I have already been to so many places.

If you want to travel, you can find the destination on it in advance.

I'm willing to create memories with him in many more places.

Chandelier

The current iron style design is really cool.

Shines warm yellow when turned on, warming our hearts.

Display Cabinet

It should have been a wine cabinet, but Gavin doesn’t drink, so it became a display cabinet.

The ‘little things’ between me and Gavin are displayed inside.

It looks empty now, but it will slowly be filled up in the future.

Black Tea Table

A black low table in front of the sofa.

I occasionally work here.

The star and moon deco piece is very beautiful, I picked it with Gavin.

You can put fruits and snacks on it while reading.

The wood texture had a matted quality with the black coat of paint.

Art

Looks cold but is artistic.

Seems useless, but also seems cool.

Greenery

A corner with blooming flowers all seasons, is warm and restful to the eye.

Outside the window is a huge ginkgo tree, and the fallen leaves are like brocade.

I feel like it’s always spring with all these flowers around.

It compliments the scenery outside the window. (They have a ginkgo tree right outside their home!)

Cabinet

Photo framed have karmas from the Starry Date and the Romantic Date!

Decorative Cabinet/Snowman Closet (Coziness 49)

The two little snowmen stared at each other throughout the winter. (Cute little reference to the CN Recovery ASMR.)

It looks like a window at first glance, but it’s actually a cabinet if you look carefully.

And you could open it. Didn’t see that coming right?

Starry Sky Wall (Coziness 52)

Today’s wish… I hope that Gavin…

I will accompany you to see the meteor rain which falls on this Earth.

Every moment a wish is realised, there will be a meteor streaking across the sky.

Dandelion Lamp (Coziness 43)

The lamp looks exactly like the grapefruit during Mid-Autumn Festival.

Like a burning sparkler, shining brightly.

Six light sources, not too dazzling nor too dark.

Festive Decoration Table (Coziness 57)

Although there are two cups of drinks, we can still drink from the same cup.

The sofa in the corner always makes people feel safe.

Although we are only two people, I still chose two long couches.

The letter under the ginkgo biloba leaf, writes a love poem.

All the shopping bags represent his most flawless love.

The wide view allows you to see the scenery in the yard.

The soft white mat was added afterwards.

But it’s always hot under the sunlight, so the curtain is often pulled down.

Basement

Security Camera

You are in a monitored area, please mind your actions.

Bulletproof Glass

It’s not a normal screen, it’s bulletproof.

It's not often that one gets to see such a cool and HARD-CORE transparent screen.

Anyways, curious what’s in this wall.

Sci-fi glass wall in the movies.

The engraved badge is Gavin’s silent pride.

1-2-3... still shorter than it!

Gingko Tree

Seasons slip by soundlessly.

No matter how small their wishes are, they will become seeds and eventually bloom in gold.

All life’s little joys turned into gold.

It guards the serene life here quietly over in the corner.

(Gavin makes ginkgo bookmarks with them for MC. CRIES.)

Corner Resting Area

These action figures are actually pretty fun!

The puzzle is all grown up. It should be able to piece itself back together. (LOL)

(Puzzle) Maybe finish it while Gavin’s gone?

(Table) It sometimes thinks the table is a bit short.

(Chair) It looks hard but it’s actually comfortable to sit on.

Very spacious, but looks a bit empty.

Some decorations should be displayed here.

Sitting on a blanket is also very comfortable. You can also lean on the small pillow.

(Carpet) This is a carpet. You can’t tell, right?

The advanced smart carpet that is warm in winter and cool in summer is awesome.

(The book on the table is called ‘Kritik Der Urteilskraft’- The Critique of Judgement by famous German philosopher Immanuel Kant. It follows after the Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason- the First and Second Critiques, respectively. The Critique of Judgment constitutes a discussion of the place of Judgment itself, which must overlap both the “understanding” and “reason”.)

“You need to take better care of your health.”

“Who was the one working overnight over the proposal the other day?”

“Alright, we’re birds of a feather, so... so both of us should look after ourselves for each other!”

“Rest assured, I will. After all, it’s different now. I have you by my side.” -Harmonous Compa Special Happening

Gavin’s Workspace

Accompany Gavin though every sleepless night.

This seems… No, I’m seeing things.

All folders are neatly organised and arranged.

A spacious table, with files and reports spread all over when busy.

I no need to worry about waking up from naps due to cold late at night.

I was reminded of some criminal investigation shows I have watched. Come on, Officer Gavin!

If this complicated case is made into a movie, it will be an exhilarating one.

(Computer) A customised large-screen UHD model customised for work purpose.

(Computer) Work exclusive computer, only connected to intranet.

(Computer) The three auxiliary monitors can help keep the data safe.

(Chair) If you want to protect your waist, you should first have a comfortable cushion.

(Chair) if you work long hours, be sure to work in a comfortable chair.

(Board Area) What does it say? Ermm… Cats have nine lives?

“Found a girl crookedly drawn next to a work record when he reached a bottleneck.”

Airplane

This airplane model was assembled by Gavin himself.

The computer says- Agent B-7

Team Operator S.T.R.I.K.E

Location Tracker

S.P.Y Camera

U4V Commando

Gunship Operation

Motorcycle Repair Area

Every vehicle is so cool in its own way!

Hello, you are... Little… Erm… Let me think…

With the strength to lift mountains and the spirit to take on the world! Ha!

The robot arm is actually a simple robot.

For your safety, please don’t linger below it

(Motorcycle) I would like to greet my seniors.

Electronic Control Pad

Responsible for controlling the rising, descending and switches of the entire area.

On Spring Festival, it will say: Happy New Year, Sir!”

Sooner or later, fully automated smart management will be achieved.

Radio Office

It’s an important communication device, and the only disadvantage is that it’s a bit heavy.

It’s actually a satellite phone, and it can receive signals everywhere.

Looks like the palm phone in the 90s. Oh no, I’ve exposed myself.

It looks like an electrocardiogram.

Don’t know how to use this weird device.

A thick laptop that it’s properly shut when not in use.

A cool eagle logo is printed on it.

Gavin used it only for special tasks and it will not be brought out.

LMAO MC DOESN’T HAVE ACCESS-

Courtyard

Corner Seating Area

A courtyard in sunny or snowy days are interested in their own ways.

Sometimes the unfrequented bolsters will envy the knee pillow.

It's’ wonderful when two people are sitting here reading, even if they don’t talk.

Standing barefoot on the soft lawn is very comfortable.

There's nothing nicer than basking ourselves when its sunny.

Binoculars

The white binoculars which you can see things several miles away.

You can use it to watch the stars when it’s not too cloudy.

But star-watching is clearer mid-air.

Seems to be the same binoculars as those in the scenic area.

The binoculars in the scenic area require coins, but this one doesn't.

Outdoor Lounge Chairs

The new furniture I asked Gavin to buy.

Can enjoy the sunlight spa comfortably when relaxing.

Closing my eyes, I feel like I’m lying on a beach.

The soft breeze and warm sunshine. This is life.

Lying on it and looking at the blue sky and white clouds, your mind goes blank easily.

The blue and white clouds-

Leisure Table/Romantic Table (Coziness 52)

Lace tablecloth… I can’t imagine that it was chosen by Gavin.

The elaborately prepared dinner and roses, just for today.

A large sunshade on the balcony. (Black large umbrella.)

Bird Nest (Coziness 37)

Once it was a pair of binoculars, now it’s a bird’s nest.

I bought it just because it was cute, but I’ll consider having pets in the future.

Birds flying by can also have a free meal here.

#mlqc #Gavin's birthday #mlqc mini house #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mlqc gavin #Gavin week #happy birthday Gavin

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Heavenly River

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo

Hey, everyone! It’s my pleasure to share my story for Written in the Stars: A BKDK Tanabata zine!

Izuku held his hand flat over his brows as he stepped outside, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun burning in the azure sky. It was a cloudless day, so there was no solace from the bright sun rays spearing down from the heavens. However, there was a pleasant breeze to cool the hot, humid July air; it ruffled Izuku’s tousled pine-green hair and the fabric of his dark seaweed-colored yukata. He adjusted the emerald-hued sash around his waist, more to fidget than to actually fix it, and then pulled out his cell phone to check his notifications. He brightened when he saw a text from Katsuki, who had agreed to come with him to this year’s Tanabata festival.

Almost there, loser. You’d better be ready, or I’m leaving without you.

Izuku chuckled under his breath before shooting his friend a quick text to confirm that he was indeed ready and waiting for his friend to arrive, then stowed his phone back in his pocket. He slid his hands in the pockets of his yukata as he stood on the landing of his mother’s apartment complex. She had hung kuzukago on either side of the door; the white basket-like arrangements of paper strips swayed gently in the breeze, beseeching the winds for blessings of tidiness and thriftiness.

The neighbor to the right had hung kinchaku patterned with pretty floral paper; they’d fallen under hard times since the husband had been laid off from his job. Izuku whispered out a quick prayer on their behalf, wishing them improved fortunes and good luck. Their other neighbor had hung several chains of paper cranes in their windows, as their grandmother had recently fallen ill with pneumonia. Izuku had recently heard she was on the mend, and he hoped that this information was still true. She was a lovely lady who always brought Izuku’s mother homemade cookies when she visited, so Izuku hoped she would recover and be discharged from the hospital soon. Along the underside of the balcony, fukinagashi streamers swayed in the breeze with their colorful tails ruffling along the wind like Orihime’s fabled weavings.

People need wishes more than ever, Izuku thought as he leaned against the metal railing framing the walkway and looked out to the street below. Though All for One and Tomura Shigaraki had finally been defeated, the scars of their reign of carnage were still evident even months later. Across the street, they were still rebuilding the apartment complex that had been utterly destroyed in a fire; bits and pieces of the charred shell were piled in the brown grass to be collected by the garbage trucks later. Hope was still fragile in the community, so this Tanabata festival could hopefully restore faith and positivity in people.

“Oiiiii! Nerd! Stop starin’ off into space and get the fuck down here!”

Izuku glanced down to see Katsuki standing on the sidewalk. He was wearing that scowl Izuku had come to know as an odd symbol of affection, and his hands were buried into the pockets of his maroon yukata. Izuku called down to him in greeting and then took off in a trot, hopping down the steps and rounding the corner to join him on the sidewalk. Katsuki’s vermilion eyes burned in the harsh summer sun, but they were still less fierce than Izuku had known them a little over a year ago.

“Yer mom ain’t comin’?” Katsuki questioned as they set off in a leisurely walk down the sidewalk, subconsciously matching each other’s strides.

“No,” Izuku confirmed with a shake of his head. “She went the other day, so she’s spending the day making yakitori and takoyaki for dinner! If your family doesn’t have plans, Kacchan, you’re more than welcome to come by after and eat with us!”

Katsuki tilted his head to the side, an expression of consideration on his face.

“My folks somehow got roped into workin’ today, so I might take you up on that. Sure as hell beats cookin’ for myself.”

Izuku couldn’t help the happy smile that appeared on his lips; they hadn’t hung out for summer vacation very much due to their respective training regimens, so Izuku was delighted that he would not only be able to attend the last day of the festival with Katsuki but also have him over for dinner. “Wait, though, they aren’t doing the paper boat ceremony until midnight.”

“That’s right! I was thinking that we would spend the day enjoying the festival, go home for dinner, and then go back to do the paper boat ceremony. I know that’s a little past your bedtime, though, Kacchan,” he grinned teasingly and elbowed his friend in the ribs. “Will you be able to handle it?”

“Who the hell do ya think you’re talkin’ to?” Katsuki cried indignantly, jostling Izuku’s shoulder with his own. “O’course I can handle it! Damn nerd, where do ya get off thinkin’ you can insult me like that?”

Izuku laughed as Katsuki flung his muscular arm around his shoulders and jerked him against his side to grind his fist into the top of Izuku’s head. It was a good thing that his hair had always been unruly anyway, because Katsuki couldn’t muss it up too much. Izuku laughed airily when Katsuki shoved him away. The blond buried his hands back into his pockets with a snort, looking away at the large fukinagashi the city had suspended from the light poles. The large ball of yellow, orange, and white flowers hung from the streetlamps, the sunlight catching on the rustling streamers to cast playful shadows along the ground as the pieces curled and fluttered.

“Do you know what you’re going to wish for?” Katsuki asked him after several minutes of silent walking. This caught Izuku by surprise, and he turned to blink at him with wide emerald eyes. Katsuki was still staring out at the road, eyes lidded as he watched the cars trundle by.

“Actually, no,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck while he looked up at the clear blue sky. My goal is to be the number-one hero, but… for some reason, I don’t feel like wishing for that, he thought with a small frown. He’d been wrestling with it leading up to the event, and here it was the first day of the festival— he had to make a decision at some point. “I’ll figure it out when I get there!” He laughed nonchalantly and then looked back at Katsuki. “What about you?”

“I don’t know either.” Katsuki’s voice was flat, and Izuku could tell that he was thinking hard about it. I guess he wants his wish to be important… After all they had been through, Izuku could understand that. They’d endured so much together and grown up so fast. Smiling wanly, Izuku gently bumped his shoulder with Katsuki’s, prompting the blond to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. We’ll figure it out!”

Katsuki blinked at him, then turned away with a small “tch.” However, Izuku could see that the minute tension had left his shoulders and the stoniness had eased out of his expression.

It was a short walk to the shrine where the festival was held. The street leading up to the shrine was laden with the handcrafted paper ornaments strung from the oak trees that framed the path. On either side of the cobblestone walkway, local vendors had set up their wares; the savory scent of yakisoba floated on the air, making Izuku’s mouth water though he’d just eaten breakfast not too long ago. There were vendors selling handmade ornaments, the pair of them walking past the hairpin maker who came every year, their stall a huge hit with the local girls. Izuku spotted several of them already decorating the ornate updos some of the festival goers chose to wear that night, the hair pins adding just that much more to the look. In the corner, a small troupe of stage actors were recounting the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi for an enthralled crowd.

“Wow, look at the crowd— and everyone looks so happy, too,” Izuku marveled. It seemed that the fair bit of hope the festival offered had drawn many people out of their homes, and he was relieved to see most of them wearing genuine smiles.

“Well, it’s been a shitty few months,” Katsuki shrugged. “They’re gonna latch onto anything positive that comes their way.” Izuku supposed that was true, but it still made him happy for the civilians. They’d all endured a lot— they deserved to celebrate a festival, to wish for mundane things instead of seeing tomorrow.

What did he want to wish for, though?

They walked to the end of the small street, where long fronds of bamboo framed the entrance to the shrine. Paper strips hung from their dainty branches, colored rectangles that swayed among the bright green leaves. The wishes of hundreds were imbued in those simple tanzaku— everything from pleas for academic success to wishes for love to grand hopes for world peace. Beneath the sprawling bamboo were small circular tables, where the colorful bits of paper sat beneath glass paperweights. They waited in a short line to walk up to the table; when Izuku picked up the pen and grabbed a blue strip of paper, he hesitated a moment while he debated what to write on the strip.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see Katsuki silently debating as well. It was strange, their mental debate. After everything they’d done, everything they’d seen, did they feel invincible? Is that why they had nothing to wish for? Or perhaps there was so much they wanted to see the world become and so much they wanted to do themselves, there were infinite possibilities to wish for now. Izuku smiled wanly and looked down at the blank rectangular strip of paper, the canvas to paint a wish of goodwill. He twirled the pen around in his hand, trying to think of what he wanted to wish for most in the world right now.

Finally, it dawned on him. He hunched down over the table to neatly scrawl on the tanzaku: A world where people’s wishes can come true.

Katsuki was still writing as Izuku stepped aside and walked to the bamboo fronds. He stood on his tiptoes to use the small loops of string to tie it on an empty bit of the plant, suspending it among hundreds of other wishes. He stepped back to admire the bit of blue fluttering among the rainbow of colors, while Katsuki passed by him to hang his wish beside his.

“What did you wish for, Kacchan?”

“Idiot,” Katsuki huffed as he turned around to walk back. “If you say it out loud, it won’t come true! I’ll tell ya after midnight, maybe.” Izuku blushed sheepishly at that; he’d quite forgotten that bit of superstition. He didn’t know if Katsuki actually believed it or was simply giving him a hard time, but it really didn’t matter.

They enjoyed the small festival for the rest of the afternoon, starting with the play, since it was starting over as they came out from the depths of the path. They sat with their legs tucked underneath them on comfy cushions (among a bunch of little kids, Katsuki was eager to grouse about) and watched the rendition of the love story. Izuku had always found it kind of sad that Orihime and Hikoboshi were only permitted to meet one day out of every year, but he also marveled that there was a love so strong that not even three hundred and sixty-four days of separation could lessen it. At the end of the play, they joined the actors in singing the traditional song— well, Izuku did. Katsuki would rather drop dead than sing, especially in front of a bunch of elementary-schoolers.

After the play, they stopped at the yakisoba stand for lunch. Izuku swirled the fried noodles around with his chopsticks to scoop bits of pork and cabbage, then spooned them into his mouth. As he slurped up the noodles, Katsuki glanced at him out of his peripheral vision.

“It’s almost strange,” he remarked. Izuku raised an eyebrow at him, and Katsuki looked down into his half-eaten yakisoba with pinkening cheeks. “Going back to normal after, you know… everything.” Izuku swallowed his noodles, looking at Katsuki with widening eyes. Though they were better friends now, he’d never grow used to these melancholic moods Katsuki drifted into. Katsuki’s red eyes were lidded while he pushed the noodles around his plate, pulsing with a serious sadness so unlike his usual explosive personality.

“Yeah,” Izuku agreed quietly. He found his own appetite waning, so he pushed the plate of noodles away and leaned his arms on the counter. “But… You can’t hang onto the past forever. At some point, you have to let the darkness fall behind you and walk toward the sun.”

“Tch. What are you, a fucking poet?” Katsuki snorted, but as always, his words were in direct contradiction to the small smile curling over his lips. Katsuki gathered up a large chunk of the yakisoba and then continued contemplatively with his mouth full, “Towards the sun, huh?”

Izuku smiled, then pulled his plate back toward him to finish it. He wouldn’t want to insult the chef that made the delicious meal, after all.

After finishing lunch, the two of them headed to Izuku’s house. They joined his mother in the kitchen to help her prepare dinner. Katsuki worked on dicing chicken breast into small cubes to skewer, while Izuku prepared the batter for the takoyaki. While they worked, his mother regaled Katsuki with stories of Tanabata festivals past— particularly her favorite tale of Izuku wishing to be like All Might every single year leading up to his acceptance at U.A. Izuku hid his bright red face in the refrigerator while pretending to look for the octopus tentacles, while Katsuki just guffawed about what a groupie he was.

The scent of frying batter and grilling chicken filled the kitchen as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. Izuku’s mother had begun singing the song, and Izuku had taken it up as well, annoying Katsuki with their repeated trills of the tune:

“The bamboo leaves rustle, shaking away in the eaves.

The stars twinkle on the gold and silver grains of sand.

The five-color paper strips I have written.

The stars twinkle, they watch us from heaven.”

Katsuki’s lips couldn’t curl into a deeper scowl as Izuku waltzed around him, poking him in the cheek with a leftover octopus tentacle. Katsuki snatched it away and slapped him lightly across the cheek with it, leaving a slimy mark on Izuku’s skin.

“Oi! You sing that song one more goddamn time, I’m gonna fry you into a takoyaki ball!” Katsuki threatened while gesturing wildly with the floppy tentacle. Izuku and his mother just laughed, quite used to Katsuki’s angry outbursts. Katsuki nursed his irritation with a melon soda, clenching the can in one hand while flipping the chicken grilling in the skillet with the other.

It was about seven in the evening by the time the three of them gathered around the kōtatsu table with the spread of food. His mother turned on the television to watch the annual specials— which were just more dramatizations of the traditional story— while the two boys tore into the food with relish. Katsuki had always praised Inko’s cooking skills like the foodie he was, and though he’d probably never admit it aloud, he loved her takoyaki. He plucked ball after ball from the plate to pile them into his mouth until his cheeks bulged like a chipmunk’s.

“The hell you laughin’ at?” he grumbled when Izuku burst into laughter. Izuku just shook his head and used his teeth to slide a piece of the sauce-soaked, tender chicken from the skewer in his hand. He would have laughed if someone told him a year ago that he’d be sitting at the kōtatsu with Katsuki enjoying the Tanabata festival, even more so to be told they were exchanging friendly banter. The realization made a joyful smile spread over Izuku’s face, one that didn’t miss Katsuki’s attention.

