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fungateshortcakes · 6 months ago

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Crochet me a mistletoe

Got this idea because, well, it's christmas and I recently started crocheting! I am nowwhere near as good as I described the skills of the reader. I can't even crochet a simple scarf. But practice makes perfect, and a girl can dream right? (Reader is gender neutral)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Its christmas at the mansion and you've crocheted everyone a special gift. What will Logan think about the present you made especially for him?

Wordcount: 4.9k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, none, fluff, slowburn-ish, friends to lovers, reader can crochet, painfully sappy, missunderstandings?, itty bitty bits of angst, happy ending

The x-men mansion in december felt like stepping into a festive snow globe. Frosted windows framed the place, a hord of students racing through the halls as they were excited to spent the christmas holidays at home with their families, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of christmas jingles that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

The large tree in the main living room was a masterpiece, each ornament carefully placed by a team effort of students and teachers. Even Logan had been forced politely asked to string the lights, grumbling about it the whole time while he was secretly ensuring that every lightbulb was perfectly in its place. Despite your reassurance that it was fine and that he could come down from the ladder already, he shook his head, a deep frown on his face as he munched on his bottom lip as he rearranged the lights for the 1000th time.

You sighed with a smile, deciding to let him do his thing. Yet you found yourself sneaking glances at him, something you had been doing more often than you cared to admit over the last few months.

He was rugged, rough around the edges and seemingly utterly out of place among the cheery holiday decorations, but there was something about seeing him standing by the firelight, a string of glittery garlands for the tree slung over his shoulder, that made your heart flutter.

But Logan was just your friend. A good one. And you weren’t about to mess that up by acting on a silly crush that wasn't anything more than that. So, instead of drooling at the way his muscles strained and dipped under the wife beater he wore even in this freezing weather while he helped decorating the place, you threw yourself into your newest hobby: crocheting.

For weeks, you had been holed up in your room, learning and practicing how to crochet everything from scarves, mittens and hats to cute plushies and useful items such as cup coasters or little bags.

It had started as a way to pass the time, especially when there was no mission you were sent to. And now that you were deep into the christmas holidays, you didn't even have a class to teach. That's when you realised you had nothing to do and it was time to find a new hobby.

But once you got the hang of it and felt like it wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, the idea of creating handmade gifts for your friends at the mansion had blossomed and you were eager to make a perfect present for everyone.

The work was slow but rewarding. You had already finished a soft scarf for Ororo in her favorite lavender colour that complimented her snow white hair and a set of soft, fingerless gloves for Hank in a deep navy blue. Each project felt like a little piece of yourself, stitched into every loop and knot.

But Logans gift had been different from the start.

It had taken you three tries to find the right yarn until you finally settled on a charcoal gray that would suit his style and features without standing out too much.

You decided on a sweater, something warm and practical that he could wear during the long, cold nights he spent patrolling the grounds. And, because you couldn’t help yourself, you added a small, personal touch. A tiny design embroidered over the heart, a pair of crossed claws encircled by a wreath of holly. You might as well, right? This project would take you a long ass time anyway, so a little embroidery wouldn’t hurt.

Crocheting actual clothing pieces like sweaters and jackets was a painstacking process, taking up lots and lots of yarn and taking forever. Only people you loved were worth that effort. You hoped Logan would know that once he held the finished products in hand.

Now with christmas eve approaching fast, the sweater was nearly finished. But you had other projects that you worked on simultaniously. If the task of crocheting another long chain for a scarf became too dreading and boring, you switched it up by continuing to work on a plushie.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna get yourself snowed in if you keep sittin’ there.”

Logans voice startled you, making you lose the stitch you were in. You looked up from your crocheting to find him leaning against the doorframe of the common room. The fireplace crackled warm beside you and outside the tall open window, there were snowflakes swirling in a gentle flurry. You sat cozy on the windowsill in your warmest clothes, enjoying the crisp breeze against your face and watching how the snow painted the garden of the mansion in a dazzling bright white, all while absentmindely crocheting your gifts.

“I like the view” you answered him with a soft smile, the yarn rolling between your feet as you pull at it “And I’m almost done.”

Logan left his spot at the door and stepped into the room, his boots making soft thuds on the wooden floor. “What’re you makin’?” You shook your head as you did only a little to hide the plushie you were crocheting “It’s a surprise” you teased.

Logan raised an eyebrow, hand in his pant pockets, his lips quirking into a smirk. “For me?”

You rolled your eyes with a soft giggle. “Only if you want a teddy bear plush in Scott's outfit" you said, throwing him a knowing look.

He shuddered in mild disgust, chuckled, then settled into the armchair across from you. “Nah, I'm good" he replied, putting his hands up in defence. Then his gaze landed on the bottom of the sweater, his soon to be sweater, that poked out from under your blanket draped over your lap. He pointed to it "I think one of 'em ugly christmas sweaters you are makin' would suit Summers better" he joked, thinking you would laugh along, but he noted your slight hurt frown. Him saying that he thought christmas sweaters were ugly made your heart sting painfully. You pulled the sweater under your blanket completely, shielding it from Logan. “It’s not ugly,” you mumbled, averting eyecontact with him.