“Oi. What are you thinking about?” Katsuki asked, the scowl morphing into a curious look. Izuku’s smile just widened, and he reached out to pluck up one of the takoyaki balls with his chopsticks.

“I’m just thinking about how nice this is, Kacchan. My mom doesn’t remember this, but,” he said, dropping his voice while his mother cried tearfully at the separation of Orihime and Hikoboshi playing on the screen, “A few years ago, I didn’t wish to be like All Might. I wished for us to be friends.”

Katsuki’s cheeks flushed a bright pink as he released a choking noise. He covered his blush with a broad hand, and he averted his gaze. Izuku chuckled at his shy reaction and took the opportunity to steal another takoyaki ball.

“Damn nerd,” Katsuki huffed with undeniable affection that made Izuku’s heart warm. “You can’t just say shit like that, you know. Now stop stealing my fucking takoyaki. Don’t think I didn’t notice. We may be friends, but I’ll still break your arm.”

They watched the special programs until about eleven, then set off again back to the shrine to participate in the paper boat ceremony. This time, the crowd had gathered at the nearby river, which babbled along another pathway leading to the small shrine. Dew clung to the hem of Izuku’s yukata as he walked on the edge of the cobblestone path where the grass grew. He and Katsuki retrieved their wishes from the bamboo branches, then took one of the prepared paper boats to place the wishes inside. Afterward, they set off to find a nice place to set them adrift.

They sat down on the edge of the bank to wait for the clock to strike midnight. Izuku held the fragile paper boat in his lap while he eased off his sandals so he could dip his toes in the cool water. Katsuki sat next to him, cross-legged and watching the water current swirl in the concrete canal. It was a far cry from the Heavenly River from the story, but Izuku could imagine its beauty with the way the starlight played over the babbling water.

“You know, we’re kind of like Orihime and Hikoboshi,” Izuku said after a while. Katsuki looked at him like he’d absolutely lost his mind, which made Izuku flush and hurriedly explain, “I-I just mean that at the beginning it felt like… You were on the other side of the river from me, Kacchan.” This made the blond settle down, so Izuku continued with a wan smile. “It felt like you were miles ahead, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch up… But little by little, I did, and now we’re on the same side of the river. I guess. Sorry. That was a weird metaphor,” he laughed nervously, playing with the edges of the paper boat.

“It was fucking weird,” Katsuki sniffed, then looked out to the water. “I get what you mean, though.” His voice was soft, a rare hint of gentleness that Izuku still couldn’t believe was sometimes directed toward him. “Just make sure you don’t fall back to the other side of the river, dumbass,” Katsuki said after a second, elbowing him gently in the arm.

“Hehe, I won’t,” Izuku chuckled and elbowed him back.

Then, fireworks lit up the moonlit sky, indicating that it had turned twelve. Izuku and Katsuki crawled to the bank to gently push the paper boats into the water. They watched them drift along the current, joined by hundreds of other little sailboats. Then, Izuku jumped to his feet while tugging eagerly on Katsuki’s arm.

“Come on!”

He ignored Katsuki’s confused sputters of protest as he dragged him up the bank to the walkway overlooking the river, which was lined by red railings. Izuku gripped the railing, searching for their two boats drifting alongside one another, and then pointed them out with a smile. The moon bathed them in a white glow, making them almost luminescent in the brilliant light. The light also played over the water to make it seem like they drifted on rivers of glittering diamond.

“Hey… What did you wish for?” Katsuki asked him suddenly, and Izuku turned to look at him with a soft smile.

“A world where people’s wishes could come true.”

Katsuki raised his eyebrows. Under the pale moonlight, the pink hue that rose to his cheeks was rosy pale. Katsuki bit down on his bottom lip, but that didn’t suppress the little chuckles that bubbled out of his throat.

“Me too.”

Izuku’s smile brightened, and then he turned to look out at the water. It was full of paper boats now, all glowing in the white light streaming down from the cloudless sky. He felt Katsuki nudge him, because of course he couldn’t let the moment pass without another jab.

“What a waste though, ‘cuz it’s my wish that’s gonna come true, nerd,” he teased. Izuku had to laugh and shake his head. Only Katsuki could make even traditional wishes during Tanabata into a competition. He supposed it didn’t matter though, if only one of their wishes were granted or both— either way, it meant happiness and peace for those who needed it most. That’s all Izuku could ever want. He watched those boats drift down the heavenly river, where hopefully the gods would pluck them up on the distant shore. They would read those wishes, and fulfill their hopes.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#bkdk #dkbk #bakudeku #dekubaku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero

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arknights-imagines · 3 years

Note

May I ask for a romantic letter from Ch'en to an informant that she's secretly with?

From, Ch'en

Christmas Letter and Gift event

The last thing you were expecting to get delivered to your door near Christmas was a package from the L.G.D; of course, you were in fact working very closely with them - more specifically with Superintendent Ch’en - but you had already sent to her the intel and data she needed for this month. Typically, if Ch’en had any new tasks for you, she would send a messenger - never visiting you or sending you anything herself considering the circumstances you two were in. If she was seeing you or addressing you personally, then it was never about business affairs, it was just about you two.

But that's besides the point; your name as well as your address is written on the package, so it’s definitely meant for you. Assuming the package pertains to business affairs, you tuck it under your arm and hurry to find somewhere to sit in order to figure out what the delivery is for - after making yourself comfortable, you open the box up, confusion crossing your face as your eyes fall to its contents.

A manila envelope with the Lungmen coat-of-arms stamped onto it catches your attention immediately, as does the disclaimer written on it: ‘Classified letter. Please keep envelope sealed. Anyone who tampers with this letter unless authorized to will be required to answer directly to Madam Ch’en.’ You blink, obviously at a loss; why didn't you get any prior notice about a letter that seemed so important?

But then you open it up; and after you begin reading the neatly handwritten words on the stark white sheet of paper you find inside the envelope, a small smile paints your face and all your questions are answered.

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

If anyone completely ignores the disclaimer on the envelope and ends up reading this, I’ll definitely lose my job. This is so impulsive of me to do. But...I’ve already committed, so that's that.

[Name], it’s Christmastime. Surely you’ve noticed that; hard not to. On holidays, families get together, friends have reunions, and couples spend time together. You and I, with our jobs and our work...well, I don’t think we’ll be doing any of that.

Usually I prefer it that way; I don't even remember the last time I took Christmas off. I worked during the Holidays, which probably doesn't surprise you. Sure, during Christmas season, I exercise and make time for myself, but nothing out of the ordinary. With no one to celebrate with, Christmas was just another day.

But now that you’re in my life, all of that has basically been thrown out the window.

I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’d take building snowmen or hanging ornaments on a Christmas tree with you over dealing with a pile of paperwork anyday. In fact, when I'm doing work, I'd rather be with you - I've been thinking like that almost 24/7 lately.

You mean more to me than you know; I’ve told you so many things no one else knows. With all that info you’ve got about me, you could probably get me fired on the spot in just a few sentences. And yet...I don't have any suspicions about you. When it comes to you, all my walls crumble and my guard disappears. The last time I was able to trust someone like this….was a long time ago.

I used to believe I didn't need any kind of partner in my life, especially not a romantic one. All my efforts and time go to Lungmen, and I had decided my life would be spent making myself better. But now when I think of the future...I think of you. How about that?

Our jobs get in the way of our personal lives, [name]; I thought I learned to live with that, but with you in the picture….I guess I really haven't. When the only contact I have with you for months outside of the hasty meet-ups we have on the weekends is sending you orders or receiving your intel, I get pretty exhausted.

Sometimes I wish we had met under different circumstances; met as Ch’en and [name] rather than superintendent and informant. Maybe then...things would be easier. Maybe then we could go on dates and celebrate Christmas together like a normal couple.

But this is what we got, so there's no point crying over it. And don't misunderstand me, I've ever regretted meeting you; but finding balance between being a lover and being superintendent isn't as easy as I thought it would be.

As your boss, your safety is my responsibility. But as your lover...so is your happiness. I want to make you happy [name]; seeing you happy gets me feeling all soft, so maybe it's self sabotage on my part, but that's besides the point. I don't know if I can promise that I’ll be the best girlfriend, or the best wife. I’ve never really thought about either of those things. But I’ll try my best for you; I’ll work harder every single day so that maybe someday, we can walk down the street holding hands and can get coffee or dinner without needing to worry about anything.

So...for Christmas, don’t send me any tacky gift. All I want is for you to bear me while I try to figure all this out.

That being said; something...I’ve been wanting to give you for a while should come with this letter. It might be careless, but take it. Think of it as a Christmas gift.

I have work to do, but if I manage to get it all done before Christmas, do you think we could meet? We could talk, or get something to eat; honestly? I don't care as long as I get to see you. With that gift I got you, I’m hoping seeing each other will be a lot easier for us from now on.

Have I really written this entire thing without tearing it into pieces and tossing it into the trash can? My heart is pounding out of my chest too…[name], you really will be the death of me.

This went on longer than I expected. Before someone interrupts me, I’ll just finish it up here. I love you, [name]. Sometimes things will get difficult - hah, sometimes maybe I’ll get difficult or maybe even you’ll get difficult, but I want this with you. I mean that. I know how cheesy and stupid that sounds, but don’t get too cheeky. I’m your boss before I’m your lover; so get back to work.

Ch’en

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

After you finish reading the letter, your eyes are left filled with awe and your stomach flutters with butterflies. Ch’en wasn't bold in your relationship; but you understood why, you understood that she had to be that way. And so, considering all that's at risk, this letter was the last thing you were expecting.

Though your thoughts regarding the letter are still chasing each other around in your head, your eyes are drawn to the last thing inside the package - a cute little stuffed polar bear with a gift bow stuck on its head. You lift your brow; the stuffed toy is definitely adorable and a little amusing, but was that really it?

Of course not - you flip the bear over and notice there's a hole cut into its back. Careful not to mess up the stuffing or the fabric of the toy, you use your fingers to fish inside the hole; and from inside you pull a key and a folded slip of paper. You notice a tag is attached to the key; and though you’re a little lost at first, the purpose of the key becomes apparent after you read what's on the tag.

‘Ch’en’s address.’ The key isn't just any random key; it's a key to her apartment. Previously, she had been less than enthusiastic about you visiting her in such a personal place for obvious reasons linked to your jobs, but now it seemed that wasn't the case - well, considering she felt the need to hide it inside a plush toy, she’s clearly still practicing proper caution, but that isn't the point. The key is more than a key, it's a sign of trust, it's a sign of commitment; it's her best effort to show you how much she really wants to be with you - Ch’en really was trying her best for you, and it was more than you could’ve asked for.

You smile at the key and then at the stuffed bear before you read the words on the paper slip, which are written in Ch’en’s uniform penmanship, ‘Merry Christmas [name]. Sorry, I didn't have time to wrap your gift all fancy-like, so a gift bow is all you're getting.’ Your eyes shine with amusement that slowly morphs into warmth at the words that follow, ‘If you hadn't figured it out already...the real gift is the key. I'm being careless giving you something like this but…'

You can almost hear her soft sigh when the note comes to a pause, 'knowing you’ll be able to visit me whenever you feel lonely, knowing that I’ll be able to invite you over to stay the night or watch a movie with me, knowing that maybe you’ll be there to greet me after a long day at work...it all makes me happy. Almost disgustingly happy.’ You read the last line of the letter, and then you find yourself smiling down effusively at the little key in your palm, ‘I don't need anything for Christmas. [Name], with you, I’m already the happiest I’ve been in a long time.’

#i really like ch'ens character 🥺 i hope i did her justice!!#arknights #arknights imagines #arknights ch'en #arknights x reader #ch'en arknights #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #christmas event #imagine #imagines #writing

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magnusbanewastaken · 3 years

Text

WHAT TO BUY THE SHADOWHUNTER WHO HAS EVERYTHING (And Who You're FINALLY Officially Dating... And More)

SUMMARY: In compliance with our roleplaying group's winter holidays special activity, following the prompt: “Someone has just become fabulously wealthy and is picking out gifts for their family.”

RATING: G

CHARACTER/S: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Max Lightwood-Bane

TAG/S: rpgroup, writing challenge, romance, winter holidays, christmas

also @ ao3

Last minute Christmas gift-shopping was always a terrible idea. Either things would be out of stock by that point or nothing much of worth would be left on the shelves. Not to mention the surprising long lines that still exist that late into the holidays. Not to mention having to deal with ill-tempered customers in line with you and the frustrated staff who had to be stuck at work instead of spending the last few days before Christmas preparing for their own celebrations at home. But that's not always the case, not if you were like Magnus who knew exactly where to go.

Everywhere you looked in the Liberty Mall were a festoon of lights, ribbons, tinsels, shiny ornaments, and faux evergreens decked along escalators, archways, and guardrails. A massive Christmas tree that reaches up to almost the third floor of the mall, stood tall at the center of the atrium. This was the place to be in Manhattan for Magnus's quick, at-the-very-last minute shopping spree. All the shops were still open despite it being Christmas Eve already but there weren't a lot of people there compared to other stores and strips around Manhattan around this time in the afternoon. The reason for that most likely had something to do with the stores there being lavishly-priced luxury stores. And that was most unfortunate for him since he liked the attention and stares he'd get for the captivating outfits he usually wore.

Today he had on black leather pants, a studded black belt that looped around his waist twice, and a blood red wool overcoat open over a white wool deep V-neck sweater. A pair of gold thin rimmed sunglasses sat neatly over his coiffed hair and his face was subtly slathered with silver bits of glitter just over his eyelids and out towards the outer corners of his eyes. At least there were still some store managers to dazzle, he thought, perhaps he'd even get discounts as it sometimes often happens to him. Not that he needed any discounts. He had a perfectly wonderful yet complicated relationship with money that never really failed him even at times when he'd end up with nothing but the shirt on his back. He could get himself anything he wanted and anything anyone else wanted. Which is how he ended up going for a last minute shopping spree in the first place.

He didn't have to be there. Personally Magnus wouldn't really bother with shopping "traditionally" for anything. He could just conjure up anything from somewhere and compensate for them later, that is if he remembers to do so, and it was more reliable than online shopping. But now that he was practically sharing his life with Alec, some changes with his lifestyle had to be made. His roguish shopping habits weren't something Alec particularly liked leaving the warlock no choice but to oblige.

He sauntered through the marbled floors of Liberty Mall, going in store after store to pick out presents for tonight's party. It was a gathering at the Institute, mostly a Shadowhunter event despite other Downworlders like him being invited and despite Christmas not exactly traditionally celebrated among the Nephilim. It was an excuse to have a party for the holidays and a way to have their growing families gather together for a night. He wasn't in charge of organising this party, a mistake and a tragedy for them if you'd ask Magnus. He would've done it for free if they asked but the other people who aren't his friends and family that will be there were still predisposed into thinking Magnus would have turned it into a Downworlder rave. At least it was Isabelle helming the celebration, he could count on her to pull off something he would still enjoy despite the restraints of the ever-so-uptight Nephilim traditions.

It was easy enough to think of gifts for the women in his life since fashion was always the answer. He went to every big-named fashion houses at Liberty and was immediately entertained by store attendants, likely believing he might be someone important or famous with the way Magnus always carried himself. And if not that, it was the wads of cash he'd fan and flaunt to their faces, Magnus always wanted to do that. Isabelle was easy to give gifts to since she was always more than willing to try out anything Magnus recommends and her taste and style was to his liking. He simply got her anything he thought would look good on him if he was a woman. Maryse, much like her daughter was somewhat easier to give gifts to. Some jewelry here, designer coats and handbags here and there. They didn't always see eye to eye but ever since his little blueberry, Max, came around, Maryse had softened, even Robert too. She'd often invite him over just to chat, although he was certain she just wanted to spoil little Max. But it did give him the opportunity to get close to her and know her well which also pleased Alec.

Lily was another person he found to be easy to gift to, she'd accept almost anything fancy he gave her, even the not-so-fancy ones he'd sometimes trick her into believing were fancy. Clary on the other hand was slightly more difficult as to this day she still had little to no fashion sense and would deny him the opportunity to enlighten her about the latest fashion trends. Even Maia was easier to bend, provided it came along with a couple of board games and video games. But that won't stop him from trying. He didn't want to force Clary into things that would be uncomfortable for her even if they are trendy. He didn't want to change her, he only wanted to open her eyes to different possibilities than just sticking with something safe and casual. Good thing Jocelyn wasn't as difficult as her daughter. He got her some clothes and jewelry but of course he had to give her the finest brushes and paints as well as coffee table books on art. He was certain Clary would be jealous of them but she'll have to up her fashion game first before he gives her anything she actually wanted.

Men were difficult to give gifts to, he thought. If they weren't anything like him who had a taste for all the pretty and stylish things in the world, he wouldn't be enjoying even thinking about what to give them. Raphael and Ragnor were the exceptions since their gifts were almost exclusively joke gifts and expensive ones at that. But, well, it wasn't possible to do that anymore. He completely rushed through gifts for Jace, Simon, Luke, and Robert and got them simple, not-as-thoughtful as the rest gifts. A set of throwing knives from Japan and a set of Scandinavian hunting knives were for Jace. Simon gets to inherit some of the rare comic books in his possession that were still in mint condition. He threw in a couple of the latest computer games in there just to say he actually bought him something. Luke also gets a set of first editions of books he had owned for centuries; he figured he wouldn't mind that they were used books. But he also got him some new clothes and shoes. Magnus appreciated his alternative, scruffy vibe but he can't wear plaid and worn out boots every single day of the week, that's just preposterous, especially when he has to stand next to a lovely woman such as Jocelyn. And for Robert he got him a pair of watches and a set of fashionable ties, dads liked those kinds of things, right?

He also threw in mugs with designs that he thought would fit for everyone like "Nothing Less Than Seven Inches" for Isabelle. "World's Best Grandma and Grandpa" for Maryse and Robert respectively, "Life Is Short And So Am I" for Clary, "I'm A Vampire Let Me Suck You Off" for Lily, things like that. Nobody likes getting mugs, especially not for Christmas, but he had already prepared expensive gifts for them, surely they wouldn't mind the mugs.

He was empty-handed again after sending away the novelty mugs he got for everyone. His loft must look like Santa's Workshop by now with the amount of gifts he sent back there, he was hoping to get back and do some wrapping before Alec and Max comes home. He looked out the glass panes of the side of the mall to see that the sky was still a bluish gray of daylight, and the horizon was just turning into a faint shade of purple. It's only been a couple of hours but going through all those stores felt like a lengthy ordeal. Next year he wouldn't be so generous, he thought, he'll only do it again in ten years or twenty.

Now all that's left was his own little family. Alec and Max. Max and Alec. My family. He kept repeating the thought in his mind. Even if it's been years since he and Alec were together and well over a year since Max came into their lives, it was still a bit odd for him to think that this was all real if he was being honest, but it was all real. Being with Alec was real. Having Max with them was real. He doesn't really show it but even Magnus was still trying to get used to the idea.

Max was not difficult to think of a gift for, what was difficult was restraining himself from spoiling him; Max was such a cute baby it was really difficult not to do so. If Magnus had it his way he would've spoiled him to death, even Maryse was quite eager to do just that, but Alec wasn't going to have any of that, and he was right on this one. Still, it was Christmas, so he got Max some stuffed toys and a rideable toy car that looked very much like the black Maserati he and Alec rode through France last summer. He hoped for the best that Alec would let this slide becuase Max would look really cute in it, provided he didn't float away with it.

Alec was the last person he would be getting a gift for. Magnus could have made an excuse for himself that this was because he saved the best for last but really Alec was the first person he tried to think of a gift for, the moment he woke up this morning to be exact, and since then he hasn't settled on what to actually give him. Magnus wondered how you could love someone so passionately and even know that someone all too well for quite some time, yet you still find yourself having difficulties with thinking of what to gift said someone.

Magnus took respite in a garden cafe on the first floor of the Liberty Mall. He had one of their special winter lattes that were sweet and minty cool to taste while still thinking of a gift for Alec. He knew he couldn't ask anyone else for their opinions, he learned that lesson the last time he tried to think of a gift for Alec on his eighteenth birthday. He could always ring up Isabelle but he figured she would still be busy with organising things for tonight. Scrolling through articles online on his phone didn't help much either since they found them all too tacky and incredibly heteronormative for his liking. He sighed and put down his phone and took a sip from his latte.

His eyes lingered on the stuffed toys sitting inside the toy car he recently bought for Max just sitting next to his chair. He hadn't sent it away to his loft yet since seeing it gave him some sort of comfort. Looking at the car closely made him remember of his time in France with Alec again. That was the time where they finally managed to redo their European trip without having anything to do with demons and cultists. He has been in and out of France far too many times since the Belle Époque but that summer felt like a brand new experience with Alec. Magnus showed him all the places he had fallen in love with in the quaint countrysides of France and Alec showed him how to fall in love with them all over again. He told Alec about how he felt about that and Alec told him how much he looked forward to seeing the world with him. That was a promise that made Magnus believe that what they had was something for the long run, that he would be loving Alec for a long time. And that's when it hit him. He finally figured out what to give Alec.

Magnus's loft never looked so bright and festive unless it was because of his parties. It has been a long time since he last threw one and it was before Max came along. Tonight, his living room was ornamented by the dreamy and warm hues of gold, beige, cream, and white. The usual colours of reds, greens, yellows, and blues were much too gaudy for Magnus's vision of Christmas that year. The only greens in sight were the garlands lined all over the place and the tree sitting at the center of the room, swathed with gold and silver tinsels and ornaments as well as strings of fairy lights. Sitting by the floor and standing about as high as half of the tree were the presents he had bought earlier in the day. Magnus had already changed into the suit he would be wearing tonight. Alec had warned him that he might get looks from people since he would be wearing white when it's not a funeral. Not that Alec really minded but thought he should let him know anyway. Magnus thought that would be ridiculous, he'd be wearing chanterelle beige not white and he would very much like to get looks from people. And that was that, no one could tell Magnus how to dress anyway.

He was surrounded by lights and sparks of blue as he did his magic, as he was still in the middle of boxing and wrapping the last batch of presents when he heard the door swing open. Without pause, he looked over the side of the tree and looking past the mountain of presents to find Alec with an astonished expression on his face. He was also already in his outfit for tonight which was something he asked Magnus to pick for him. He wore dark brown dress pants and brown overcoat over a cozy beige turtleneck sweater that let him look somewhat formal without sacrificing comfort. He would have just worn something semi-formal but knowing Magnus, he wouldn't have let him look too simple next to him. Alec was carrying a little blueberry of a baby in his right arm, wearing a little black and white onesie suit. The little blue warlock was looking far more cheery than Alec at the sight of the presents. Or perhaps he just had a nice mix of milk in his bottle that day, Magnus couldn't quite tell with Max sometimes.

"Did you just rob the North Pole?" asked Alec.

"Of course not! And even if I did, I'd say it's fair game, that jolly old bastard owes me," Magnus just finished tying the final bow on the last gift in the pile when he walked over to where Alex and Max was.

"...Santa Claus is real?"

"Absolutely, and he's a warlock too. I thought that was common knowledge," said Magnus then planted a kiss on Max's temple.

Alec was not always sure whether Magnus was making things up especially when it comes to warlock things and his warlock friends but that wasn't what's important right now.

"You paid for all this, right?"

"I did and here are the receipts to prove it," with a quick snap of a finger there appeared a clipboard of receipts popping up from a blue swirl of light, floating right in front of Alec's line of sight.

Magnus spoke almost too proudly about legally acquiring his gifts. Alec had been persistent in guilting him with the things he'd conjure from somewhere without paying after all. Magnus picked up Max from Alec's grasp before Alec started flipping through the receipts. Then suddenly a gasp was heard.

"By the Angel, Magnus! Twenty thousand dollars just for clothes?" Alec asked, having a more audible and greater shock than the one he had when he came in earlier causing Max to look up at Magnus as if he could understand and was looking at him for answers.

"They were Dior," Magnus simply explained.

"Seventeen thousand dollars for a watch?" Alec continued flipping.

"Two watches actually, believe me that's already cheap, I hope your father doesn't mind."

"How could you even afford all this?" He asked as he still continued flipping but should really be stopping at this point.

"The painting I sold off the other day remember? It was worth millions apparently,"

"Millions?" Alec looked at Magnus with an even greater expression of disbelief than when he started flipping through the receipts.

"This is why I don't want to talk money with you, you look like you're about to faint," Magnus spoke calmly as he held Alec's face in his free hand hoping it would calm Alec down as well.

"Remind me not to ask next time," Alec nodded then sighed. Magnus looked at him, a bit of worry evident on his face but Alec gave him a reassuring smile, "As long as you actually paid for things."

"Yes, dad, I don't do that thing anymore," Magnus quipped with a smile and dipped in for a kiss on Alec's cheek.

"How are we getting all this to the Institute?"

"Darling."

"Right, magic. Almost forgot. Well, we better go ahead, Izzy will kill me if we're late."

"Wait, I'm sure Izzy won't mind us being fashionably late. I want to give you your present right now," said Magnus then passed Max back to Alec's arms.

"You look serious," Alec noted as he let Max nestle comfortably in his right arm.

"Just nerves. I'm not sure why when I know you wouldn't say no."

"No?"

A whirl of blue light appeared in the palm of Magnus's hand. When the glowing light dissipated, underneath it was a small red velvet box. Magnus could see Alec was already too stunned to say anything. He stared at the box in the warlock's hand for a moment and then back at Magnus. His brilliant blue eyes seemed like they were glistening as their eyes met and Magnus felt his heart warm up at the sight of Alec's smile.

Magnus opened the box and cushioned inside were a pair of rings. One had a round ocean blue diamond set in an intricate basket of flame filigrees, setting on top of a half-braided white gold band. The other ring was a bit bigger in size with an emerald cut blue diamond framed with blue melee diamonds.

"You paid for this too, right?" Alec finally spoke, Magnus almost laughed.

"Darling."

"Sorry, nerves."

"It's my promise to you, my love," said Magnus. "I still stand by what I said the last time we spoke about it, that I won't have you marry me until you, until we, can marry in gold. You deserve nothing less and I can't have you settle for less just because you chose to be with me. I want these rings to be a promise and a reminder for us everyday when we might glance upon it that this is all real. Just as real as any other Shadowhunter unions. That the kind of love we have is not worth anything lesser just because it's a little bit different than what Nephilim traditions dictate.

"So, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, if I may ask,” Magnus got down on one knee and looked up at the two loves of his life, first to Max and then to Alec, "Will you promise to stand by me until we can marry in gold?"

"Absolutely. Yes. It's a promise," Alec was holding back tears as he said that. Max might have felt it too since he started blubbering things and patting his little hands on Alec's face as if to comfort him.

Magnus picked out the ring with the round cut blue diamond then reached out for Alec's left hand. He slipped the white gold band in his ring finger then looked up into Alec's beautiful blue eyes with his heart full of love. Alec took out the other ring from the box with his free hand as Magnus raised his left hand in front of him. The ring sat perfectly around Magnus's left ring finger and suddenly it was the most priceless ring he had, putting all the other rings he wore to shame. They both leaned in for a kiss, it was sweet and tender and Magnus felt the warmth of Alec's love between his lips. But Max had other plans when he decided to break it off and hit Magnus on the side of his head.

"Alright you little smurf, we're going, we're going," he smiled as he ruffled the head of the little blue warlock.

"Oh, right, Alec," Magnus raised his hand and behind the blue glow of smoke surrounding his hand, he conjured up what looked to be like car keys. He handed it to Alec and he immediately recognized the logo etched on its body.

"Did you rent this just for tonight? Can't we just Portal through?"

"You know I don't trust Portal-ing with the baby," Magnus replied. "And no, it's not rented, it's yours."

"No way. Magnus, I can't—" but Magnus cut him off with a kiss.

"Darling, no more arguments before a party," said Magnus as he pulled away from Alec. He then took Max from him and carried him in his arms. "I don't want us to look stressed when we waltz in there. We have the image of a perfectly perfect family to rub in people's faces."

Alec was still a bit dumbfounded about everything that just happened. All those surprises in one night seemed to be too much for the Shadowhunter. But Magnus liked it whenever he leaves Alec dumbfounded.

"Now come along, Alexander, I don't want us to be later than fashionably late," Magnus was already out the door and was being playful with Max who was giggling his little heart out. "My little blueberry must steal the show, yes you will, you're going to be just like your papa when you've grown."

Alec eventually broke out from his daze. He followed them out and went on their way to the Institute.

The party had already started by the time they rolled in the Institute grounds in the sleek black Maserati GT Convertible Magnus had just given him. Though the streets were lined with snow, luckily it wasn't snowing that evening so they were able to ride the car with the top down. Alec might have wanted to argue with Magnus about it earlier but driving it now let him warm up to the idea of owning it. Max seemed to have enjoyed the ride as well as he sat on Magnus's lap in the back of the car. Everything seemed to be going smoothly on its own that Isabelle had the time to come out and meet with them. Simon was with her of course and Jace and Clary followed too when they heard that Magnus, Alex, and Max were on their way. But it was really just an excuse for them to be able to leave the party even for a moment. Parties really weren't the same without Magnus in it.

Clary immediately walked over to Magnus who was carrying Max in one arm. Max was still bouncy and lively as he wrapped his hands around Clary's finger and patting his other hand on her head. Jace was in awe of the car that his parabatai drove and recognized it was the same one Alec kept talking about when they got back from their European redo trip last summer. Jace nearly flipped when Alec told him it was his Christmas gift and even Simon who wasn't exactly a car guy was impressed by it. The car conversation was cut when Isabelle broke in to reprimand Alec and Magnus for arriving late but immediately had a change of heart when the two showed off their rings. Isabelle practically leapt in to hug her brother and so did Clary with Magnus. They all said their congratulations but no one could say they were surprised. With the way things are between Magnus and Alec it was just the natural progression of things but it was still something nice to see especially on Christmas Eve.

As Magnus had expected and have willed to happen, there were a lot of eyes on him as he walked inside the Institute with Alec holding his hand and Max nestled in his other arm. No one would dare state for too long but he noticed the side glances and whispers as they walked through. Whether they were bad or good whispers he didn't particularly care, it boosted his ego pretty well either way.

He and Alec approached Maryse and Robert first who were in the middle of a conversation with some of the Blackthorns. Maryse was quick to ask for Max when they got close which Magnus obliged to and passed his little blueberry into his grandma's arms. It was Alec who excused his parents for a moment and brought them aside to show them their engagement rings. Maryse looked like she was getting overwhelmed that Robert had to take Max from her while she hugged Alec tightly. Like the others, they weren't entirely surprised by it but the rings really did make all the difference.

When all was finally said and done, Magnus conjured up the mountain of presents that were sitting back in his living room. The presents were all lined up around the base of the Christmas tree for his friends and family to open up later when the other guests have left. He made sure to conjure up the gifts in the homes of the others who weren't able to make it there that night like Jocelyn and Luke who decided to stay in together. As well as Maia and Lily who had hosted a different kind of party for the werewolf pack and vampire clans.

At the Beth Israel Hospital, Catarina finally had time to take a break from cheering up the kids who were stuck there for Christmas. She sat on her own in the breakroom having a snack and some coffee using a mug that said "Why So Blue?". She was on her phone to check the messages she couldn't read earlier and most of them were typical holiday greetings. The one that stood out and brought a smile to her face was a photo greeting of Magnus and Alec showing their rings and Max floating on his own next to them with the caption, "Happy Holidays from the Lightwood-Banes".

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #max lightwood-bane #the mortal instruments #tmi fanfiction #tmi fanfic #river writes crap

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ducavalentinos · 4 years

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Hello ! Could you tell me facts about the life of Cesare Borgia? Thaanks.

So, I really wanted to make this a short list with basic facts, but somehow it ended up becoming a longer, detailed list with my favorites facts alongside facts that aren’t very well known or mentioned, here it goes: - Cesare received an outstanding, carefully planned education. He was brought up at Rome by private tutors until the age of twelve, in 1489 he left Rome to attend La Sapienza of Perugia, where he studied the foundations of law and the humanities, being placed under the charge of the preceptor Giovanni Vera of Archilla, to whom btw, he remained warmly attached until Vera’s death in 1503. In 1491 he continued his studies in Civil and Canon law at the University of Pisa, attending the lectures of Filippo Decio, one of most rated lecturer on canon law of his day. There he also became more acquainted with the Medici family, through Lorenzo de’ Medici sons: Giovanni de’ Medici and his brother Piero. - Paolo Pompilio, a Spanish scholar, dedicated his treatise on verse-writing, the Syllabica, to Cesare, where he praised him as ‘Borgiae familiae spes et decus’ (the hope and ornament of the House of Borgia). - His father, as Cardinal and Vice-Chancellor, invested a long list of benefices upon him, to name only a few: when he was seven years old, pope Sixtus IV conferred upon him a prebend of the cathedral’s chapter of Valencia. In 1483 he received the title of rector of Gandia and archdeacon of Játiva. Later on, with pope Innocent VIII he was granted the position of treasurer of Mallorca’s cathedral, following that of canon of Lérida, Archdeacon of Tarragona and then treasurer of Cartagena’s cathedral. By 1491, Innocent at last granted him the bishopric of Pamplona. - He learned the art of bullfighting from the Spanish members of his father’s court and it became one of his life passions. Whether in Rome or in the Romagna, at any celebration, there was almost always a bullfight and he was almost always participating himself. - He also loved hunting, so he was always looking for good hunting dogs and falcons. On May 28th, 1497 he even sent one of his men, Enrico, to Germany to request from the Archbishop of Mainz some “well-trained and sagacious hunting dogs; their quality to be more important than their number.” - He was the first person in the history of the Church to resign the cardinalate, eventually becoming commander of the Papal armies. - He was briefly hostage of the Colonna during the conflicts of the French Invasion in 1494, and later on hostage of the king of France, Charles VIII. Although that time, he escaped their camp at Velletri, with the help of a man named Francesco del Sacco, officer of the Podestà of Velletri, who was waiting for him with a horse. Cesare sped back to Rome going to the house of one Antonio Flores, where he stayed for a night and informed his father of his presence. The next day, he withdrew to the city of Spoleto, and remained there until matters cooled off. - In 1497, a sword was forged for Cesare, known as “the queen of swords”, for his visit to Naples as papal legate, to crown the new king, Frederick of Naples. Its design was attributed to many artists including Michaelangelo, but it is more likely that the artist was Pinturicchio. And the blacksmith/sword engraver was Salomone da Sesso (c. 1465- c.1504–21) who after his conversion to Christianity assumed the name of Ercole dei Fedeli. (more details about the sword here x) - Cesare appeared wearing a horned mask in the guise of a unicorn during a theatrical performance, in one of the many festivities held in honor of his sister Lucrezia’s second wedding. Unicorn are known symbols of female chastity, possibly a reference to Lucrezia and her wedding night, but it also shows off Cesare’s own sense of humour, since it was well known to all present that he was anything but a chaste man lol. And the unicorn horn, according to a Greek physician had the ability of protecting people from sickness and neutralizing poison, which could have been another humourous remark from Cesare in reference to his family’s reputation of using poison to dispose of their enemies. - His best known mistress was Fiammetta Michaelis, she was a cultured courtesan from Florence, but who lived in Rome since 1473 most likely. Her relationship with Cesare was such that even after his death in 1507, she continued to sign herself as Fiammetta Ducis Valentini (of the duke Valentino). And her will in the city archives was headed ‘The Testament of La Fiammetta of Il Valentino.” - On May 10, 1499, he married Charlotte d’Albret, and before his departure from France he appointed her governor and administrator of all his lands and lorships in France and Dauphiny. He also made her heiress to all his moveable possessions in the event of his death (a little more about that here x). On December 1501, he personally selected precious gifts to be sent to her acquired from Venice. It included moulded wax, white sweetmeats, fine sugars, syrups, nine barrels of Malvoisie, oriental spices, oranges and lemons and all kinds of cloths. - Under his patronage, the first printing press of any importance was established in Italy. It was set up at Fano by Girolamo Sancino in 1501. One of the earliest works was the printing of the Statutes of Fano for the first time in January 1502. - About his administration staff, also in the year of 1501, we know he had a beautiful young woman from Bologna named Jovanna, working for him in his chancery. She’s described as a “degnissma scriptora”, she wrote letters and maybe did other secretarial duties as well for 14 ducats. - Whether it was treachery or a legit, reasonable move against Guidobaldo's own plans of treachery against him, the fact is that Cesare acquired Urbino without bloodshed in any of the towns, in a brilliant coup that amazed the whole of Italy (and terrified the nobility lol). While leaving a military contingent at Camerino, Cesare road north through the Apennines, between Nocera and Urbino he covered more or less sixty miles in forty-eight hours with a mixed force of 2.000 men. Before anyone else knew, he had already took Cagli, inside the Duchy of Urbino. Simultaneously, two other points were taken too, Montevecchio and San Lorenzo. Di Naldo, one of Cesare’s captains came from the east. These three armies converged towards the capital of Urbino then, where they met with the castilian and the garrison was rendered by him. A few hours later Cesare himself entered the city without any resistence. - The famous Sleeping Cupid by Michelangelo that Cesare gifted it to Isabella d’Este when he took Urbino in 1502 had a history together. He had previously been the owner of this piece. Cardinal Riario Sforza bought in 1496, but apparently when he found out that the piece was a modern piece and not an antique, he didn’t wanted it anymore, so it was displayed across the street of Cesare’s palace and he bought before the end of the year and later on send it as a gift to Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino. - A popular canzona of the time, Donna contra la mia Voglia by Filippo de Lurano (c.1470-c.1520) was Cesare’s favorite song. (There is an excellent version of it too by conductor and composer Jordi Savall). - As another step to secure the unity of the Romagna, Cesare did a reform in legal administration of great importance, he established a supreme Court of Appeal, named the Rota, influenced by the famous Court of the Vatican with the same name. He appointed as The First President, a newly created office, to Antonio di Monte Sansovino, a distinguished jurist with high integrity, and who was universally beloved. This Appeal Court sat in the seven main cities of the Romagna: Fano, Pesaro, Rimini, Cesena, Faenza, Forlì and Imola. If it was necessary, this Court would sit for as much as two months. All expenses were met by a payment from each of these judicial circuits of 200 ducats per annum. - In October 1500 Pinturicchio wrote to Cesare asking for the grant of a well to be put in one of the lands pope Alexander VI had bestow on him and his descendents at Chiusi, a city in the province of Siena, but near Perugia. Pinturicchio went himself to see Cesare at Diruta to request for all the necessary permission. Cesare issued a letter to Alfano Alfani, vice-treasurer of Perugia, making the request and saying that: “he had again taken to his service Bernardino Pinturicchio of Perosa, whom he always loved because his talent and gifts; and he desires that in all things he should be considered as ‘one of ours.” This initial request wasn’t honored so Cesare wrote again to this Alfani reinforcing his wish to be granted within that year. In 1501, Pinturicchio was given an annual payment as Cesare’s personal painter as well. - Cesare hired Leonardo da Vinci as a military architect and engineer in the spring of 1501, he entrusted him with all sorts of projects, in Cesena for example he asked that Da Vinci planned a new quarter of the city with wilder streets, sidewalks, parks, and a functioning sewage system and many other improvements. He also issued papers from the city’s headquarters for the construction in Cesena of a new university building, a palace to house the Rota. - Cesare also commissioned Da Vinci to work on an alterpiece, that is now lost unfortunately, at the Santuario della Beata Vergine del Piratello, outside of Imola. Some scholars agree that Da Vinci at the very least begun this painting, but it was not finished by him. There are some sketches he made that are called: Three views of a bearded man and it’s generally accepted to be Cesare, in what might have become a portrait of him in this alterpiece. - Right after he conquered a city, it was Cesare’s policy to issue a stem proclamation against plunder, guaranteed the property of the citizens. At Forlì he took measures to safeguard the convents, listening to all complaints of ill-treatment or robbery at the hands of the soldiery. On December 7, 1500, he hanged from the windows of his headquarters, two of his own men, a Piedmontese and a Gascon soldier, who had disobeyed his orders against plunder in the town. On the 13th of the same month, other offenders followed the same fate as the first two, which showed his zeal and the level of his commitment for the interests of his Forlivesi subjects. - At Cesena, as in other places in the Romagna, that same policy was applied, the usual disorder was put to an end, and civic automony was fully restored, along with the suppresion of aristocratic feuds, which resulted on econonical security and internal peace. - During the conquest of Faenza, the only city where Cesare met a true resistance, he retired to Cesena through the winter months while the siege kept going there. One night, he was walking around the city when he found a baby girl abandoned in the street, he commanded the baby to be nursed, and settled an ample dowry on the baby’s mother until she was of marriageable age. Afterwards, when the father refused to acknowledge the girl as his own, Cesare himself acknowledged the girl and she was baptized that day. - On March 29, 1501, when he was informed of Beatrice of Naples arrival at Cesenatico, twice Queen of Hungary and of Bohemia, and sister of Frederick of Naples, he send off his staff to greet her and to present her with a 'royal gift'. He ordered his lieutenants to honor her in every city in the Romagna and the Marche region, where she made her way back to Naples. - On 1502, Cesare and his father, Rodrigo went on a boat trip to Piombino and the island of Elba so that Rodrigo could officially take possession of these territories Cesare had recently conquered. Everything went smoothly, and they were on their way back when a violent storm began, hitting them hard. During 5 days they wandered aimlessly. Everyone, but Rodrigo, were quite anxious and scared. At the second day, the crew saw an English ship, and Cesare proposed to go to this boat to request for help, but Rodrigo refused, not wanting to request help from strangers. Eventually they made it back ashore, but it was a close call there for them for awhile. - After the masterstroke at Senigallia, where he successfully arrested his conspiring condottiere, the city was in total confusion, and a part of Cesare’s infantry were starting to sack the city, so Cesare in full armour and on horseback gave orders for his men to stop the sacking immediately, he then gathered some of his captains and went about the city streets putting a stop to the abuses that were starting to happen, some soldiers however, refused to obey his orders, and they were promptly executed there for their disobedience. - On 25 October, 1506 he managed to escape the Castle of La Mota, in Spain, a fortress that at that time worked as State prison, of maximum security, and where he was imprisoned. With the collaboration of his chaplain, and a servant of the governor's, named Garcia, along with the outside help from Count of Benavente, a powerful lord from the neighbourhood, who visited him regularly, he managed to climb down the 40 meter high tower with a rope, and if memory doesn't fail me, he was the only prisoner to have ever managed to escape this prison lool.