In that moment, you weren't too sure about your gift for Logan anymore. The sweater you would give him wasn’t the usual christmas sweater with bright colours and corny patterns, but still, maybe he wasn't a sweater person? What if he didn't like it? He would never say it to your face, but just imagining his unimpressed face, a forced smile as he reluctantly thanked you, already thinking about the best and fastes way to get rid of the clothing piece, it made you want to cry already. All this effort for nothing?

You hadn't realised that you stared at Logan while you where deep in thought, a lit cigar hanging lazily between his lips. “Why’re you always starin’ at me?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Your face heated. “I wasn’t staring. Just thinking” you pressed out, quickly picking up your crocheting again.

Logan blew smoke from out of his nostrils “Sure you weren’t” he said, but there was no teasing in his tone. If anything, he sounded curious, curious of what exactly you where thinking with your brows knitted together.

You focused on the yarn in your hands, on the way your hook looped easily through every stitch, willing yourself to act normal. This was fine. You were fine. “You’re workin’ too hard” Logan muttered after a moment. “Spendin’ all your time on this.”

You shrugged “It’s worth it” you smiled without looking up. “I want everyone to have something special this year. And what's more special than a present made especially for them. I guess the best gift is when someone thinks of you”

Logan looked at you. Looked at you for a long second and didn’t respond right away. When you finally glanced at him, his expression was unreadable, his gaze already turned away and fixed on the fire. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, ask him what he meant by that, Logan stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His white tank top rode up slightly as he stretched, your eyes staring at the dimples on his back before you shook your head, your cheeks on fire.

“Don’t stay up too late” he called, heading towards the door. “Santa don’t visit if you’re awake.”

You laughed, nodding your head dismissive manner “Goodnight, Logan.”

Logan smiled softly as he looked back at you one more time “Night, darlin’.” And then he was gone. You looked down at the half-finished sweater under your blanket, your chest tight as you sighed.

The mansion was alive with holiday excitement the next morning, despite the kids not being there. But if they were, you just knew that they would be buzzing about presents and sneaking peaks under the towering Christmas tree already.

You spent most of the day putting the finishing touches to most of your gifts, tucked away in a quiet corner of the common room. All your presents were nearly finished, except for the sweater you had planned on gifting Logan. You couldn't bring yourself to work on it anymore. You couldn't even look at it, too ashamed that you even came up with this idea.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that Logan appeared in the common room, carrying an armful of firewood. He always looked so effortlessly strong when he carried stuff, it almost made you drool over his forearms and hands. His flannel shirt was rolled up to his elbows, exposing his hairy forearms that had tiny snowflakes clinging to it.

You glanced up from your crocheting, trying not to stare too obviously.

“You been at that all day?” Logan asked, dropping the firewood near the fireplace with a loud thunk. He tried not to smile as he saw you bundled up with balls of yarn and wrapping paper surrounding you, a few ready gifts already stacked on top of the other, a hot cocoa with marshmallows steaming next to you on the coffee table.

“Almost done wrapping everything” you cheered, holding up a crocheted beanie for charles to keep his head warm.

Logans gaze locked onto the garment in your hands. His expression softened for a brief moment before he caught himself and cleared his throat. “Looks good” he said gruffly, turning his attention to the fireplace again.

You smiled faintly, folding the beanie neatly and tucking it into a small box with a gift card and putting it on the stack of finished presents after you wrote Charles name on it “Thanks.”

Logan unsheathed his claws and striked a match on one of them, shaking the tiny flame on a stick before throwing it to the pile of freshly chooped logs “You should take a break. All that knittin' and crochetin' must your fingers” Logan grumbled, blowing at the fire until the flames started to flicker to life, casting a warm glow across the room.

“I will once I am done with all of this” you replied to him, wrapping the next present aside. “it won't take long" Logan straightened back up, brushing his rugged hands on his jeans. “So, what are your plans tonight? Besides playin’ Santa Claus.”

“Ororo planned to watch a christmas movie with the team, I guess I will join them later” you replied, stretching your back a littlesince you had been sitting like a shrimp for the past few days, hunched over your projects. “Why, what about you?”

Logan shrugged "Not much" he cleared his throat “Might head out for a bit. Get some air.”

“On Christmas Eve?”

Logan gave a small, almost shy smile and shrugged “Never been much for all the holiday stuff.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You could stay in. Watch the movie with us.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours. “Yeah? You think they wouldn’t mind?”

Your eyebrows raised as he seemed so unsure “Of course not" you denied, smiling warmly. “I can promise that they all want you there, Logan. I know I do"

That evening, the two of you settled into the couch along with Jean and Scott, a bowl of popcorn between you. Ororo sat draped over the seat next to the sofa, Rouge and Remy sitting in front of you on the ground while Kurt was sprawled out right in front of the TV, looking up at the flimmering box with a toothy smile. Even Charles had rolled in to join.