#anon ask #ask answered #cesare borgia #césar borgia #house borgia #historical facts #a few of these facts are only found in cesare italian bios #(alvisi and sacerdote)#and some of them are not found in any biography about him at all #if the internet wasn't a thing #and if i wasn't so curious and obsessed #i'd have died without ever knowing about it basically djsdjsjd #and i find that unacceptable and it shows how his own biographers tend to ignore a lot of interesting details about his life #bc they are usually stuck on this same ridiculous formula of presenting him #and some of these info doesn't fit in the general profile they like to present him as nor with their narratives #so it's mostly ignored by the vast majority of them #anyways idk if that was what you wanted anon #but i hope you like it!#it was fun to make it #<3

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #326

“life by life / waste to waste / i'm the harbinger: the master of decay”

When you get married what do you think you’ll put most of your focus and money into? Do you mean like, for the wedding? Probably the venue. Or possibly the photographer. Have you ever had a teacher that also taught your parents? No. What’s something you complain about frequently? My legs. Are you afraid of falling in love? Very. Are you close to any of your aunts/uncles? Not very. Do you hate it when people smoke around you? Very much so. Do you own anything that is special edition? Yeah, things like DVDs. Do you have any funky bookmarks? I have this one meerkat bookmark where the image moves when you tilt it. Did you ever watch Pokemon? Hell yeah I did. Are there more females or males in your family? Females. Does anyone in your family snore loudly? My mom does due to having gerd. Dad did too when I actually lived with him. I wouldn't know nowadays. Do you own a camera tripod? Yes. Did you ever believe in mermaids? No. Have you ever purchased alcohol? Yes. Any essential quirks/interests/other you look for in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? Similar interests, like being a metal fan and gamer especially, as well as a serious animal lover for sure. Any romantic gestures you really like? Okay if someone did that little bow thing while reaching out for my hand to dance, I'd melt, lol. I also appreciate love interests holding open doors, SHOWING INTEREST IN HOW I FCKN FEEL, asking permission before doing anything in sexual exploration, stuff like that. Any sexual fantasies? Are you daring enough to share one? Yep, not sharing those lmfao. Have you ever been in love? Twice. What is your favorite/least favorite word? My favorite is "serendipity/serendipitous," and my least favorite is "retarded." Have you ever been skinny dipping? No. If I actually had a body I was confident in, I probably would in privacy tho at night lmao. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? Oh yeah. What is your favorite thing to do? Probably RPing with my favorite OCs when I'm in a really creative mood and during a great scene. Did you go to your senior prom? Yeah, I did. Prom's honestly pretty damn overrated, but I did it and his senior prom anyway. It's the picking out a beautiful dress and taking pictures that I loved. What did you do after graduation? I don't remember. We probably went out to eat or something. Favorite home cooked meal growing up? Spaghetti. What item most embarrasses you to purchase? Nothing, really. Do you give cards to people for holidays or events? No. Name the coolest thing about one of your grandparents. Uhhhhh idk. Name two things you put whipped cream on? I hate the texture of whipped cream. Do you ever eat peanut butter straight from the jar? Sometimes if I want a snack but am trying to be healthy-ish, I'll eat just a scoop. What was the last pill you took for? Pain. Do you prefer your clothes loose or close fitting? Loose, 100%. Favorite thing you’ve ever painted? Meerkats grooming. I did it in high school on a large piece of burlap. Are there any songs that remind you of your mother? "Take It Like a Woman" by Alice Cooper, for one. How did your elementary school teachers describe you? Very smart, sweet, friendly, and nice. Game you were best at in PE/gym? Pf, none. Obsession from childhood? Dinosaurs and Pokemon. Best way for someone to bond with you? Let's talk about deep stuff regarding the world or about how awesome animals are. Top 5 favorite Vines? Oh boy. There are just way too many. I'll try to name a few: 1.) the "I can't find my berries" saga guy; 2.) *in drive-thru, asked what he would like to order* "I wanna FUCKIN DIE"; 2.) "i cOUldA DROPpeD my CroISSAnt"; 3.) "it's Wednesday, m'dudes"; 4.) "a d a m"; 5.) "I WON'T HESITATE, BITCH." God, I miss Vine. What is the first meme you remember seeing? Holy cow, I have no idea. Sci-fi, fantasy, or superheroes? Fantasy. Favorite tradition? Dressing up for Halloween, even though I don't do it anymore... Talent you’re proud of having? Writing. Favorite website from your childhood? Webkinz was unbeatable. I was obsessed. Any good luck charms? I don't believe in those. Favorite potato food? French fries. Tell me the color of your eyes, without using the name of a color: Uhhhh a cloudy sky right before rain? Ever been through a goth phase? Goth is my fucking AESTHETIC. I wish I could afford a truly gothic wardrobe, because you bet your sweet ass it's all I'd wear out. Can you remember your first phone? If so, what kind was it? I think so? It was a Blueberry, I believe. Who is your favourite character from Alice in Wonderland? Obviously the Cheshire cat. What is your favorite type of YouTube video to watch? Lately, it's been tarantula and snake channels/pet YouTubers. I still think my overall favorites are let's plays, but right now it's just stepping back a bit. What’s the next project you are excited to start? I have this pretty cool drawing I wanna do of a morbid meerkat doing a big toothy smile, doing a peace sign (but his fingers are syringes) with a crown blinking over his head. Inspired by the "Professional Griefers" lyric of "lab rat king." I just really wanna make it perfect and am procrastinating in fear of failing... Have you ever experienced a miracle? I don't think I believe in miracles. What are your top three names you like for a daughter? Alessandra, Justine, and Chloe, to name a few. Which did you like better: high school or college? High school, at least in most ways. What is the theme of your bedroom? It doesn't have a theme. My interests just kinda threw up everywhere, haha. Have you ever lived in a dorm? No. Were you raised religious? Yes. Do you do your own taxes, or do you hire a professional? I don't have to do taxes yet. What was the very first thing you ever saved up to buy with your own money? Venus was the first big thing, I think. Describe your favorite Christmas ornament: I don't know what that would be, honestly. We have so very many. What jobs did your parents have when you were growing up? Dad's always been a mailman, and he also had a second job as a carpenter for a while. Mom worked with special needs children at my elementary school as a teacher assistant. She also worked at the hospital at one point, doing some computer work. I don't remember her actual position. Are you taller than your mom? We're the same height. Would you marry someone if they were unable to have sex? Sure, that's not a big deal to me. Last reason you went to the ER? For myself, a suicide attempt/overdose. What was the last word document you typed? This survey, actually, so I could save progress as I combine them. What’s something you don’t think people take seriously enough? Global warming. Have you ever dated someone who had a child from a previous relationship? No. Is there any drama currently going on with your family? No. What was the last fruit or vegetable you chopped/sliced up? An apple. I wanted apple slices with peanut butter. What is your favorite Hostess/Little Debbie snack? Holy SHIT that is impossible. Maybe the devil cakes, but I really don't know. I love most of them. Do you/your family buy loaf from the bakery or bagged on the shelf? Bagged. White, wheat or other? Mom buys white bread, but my favorite is pumpernickel. What was the last non-fiction book you’ve read? (Not a school textbook!): I ain't got a clue. I don't really read non-fiction. What color are your headphones/earbuds? These are blue. Would you be embarrassed to find out you snored loudly in public? Yep. Thankfully, I don't snore. Do you feel guilty about killing bugs? Yep. How do you feel about coconut? Not a fan. ^ Ever cracked one open? Ha, I've always wanted to. Who did you last worry about and why? My mom. She's getting a CT scan ASAP due to chronic headaches and stomach pain, so I'm worried her cancer might be re-emerging. When was the last time you ate/drank something gross just to be polite? I don't know; I struggle to do this. If I don't like something, my face shows it. I can't help it. When did you last make up a baby’s bottle? Never. Do you have any framed black & white photos in your home? Who are they of? No. What’s the most expensive thing your car needed to get done? N/A If you had a thousand dollars to spend on a pricey brand you like but can’t really afford (until now of course), which ONE brand would you chose? I don't know. Real talk, I find most luxury brands to sell pretty ugly stuff... Do you like candy canes? Yeah. Do you still talk to any of your old teachers? Yes; one is my landlord. What color was the dress you wore to your senior prom? It was black. Ever go to another school’s prom? No. Do you like burning candles or incense? I love incense. Do you ever venture into the woods? What do you normally do in there? When I used to live in the woods, I did every now and then to take pictures. Does your significant other ever make you mix CDs? Single, but that would be so romantic. /swoons How did you dress your freshman year of high school? I was this emo/metalhead/goth creature. What is the best present you have ever received? My dog Teddy. <3 What is the best present you have ever given? I put the most effort into a scrapbook thing of well over a hundred reasons I loved my then-boyfriend Jason. Even though we're done, I honestly hope he still has it, just to remember. What is the best surprise you have ever had? Sara's parents paying for a flight up there to be with Sara for her birthday. Have you ever been robbed? No, thankfully. Ever kiss someone on the first date? No. Ever sleep with someone on the first date? Definitely a nope. Ever give someone a wrong phone number on purpose? No. What’s the strangest thing you have ever witnessed firsthand? I have no idea. It's... very morbid, but possibly dogs twitching after being euthanized. Seeing Teddy do it was such a strange, painful experience. Like there was still life in there... even though I know it was just his nerves doing their final hoorah and he was already dead. Ever seen a psychiatric ward? I've been in a mental hospital five or six times, so I'm uncomfortably familiar with them. What is the last thing you did that you didn’t want to do? Group therapy. I'm really burning out on it. Thankfully, I don't have it on the weekends. What is the last thing you convinced someone else to do? I dunno. If you could live in a different time, would you? When? Nah. Do you prefer to sleep alone or with someone else? Sleeping alone is more comfortably physically, but I usually prefer sleeping with a partner because there's this amazing feeling of safety, love, and companionship. How many pillows do you sleep with? Two. Do you prefer cold air and blankets, or warm air and no blankets? Cold air and blankets by ten miles. I can't sleep if I'm even remotely hot. How often do you dust? Sigh, not as much as I need to. What is the most "extreme" activity you have ever done? I haven't done very much that fits that description... so idk. Dr. Pepper or root beer? Dr. Pepper. I hate root beer. Last room you cleaned? Mine. Last thing you did that made you feel like an adult? Checked into the doctor's office by myself, haha... Talk about sad. What’s your favorite picture of your mom? Dad? It's not my business to actually share those pictures, but I can describe them. I fucking ADORE this candid photograph I took of my mom laughing; I will forever cherish it. It's morbid to think about, but it's absolutely a picture I'll frame of her once she's passed away. I don't have many pictures of Dad, but I do really like this picture we took together at Red Lobster once. Are you subscribed to anything (Magazines, monthly boxes, streaming sites, etc.)? Mom pays an Adobe Creative Cloud photography bundle subscription for me, but that's it. Last TV show series you finished? Fullmetal Alchemist with Sara. It was a rewatch for me, but she'd never seen it. What’s something exciting that’s happened to one of your friends recently? A childhood friend got engaged a few days back. Do you have any board games? If so, where do you keep them? We have a few somewhere. What were the last things you glued together? I don’t recall. What are your friends’ pets’ names? I'll just use Sara here since she's my best friend. She has two family dogs, Buster and Beesly, a cat named Winter, four ball pythons named Martha, Crowley, Little Dot, and Jane Marie, and Doris, a bearded dragon that I personally adore most. :') What all did you do today? I played World of Warcraft early this morning, but not for very long. I've been in a phase of being very uninterested in it lately. I've mostly just done surveys... lots of surveys. I'm just in the mood to. I've also been listening to music and watching John Wolfe play Amnesia: Rebirth periodically. If you live in a house, how many floors does it have? If you live in an apartment building, how many units does it have? It's just one floor. Would you like to live in a world with mythical creatures, even if they turned out to be evil or dangerous? Honestly... I probably would, haha. Are you scared of heights? Yes. When was the last time you lost something of great sentimental value? Did you ever end up finding it again? Never, I think and hope. What food do you find to be the most filling? Is this something you eat a lot of? Eggs or oatmeal. Not really. What do you think of people who purposefully train their dogs to fight or to be aggressive? They're fucking garbage human beings. If you suffer/have suffered with acne, do you squeeze your spots or do your best to just leave them be? Ugh, I was so bad (and still am if something pops up) about picking at it. Does your father have any hobbies? What are they? Sure. He loves sports, fishing, idk if he still plays video games, fantasy football... and I can't forget playing with his grandkids. It's hard for me to know all of them when I don't live with him and see him rarely. What did the last face mask you wore look like? It was just a white cotton one. Is there a specific song that you always request at parties? What is it? I don't go to parties. Would you rather read poetry or write poetry? Write it. Have you ever had any really infected injuries? I've had infected piercings as well as a badly infected pilonidal cyst. Is there any band out there that you like every song by them? No. Are you popular on any websites? No. What was the last song you listened to? Aaaaand now I'm hooked on "NIHIL" by 3TEETH. Are you currently texting anyone right now? No. When was the last time you played jump rope? Yikes, probably not since I was a kid. I used to love it. Who was the last person you offended? I dunno. What’s the earliest you’ve ever had to wake up for work? Not early. Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? I know trans people who have, yes. Do you know anyone who has been on life support and survived? No. At least, I don't believe so. Do your parents have a strong relationship together? They're divorced, and Mom at least can't stand him. Dad doesn't really care. Do you ever feel like you’re sharing too much about yourself online? Oh, I absolutely used to. I still might, idk. I've tried to reel it back some. How many windows are in the room you’re in? Eight, but they're just small, vertical rectangles stacked together, so it's not as revealing as it sounds. What was the last necklace you wore? My spiked choker, I think, for pictures. Or maybe the one I have with a bunch of big silver skulls. Do you think there are more dimensions than what we’re able to perceive? I don't think so, no. Does anyone in your family have schizophrenia? My half-sister on Dad's side that I've never met. Have you ever been in an abandoned house? A shack, yeah. Do you like art? I positively adore it. I could NOT imagine life without it. How about theatre? I don't care for it. Have you ever made breakfast for someone? Yes, for Sara. Do you talk to your crush? If you have one. Yeah, she's my best fren. If yes, what do you usually talk about? Nowadays I ask her almost daily how she's doing in regards to her progress of recovering from both serious physical and mental stressors. I try to always be an available ear if she ever wants to vent. Would you rather read or watch a video about something? Watch a video. In what ways have you fulfilled some of the hopes and dreams you had as a teenager? I've fulfilled none of those. What’s one stressful thing you’ve been trying to deal with lately? How have you been dealing with it? Inexplicable, chronic boredom/serious anhedonia. I've just... put up with it. I get pleasure out of essentially nothing most days, and it sucks big time. I just try to distract myself and force myself to do things I usually love, though I've been bad about actually succeeding in making me do said stuff... Is there a regional chain of store/restaurant/etc. in your area that you feel very loyal to? MOTHERFUCKIN BOJANGLE'S, BITCH. You think YOU have good fries somewhere? Oh hunny, sit down. Oftentimes, people warn us against getting tattoos or body modifications or dying our hair unnatural colors because we could be judged poorly for them. But has a more “alternative” look ever worked out in your favor? Well, I like myself better with my piercings and tattoos, and that's all that really matters to me. Do you have any daily routine/habit of that you’re really proud of keeping up? No. .-. Pick one of the following activities to do in a forest (assume you would be equally good at each one of these): Foraging for mushrooms, identifying trees, searching for specific types of bugs, trying to build something out of fallen branches and logs. Searching for bugs w/ my camera!!! But that all sounds fun. What’s the hardest class you’ve ever taken? My most recent math course that I failed horribly.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''master of decay'' by 3teeth

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delightfully-difficult-pirate · 4 years

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CS JJ Day 27: My True Love Gave to Me (1/1)

A/N: This began life as a Secret Santa gift, but I had to abandon it halfway through when my first giftee went AWOL and it didn’t fit the desires of my new giftee. However, I really enjoyed this story and decided to finish it as my entry for this year’s @csjanuaryjoy! Thank you so much, mods, for organizing this event and facilitating all the joy! This a small, Christmas-time, neighbors AU and I hope you enjoy!

AO3

~*~

Emma Swan knew that she tended to be a bit of a Grinch during the holiday season. She’d spent too many Christmases watching happy families celebrating while whatever foster family she was with barely acknowledged her existence with gifts of second-hand clothes to develop the warm, fuzzy feelings people associated with the season. Not all of the families were like that, of course, but few had bothered to put real effort into presents. Only Ingrid, the woman who had tried desperately to adopt Emma but was denied by the state, had ever given her gifts that really meant anything when she was young.

She spent Christmas with her chosen family of friends now and had received a plethora of thoughtful gifts, but she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to really care about the holiday.

Given her general disregard for winter festivities, it was quite a shock to come home one day and find that her apartment, in which she lived alone, looked like the Christmas aisle of a department store had exploded inside of it.

Soft blue lights twinkled in her windows and garland hung from almost every available shelf or ledge. The side table by her front door now sported a festive red and green quilted runner and a reindeer shaped dish held the miscellaneous change and spare key that usually were strewn haphazardly on the table’s surface. With a sigh, she dropped her keyring with the others.

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Emma proceeded into her home. A tree, an honest to god real tree, now dominated one corner of her living room. Gold tinsel and bright, colorful lights wrapped around it and simple round ornaments of red and silver hung from the branches. Her heart dropped, just a little, when she saw that there were no gifts piled underneath.

There was, however, a nutcracker sitting on her coffee table, and a small cat asleep on the back of her couch.

“Killian, you asshole,” Emma growled. The cat’s presence revealed the identity of the orchestrator behind the home makeover.

Now awake, the cat, a lovely calico named Tinkerbelle, stood, stretched, and jumped off the couch to rub herself against Emma’s ankles.

“Tink, did you help your owner with this… this… travesty?”

The cat just stretched and rubbed herself against Emma’s pant legs. With a chuckle, Emma lifted the interloper and settled her against her chest. That elicited a loud purr and a head-butt against her chin.

Tinkerbelle belonged to Emma’s upstairs neighbor and friend, Killian Jones. The day he’d moved into the third floor, Tink had shown her displeasure at the move and escaped. Emma, just home from grocery shopping, heard a very irate “Bloody hell!” echo down the stairwell before a small ball of fur ran right into the bags she had set down on the landing in order to unlock her apartment door. After a quick scramble and a few scratches, Emma had extracted Tinkerbelle from the bags just as a sweaty man came bounding down the stairs after her.