The movie, a classic Christmas move, The Grinch, to be exact, played on the screen, and even though it was one of your favourite christmas movies, you found yourself paying more attention to Logan than the plot.

He was unusually relaxed despite everyone being so huddled up together, leaning back against the cushions with his arms crossed over his chest. You fleetingly looked over to the present neatly tucked away under the tree. His sweater. You had decided to finish it after bickering over it for so long. Well, you didn't exactly have time to make him anything else. And if you did, it would only be half assed. And you didn't want that, Logan deserved more. Something special.

Halfway through the movie, Logan reached for the popcorn, his hand brushing against yours briefly. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a spark up your arm and you felt like you were part of a cheesy and cliche slowburn fanfiction.

You quickly pulled your hand away, your heart racing. “Sorry” he muttered, his voice gruff and quiet as to not alert the others. “It’s okay” you whispered back, trying to sound normal.

The room fell into a comfortable silence again, the only sounds coming from the TV, the crackling fire and a little hushed banter between Rouge and Remy. But you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Logan, your chest tightening with every second you spent sitting so close to him.

“Thanks for talkin' me into this” Logan said suddenly, his voice low. “Didn’t think I’d enjoy it much, but… it’s nice.” Your lips curved into a soft smile. “I’m glad.”

He looked at you then, his dark eyes catching the light of the fire. There was something in his gaze you couldn’t quite place, something warm and unguarded, even though a lot of people were around that could potentionally witness it. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared, leaving just the two of you sitting by the fire, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting in his eyes.

Then Logan cleared his throat quietly, breaking the spell. “You’re really something else, I hope you know that” he muttered, his voice rough but sincere.

Your cheeks heated, and you looked down at your lap. There they were again, his words from yesterday. The thoughts you had repeated in your head the whole night, not knowing what they represented. “What do you mean?”

“You put all this work into makin’ people happy, to make 'em feel included even though they weren't into it at first.” He explained, draping a muscled arm over the frame of the couch. "You force people into their luck, ya know? Haven't seen anything quite like it"

You brushed a lock behind your ear. "I guess I just wanted to do something nice” you smiled softly. Logan let out a deep, content breath through his nose, looking at you, his eyes soft “Well, you did." Logan said, his gaze lingering on you.

For a second, you thought he might reach out and let the arm that rested over the couch snake around your shoulder to pull you into him, but then he shifted in his seat, his hand retreating to his side.

By the time the movie ended, everyone said their goodbyes and goodnights, swarming out to their rooms to sleep, letting the mansion fall quiet. Only Logan and you were left. You also wanted to just fall into your bed and sleep, but you were too tired already to get yourself moving.

Logan was the first to stand, stretching his arms over his head and giving you a good view of the prominent vein that cascaded below his waistband. You started to think he was doing this on purpose. “Guess I’ll head to bed too" he yawned, his tone thick.

Goodnight, Logan” you replied, watching as he headed toward the door.

He paused before leaving, turning back to look at you. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “Night, darlin’. Sleep well.”

When he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The morning sun filtered through the frosted windows of the mansion, bathing the common room in a golden glow.

Christmas Day had finally arrived, and the mansion buzzed with the christmas spirit of all. It was a bit overwhelming to see everyone in their christmas pyjamas sitting around the tree, eager for presents.

Logan was already there too, leaning against the mantle with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Well, you liked to sleep in okay? It wasn’t hard to be down in the common room before you.

Logans presence was as steady as ever, but there was a quiet contentment to him this morning, you noted. He looked up as you entered and something in his expression softened.

“Mornin’” he greeted, his voice low, smooth and warm from the hot coffee he was drinking. You lifted your hand in a tiny wave “Morning” you yawned, smiling as you made your way to the tree, the rest of carefully wrapped gifts in your arms that you had finished just the night before after the movie. You couldn't sleep anyway since the thought of Logan made you stay awake, might as well perfect your presents.

After a while, it was your turn to hand out your presents. You crawled under the large tree, gifting them one by one. You watched in glee as the room filled with laughter and delighted exclamations. Ororo beamed when she unwrapped the lavender scarf you had made for her and Hank was already slipping on his navy gloves. Charles shooked his head with a chuckle as he saw the beanie you had crocheted for him, letting his fingers trace over it.

Logan waited patiently, allthough he didn'texpect there to be something for him, his dark eyes following you as you worked your way through the pile of gifts, quietly enjoying the unfiltered reactions from everyone.

When there was only one wrapped gift left you had to hand out, Logan wondered who it could be for since everyone had gotten their present already. But as you turned to him, handing him the neatly wrapped box containing his sweater, his brow lifted in surprise.

“For me?” he asked, as if the idea of receiving a gift was foreign to him.

You giggled at his reaction "Of course. Did you really think I wouldn't give you something?" you asked, smiling shyly. You were just as nervous for him to open the present as he was.

Logan carefully peeled back the paper, his hands oddly delicate for a man who seemed to handle everything with brute strength. When the sweater emerged, he stared at it for a long moment, his thumb brushing over the tiny embroidered design near the heart. He remembered the colour. This was the sweater he had called ugly. He had called your thoughtful gift ugly. He was a horrible person.

“You made this? For me?" he whispered in awe, a little more to himself, his eyes tearing up slightly.

“I did” you nodded, fiddling with your fingers as your nerves ate away at your insides. “Do you like it?”

He looked up at you, his gaze piercing. “I...this is…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he unfolded the sweater and pulled it on right then and there over his tank top. The fit was perfect and the sight of him in something you made with your own hands sent a warm flush through your chest. He looked like a chunky teddy bear and the urge to hug him was growing strong in your chest.

“Looks good on you” you said instead.

Logan’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “Feels good, too. Thank you.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of holiday cheer, but you couldn’t help noticing how Logan stuck close to you. He lingered near the kitchen while you baked cookies with Ororo and Rouge, his presence steady and reassuring. At one point, you caught him running his fingers over the sweaters fabric, his expression distant but content. He protected the sweater with his life, making sure no one ruined it by accidentally pouring wine over it. If just one atom of a cookie crumb were to touch the fabric, he would lash out.

It wasn’t until later that evening, after most had gone to bed and the mansion had settled into a peaceful quiet, that Logan found you sitting by the fire.

“You’ve been busy” he mumbled, his voice low as he sat down beside you.

“I guess I have,” you said, smiling. “It was worth it, though.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable like usual. Then he shifted and the next second, his big hand presented you a tiny wooden figurine, a little cat, carefully hand carved by him. "S'for you" he muttered, averting his gaze. The light of the fire did only so little to hide his embarrassed blush.

You gasped, taking the cat into your hands as if it was made out of glass and would break if you looked at it the wrong way "Did you....did you make this?" you asked him and he nodded reluctantly. You never thought Logan was into wood carving. But now that you knew, it made sense. "Yeah...didn't want to give it to you when everyone else was 'round. No need for 'em to know I have this hobby" he explained to you, picking at a loose thread on his sweater. Your stomach felt warm as you thanked him, holding onto his little present tightly.

You could feel Logans gaze on you as you admired his neat craftmansship, warm and steady and it took everything in you not to lean into him.

“Y’know” he said, breaking the drawn out silence between you “this is the best christmas I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”

You looked up at him “Really?” you asked, your mouth agape in wonder.

“Yeah” he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile that was rare to see from him “And I think I’ve got you to thank for that.” Your heart swelled and before you could stop yourself, you reached out and placed your hand over his. Logan stiffened for only a short moment, his gaze darting to your hand, but then he relaxed, his fingers curling around yours.

“You’re welcome” you whispered softly. Logan didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

The fire started to die out, only faintly gleaming but still enough to wrap you and Logan in a light of warmth. Logans hand was still in yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as the quiet surrounded you both. You couldn’t remember how long you had been sitting there, since when you started to lean against him, head on his shoulder, but time seemed to stretch and slow, every second weighted with something unsaid.

“Darlin’” Logan finally murmured, his voice so soft it felt like it was meant for you alone. “Do you ever think about… settlin’ down?” the question caught you off guard for a second and you turned your head to look at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Settling down?”

“Yeah” he breathed, his gaze fixed on the low fire. He found an iron rod to dig and shove between the wooden logs that had long turned into coal and ash, trying to distract himself so the words would come easier. “Findin’ somethin’, someone, you can hold onto. Somethin’ real. Y'know, not these kinds of meaningless situationships.”

Your breath hitched and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Logan, the man who had always seemed like a force of nature. Wild, untamed and unyielding—looked almost vulnerable now, his expression open and unguarded.

“I guess I’ve thought about it. It would be nice to have that someone. The right person you can lean onto any time” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like you were leaning against that one person just now. “Have you?”

He let out a soft, almost self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t think I had to. Thought I wasn’t the type for all that. But lately…” He trailed off, finally turning to meet your gaze, looking down at you cuddled up against him “Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ maybe I was wrong.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. “Logan” you began, your voice trembling slightly “what are you trying to say?” allthough the answer seemed obvious, you feared you weren't understanding him correctly.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m tryin’ to say that I care about you. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I know I’m not the easiest guy to be around, but… you make me wanna try. Make me wanna be better.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Logan…” were you imagining things? Were you actually by the windowstill, all alone, dying from the cold Logan warned you about? The cold that looked gorgeous from inside a warm room but was vicious in its beauty, killing you because you wouldn't listen and close the window? Were you just taking your last breath, your mind tricking you into dreaming about what could be?

“I know I’m probably messin’ this up" he swallowed deeply, his voice rough with emotion. “But I had to tell you. Couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

His words were real, his warmth, his soft breath fanning across your face. You weren't dying. You were just starting to live. “You’re not messing anything up" you shook your head, voice breaking slightly.

His eyes searched yours and for the first time, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. “You mean that?”