Emma held out the hissing cat as she asked, “does this belong to you?”

“Aye, that she does.” With a sigh, he had taken the pissed off cat and held her firmly against himself with one arm. The other he held out as he introduced himself as Killian Jones, her new neighbor.

“Emma Swan.” She shook his offered hand.

She’d stared in shock as he lifted her hand and placed a quick kiss on the knuckles.

“You have my thanks, Emma, for your assistance. May I offer you an IOU for a drink, for some time in the future after I have unpacked?”

Emma blinked before finally replying, “That isn’t necessary.”

“Maybe not, but the offer is open. I will let you know when my apartment is fit for company.” With that, Killian had made his way back up the stairs and Emma had to scold herself for admiring the way his jeans hugged his backside. The man had just moved in; she shouldn’t be ogling him like a teenager. Even if his accent sent shivers down her back.

Eventually she’d taken Killian up on his offer of a drink. That had led to more drinks, casual dinners, and nearly three years later, Emma considered him one of her closest friends. He was the one that had her spare key and watched over her apartment when her work as a bail bondsman took her out of town. A trust she was now rethinking since he’d apparently used the privilege to infest her apartment with holiday cheer.

Emma cuddled Tink as she wandered her apartment. The kitchen wasn’t too bad; a few towels decorated with snowflakes and a snowman shaped cookie jar were the only new additions she could see. The guest bathroom, however, nearly burnt her eyes with how much red and green was packed into the small space. There was a new Santa toilet cover with a matching bathmat. The hand towels looked like the bottom halves of elves and her simple soap dispenser had been replaced with a Christmas tree one.

Blessedly, her bedroom and attached bathroom had been spared the Christmas invasion. Killian obviously knew better than to mess with her private space.

Tinkerbelle jumping from her arms and Emma heard the squeak of her front door’s hinges. The culprit returning to the scene of the crime, she thought, as she heard Killian chuckle when Tink greeted him with a meow that seem far too loud to have come from the cat.

“I know, it’s time for dinner,” she heard Killian matter-of-factly tell Tink. “I just need to add the finishing touch to the tree.”

Realizing Killian didn’t know she was home, Emma toed off her shoes and softly walked to spy out the bedroom door. Wanting to remain hidden, she used the reflection in her TV to watch Killian. He had a simple box, which he laid on her coffee table. Whatever item he pulled out was too blurry to make out clearly, but she surmised it was some time of tree topper as he stretched to reach the top of the tree. She risked a real look as he fiddled around behind the tree a bit and saw that it was a gold star. She swiftly ducked back into her room when it illuminated, Killian having finished plugging it in.

“There,” she listened to him say. Tink meowed in reply.

“Alright, fine. Let’s get you some food.” With that, Killian collected the empty box, scooped up his cat, and left her apartment, locking the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Emma stood in her living room and gazed at the tree. It was, she realized, the first Christmas tree she’d ever had. That thought immediately brought tears to Emma’s eyes, which she roughly wiped away. She didn’t need a tree; especially not one that was going to shed pine needles all over her floor for the next few weeks.

Later that night, when Emma went to turn off the lights before heading to bed, she couldn’t help but admire how lovely it looked in the dark room. As she lay in bed, she sent a text to Killian.

Thank you.

~*~

Three days later, Emma noticed that the Christmas tree in her living room had gained some ornaments. Where before there had only been classic glass bulbs, there were now wooden figures nestled amongst the branches. All of them were birds of some type, which Emma found odd.

Three looked like chickens. Four were small, dark birds. Two were obviously doves and the last was an odd looking bird with stripes on its wings that had a pear dangling by the stem from its mouth.

Emma held the pear-holding bird that she had found near the top of the tree in her hand. Something about the bird felt familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t until she was placing it back in the tree that the answer hit her like a ton of bricks.

It was a partridge. Holding a pear…

A partridge in a pear tree… well, a pine tree, but the connection was there.

Two turtle doves. Three French hens.

And a quick google told her that the fourth gift in the 12 Days of Christmas song was either “calling” or “colly” birds, deepening on the version, and that colly was believed to refer to blackbirds, which were dark like “col”, the Old English word for coal.

Leave it to Killian, an English Literature professor, to give her a gift that involved Old English.

Pulling her phone out, Emma autodialed Killian’s number.

“Evening, love,” he answered.

“If you keep breaking into my apartment, I’m going to make sure that Santa leaves only col in your stocking.” She put extra emphasis on the word col.

She could hear him laughing in the apartment above her.

~*~

As expected, Killian did not stop adding more decorations to the Christmas tree. The next day brought five gold painted rings, followed by six geese with eggs.

On the seventh day, Emma found more than just seven wooden swans a-swimming on her tree after returning home. A new picture frame adorned her wall, containing a collage of pictures of Emma herself swimming. Or at least interacting with water. She didn’t think that sitting on the side of the pool with only her feet in the water really counted as swimming. Most were from that summer, when Killian had been her plus-one at a friend’s wedding in Cape Cod.

In one, which she couldn’t remember seeing before, she was “manning the helm” of a sail boat with Killian standing behind her, his hands on hers. Killian had insisted on renting a small sailboat while they were out of the city so that he could show her the joy of sailing. Emma smiled as she remembered how he’d gently guided her movements and ensured she didn’t kill everyone on board.

Well, he was supposed to be keeping an eye out for any possible dangers, but in this specific photo, Killian wasn’t looking at the waters around them. Instead, his attention seemed to be solely on herself. He was smiling, but it was… different. It seemed softer, somehow. In fact, his entire expression reminded her of the ones she usually saw on the face of her best friend’s husband, David, when he was in awe by how much he loved the woman before him.

Emma stepped away from the picture, her heart pounding. She had to be reading too much into a simple facial expression. There was no way Killian was in love with her. He would have told her if he was. Probably with a poem.

Or by breaking into her apartment and recreating an old Christmas carol.

“On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me…” Emma sang softly to herself.

Before she could stop herself, Emma ran upstairs to Killian’s apartment. It was only when Killian open the door in response to her insistent knock that she realized she had no idea what she was going to do. So she did the first thing that came to mind, which was to grab fistfuls of his shirt, drag him toward her, and hope the kiss she gave him conveyed what she couldn’t put into words.

He responded instantly. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. She followed when he began to slowly step back into his apartment, only to find herself pressed against the door moments after it was closed. Emma couldn’t help running her hands through Killian’s impossibly soft hair as the kiss deepened.

It was Killian who managed to regain control of himself first, pulling away from the kiss and resting his head against hers.

“Emma… I…” he began.

Emma smiled. “I know.”

#Captain Swan #captain swan january joy #OUaT #CS Fan fic #CS Fic #Lee writes

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kathrynethegreat · 4 years

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Dr.Lecter and Leda and the Swan

The below is from an essay by the artist Anne Shingleton discussing Leda and the Swan, her artwork, and why she believes Hannibal Lecter likes it. The essay was originally provided by the now defunct Hannotations from the contributors BloodandIvory and NyxFixx. Minor content edits by me, but you can read the full essay here. You can also learn more about Anne Shingleton and her artwork at her official website.

[Lecter’s] absentee landlord apparently had a fixation on Leda and the Swan, The interspecies coupling was represented in no less than four brozes of varying quality, the best a reproduction by Donetello, and eight pantings. One painting delighted Dr.Lecter, an Anne Shingleton with its genius anatomical articulation and some real heat in the fucking. The others he draped. - Hannibal, Chapter 97, by Thomas Harris

Ever since the misty dawn of Greek mythology, Leda and her doting swan have lived and loved in countless poets' lays and, less ephemerally, in thousands upon thousands of embodiments in paint, line, stone and metal.

They appear in the arts of Rome and Hellas in a profusion of sizes and materials, from golden bracelet pendants and silver table ornaments to great sculptures cast in bronze and hewn from marble (such as the Great Relief in the British Museum), from delicate drawings on precious ceramics to colourful frescoes on the walls of atria and chambers. But after the decline of Rome they nodded off into the many long centuries of bleak post-Roman Europe, awaking briefly now and then and here there to invigorate some ornamental arts and crafts of the Middle Ages.

(The essay, as well as an image of Anne Shingleton’s version of Leda and the Swan is below the cut. It’s a little bit graphic, so fair warning)

Leda and the Swan by Anne Shingleton

It was the Italian Renaissance with its exuberant rediscovery of classical antiquity & say, from about 1400 or so onward that brought them once again into the limelight of profane (in the sense of non-ecclesiastical) imagery. Nearly all the great Renaissance artists drew, painted or sculpted their Ledas, conspicuous among these being an oil-on-canvas by Leonardo Da Vinci, known only through several copies by his followers, and Michaelangelo’s stunning marble, today in Florence's Bargello. From there they coupled their way through the next five centuries and far beyond Italy's shores and borders, into and out of the Baroque and Rococo, into the nineteenth century to brighten some sclerotic corners of Neo-Classicism, and eventually even into Art Nouveau, there briefly to beguile a languorous Belle Époque. After August 1914 they withered, along with the rest of Europe's humanistic culture.

Nevertheless, even today, in our own age of mostly meretricious rubbish art mass-produced to con newly-rich illiterates, they glow softly still among the now very distant and still receding constellations of our classical heritage.

Who, then, was Leda, and who the swan?

Antiquity sang several different versions of her tale. Most agree that she was the daughter of Thestius, king of Aetola, and the wife of Tyndraeus, king of Lacedaemon. Somehow she inflamed the passions of Zeus, Some said that he saw her bathing in a sparkling sun-drenched stream, others that Hephaistos had told him about her dissatisfaction with her husband's ways in bed, and others still that he was only out to spite his consort, Hera.

In any event, he was smitten and, having just lately visited Danae as a shower of gold, Europa as a bull, Io as a cloud, Ganymede as an eagle and others still in guises no less inventive, he decided to assume yet another one for his tryst with Leda: he would swoop down majestically on snowy pinions . . . as a swan.

Mythology fails to tell us whether these forms were mere travelling costumes, so to speak, and whether, as we may well suppose, upon arrival at the bedside he reassumed his customary and divine semblance of a robust, virile man in the prime of his maturity. I've heard that a swan's penis - to be precise: a cob's - is exactly like a circumcised human one in miniature, and that this gave rise to the amorous-swan legends . . . but I confess that I've never checked it out with a cygnologist, though I should've done so long ago. Perhaps some thoughtful cygnologist will let me know?

In any event, swan or man, he had his way with her, or she with him, or each with the other. Of it came an egg, or, in other versions, three eggs, and in others still seven, and you mustn't act surprised: when a fertile lady mates with a cob she'll lay eggs - faultless logic, that, and winsome science.

One tremendous event that soon followed was to become a bedrock and fountainhead of Western culture: for whilst out of two eggs hatched the twins Castor and Polydeuces.

I relinquish the podium to Homer.

My own versions…. differ a little from the conventional ones. For one thing, neither my painted nor my sculpted Zeus arrives in the form of a swan but rather dressed up as one . . . he's wearing a (rather skimpy) swan costume, under which he is very much the Chief Olympian: strong, handsome, supremely male, his ebullient libido refined by aeons (he being immortal) of experience and divine dedication to his beloved's (not always female) pleasure.

For another thing, most Leda depictions are intra-coital: it's happening, nobody can figure out just how but they're at it. My painting instead shows them as post-coital.

In the painting, the oil lamp on the rocks just right of the love nest is still burning but night is fleeing, crescent Selene is fading, colours are being reborn everywhere. First light is bathing the two dreamy, sated lovers. Birds chirp in chorus. An exquisite post-orgasmic Leda is savouring the last after-tremors of her lique-factions while scenting the dewy flowering of day. Zeus has retired to the top of the bower, his costume all awry, a smile of surfeit on his lips. Post coitum omne animal triste, said Aristotle: after mating all creatures are sad. I think there is truth in that, but it is more complex, less formulaic. The martyrs enter the arena hand in hand but the lions eat them one by one. Lovers in the act dispense with the meum-teum sense (Robert Graves), but after the shared orgasmic heats, the post-orgasmic chills overtake them one by one, and, slowly, deliciously if all went well, they drift apart, sometimes a little numbed, nearly always bewildered, on separate outbound tides. Even, or perhaps especially, if they're gods. My painted Leda and her god are poised over this hot-cold watershed. Until the next time…

Why does the doctor 'delight' in the Leda story? I don't know. Best ask Tom Harris. But I'll have a guess.

As he does in The Silence of the Lambs, as does so much literature both old and modern, Harris draws unconsciously or knowingly - I don't know which - on the world of myth and fable, that genome of the collective human subconscious. The leitmotif in both Silence and Hannibal, not deafening or intrusive but audible throughout from the dark beyond the firelight, is that of The Beauty and The Beast. Since I'm neither a poet nor a scholar I'll refrain from windy disquisitions, but to me the parallels between that fable and the interbraiding of the lives of Hannibal and Clarice Starling seem clear enough.

Clarice-Leda has taken vestal vows, has dedicated her body and soul to the FBI: not for her the traditional role of wife and woman as prescribed by patriarchal orthodoxy. Like the life of chaste and virginal Beauty, Clarice's life, so far as we've been told, is manless, and hence, conventional wisdom would have it, arid. The fable now demands that she be sexually fulfilled, 'sexually' having here a wide, deep, polyhedral meaning far beyond mere genital tiddlywinks.

Lecter-Swan is a beast, no doubt of that, and no need to dwell on definitions. The fable now demands that she make him human, meaning here humane.

And behold, in the book, though alas not in the film, both undergo the magical transformation: Beauty turns the Beast humane, the Beast wafts Beauty to, up and over the moany summit where she is, presumably, fulfilled. Both are reborn from scratch - from the egg, so to speak, through each other.

I think that could well be why the doctor delights in the one painting in the room that he leaves uncovered for Clarice to see.

Anne Shingleton

#leda and the swan #anne shingleton #hannibal #hannibal lecter #thomas harris tetralogy

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crossyourheart-twff · 4 years

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Chapter 1

Edit: Here’s a link to Ao3 in case the visibility is bad:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812213/chapters/57212440

Edit 2: Edits and formatting has been fixed!

The Mirror asked for a name. It was a simple enough question under normal circumstances. The problem was, these weren’t normal circumstances, therefore the person standing before it had no idea what to say. Not when the Mirror was talking, not with a room full of robed strangers craning in for a better view, and definitely not when a name could reveal so much…

“State thy name,” the Mirror droned again.

A name.

The figure considered giving a fake one, but if the mirror was magic, would it know? Would it sense the lie and expose them for what they truly were? The seconds tick-tick-ticked away at the audience’s patience. It was late and the already antsy students couldn’t wait forever. Even the more dignified ones that stood to one side of the mirror shuffled about. One rolled his eyes, another examined the moon out the window. State thy name…

Thy name...

Huh. Now that’s an idea.

The figure before the mirror cleared its throat. In a voice they hoped sounded appropriate, they answered, “Parker.”

There. Their name.

Their surname.

One of the students by the Mirror gusted out a sigh of relief. Parker suspected it came from one of the shorter ones, the red head, perhaps.

“Parker,” the Mirror repeated, not a hint of suspicion- or of any emotion, really- passed across it’s pallid face as it spoke, “The nature of thy soul is,” the Mirror closed its eyes. Parker didn’t breathe. The chamber was so quiet, the only sound was the creak of wooden benches as the other students leaned forward. At last, the Mirror opened its soulless eyes, “unknown to me.”

A wave of chatter broke through the hall. Parker swallowed. This couldn’t be good.

The Mirror was not finished. It spoke louder as if to compete with the flurry of whispered speculation, “I sense no magic from this one. There is no color, no shape. They are not suited to any dormitory.”

No magic.

Well, Parker could have told it that.

In a rush of green flames, the Mirror’s face vanished and the glass went dark. Whispers moved throughout the hall, the sound made the skin on Parker’s neck prickle. It was like sound the wind made through a palm tree before a thunderstorm, only much less comforting. What happened now? Parker’s thoughts went into overdrive, searching the memories of the last half hour to see if, somehow, they contained the solution to their current problem.

It started with the fire. There’d been a burst of flames so hot they’d singed the hair on Parker’s arms… Wait no. That wasn’t quite right. The fire wasn’t the problem, it was the demon cat. What was his name again? Ah, right. Grim. He was, after all, responsible for the explosion that knocked the lid off the coffin In which Parker woke. He’d made sure they were well aware of that. Of course, it wasn’t quite as shocking as the fact the demon cat could talk. Oh! and what’s more, he had the audacity to demand Parker give him clothes!

“Give me your uniform,” Grim crouched low on Parker’s stomach, “or I’ll roast you!” The fire at his ears flickered a brighter shade of blue as if to emphasize his threat. A scream tore through Parker’s throat as they shoved the creature away before sprinting out of the room.

Then again, Grim didn’t have all the blame…

“No magic!”

Parker snapped out of the memories as a masked man strode down the aisle to the dais where the mirror stood. Headmaster Dire Crowley, right on cue.

“Ahh, there you are!” He’d said just as Parker ducked behind one of the stone columns that lined the outer walkway. The stranger didn’t look any different than an average man, but what got Parker’s attention was the crow mask that hid the top half of his face. Like a fancy plague doctor. “I thought I saw someone come through here. Are you one of our new students? Honestly. The entrance ceremony is already well underway! You should be there with the rest of the first years and look at you! You’re not even properly-“ He rounded the column and stopped at once, “Oh. Oh, dear.”

Back in the present, Crowley reached the top of the dais.

“There is absolutely no way you were meant to be collected by a black carriage. Since the founding of this institution, there has not once been an error with student selection! How in the name of the Great Seven has a non-gifted-?” Someone in the crowd coughed and Crowley turned to the waiting students. As if suddenly remembering the sea of shocked faces gaping at him, he straightened. If they hadn’t known any better, Parker could have sworn he’d almost let the truth slip in front of the entire school.

“Where are we going?” the hem of Parker’s new robe dragged along the cobblestone path. The bird man had done something with his hand (magic?) and transformed Parker’s casual attire into, well, the robe.

“To the entrance ceremony, of course. Weren’t you listening?” The birdman didn’t take his eyes off the path ahead.

“Entrance ceremony…” Parker had to jog a bit to keep up his long gait, “Where am I, exactly?”

This time the birdman did glance over, “Still dazed from the trip? Very well. This,” he gestured to the building around them, “is Night Raven College, the most prestigious school of magic this side Twisted Wonderland,” even through his mask, Parker sensed his pointed look as he added, “for young men.”

For young men… oh. Oh.

The birdman must have caught the understanding as it settled across Parker’s face, “Now you’re getting it.”

”Then why am I here?”

“Ah, now that’s the question, isn’t it?” he said, “ I’m afraid if you haven’t a clue, then neither do I.”

Parker almost tripped on the hem of the robe. With a huff, they hitched it to up to their ankle and caught up to the birdman, “So, who are you, then?”

“I am Dire Crowley,” the birdman gestured to the campus around them, “headmaster of this fine establishment.”

They stopped in front of another set of doors. Where the entrance of the library was massive, these doors were a more accessible size, with intricate details carved along the post. Parker managed to catch a scarab beetle and lion’s head amongst the ornamentation before Headmaster Crowley regained their attention.

“Now, keep your hood up and stay here while I wrap up the ceremony. Soon as the students have vacated the hall, I’ll come fetch you,” he instructed.

“Okay?” Parker frowned, “Why can’t I just go inside? What was the point of,” she gestured to her robe, “this?”

“Because,” Crowley said," if a young la-“

The doors to the ceremonial hall opened then. Another man, this one unmasked and much bigger than Headmaster Crowley stood in the thresh hold.

“Headmaster,” the man seemed relieved to see Crowley, he opened his mouth to speak when Parker caught his eye, “Ah! Looks like we missed one! Come on, then! We just finished the dormitory assignments.” The man grabbed Parker by the arm and dragged who he thought was a student inside.

Crowley straightened his mask and addressed the room, “Well. It seems we’ve had a rather eventful evening. Consider today’s entrance ceremony over. Students, please follow your dorm leaders to your quarters. I expect to see everyone ready for lessons in the morning.”

No one moved despite the dismissal.

“Not a minute to be wasted,” the headmaster clapped his hands, “to your dorms at once!”