Instead of answering, you leaned up, closing the space between you. Logan froze for a split second before his arms came around you, pulling you close into his lap as your lips met in a kiss that felt like coming home after a harsh and straining day out in the cold.

It was soft and tentative at first, but as the seconds stretched on, it deepened, the barriers between you dissolving like snow in the sun. Your hands laid flat against his chest, feeling the warm and fuzzy fabric underneath your fingers. Logan sighed from his nose as the kiss deepened, a quiet, longing noise forming in the back of his throat.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the silence of the room.

“I care about you too” you whispered. “More than I can even put into words.”

Logan let out a soft, shaky laugh, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Guess that makes us both pretty bad at talkin’ about feelings.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of relief. “Maybe. But I think we’re doing okay.”

Logan nodded “Better than okay" he murmured, pressing another kiss to your mouth. He was already getting addicted to this.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of warmth and quiet joy. Logan stayed by your side, his hand never straying far from yours as the two of you talked about everything and nothing. You felt like two teenagers that had sneaked away from everyone else to enjoy the thrill of making out and cuddling like in a sappy romance novel.

By the time the first light of dawn crept through the windows, you found yourselves curled up on the couch together, a soft blanket draped over you both. Logans arm was around your shoulders, and your head rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long while. The sweater he still hadn't taken off (and wouldn’t for a while) acting like a soft pillow under your face.

“Good night, darlin'” Logan murmured, his lips brushing against your hair before he looked out the window, the sun rising slowly. He knew it wouldn’t take long before the others flodded the room, but he wanted you to sleep and rest, even if it was just for an hour. He kind of felt bad for keeping you up until the sun literally rose again, but how was he supposed to fall asleep when he just found out you loved him back?

“Good night, Logan” you whispered, smiling as you closed your eyes.

For the first time, you knew without a doubt that this was where you were meant to be - wrapped in Logans arms, your hearts stitched together like the threads of a handmade gift, stronger and more beautiful for the care put into every moment you shared with him.

I've never tried putting dividers like this before, how do we like it? I am also sorry that I am not quite posting this on christmas anymore. I just always get the ideas so late and randomly that I can't get it out on time.

I can't type anymore bc my hands are literally that cold and now, update, i read over it and corrected some mistakes. If you still see any, im sorry😔🙏🏻 I've fallen you all

Merry christmas🎄🎀

#logan howlett x reader #x men #hugh jackman #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x reader #marvel #logan howlett #logan wolverine #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #logan james howlett #fanfiction #fluff #christmas

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honeyncherry · 17 days ago

Text

all good things ii - joe burrow

summary you thought you'd mastered the art of letting go, turns out you'd just gotten really good at looking the other way

content angst, fluff, idk what im talking about in half this

part one

"Why are you here?"

You don't look up from the glass you're drying when you ask it, but you can feel him settling onto the barstool across from you. Same spot as always—third from the left, close enough to the corner that he can see the door but far enough from the other customers that conversation stays private.

"For a drink," he says, and there's that familiar hint of amusement in his voice, like he knows you already know the answer but enjoys the routine anyway.

Without thinking, your hand finds the bourbon, muscle memory from months of the same dance. The bottle feels heavier tonight, or maybe it's just you. Maybe it's the report waiting on your laptop at home, or the way certain thoughts have been circling back when you least expect them.

“How was Denver?” you ask, sliding the glass his way.

He catches it without looking, thumb brushing along the rim before taking a sip. “Great. Got a good win.”

You lean in, resting your elbows on the bar, giving him your full attention now. "Yeah? How good are we talking?"

"Really good." He grins, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes him look younger than he is. "Like, career-defining good.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself, the pride bubbling up quicker than expected. “That’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.”

He drops his gaze a little, almost shy about it. Compliments still make him weird. But you can tell it means something—coming from you, maybe, or maybe just being heard out loud.

“Actually,” he says, reaching into his jacket, “I got you something. Well, two things.”

That makes you pause. He's holding out a small wrapped box, the kind that comes from hotel gift shops or airport stores. The paper is slightly wrinkled, like it spent the flight home pressed against other things in his carry-on.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know." He places it on the bar top between you and then grins. "But I saw it and thought of you. Plus, I have some news." There's something sweet about it, the casualness of the gesture with no hidden agenda.

You peel the paper back carefully, and inside is a snow globe, tacky and perfect in the way only tourist gifts can be. Denver’s skyline is centered in the middle, suspended in that fake snow that never quite swirls right.

“It’s terrible,” you say, but you're already smiling.

"Absolutely hideous," he agrees, sipping his drink. "But you collect weird shit, so I figured you'd appreciate it.”

He’s right. Your apartment’s full of it—odd little trinkets that don’t belong anywhere but somehow belong with you. Salt shakers shaped like ducks. Postcards from places you’ve never been. That cracked ceramic owl from your grandma that you still won’t throw out.

"Thank you," you say, setting the snow globe on the shelf behind you, next to the register where you can see it while you work. "Okay, so what's the news?"

"Remember that California project I mentioned? The sports coverage thing?" He's trying to play it cool, but you can see the excitement barely contained behind his eyes. "I got you the spot."

Your heart stops. "What?"

"I put in a word with the hiring manager. Told them about your work, how good you are with people." He leans forward slightly. "They want you to fly out next week. Production assistant role, technically, but it's exactly the kind of experience you need."

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. You're going to California." Quinn's fingers drum once against the bar, a nervous habit you've taken note of over months of Thursday nights. Sometimes Tuesdays too, when his schedule allows it. He'd started showing up around the time you stopped flinching every time you heard calls of a certain name, when you could make it through a shift without checking your phone for messages that never came.

That was just over a year ago now, right when everything felt like it was crumbling—when you'd left that hotel room and came home to an apartment that felt too quiet and a life that suddenly seemed smaller than it had before. You'd been serving drinks like you were underwater, going through the motions of existing without really living in any of it.

The first few times, Quinn was just another regular. Bourbon, two fingers, splash of water. He was the best tipping regular you’ve ever had and never lingered too long. But then one night you'd been particularly frustrated, slamming glasses a little too hard after another rejection email, and he'd asked if you were okay.

"Just job hunting," you'd said, the bitterness leaking through despite yourself.

"What kind of work?"

"Anything that uses a communications degree, apparently." You'd laughed, but it came out hollow. "Four years of college to be really good at serving drinks."

He'd been quiet for a moment, then: "My company's always looking for interns," he'd said, casual as anything. "Might be good experience."

That conversation lives in your mind now, growing roots in the spaces between doubt and possibility. Three months of showing up to offices that smelled like expensive coffee and ambition, of learning that your degree wasn't worthless after all, just misplaced. Quinn had opened a door you didn't even know existed, and now here he is, trying to push it wider.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll pack a bag." He finishes his drink and leaves cash on the bar, always exact change plus fifty percent, never more or less, and stands to go. "They'll email you the details tomorrow."

He hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something else, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he just nods and heads for the door.

"Thank you," you call after him. "Really. This means everything."

"You earned it," he calls back over his shoulder. "I just made sure the right people knew."

When he's gone, you’re left with the rich smell of bourbon and the snow globe that glimmers under warm spotlights. Underneath it all lies the strange, fluttering feeling that comes with being cared about in small, uncomplicated ways.

───

The folder hits your hands like something dropped from a height, thick enough that the pages buckle under their own weight. Sarah's already talking, words streaming past in that efficient way people have when they've explained the same thing a dozen times before.

"So you'll be handling athlete transport today," she says, gesturing vaguely toward the folder while her attention drifts to her phone. "Everything's in there—pickup times, studio assignments, the usual."

You flip the cover open to pages of schedules and headshots, names printed in blocks that your eyes catch without really processing. Sarah keeps talking about the logistics and backup plans, but her voice becomes mumbled as you scan down the list.

Micah Parsons - 9:30 AM pickup, Studio A

Lamar Jackson - 10:45 AM pickup, Outdoor Setup

Cooper Kupp - 12:15 PM pickup, Studio A

Tua Tagovailoa - 1:30 PM pickup, Studio B

Names that mean little to you, faces that melt together in professional headshots. You're half-listening, trying to make sense of time slots and meal breaks, when Sarah's voice sharpens.

"—and Quinn should be here any minute with an early arrival."

The sound of voices approaching makes you glance up from the folder. Quinn appears in the doorway, that easy smile already in place, talking to someone just behind him. You look back down automatically, eyes finding the next line on the schedule.

Joe Burrow - 3:00 PM pickup, Studio B

Your stomach drops like you've missed a step in the dark. The letters blur, then sharpen, then blur again. You blink hard, certain you've misread, but the name sits there like something burned into the page.

When you look up, he's standing three feet away.

And he's already looking directly at you.

The folder stays open in your hands, but the words might as well be written in a language you don't speak. Everything else in the room—Sarah's voice, the hum of equipment being tested, the distant sound of someone setting up lights—fades into white noise. There's just him, standing there in dark jeans and a jacket that probably costs more than your rent, looking exactly like he does in your memory of that morning in the hotel room, except somehow more solid. Real this time.

His expression doesn't change when your eyes meet his. No surprise, no recognition he'd let anyone else see. Just that steady, unreadable look that used to make you feel like he could see straight through you.

"Perfect timing," Quinn says, completely oblivious to the way everything seems to have tensed up around you. "This is our impromptu production assistant I was telling you about." He gestures toward you with the kind of enthusiasm that makes you want to disappear. "She'll be handling your schedule today, making sure you get where you need to be."

Quinn turns to you, still smiling. "Joe got here early—his flight landed ahead of schedule, so I figured we'd get him checked in now instead of making him come back later. Hope that's okay?"

You force yourself to close the folder, to stand up straighter, to remember that you have a job to do. That you're not the same person who used to fly across the country for crumbs of attention.

"Of course," you manage, extending your hand in what you hope looks like professionalism and not the careful choreography of someone trying not to fall apart. "Hi."