“Yes, Headmaster Crowley,” the red headed dorm leader said, then went on to lead his dorm out of the hall. Parker ducked away as whispers washed over the room. Row by row, the students left, each trailing behind one of the figures that stood at the dais. Parker didn’t dare meet any of their gazes. A minute passed as they waited to be sure the room was empty. After all of that, they couldn’t risk slipping up now. Once they were both certain they were the only two left in the hall, Parker ripped the hood away.

Her long hair tumbled free down her back.

“What was that?” she cried.

Headmaster Crowley shook his head, “There goes my Diamond Crown Academy theory… Well. You have my sincerest apologies for the spectacle. I can assure you, it was never my intention to subject you to such humiliation. Either way, I’m sure you’re ready to be sent home. If you’ll just step in front of the Dark Mirror.”

Parker did as she was told. After everything she’d been through, she was ready to go. Never mind how she ended up in that coffin in the school’s basement. Never mind where that stupid demon-cat had scampered off to. Soon she would be home, Crowley wouldn’t have to worry about the consequences of a girl winding up in a magical all-boys school, and she could chalk this whole thing up to a bad pizza dream.

“Excellent,” Crowley nodded once, “Now, picture your home clearly in your mind.”

Eyes shut tight, Parker called up every detail of her apartment, from her roommate’s theatre mugs to the chipped paint on the bottom corner of their front door. It was all there. Now it was Crowley’s turn to address the mirror. In the same tone of voice he used on his students, he raised his hands.

“Dark Mirror!”

The Mirror sparked to life in a rush of green flames. Crowley continued once the face reappeared, “Guide this one back to where she belongs!”

Parker braced herself for the room to spin, for some wind, or a free fall. When nothing happened, she heard Crowley clear his throat.

“Once more!” he commanded, “Guide this one-“

“I cannot,” the Mirror interrupted.

What.

“The place where she belongs is nowhere in our world,” the Mirror said, “Her home does not exist.”

Parker’s face turned cold as her blood drained away. Her home did not exist? What did that even mean? Crowley frowned, a finger tapped his chin as he admitted, “This is quite unusual indeed. Tell me. Where exactly do you come from?”

Parker couldn’t help but feel like he was suddenly suspicious of her. As if she somehow had anything to do with this! “St. Augustine.”

The headmaster didn’t move. In fact, Parker swore he didn’t even blink underneath his mask. She tried again.

“I’m from St. Augustine,” she said, “Florida?”

Still, Crowley did not respond.

“In the United States?”

A beat. Two beats. Three.

“I have never heard of such a place,” Crowley said at last.

Something cold shot through Parker’s chest, “You’ve never heard of the United States?”

And that was when, for the first time since she awoke, Parker truly felt afraid.

Well, except for the stuff with the demon-cat. He was terrifying.

One important note! Diamond Crown Academy is used with permission from @phoenix-manga, it is NOT my creation but it IS there’s!

This is a little slow, but it should pick up in the next chapter! Thanks for reading!

37 notes · View notes

haloud · 4 years

Text

many times, many ways

a malex christmas gift for christi @michaels-blackhat, who inspired me into holiday fluff and who spent this month writing wonderful gifts--I hope you enjoy this one in return! Happy holidays, everyone!

-- ao3 --

An unmarked package. An envelope, more accurately, hand-folded out of plain brown paper and left right in front of Alex’s front door. Buffy is sniffing at it before Alex can stop her; he snags her by the collar, heart in his throat, but she’s close enough to nudge it with her nose. Alex holds his breath, but she just lets out a soft boof, then loses interest and heads back inside. Alex, however, can’t be quite so cavalier. It may not have exploded when Buffy moved it, but there are ways other than explosives that a strange package can fuck you up. He fetches a pair of gloves and a particle mask before he even touches it. A small gesture toward security, maybe, but it makes him feel safe enough to work a pocketknife under the tape and slowly pull the paper apart.

Alex blinks twice at what’s inside. Pulls his mask off so it falls around his neck and blinks again. Reaches out to touch it.

It’s…a Christmas ornament. But not any, it’s—it’s light in his palm, a tiny thing, a miniature of a poster he had as a kid, the one Maria smuggled into his car after school and he hung up in the toolshed where no one would see it. Alex holds it up. Dangling from a scrap of black ribbon, the little orange rectangle catches the light, gleaming off the black enamel picking out the singer’s little face and the Danger! At the Picture Show lettering. It’s cold when he clenches it in his fist, heart pumping a hundred miles an hour.

For a second, he’s seventeen again, and he has to laugh at the memory of that kid he used to be, earbuds stuffed in his ears, knees jammed up against the desk waiting for the first period bell to ring. He grins despite himself, turning over the paper again, searching for any kind of note or indication who it’s from. Rosa, maybe? Secret presents are definitely her thing, and she was the one who gave him his first DatPS CD when he was fourteen. Maria is the other person who comes to mind, but Alex hopes she would just give it to him in person—he doesn’t like to think of her being too anxious to give him something like this face to face, what with all the mending fences going on.

He smooths his thumb over the ornament’s glossy surface one more time, then puts it on a shelf for safekeeping for lack of anywhere more festive to put it. He doesn’t really decorate for Christmas; the holidays were only ever more of the same when he was a kid, with a thin, grotesque veneer of family over the top of it.

Things get even more festive the next day, though, when he gets home from work and finds another package, in the same brown paper, sitting on the porch steps. It’s bigger this time, three dimensional, and after a moment of deliberation, Alex picks up the phone. Guerin might laugh at him, but that’s a price he has to be willing to pay.

He doesn’t laugh, though. He rolls up in his truck, that, despite the circumstances and the vaguely tipsy feeling of fear lurking in his blood, Alex has to laugh at—there’s a sprig of mistletoe wrapped in bright red ribbon hanging from the rearview mirror.

Michael bounds over to him and says, slightly breathless, “What did you need me to check out?”

Alex waves his hand in the direction of the stairs. “It’s probably nothing. I got something similar yesterday, and it was fine, I just—”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I get it. Here, let me.” Michael squeezes Alex’s shoulder, a quick, warm, reassuring touch, then takes a step back. Focusing, he narrows his eyes at the little package, then wings it in an arc off into the empty desert.

A second passes. Nothing blows up. Michael pulls the package back in.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “Sorry if whatever’s in there broke. But whoever sent it to you should have known better. Fucking idiot.”

Alex lets out a long breath, forcing his shoulders to drop and his brow to smooth. “No, it’s okay. ‘Tis the season, right? It could be from anyone.”

“Still.” Michael’s mouth curls downward, like he tastes something foul, like he tends to look whenever he tries to make nice with Kyle. It’s exasperating. It’s also a little sweet, in a twisted way.

The box has the same wrapping, same tape job as yesterday’s envelope. It comes apart easily, and inside is—Alex pulls it out, holds it up.

It’s. It’s an alien, full-on little green man alien, holding up its noodly little hands in two peace signs. Wearing a Santa hat. Covered in gaudy glitter. And still intact—only one piece has snapped off, a little piece of red molding clay that someone clearly fashioned so an ornament hook could go through it.

After a shocked second, Alex lets out a very uncharacteristic giggle; then, face burning, he drops the little alien back into the box and glances up at Michael, who’s watching him with his head tilted and a shy smile of his own on his pink mouth.

Their eyes meet for a long, breath-catching moment, a spark jumping through the cold, dry air from one body to the next. Then they both look away, clearing throats, shoving hands in pockets, and looking up at the sky instead of back at each other, each of them so large in the other’s sight to block out the sun.

“Secret Santa?” Michael says, voice cheerfully flippant. He’s still grinning somehow. Alex wants to wipe that look off his face. With his own face.

“Something like that.”

“Next time try to get someone who knows you better than to get that touristy shit.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Michael leaves after that, making it both easier and harder to breathe. Touristy shit aside, Alex puts the Santa alien on the shelf beside the first ornament, and later that night, after tossing and turning for a little while, he grabs his crutches, goes to the shelf, gropes in Jim’s old toolbox for a tube of superglue, and hunches over the coffee table to fix the clay part, making it an ornament once again.

One is an event. Two is a coincidence. Three ornaments in three days, and it’s a pattern.

No brown paper package shows up the third day; rather, he finds the ornament when he checks his mailbox in town. It’s a little laptop this time, nothing special, but it still brings a smile to his face when he holds it in his palm.

Who could the mystery sender be? It turns into something of an obsession over the next few days, which see him receiving a log cabin, a beagle, and a beautiful handmade silver and turquoise songbird. It’s clearly someone who knows him now, and someone who knows him well enough to know his home, his pet, what he does for a living…it’s a narrow field, to be sure—basically just Maria, Liz, Kyle, or Rosa. He rubs his thumb over the beagle’s little painted nose while Buffy shoots it a suspicious look from the couch as he considers his options.

Whoever it is, Guerin must know, because since the second day, the ornaments have arrived in his mailbox or on his porch unwrapped or in clear plastic wrap if it’s raining out.

Of course, all the evidence could point toward it being Guerin himself. But…somehow, Alex can’t bring himself to believe it, if only because the thought of Michael thinking of him like this, over time, with dedication, makes Alex’s chest ache with longing to see him, to hear him, to feel him. Better it be some scheme of Rosa’s. It’s just…better that way.

The gifts keep coming. Day seven, it’s the Air Force crest; on the eighth and ninth days, he finds a sunbathing alien and a bowl of ramen on his front step. They both go on the increasingly-crowded shelf, though he shoots the ramen a nasty look when he puts it in place. Another point in the Maria column, considering last time he went to one of her movie nights, he was asked to put pizza rolls in the oven and managed to burn them despite absolutely following the instructions on the package.

The tenth day’s ornament arrives in a blue Tupperware container, just translucent enough to see the ornament inside, but not so much he can tell what it is.

He opens it and finds a ball ornament wrapped in strips of paper cut from dictionaries in ten languages he can identify, including all six he speaks. It’s sturdy papier-mâché, but Alex still holds it like it might shatter if he breathes on it too hard. Every line defines things like family, like love, like forever. He returns it to its box and puts it on the shelf with the others, but his fingers linger over the lid, because there are lines he hasn’t traced with his fingertips yet, and he can hardly tear himself away.

He goes into town later that day on a grocery run with words still swimming in his mind and his mouth fixed shut because he’s not sure what might come out. But no level of distraction or concentration could keep him from being blindsided when he runs into Guerin outside the Crashdown, their bodies catching shoulder to shoulder, Guerin’s hand on his arm to steady him—their collision almost knocked a big box out of Guerin’s hands, but he steadies it with a little help from his powers until Alex has his balance back and he can take it in both hands again.

“Alex,” he breathes, then clears his throat. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” Alex manages.

Guerin shakes the box lightly. “Liz wants to surprise Arturo with the decorations this year, so I figured I’d offer my services. I’m the only one who can get tinsel into all the hard-to-reach places, after all.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s really nice.”

“Nah, I’m getting paid. Mostly in milkshakes and fries, but who’s complaining?”

They stare across the box. It’s been like this, lately, a small talk stiffness to their interactions, and Alex doesn’t know how to make it stop. But at the same time, he isn’t sure he wants to. It’s almost…nice. A couple weeks ago Alex drove by the junkyard just because he could, and Michael smelled like snow and pine and commented on the weather, and that brief exchange left the both of them grinning like idiots by the time Alex drove away. They aren’t lovers again, not yet. But they’re something. They’re getting there.

“Want some help? I’m free tonight,” Alex says, and Michael smiles at him, and that’s that. Alex comes back late, once the Crashdown is closed and Arturo is in bed. Liz and Rosa come downstairs to work on the decorations too, and more hands makes for light work, though Michael does most of the work without using his hands at all. They’re finished in no time. Alex plugs the lights in, flips the switch, and Rosa laughs, real and unrestrained and tugging Liz into the middle of the floor, dotted with multicolored puddles of light, twirling her in a circle. Sometime during the decorating, Rosa managed to stick Michael with a present ribbon, and it bobbles on top of his curls as he slinks over to Michael’s side to knock their shoulders together. Alex lets him, in the spirit of the season, and because every time Michael touches him his body goes weightless.

Now is as good a time to ask as any.

“So, Guerin,” he says, “I’m still getting ornaments every day. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that you haven’t told me, would you?”

Michael shrugs and grins that cowboy grin. “Looks to me like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer.”

“Secret, huh?”

“Looks that way.”

And before Alex can say another word, Michael is walking away to join Liz and Rosa dancing, whistling Let It Snow. He gets away from Alex that time, but before their little impromptu party is over, Alex manages to steal the bow from his hair, just glancing his fingers off those curls, so lightly Guerin doesn’t even seem to notice.

Whether he’s the ornament giver or not, Alex puts the bow on the shelf with the others. Just in case.

The next day, there’s no ornament when he leaves in the morning, and nothing in his mailbox when he checks it that evening, either. He’s—frustrated, okay, rather than sad, because what was the point? Stopping ten days in, what was even the point? It leaves him feeling untethered, without that tiny little thing to look forward to each and every day. Somehow, without even really noticing, he’d kind of gotten into the Christmas spirit. He even, feeling ridiculous the entire time, went to the pet store and bought a couple gifts for his dog, because he’s in a gift-giving mood even if he’s not sure he’s exchanging gifts with anyone else this year.

He shoulders his way out of the office, avoiding eye contact with the clerk, who’s surely noticed him coming in every single day, when he used to only check his mail once a week at best. Whatever. Now he has no reason to come back so often, and they’ve got plenty of time to forget him, like the way things should be.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he almost smacks Maria right in the face with the door as he leaves. She yelps, and he catches it at just the last second, tripping over apologies while she flaps her hand at him dismissively.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Alex, really,” she laughs. Alex steadies her with his hands on her shoulders, and she tugs him to the side, out of the way of the sidewalk traffic. “I was hoping to run into you anyway. I have something for you.”

Oh shit. Anxiety spikes, and Alex blabbers, “Oh, shit, Maria, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know we were doing gifts this year—”

Great. Their friendship is finally finding even footing again, and Alex immediately puts himself in the red again by hitting her with a door and tells her straight up that he didn’t get her anything for Christmas. Batting a fuckin’ thousand, isn’t he. No wonder his secret admirer or whatever got bored of him.

“Alex, seriously, chill.” She tweaks his chin. “No presents is one hundred percent fine. You think I’m all about worshipping at the capitalist altar that is Christmas? Hell no. Buuut someone asked me for a favor, and it just so happened that I had something for you anyway, so here you go.”

She grabs his hand and presses into it a beautifully beaded eight-pointed star, red and white and gold. Alex gasps, and says, “This is—”

“One of Mom’s, yeah.” That wry, sad smile Maria gets when she talks about her mother curls up on her face. “She makes a lot of them on her good days, and her nurse says it’s good that she’s working with her hands. And Mom specifically said this one was for you.”

“God.” Alex swallows and grips the star as tightly as he can without crushing it. “Let me know next time you’re going to visit her, okay? So I can thank her in person?”

“Sure thing.”

Maria blinks rapidly for a moment, and Alex, understanding, doesn’t mention it. She composes herself quickly, and then Alex just has to ask:

“So it hasn’t been you the whole time, has it?”

“What, leaving you the ornaments? I am not that sappy.”

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with being a little sentimental,” he teases.

“Uh huh. Sure. I forgot I was talking to the master of fuzzy feelings himself.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Maria laughs at that and, hooking her arm through his, starts off down the street. “Now, we may not be exchanging presents this year, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you help me with the rest of my shopping.”

The next day’s ornament is a classic Han Solo one, and if Alex lets out an undignified gasp when he sees it, Buffy is the only creature around to witness it. If he spends the rest of the day finding and watching the Star Wars Christmas Special, well, the same goes for that too, and his dignity is firmly intact.

The day after that, Liz texts him to come to the Crashdown, and since it’s a weekend he makes it there to meet her on her lunch break. The decorations look just as good in the daylight, if an inch or two less magical, and Alex has to duck his head to hide his grin when he remembers Michael very seriously placing a Santa hat on each individual alien in the place.

Liz beckons him over to a booth, two shakes and a plate of fries already in front of her. “Figured since I called you out, I could at least treat you,” she says. “On top of what I called you here for, which is….” She does a little drumroll on the table, then plonks an ornament box down on the table.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex bursts out.

“I know, right? I couldn’t believe it when I found it.”

Laughing and shaking his head, Alex picks it up. It’s a cat wearing an antenna headband so, so similar to the one perched on Liz’s head—the wrong shade of green, but still.

“I don’t suppose this is your way of telling me you’ve been leaving me ornaments all month, is it.”

“Pfft, no way.” Liz steals a fry from his tray and crunches it smugly. “Secret admirer, Manes. It’s supposed to be secret.”

Day fourteen is something delicate, so much so he’s a little scared to touch it. It’s thin glass, deep blue, and when it catches a light source it sends shimmering blue all around the room. It’s the day Alex stops trying to guess who his mystery gift-giver is, because now he’s been given light to hold in his hands, and it makes him feel—makes him—

Someone thought he was worthy of this. Someone wanted him to have it. Whether or not they ever tell him who they are, that means something.

His fifteenth ornament is the third one to come wrapped in a package, but this time it’s in an actual USPS shipping box, and it comes with a letter inside, in handwriting he recognizes.

Captain, it says, we got pressed into service again, and I was the unlucky bastard who drew the short straw, so I’m sending this to you, along with a warning that you fucking owe me…

The ornament is basic, a decently pretty white and silver snowflake. He puts the letter on the shelf with it. If the season is forcing everyone else into a sentimental mood, he might as well succumb to it too.

He wakes up on the sixteenth day with a bit of a sentiment hangover and lets himself lie in bed for a little while longer than usual, fondling Buffy’s soft ears and cradling this lovely, bittersweet feeling inside himself. If Christmas is the deadline for this whole ornament thing, he’s over halfway to the end. He takes the morning slowly, lingering over his coffee and over the view of the desert through his kitchen window, the high def white-gray limning of the world you get with a serious cold.

That day’s ornament doesn’t match Alex’s mood at all, but he still chuckles and shakes his head when he sees it. It’s another patch job like the Santa alien, but this time some sort of Valentines leftover—a traditional Roswell Gray holding a big red heart that says you’re out of this world!, with a handmade place for ornament hooks to go. It looks absurdly out of place next to everything else he’s accumulated, but he gives it its place of honor anyway.

He doesn’t expect his seventeenth ornament to arrive on the doorstep or in the mail, and sure enough, the pattern holds and it’s hand delivered at like ten o’clock that night. He almost doesn’t answer the door, but to be honest he’d left his leg on after work expecting just this.

“Ho ho ho,” an exhausted-looking Kyle says, shoving a box into Alex’s hands.

“Dude, did you drive all the way out here after your shift? It could have waited.”

“Nah, this is my one good deed for the year.”

“You’re literally a surgeon. Your job is good deeds.”

“Fine—my one act of charity.”

Alex bristles at that. “I don’t need—”

“Not for you.” Kyle punches him lightly on the shoulder.

Cryptic bastard.

“Go ahead and open it,” Kyle says, “My blood is eighty percent coffee right now, and I want to get home before I crash”

“You know you can stay if you need to.”

“Yeah, yeah. Open it.”

Alex’s eyebrows go straight up when he does and pulls out a shimmery white ball with the Buffy the Vampire Slayer logo on it. “You didn’t pick this out yourself. You asked me why I gave my dog a porn name the first time you met her.”

“Hey! I listened when you explained—” When Alex fixes him with a glare, Kyle gives in with a laugh. “Okay, okay, Rosa helped. Oh ye of little faith.”

Kyle leaves after that, with a quick hug and a Merry Christmas, and Alex goes to his shelf to put the ornament away. He hasn’t been keeping them in chronological order, more a sort of a…thematic grouping. The Buffy ball goes with Maria’s star, Liz’s alien cat, and the snowflake from his unit.

He looks up and turns away, casting his eyes all around the room to hide from no one the fact that he’s getting a little bit choked up.

Maybe he’ll buy some lights tomorrow. Or tinsel or something. No reason he can’t go in on the decorating, right? Why is he still holding himself back?

He doesn’t make it to the store the next day, or the two after that, three days that see him receiving a coffee mug, a UFO that’s supposed to light up when it’s plugged in, and a little truck hauling a Christmas tree.

He wonders if maybe that last one is a promise.

The pattern of hand deliveries every other day has been broken. But, in the spirit of the season—Alex doesn’t dwell on the fact that he never got one hand-delivered by Michael and instead chooses to think about the other thing that could mean.

On day twenty-one, he gets a glass teardrop that shimmers purple and golden, and on day twenty-two he gets a golden disc engraved with a tiny, perfect star chart.

The day before Christmas Eve, he opens the door to find an acoustic guitar.

As if he didn’t already know.

Christmas Eve dawns gray and dismal with the smell of snow in the air. Buffy trots around the yard in circles, lifting her nose every couple minutes to sniff the cold, and Alex cradles his coffee in both hands to keep them warm while he watches her, content. Part of him regrets that he never went and got more decorations, but it’s okay. This whole month—it’s been such an unexpected thing to be able to accept a simple joy into his life, to let himself expect a little, uncalled-for gift every day, that all he can feel at this point is just…peace. He couldn’t have asked for anything else. He didn’t.

Buffy barks, and Alex looks up just in time to see a familiar truck coming down the road, the bed covered with a tarp. Alex puts his mug down on the railing and regrets it instantly for want of something to do with his hands as Michael parks, opens the door, and jumps out of the car.

“Hey,” Alex says.

“Hey. Merry Christmas,” Michael says in return.

They just stare at each other for a moment, something that happens a lot when it’s just the two of them. Like they have to steel themselves to speak. Like they have to make sure that no, it’s not, it’s not the time to take that step forward and drown themselves in each other. It’s okay, yeah, it’s okay to just be here. Like this.

“Want some help with that?” Alex tilts his chin in the direction of the tarp.

“Y-yeah. Sure.” He stumbles over the word and ducks his head, rounding the truck to reveal what’s underneath.

It’s exactly what Alex expected, and everything he never did. His heart in his throat, he touches one of the branches on the tree, needles pricking his skin, sap sticky on his fingertips when he pulls them away.

“You get the other end,” Michael says, and they carry it inside together, a crate full of other decorations floating along behind them, Buffy pulling up the rear, eyeing it suspiciously. She settles in the corner to watch as Michael sets the tree up, hammers it into the stand, and positions it in the corner where it’ll be out of Alex’s way.

Alex hovers in the kitchen, making them both more coffee, hands shaking a little bit on the grounds, on the filter, on the carafe. The tree still takes up too much room. Michael takes up too much room. He always has. In this tiny house. In Alex’s heart and in his head and between his ribs. Michael pulls things out of the crate one by one and hangs them in the air around himself—bundles of lights, a skirt for the tree, multicolored balls and delicate paper snowflakes to fill all the spots left between the ornaments in Alex’s new collection.

Their fingers brush when Alex hands him a mug, and Alex lets the moment hang there. Skin on skin in the most casual, innocent way, but with Michael’s golden eyes so close it still manages to heat his blood, dry his mouth, cover him in yearning.

“Thanks,” Michael says hoarsely. He drags his index finger along Alex’s as he pulls his hand away, sending a shiver through the both of them.

Decorating for Christmas shouldn’t feel forbidden, but it does. It does, as they circle around each other, spiraling lights around the tree, eyes catching on every pass, Alex’s face so warm every time he sees Michael’s answering blush, on his cheeks, on his lips. Once the lights are on, they start in on the ornaments. Alex picks them off the shelf in chronological order, passing half of them to Michael, keeping half of them—like Mimi’s star, Han Solo, and the guitar—for himself.

“How did you manage it?” He asks eventually, fixing the teardrop to a high branch so Buffy doesn’t get any ideas.

“A friend who knows how to navigate Etsy, a sister with Amazon Prime, and a little bit of old-fashioned gumption.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Sure am.” Michael grins with satisfaction at the Valentines alien. Then he sobers a bit and says, “Hey, look, I’m sorry about the packaging the first couple days. I wanted to surprise you—I wasn’t thinking, and I should have.”

“It’s okay. You changed it up, and…yeah. It’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

A couple minutes pass in silence as Alex searches for what else to say. To ask. Why did he do it? When did he get the idea?

He asks, “What about the others? The ones you had Maria, Liz, Kyle, and the guys pick out? Red herrings, or did you just run out of ideas?”

“Oh, I had lots of ideas.” Michael presses his shoulder to Alex’s, coming in close to hang the star chart right beside the silver bird. Nudging him shyly, Michael says, “But my favorite one was the one where you got reminded how many people care about you.”

Alex almost drops the UFO at that, at Michael’s absurd honesty. He has nothing else to say, and they finish decorating the tree in peaceful silence. When they finish, Alex turns the lights off, and Michael plugs the tree in, and the gray day is dark enough that everything lights up bright like it would in the evening, all the colors of the rainbow.

“Fuck,” Alex breathes. It’s like a punch to the gut, happiness and disbelief and the unavoidable need to hoard this feeling, this moment, that comes on the heels of those feelings.

“So you like it?”

“Fuck,” Alex repeats, “Michael. I love it. It’s…I just…”

“Good.”

Michael, hesitating all the way, reaches out and takes Alex’s hand, sliding their fingers home together.

“I have one more ornament for you.” And he reaches into his pocket.

Alex makes a strangled noise when he sees it. Instinct tells him to rip his hand out of Michael’s and flee to the other side of the room to regroup, but he stays rooted in place, struggling, grasping for anything to say.

The console shard—because that’s what it has to be, just with gauzy ribbon looped and knotted carefully around one end so it dangles neatly from Michael’s fingers—shimmers in the soft rainbow light. Michael’s eyes shimmer along with it, equally as alien.

“I can’t,” Alex blurts. “I can’t take it. Michael. No. It’s—”

“No, no, listen, please.” Michael tugs on his hand like he wants to pull him closer, but Alex can’t—he just can’t—

He can’t be what ties Michael to Earth. He can’t be the sole tether that keeps him here, to the world that hurt him again and again, even if it’s the thing he wants most in the world, to protect, to hoard him like he hoards every sliver of a happy memory, where no one can take it away from him. That’s why he—months ago, when he most thought Michael was slipping through his hands, he gave him the console piece he found so he could go if he needed to. And now Michael tries to hand another piece back to him again?

“I can’t,” Alex says again, stuck on repeat.

“Hey, hey,” Michael fumbles for Alex’s other hand, and Alex lets him catch it, because with Michael holding him in place he doesn’t feel as cold. “It’s not what you think. I’m not asking you to keep me here, or anywhere, just.”

He swallows. He’s beautiful, in this light most of all. The most beautiful thing Alex has ever seen. Shining in every way, from the golden brushstrokes of his hair to the heart of him, who knew that Alex must never have had much of a holiday and decided to give him one.

Alex wants to kiss him. Wants to swallow whatever words Michael is going to say next and end the conversation there.

“Look.” Michael squeezes his hands. “When my mom—when she died. And after. Everything I worked for, everything I built the console for and devoted my life to, I thought it was over. Useless. But…you told me you were my family. And I know it took me too long to believe it, but I do now.

“I built the console because I was searching for my family. And now that it’s right in front of me, I want you to have a piece of it. Want us to have a piece of it.”

Alex searches Michael’s face, every earnest, open inch, until he can’t stand it anymore, until he drops Michael’s hands in favor of cradling his face, pulling him in, and taking his mouth in a slow, deep, careful kiss, tasting coffee on his tongue, drowning in the coming home of him, of his mouth on Alex’s, the rightness of having him in his arms. Michael responds with enthusiasm, stroking his back with his broad hands, making eager little noises into the kiss, going along with it until Alex pulls away to look at him again.

“You’re unbelievable,” Alex breathes.

“Thought it was the season for believing,” Michael replies, a little smile returning to his face.

“That’s what they tell me,” Alex says, and kisses him again.

Michael stays the night, wrapped up in Alex’s blankets, wrapped up in every inch of space Alex has ever thought was empty or cold. He doesn’t even need to set the heater that night, kept plenty warm by Michael’s body all along his back, holding him so close.

They wake up slow in the morning, but Alex earliest, because…

Well, even after everything Michael has done this month and everything he said the previous day, Alex is nervous about Michael’s Christmas present. He needs those extra minutes, watching him sleep peacefully, to steel himself.

But when he watches Michael wake up, sees how the first thing he does is look for Alex so he can smile at him, he isn’t so worried anymore.

They bring the blankets out into the sitting room, bundling up under the tree. Buffy leaves her bed to lie beside them instead, on top of the blankets, effectively pinning them in place, so Michael has to use his powers to get the wood and kindling set and strike a match and get a fire going in the fireplace.

The light flickers like something living off the console shard hanging from one of the uppermost branches. Heart in his throat, Alex pulls the envelope—the same one that held the ornament he got on December 1st—out of his pocket.

“I have something for you, too.”

Michael takes the envelope, eyes locked on Alex’s like he’s waiting for permission to open it. When Alex nods, he slips the tape open carefully, almost reverently. Like Alex, he’s never really gotten a gift before. Not one he thought meant anything. Not one he thought could stay.

He shakes the envelope, and a key falls into his hand.

“It’s to the front door,” Alex says to fill the silence.

Michael’s fist clamps around it with a familiar desperation, like someone might come out of nowhere to snatch it away. He blinks glossy eyes, wet lashes up at Alex, his mouth open, closed, throat bobbing as he swallows. Alex reaches out to stroke his closed fist.

“You’re my family. You’re my home. I don’t ever want to shut you out; I want you to be here. With me. Together. And I think you want that too.”

“Alex,” Michael chokes, and then he’s in Alex’s arms, wrapped around him in a hug.

He stays like that for most of the day, handsy and gentle, reaching out to touch him whenever they’re separated even for a moment. The next day passes much the same—then the next they both have to go back to work, live lives outside of their little holiday bubble.

Alex gets home first. He takes the dog out, gets dinner out of the freezer. Then about an hour later, he hears a car outside, footsteps on the stairs, then, after a minute’s pause, a key slots into the lock.

And Alex knows.

#malex #my fic #roswell new mexico #christmas fic #michael guerin #alex manes

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war--lords · 4 years

Note

Congratulations on your followers milestone 😊🌸 then can I request a Nobunaga for hot god... Thank you

So this kind of got out of hand haha

Warnings: Female!Reader, mild family conflict, possible inaccuracyWord count: 2,435Tagged:#hanayomeTranslations and important notes:

Tengu (lit. heavenly dog) are Japanese legendary creatures that are regarded as either youkai (supernatural beings) or kami (gods). This fic treats Tengu as the latter.

Obi, as you may already know, is the ‘belt’ of the kimono.

Shinsoku means abbot/head priest of an abbey or temple.

Miko refers to a priestess.

Geta are traditional wooden clogs that resemble flip-flops.

Oshiroi is the name of the white powder used as makeup.

Aneue is a highly formal and archaic way of addressing one’s elder sister.

FYI, Kiku means ‘chrysanthemum’.

Enjoy!

Part 2 Part 3

Sounds of hurried footsteps echo through the wooden flooring of the temple, and along with them, the chatterings of people. They come for one second, allowing the listener to grasp only a few words, before ultimately becoming an auditory blur as they grow further away. You are in a room tucked away in one corner of the temple, sewing the last few stitches that would make the final adjustments to a white over-robe.

Once the moon is at her highest tonight, your little sister is to become a bride. Her procession begins in no more than two hours.

A couple other elderly priestesses are by her side, gently folding and twisting her hair up into an intricate hairstyle reserved only for those about to marry with delicate ornamental hairpins. Another is fixing up the wataboshi, the bridal hood that will hide Kiku’s face from all eyes except her groom’s.

Never have you heard silence so loud that even the hustle and bustle in the hallways feel like a great distance away. The air is cold and tense, a complete antithesis of wedding preparation. Faces are grim and eyes are tearful—if only she were wearing black, you’d think this was a funeral instead.

Young Kiku’s beautiful ebony eyes are narrowed in a mix of emotions even as one of the priestesses tucks a fan into her obi, the symbol for a happy future. Despite her general optimism, you know that she feels more like an item to be sold than a bride.

Because it truly was a transaction.

——————————

Your family is a long line of clerical servants of the god Tengu who rules over war and prosperity. (You’ve always disliked that dichotomy.) The men and women of your family devote their whole lives as priests and priestesses with the privilege to communicate with him in his dwelling—a lone temple on top of the mountain Kurama that towers over your village. Seiiki—‘sanctuary’, they call it.

It has been decreed since the days of old that once a year, each autumn solstice, on the day of the full moon, the abbot would climb the perilous steps up the mountain to speak to the god Tengu. Tonight is that of a full moon, and so your father, the abbot, made the ascent. The news he delivered was unusual, but at that time you know little of how bitter it would all turn out.

“The god Tengu demands a young virgin as his bride in exchange for the earth’s eternal yield. At sundown, a fiery arrow shall descend from the sky and pierce the roof of the house in which this virgin dwells. When night falls, she will climb up to the peak of Mount Kurama to meet her groom and dwell with him in the Seiiki forever.”

A girl for lifelong milk and honey, when each previous year the god Tengu would demand only a portion of the harvest he had already given. Of course, the atypicality wasn’t lost to the people, but they faithfully waited until sundown. The gods were never the most sympathetical beings anyway, and the people felt lucky that Tengu’s demands were not as outlandish as the others.

You were among the people at the temple grounds when the promised arrow indeed descended, appearing as a faraway white dot floating against the violet-pink sky. Before the last of the sun’s rays faded it flew towards the village, but what you didn’t expect was for those pale flames to pierce the very roof you were under.

Tied on its stem is a paper with ‘marriage’ written on it.

——————————

If she was composed during her dressing, now Kiku is anything but. In your arms she sobs, a pure white mess, smearing your miko uniform with the red face paint around her eyes. When she looks up at you, shaking her head in disdain, it looks as though she cried blood.

“I don’t want to go,” she croaks, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to leave,” you reply.

There are no tears in your eyes, for this predicament seems too fatal, too fast, like a bad dream. You wish it were a dream. You don’t tell your little sister you wish it were you—because she has her whole life ahead of her and because it is probably easier for your family to let you go.

The two of you are the abbot’s dear children, yes, but you are the eldest daughter instead of the eldest son—one that can continue his name. Even in your adulthood your father still looks at you the same way, like you’re something he didn’t ask for. It’s different for Kiku because Kiku is different. “She is the temperate lake to your forest fire.” That was what your father once said to you. Through it all, your mother is ultimately the one that loved you unconditionally, but behind her gentle smile, she hides the same sadness from your father’s disappointment for not having a son.

If you were to tell the truth, you’d rather be the god Tengu’s bride than stay here, but alas, he demands a young bride. Moreover, your father sees this as an absolute honor for Kiku to be chosen, though eventually you know he’ll grow bitter from only having your mediocrity left in his house.

The sliding door opens. It’s your father and mother.

“Procession will begin soon.”

“I need to fix her rouge,” you say without looking at him, “and then she’ll have to wear her wataboshi.” You hear a choked sound coming from your mother as she embraces Kiku. You look on somberly, but can’t stop yourself from stealing a glance at your father, who remains unmoving. You’ve never seen him look that sad before.

A shuffle of footsteps and you see the silhouette of a monk beyond the screen door—he’s considerate enough not to stand where your sister can be seen, at least.

“Shinsoku-sama, the procession is ready.”

The moon is at its biggest and brightest, looking as though she is peering down to watch the events unfolding under her soft light. You’ve moved to the edge of the temple grounds with your parents and the clerics. The procession is only to be done by the betrothed and their attendants, and with the absence of the groom, Kiku was left to walk with only two other lesser miko and four monks to carry the traditional harvest offering. The click-clack of their geta is loud against the masonry floor, it being the only sound other than the buzzing crickets. There are no more exchanged words or touches allowed in this holy rite—the only thing Kiku can spare you and your family is a meaningful look before she takes her first step beyond the red gate, lantern in hand to guide her through the dark of the night.

She makes her way up, up, following the curves of the stone steps, and not long after, all you can see is the flickering light of lanterns like gold slowly pumping through a vein. The bamboo forests surrounding the stairs sway left and right in the night wind, and it reminds you of a worried man rocking on his feet. The stairs twist and turn in a serpent-like manner, and the trees, taller and thicker, conceal their light, infrequently at first, but more and more as they venture higher before eventually they disappear out of sight.

Next to you, your mother is the first to break, letting out a long breath and a sob. You reach for her hand. When her cold fingers wrap around yours, you allow yourself to cry.

——————————

It is the fourth hour after Kiku stepped out the red gate, and the attendants who went with her haven’t returned. Rain started to pour not too long ago, and though it isn’t heavy, it’s enough to cause concern. You are in a prayer room with the other miko, joining them in their quiet chants. Your mother’s body and mind are too exhausted to participate, and it’s not like she can pray to a god that chose to take her daughter away forever.

Truth be told, you feel the same, as the prayer beads on your palm feel much heavier than they should. The chants lose their meaning, replaced only by questions only the god Tengu can answer. You realize the futility of the situation and contemplate whether you should just run up those stairs and confront him yourself.

You’re picturing it with your eyes closed. The flight of stairs might be steep and many, and it might be dangerous going up there in the rain, but you’d be fueled with enough rage to overcome them. What happens there, you’d worry about later—the holy grounds are supposed to be accessible only to the abbot. Should the sacred boundary be created by a spell, you could always try to break it. Once the barrier is broken, you’d be able to come face-to-face with the god Tengu.

You realize you don’t know what he really looks like, but it hardly matters. What then? Would you attempt to kill him for taking your sister away? No, that’s not really what you want. What do you really want?

Fatigue makes it easier for your consciousness to escape you, and unbeknownst to you, your wandering thoughts lull you into the beginnings of slumber. Your prayer beads are now stationary, and your chants are reduced into incomprehensible murmurs before they stop completely.

Mind clouded with fog, the only thing you could see in your head is the lantern light flickering as it makes its way up the stairs. Golden light, twisting and turning. The wind’s howl in your ear, deafening. The orange leaves’ crackle as they are dragged across stone floors by the gale.

…lady…

The god Tengu’s arrow floats again in your dream as if waiting for its time to strike. Your eyebrows knit in anticipation, your eyes dare not look away.

…Milady…

The flames on the arrow’s tail seem to flicker before it grows stronger, its shape becoming larger and larger. In the blink of an eye, it flies, but this time not towards the roof of the temple.

It’s coming towards you.

“Milady!”

Just as the arrow pierces through your heart, you open your eyes with a pained gasp, but the trickle of cold sweat on your nape and your feverish breath makes you feel as though you’re still trapped in a dream. Some of the elder priestesses crowd around you, one of them holding your trembling hand as she places her own against your forehead.

“You were shaking,” she says, eyes worriedly darting around to inspect your face, “Milady, you’re very warm.”

You’re still trying to gain your bearings when you hear a pair of footsteps dash towards the room. One second later, the screen doors open with a loud bang, revealing a young miko drenched from the rain—you vaguely remember her as one of Kiku’s company. Her eyes search the room before falling on you, and the look on her damp face turns into that of bewildered trepidation. She calls your name once and kneels in front of you, gently tugging at your arm to get you to stand.

“It’s Lady Kiku, she—when we got up there, we—I’m sorry, it’d be better for her to tell you in person. Please come with me. She’s downstairs, she—we need you.”

Equally, if not more confused than the miko, you force your numb legs to carry you out of the room and down the steps with her help. The cold of her clothes against your warm skin wakes you up a little. She guides you to the main hall, her footsteps leaving trails of water droplets as she goes. Once the door slides open, you’re equal parts baffled and relieved to see your little sister. The floor around her is littered with discarded hairpins and baskets of fine products, reduced into a dirty mess. She is weeping, her face buried in her hands. You unlatch yourself from the miko’s arm to rush to Kiku’s side, your arm around her.

“What happened?”

“He…” she begins, looking up at you with wet eyes. She looks like a wreck, the oshiroi powder washed out from her face and her hair in a disheveled state. “W-We went into the Seiiki and everything seems fine, but then he—”

It is then your father interrupts, his voice booming in the cold, dim room.

“It isn’t Kiku the god Tengu wants.”

“—he saw my face as we entered, it was a huge room and we weren’t even face-to-face! I don’t know how, but he saw me, and a gust of strong wind blew, he… he told me that I wasn’t the one. And then he said your name. He told me to bring you. Aneue, he… he wants you.”

Your heart sinks, and it clenches as if responding to a piercing wound. One that’s left by a flaming arrow.

Kiku then proceeds to gather her now loose hair and moved it across one shoulder, revealing her bare neck to you.