Joe's eyes flick down to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. For a second, you think he might not take it. That he'll let you stand there with your arm extended like an idiot while Quinn watches.

But then his hand closes around yours, warm and familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

"Nice to meet you," he says, voice perfectly polite like you're a stranger. As if he's never traced the curves of your body with his tongue in the dark.

The handshake lasts exactly as long as it should and no longer, nothing that would make Quinn raise an eyebrow or Sarah look up from her phone. But his thumb brushes across your knuckles once before he lets go, so quickly you almost think you imagined it.

"She's fantastic," Quinn continues, either missing the tension entirely or choosing to ignore it. "Really knows her stuff. You're in good hands."

The irony of that statement sits heavy in the space between you and Joe. You've been in his hands before and you know exactly how that story ends.

"Alright," Sarah pops her head up suddenly from beside you. "Let's get you set up for hair and makeup first, then we'll run through the shot list." She's already guiding Joe toward the door with the kind of practiced authority that doesn't leave room for argument.

Joe follows, but his eyes find yours once more before he disappears into the hallway. The look lasts maybe two seconds, but it's long enough to remind you of every sleepless night you spent wondering if he thought about you at all.

"Ready for Micah?" Quinn asks, already checking his watch. "He should be set by now." You nod, grateful for something to focus on. Something that doesn't involve navigating the minefield of seeing Joe again.

Quinn studies your face for a moment, "you good?"

"I'm good," you say, forcing a smile that feels more convincing than it probably looks.

"Good. Because we had to shuffle things around. Lamar's flight got delayed, so we bumped Joe up to right after Micah." He pats your shoulder in that paternal way that makes you remember why you trust him. "You've got this, kid."

───

Micah Parsons turns out to be exactly the kind of interview subject that makes your job easy. Charismatic without being overwhelming, thoughtful in his answers, the kind of natural storyteller that probably makes every journalist he talks to feel like they're getting something special.

You escort him from hair and makeup to Studio A, making small talk about his off-season training while mentally taking in the way he carries himself—confident but approachable, the kind of details that might matter for the piece you're supposed to be writing.

Because that's the thing Quinn arranged that makes this more than just a production assistant gig. You're not just managing logistics; you're also shadowing the main journalists, taking notes that will help with a behind-the-scenes article to accompany the video content. It’s what manages to turn this little side gig into real experience that could actually matter for your future.

It had been Quinn's idea, pitched to his partners as a way to get more comprehensive coverage without stretching the budget. "She's sharp," he'd told them, according to what he'd shared with you later. "Give her the PA duties but let her gather material too. Two birds, one stone."

He'd stuck his neck out for you in a way that meant something. Which is why you're sitting in the back of Studio A with a notebook, jotting down observations about Micah's interview style and the way he deflects certain questions with humor while being surprisingly vulnerable about others.

Quinn had been right—you were good at this. At reading people, at catching the moments between the soundbites that revealed who someone actually was.

Which is exactly why seeing Joe again feels like such a potential disaster.

By the time Micah wraps up, you've filled three pages with notes and feel like you're truly starting to understand the rhythm of this kind of work.

"Joe should be ready now," Quinn says, appearing at your elbow as you escort Micah to his next location. "Studio B."

Your stomach tightens, but you nod. This is your job. This is the opportunity Quinn fought for you to have and you can't let seeing Joe ruin it.

The walk to Joe's dressing room feels dreadful. Each step is like walking through quicksand, carrying you toward something you're not ready for but can't avoid. When you knock and push the door open, he's sitting in the chair by the small mirror, scrolling through his phone with careful focus.

"Ready?" you ask, the word coming out more clipped than you intended.

He looks up, nods once, and stands with no acknowledgment beyond basic professionalism.

The hallway to Studio B stretches ahead of you both, and the silence that follows is different from anything you've experienced today. Not comfortable like it had been with Micah, who'd filled the space with easy conversation. This quiet feels intentional. Measured like you're both working very hard not to disturb something that might break if handled wrong.

"Studio B," you say when you reach the door, gesturing unnecessarily.

"Thanks."

He disappears inside, and you take your position in the back corner. Notebook ready, pen poised. The same setup as for Micah's interview; professional and focused, gathering material for the article.

But something shifts the moment Joe starts talking. His voice carries that familiar cadence, the one that used to lull you to sleep during late-night phone calls when distance felt manageable. You find yourself leaning forward, pen moving across the page in ways that have nothing to do with journalism.

The little things catch your eye. The way he touches his jaw when considering an answer. How his shoulders settle when he's comfortable with a question. The pause before he responds to anything about pressure, weighing what's safe to share versus what's true.

You catch yourself, redirect your attention to actual content. This is work. Quinn's faith in you made everything tangible, you can't let this pull toward someone who used to matter ruin what you've been given.

But it's difficult to ignore the familiarity, the way certain moments remind you of hotel rooms and conversations that felt bigger than they were.

This is likely the only time you'll see him again. A one-off encounter that doesn't have to mean anything beyond coincidence. You've made progress, moved forward. You can't let a single afternoon undo the work it took to get here.