You almost can’t believe your eyes—a crimson string blooms from the side of her throat, and when you reach out to touch it with a finger, it doesn’t smear or fade, as if it’s permanently embedded within her skin. As if she was marked. Stepping closer to see it, you realize that it is alive, its two ends moving ever so slowly around her. It would be a complete circle once it meets on the other side of her neck.

“You have until sunrise to see him,” your mother finally speaks, her face a tired blank canvas. Her daughter was returned, only for the other to be taken away. “We concluded that this string will make one complete round by then. He didn’t tell Kiku what would happen if the ends meet.”

“It’s a timekeeper enchantment,” your father supplies, “to make sure you make the ascent.”

Every bit of composure in you snaps just then and you make for the door as fast as you can. Kiku captures your wrist just in time, a concerned look on her face. She gently places something into your open palm and you take it, inspecting it.

It’s a crumpled up piece of paper with the kanji ‘marriage’ on it. The look on Kiku’s face tells you not to question how that item came to her possession.

Your mouth runs dry. It seems like Kiku also has trouble speaking because her voice cracks as she says this to you:

“Aneue, he wants to see you in red.”

#1.5k #hanayome #sfw #elievalentine #nobunaga #oda nobunaga #nobunaga x reader #reader insert #female reader #au #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cybird #imagine #imagines #scenario

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shadowturtlesstuff · 4 years

Text

Perfect Christmas

So I wasn’t going to do a Christmas fic because I just don’t like or celebrate Christmas but I have a fandom war on Instagram and it was Christmas themed so I did actually write a fic for it. Enjoy

~~~

It was Christmas again. Another year where Christmas had snuck up on feyre causing more panic than she needed. But at least this year the people she surrounded herself with loved her as much as she loved them.

It had been a long year, Tamlin had ruined her completely and feyre was still taking her time to heal. Her father had passed away, her eldest sister had created such a hated distance between them she didn’t think they could fix it. Not soon at least. At least Elain was happy with her new boyfriend, her soul mate, she claimed. Feyre was happy that both her sister and her friend had found each other. Lucien, even if he hadn’t helped her enough with Tamlin, deserves to live a happy life.

After Mor had found out about how bad Tamlin was treating her, she had stormed to his house and demanded answers. He played dumb which only meant more pain for feyre later when mor left. And when she did she got the worst beating he’d ever given her. He claimed it was out of love, that is taught her not to tell such lies. It left her more broken than ever. She was pale and thin, tired and lethargic. Painting seemed like a task that she couldn’t even think about anymore. Not only did she not paint or draw she didn’t even look and consider how things were made. It was all bare and pointless, just like her life seemed to be.

Yet she say with her new family, watching as they decorated the house. Mor had not only told her cousin, but she told all her friends. She’d met them all beforehand, but when mor and Rhys came back to Tamlin s house another time demanding feyre she couldn’t help but see the world again. Even if it was only a small portion. It had been a struggle to escape, rhysand had to keep Tamlin back as mor dragged her out of the apartment. But they had done it, had kept her away and kept her safe.

They even made her want to paint again.

After four months of them being in her life, she had gained weight, the bruises were gone and she smiled. Rhysand has taken the role of looking after her the most, his job being self employed. He made his own hours that were flexible for feyre as well. Day by day he made her smile. He brought her back. So when she was lucky enough to get him for secret Santa this year she knew what his gift would be.

It was small compared to the rest of the presents under the tree. It seemed that they all loved to buy each other gifts. Sometimes when feyre look at them all together, laughing so freely she still couldn’t believe that she was now apart of this.

Rhysand took a seat next to her, his arm draped over the back of the sofa. “You’re awfully quiet darling.” He states as they both watched mor and Cassain argue about the tree. “Everything all right?” There was such sincerity in his voice that she made her heart ache. Darling was a silly pet name that he called her once to cheer her up. It was one of her worst days, her mind lost in her horrid. Rhysand has somehow snapped her out of it, with a few silly and flirtatious comments. It was ridiculous the effect he seemed to have on her.

“It’s a lot to take in. Last Christmas I was still with him,” him,she couldn’t even stomach his name anymore, “we watched Christmas movies until his friend called and asked us to go to a party. I didn’t want to but he did. So we went, he put me in such a shitty dress that I ruined it as best as I could whisky there.” The night flashed in her eyes. She had bumped into two different people with full cups of alcohol just so that it would settle and she would not be able to get it cleaned. Tamlin had been furious when he saw her state, made her pay him back for the amount the dress costs. It was meant to be a gift, something she would wear on more than one event but she ruined it instantly.

“Now you are here with us. And I know what you see right now is a little hectic,” and to prove his point Cassain had thrown an ornament as a snarky Azriel who made even amren smile at his comment, “but I promise it’s worth it. Christmas for us is special. We’ve all had terrible lives but now, even if it gets tough, we know that we have each other to rely on. Now you do too.” His hand fell onto her shoulder and he traced random patterns there. She smiled as tears threatened to spill. She look at him to find his eyes already on her. His usual smirk replaced with a smile. She loved that smile more than the smirk. It seemed so rare and genuine that it made her feel happy he and mor had risked saving her.

“Thank you Rhysand.” Feyre managed to say as a tear slipped down her cheek. He brushed it away instantly whilst his smile remained.

“Anything for you darling.”

~~~

“Can we open the presents yet!” Cassain asked for the thousandth time.

“No you ungrateful bat.” Amren scowled at him from across the dinner table. Feyre liked amren But was still terrified of her, as it seemed they all were. Except maybe Azriel because they seemed to share a common theme of distancing themselves from the loud mouthed mor and cass. Those two seemed to argue as much as possible. However, it always seemed to end with them laughing or targeting someone else at the table. Somehow they managed to twist it on rhys, making amren fell the story of how he tried to flirt with her when they first met. It had them all in stitches, aside from rhys who seemed to be bent on revenge. He selves into stories of Cassain and Morrigon, not daring to test Amren. Azriel sat in silence with a small smile on his face. He seemed at peace in this chaos and as there eyes met through the story she smiled brightly at him, thankful for his quiet presence.

“Either way I want my present so let’s go.” Mor agreed with cass as they both stood and started walking towards the living room not even waiting for an answer this time. Azriel followed quickly to make sure they didn’t break anything. Amren pulled another bottle of wine out and filled her glass. “Gone crazy yet child.”

Feyre looked up and smiled. “Yes but I think I like it.” She stood next to the woman and realized just how small she was. It made her even more terrified of the fact that even though all the men in the house where taller and more muscular they were still terrified.

“Don’t get to used to us. Soon you’ll be wanting to jump of the nearest bridge. Especially when cass get rhys to join him and mor singing those awful Christmas songs.”

“Guys hurry!” Cass shouted towards the three of them. “Az said no present till were all in the room!”

Feyre saw amren roll her eyes at the childish behavior but she just smiled. “Merry Christmas feyre.” Was all amren said beige she walked away with her very full wine glass.

Rhys took her place as she filled her own glass. “Having fun?”

“Very much.” She dated a glance at him as she passed the wine bottle. “Although I have one question.”

“Which is?” His eyes narrowed as her smirking face.

“Why did you continue to flirt with amren if she quite clearly turned you down? Do you think your truly that good?”

Rhys’s face widened in horror. Only for a second before his usual smirk came back. Gods she was is in trouble now. An idea had formed and she prayed she could out think him.

“Darling you have no idea how good I am. And as for amren, well I don’t think anyone would be able to win her heart.”

“You two get your sorry asses in here! Mor screamed out at them. Rhysand chucked but feyre could do nothing but give a weak smile. He sauntered out of the room with his glass and left feyre standing there.

She joined them in the living, sitting in between rhys and mor. Cass day right next to the tree on the floor and amren and Azriel shared the other sofa. “Your an idiot.” Amren murdered and they all laughed at his pouting face.

“Rhysand should go first seen as it’s his house.” Azriel said as cass reached for his. His head snapped at the words but rhys smirked and stood to get his. It was something she had gotten him. Well not gotten but made. Feyre caught onto Azriel an idea that cass would get his gift last and smiled at him, excuses already forming in case he needed them.

Rhys sat back down and inspected the small box. It was in black wrapping later, with stars all over, his name painted onto. A clear indication as to who was his secret Santa but she didn’t care. He’d know anyway when he saw it. Slowly he opened the gift and his eyes widened as he saw it. He shoved the part on the floor and brought the painting closer. Everyone looked at it in shock as well but feyre only look at rhys with an anxious face. She didn’t know him that well yet so she struggled to get him anything but one day he was making her breakfast and reading her again. She let slip that she used to paint and when he asked why she stopped her breath caught in her throat and she nearly cried again. Being the caring and snarky person he was he managed to make her smile. He told her she could paint him at any point and that nude would be better. She threw her spoon at him but they were both smiling.

Now he sat dumbstruck. She didn’t know what he thought of it. Gods she hated it. At first she thought this would be a good idea but now she didn’t know. Her head was thinking of a million things and her heart was in her throat. Then he looked up. Straight at her. She could see the flickers in his deep violet eyes that gave away nearly every emotion. He gave a soft smile. “Thank you.” Is all he said before he looked back at the portrait of himself. He didn’t read the note yet that she slipped at the back of the painting. He definitely could’ve but she saw him slip it into his pocket as mor took her gift. The note was a thank you, for saving her and for making her see the color and beauty in everything again. For wanting to paint.

Feyre sat back, her heart still pounding but happy nonetheless. He didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate it. She repeated as she tried so hard to clear her head.

Feyre felt Rhysand moved and look slightly to see his focus on her hand. Debating. So she moved her head and opened it for his own. To her amazement he took her hand, sending a warm streak through her. She placed her head on his shoulder as they all opened their gifts. Even through all the shouting and screaming her heart was filled with love. When she opened her present she saw a new sketch pad and paints. At first she looked at rhys but then remembered he brought Azriel. She looked around and found a smiling mor. She matched it as the women hugged her tightly. She was her best friend, her other saviour and held her tightly before letting go. She thanked her profoundly and asked how she knew. Rhysand hadn’t told anyone she used to paint. But mor had managed to find out. When mor spoke to Tamlin the first time in her own she had glanced at the painting displayed in the hallway. Tamlin had made her put it there even if that piece wasn’t her favorite. It was flowers in the night sky, with a silhouetted tree that was on fire. All her sisters in one painting. When nesta has given up on her she hated the painting and how much it reminded her of her sister. It hurt to look at but he wouldn’t take it down. Now she’d love to have that painting back. To have her sister back.

“I expect you to maint me next.” Mor said with a wink. “I am the prettiest so it makes sense.”

“Maybe I’ll paint you all.”

@fang1rling-again @yafa-towers

(Comment if you want to be tagged in my work or message me because I really don’t know who I’m meant to tag. It’s been a while since I posted something 😂)

#rhysand #feyre #feyre x rhysand #acotar fanfic #christmas #morrigan #feyre archeron #rhys x feyre #painters

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imagethat · 5 years

Text

Home | Vergil x Kitsune!Reader Part 3

One person asked for this so you know I had to do it to 'em. I'm still having trouble finding a balanced way to write Vergil but I really enjoy writing for this series thing.

The white blanket that covered Red Grave was growing thicker. Winter seemed like it'd never let up as you got dressed for the weather. You agreed last night to go with Vergil today. Where, you had no clue. But after your previous realization, it didn't matter much. To be in the presence of the one you'd grown fond of was enough. Vergil was waiting for you by the door dressed in his usual attire by the time you were ready. The streets were empty, no footprints lining the sidewalk beside yours. The desolation was nice. You followed Vergil closely, getting the feeling that something important was about to happen. So you didn't dare speak. You could tell he needed the silence. His pace began to get slower as you came upon a part of the city that had not recovered from the Quipoths reign. The structure of an old building atop a hill came into view. Time had not treated it kindly. Vergil paused at what would've been the entryway before stepping in. Only the walls truly remained, a painting of a family still hung up, unprotected to the weather. You could tell who the man was. Sparda… You had heard of him during your studies, but your kind kept out of the ordeal that went down all those years ago. The woman in the painting was beautiful, but something about her made you sad. You could tell Vergil felt the same. This place held significance to him. You were grateful he brought you here. He hadn't moved since you entered and seemed submerged in his thoughts. His eyes were clouded. Carefully, you brushed your knuckles against his. The small touch was enough to pull him back to reality. "That's… My father." He finally broke the silence that had followed you here. You stood there stunned. Was the man beside you really a Son of Sparda? You had never realised it. Part of you was embarrassed, how foolish of you to not realize during your first encounter with him. No wonder he had defeated you. You slowly began putting the pieces together. This was a family painting… The fate you had heard about from your parents, the one they used to reaffirm their belief that humans and demons could never love one another…. In the past you would've cold heartedly said they deserved their fate. But now you weren't so sure. "Vergil?" You questioned softly, seeing how down cast his eyes were. He didn't like looking at the painting, you could tell why. "My brother and I weren't always on good terms… I had something inside me that always hated him." He admitted. "Anger, sadness… fear…" He seemed to linger on the last word. "But… We've reconciled. I'm grateful for the second chance I've been given." He was trying his best to convey his feelings, and even though he was struggling, you could tell what kind of hope he was trying to impress upon you. "That may be true in your case, but it's not the same for me." You replied quietly while tracing the leather on your hand. After a good amount of time in silence once more, you timidly gazed up at Vergil. His eyes were trained on the painting. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. "When we fought… You had asked me what power was, if not to protect. That strength and satisfaction was something measured." You mused, choosing your words carefully. You hadn't thought of it, but the reason he gave you a second chance was possibly because he saw something inside of you that had reminded him of himself. "If that's true then… Have you found something that makes you feel satisfied? Have you found something worth protecting?" You asked, trying to find any way to connect to him in this moment. Wanting to know what had changed his view of the world. Wondering if it could change yours too. He breathed in deeply. "I suppose I have." He admitted while gazing down at you. You fidgeted with your fingers, wanting to ask what. "Most of all though, I just think I've matured." He added while returning his gaze to the painting. You took a step closer and placed a hand on his back. "I think your parents would've been proud of you, if they could see you now." You said. He opened his mouth to reply before closing it as his face turned grief stricken, unsure of how to respond. "I know that I'm glad I met you. I think if I hadn't, I would've still been the same person I was when we met. Unaware and unhappy, without the knowledge of how to change for the better… Dante doesn't say it much but… I know he likes having you around as his brother… Even Nero..." He seemed pained by the last name. You knew he felt guilt for everything between him and Dante, but learning he failed Nero after coming out of his power hungry phase hurt most. Vergil shrugged your hand off his back with a grimace. "We cannot change the past." Vergil coldly replied, starting to return to his old ways of blocking others out. You raised your leather bound hand to your chest, both to feel your heartbeat and keep the ornament close. "Yeah…" You admitted softly, the events of yesterday still weighing heavily on your shoulders. Vergil sensed the dip in your tone. "We should leave." He said, satisfied now after showing you his old home. "Would you go on ahead, I'd like a moment alone." You almost whispered. The way you kept your head down to avoid Vergil's gaze bothered him but he agreed. "Alright… I'll be waiting not too far." He replied before leaving you on your own. Once you were sure he was gone, you turned your eyes up to the painting. Honoring the dead was part of your inherited traditions, this was no different. As an offering, you took off the pendant that lined your neck and placed it on the mantel. Fireplaces are a symbol of warmth, survival, protection from outside dangers, and family. You knelt down, even in the snow, to pay your respects to the two parents who had brought such wonderful people into the world. You told them of how much their sons missed them, of their sons glory, and of how much you wished you could have met them. After you were done doing so, you carefully hid well placed hexes to protect this place from the weather, and any other dangers it may face. You thanked the building for still remaining, even through the hardships it had endured. After everything was said and done, you gave one final look over your shoulder before joining Vergil. He didn't ask you any questions. You were still doleful, but you appreciated Vergil taking you to his former home despite how vulnerable it must have made him feel. Somehow a small part of you felt better. You felt closer to Vergil too, even though he was still the stern faced man he always was. Absentmindedly you raised your leather bound hand to your heart as you two walked in the snow. Vergil wasn't quite ready to return to Devil May Cry yet so the two of you walked around the city until you found an open coffee shop. The warmth felt fantastic, but you knew your clothes would remain soaked for hours. You internally thanked your parents for being demons since it gave you some resistance to the cold. You ordered for the both of you before finding a seat at a table. The shop was mostly empty. You weren't sure if you should speak or not, but you knew Vergil wouldn't appreciate small talk. You became bashful when you realized he was staring at you. "Uhm…" You tried to think of anything to fill the void between you two. "I was… thinking of buying or renting a house." You said while scratching your cheek. Vergil seemed surprised. "I feel bad… Dante doesn't have much space at Devil May Cry. Plus… It'd be nice to have my own space." Vergil nodded in agreement with your statement. "Perhaps you would allow me to join you?" He questioned. Internally you paused, seeming somewhat more embarrassed now. "I… If you'd like to, I wouldn't mind." You admitted. "Rent would be cheaper that way and percuring a place to stay would be easier with two names on a lease." Vergil said matter-of-factly. You were slightly disappointed with his answer, wishing he desired your company more than mere convenience. "We should start looking now then." You mused. Time went by rather fast after that and the two of you returned to Devil May Cry. Dante wasn't in his usual spot and thinking back on it, you hadn't seen him this morning. You made your way to the bathroom and took a shower. Never before had one felt so good. Afterwards you wandered down to the kitchen. Having a task would keep you distracted from the grief that was still haunting you. Ever since you and Vergil had started living here, the kitchen was stocked with more food than just phone ordered pizza. You were thankful you had all the ingredients to make a cake and a fruit glazing to go with it. You were stirring the glazing in a pot on the stovetop when Vergil came up behind you and reached over your shoulder to turn the heat down with a 'tch'. He had just showered, you could tell by the way he smelled of fresh citrus. The sudden closeness made you tense up slightly and blush. "You have the heat too high." He repermind you. "W-well I don't know how to use your stupid human appliances!" You said defensively. Vergil found your childish rebuttal amusing as he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "So, what are you making?" He questioned. "Something for people who aren't named Vergil." You replied, still keeping up with your petty ways. He chuckled. "I should probably have my name changed then since it smells so good." He commented. You ignored his somewhat teasing response and excitedly smiled. "Does it really!?!" You asked and he nodded. "Well good! It's something special, my trainer…" You trailed off. Your thoughts always returned home… "Your trainer?" Vergil asked in a tone unfitting of his usual demeanor. It was softer. "My trainer… She was what we called a drifter. Someone who has no home and travels between realms. She had a mark like mine… She never hid it though. She was brave, and wore it with pride. No matter who challenged her! She'd always come out on top!" You added some oomph to the last part, feeling nostalgic in a good and bad way remembering her. Vergil chuckled softly when he saw how your eyes sparkled remembering how valient this person was. "Sounds like she'd make a good challenge." Vergil mused and you scoffed. "Yeah right! She'd have you on the ground in ten seconds flat!" He seemed bothered by the notion that someone could so easily defeat him. "Besides… I don't know where she went… She was just a hired mercenary after all." You added in a somber tone. "She's probably been everywhere now… My parents were harsh on me growing up." You admitted, feeling it would be right to share some of your past after he had so openly shared some of his with you. "My mother only taught me what she thought was needed and my father was so self absorbed, he never came out of his studies unless it was to put me down in a sparring match. I always wanted so desperately to make them proud but… No matter how hard I tried it was never enough." You were on the verge of crying now and Vergil didn't know how to comfort you. You let out a somewhat bitter laugh before smiling. "But…. Dee… She was like the older sister I always wanted. She told me of her travels and taught me everything. Even things my mother would get mad at her for and scream about how they were pointless for an heir of a family to know." You explained. "Thinking back on it, she was the one who inspired me to leave my realm with all her extravagant stories." You admitted with a small smile. "Would you say your experiences have been on par with what she told you of?" Vergil asked curiously. You stopped stirring the glaze to ponder your answer. "Yeah…" You replied truthfully while bringing your hand once more to your chest. "Yeah." You repeated in a more self assured tone. You didn't know, nor would he tell you. But he took note of every time you brought your hand up to your heart. Somewhere in himself, it made him feel reassured that he had comforted you well. It made him feel good in an indescribable way and was something he was growing fond of. Both that treasured feeling and you.

#Devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry vergil #dmc #dmc5 #dmc 5 #vergil sparda #vergil son of sparda #vergil #vergil x reader #vergilxreader #vergil x you #vergil x y/n

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