When the interview wraps, you've filled two pages with notes—half meaningless observations about Joe rather than context about the content. You close the notebook as he thanks everyone with practiced grace, then finds you in the corner.

"All set?"

"All set."

The walk back is similar to the walk there in every way. By the time you reach his dressing room, you're almost convinced you can end this cleanly. You open the door and stand to the side.

"You're done for the day. Someone will coordinate transport when you're ready."

Joe settles back into the chair by the mirror, phone already in hand. You should leave now. You've completed your assignment, same as with Micah. But professional courtesy demands you ask. The same question you'd posed to Micah, the same standard you'll maintain.

"Is there anything else you need?"

Joe hums to himself then looks up, and for the first time all day, really looks at you. Not the careful glances he's been offering, but the kind of direct eye contact that used to make your heart race.

"Just curious," he says, voice level but edged with something sharper. "Are you supposed to say that, or am I just special?"

The question hits hard. You feel it in your stomach first, then spreading outward, a slow recognition that you're not getting out of this room without acknowledgment.

Because that’s the thing: he was special.

In the way you still dream about his voice. His hands.

In the way you never really got around to donating the shirt he left behind, even though it stopped smelling like him months ago.

In the way you still scan for his face on the screen when a game is on at work, even when you tell yourself you’re not supposed to.

Something shifts in your face, you can feel it happen. The twitch of your eyes, the press of your teeth into the inside of your cheek, just a second too long. Like your body is betraying the careful neutrality you’ve been maintaining all day.

He catches it, of course he does.

"Just part of the job, Mr. Burrow." The formality tastes wrong in your mouth, but you need the distance it creates and the reminder of where you are, what this is supposed to be.

You're already turning away before the words fully settle, hand reaching for the door handle like it might save you from whatever comes next. "Have a good rest of your day."

───

The wine tastes expensive in a way that makes you hyper-aware of everything. From the conversations flowing around you that you can't quite step into, to the way everyone else seems to belong here without thinking about it.

"Market yourself," Quinn had said earlier, straightening his tie in the mirror of his hotel room. "There are some serious people here tonight. Network. Make connections. This is how careers get built."

Easy for him to say. He moves through crowds like he was born into them, shaking hands and remembering names and making everything look effortless. You feel like you're wearing a sign that says imposter in flashing neon letters.

The venue is exactly what you'd expect from Quinn's company—all exposed brick and elegant lighting fixtures, floor to ceiling windows, the kind of casual that costs more than most people's rent. Servers weave between clusters of well-dressed people holding wine glasses that catch the light just right.

You take a sip of wine and scan the room for someone who might seem approachable. Someone who won't immediately see through whatever facade you're trying to maintain. The conversation nearest to you is about market projections and quarterly reports, which makes your experience feel even more inadequate than usual.

"Why are you standing by yourself?"

The voice comes from beside you, close enough that you feel the words more than hear them. You don't have to look to know who it is, you've been hyperaware of his presence since the moment he walked in twenty minutes ago.

"I'm supposed to be marketing myself," you say, not turning toward him, voice dry with the kind of sarcasm that feels bitter. "Networking. Making connections."

There's a pause. You can feel him looking at you.

"Well, you shouldn't have any problem doing that looking like that."

Your fingers tighten around the stem of your wine glass. The comment slides under your skin in a way that makes you feel uneasy. It’s like you're back in some hotel room where his opinions about you mattered.

You turn to look at him and something in your expression must give you away because his face changes immediately.

"No, no, that's not—" He stops and runs a hand over the bottom half of his face, looking genuinely panicked. "That came out wrong. I just meant you look good. Like, really good. Not that—fuck. That was all wrong."

And despite everything, despite the way your jaw is still tight with irritation, you have to bite back something that feels dangerously close to a laugh. Because Joe Burrow, who takes hits from three-hundred-pound linemen without flinching, who never seems rattled by anything on or off the field, is standing here stammering like a teenager who just got caught red-handed.

You compose yourself, finding that professional tone again. "Okay. Well, thank you." You set your wine glass on the nearest table, already turning away. "Have a good night."

His hand catches your wrist before you can take a step, gentle but insistent enough to stop you. "Wait." You follow his gaze to a quieter corner near the windows, away from people.

“Can we talk?”

Part of you wants to say no, to keep walking and maintain whatever distance you've managed to create. But a bigger part knows that if you don't do this now, you'll spend the rest of the night, maybe longer, wondering what he would have said.

"Okay," you say, and let him guide you toward the windows.

The space feels more intimate immediately, the noise of the party fading to background hum. Joe runs his hand through his hair, a nervous habit you remember, and looks out at the city lights for a moment before turning back to you.

“I was an asshole,” he says. The bluntness of it surprises you, how he doesn’t sugarcoat it or try to spin it. "This afternoon, I mean. And just now. I was just—I was doing what I always do, being defensive because seeing you here threw me off, and I didn't know how to handle it."

You wait for him to continue, watching the way he struggles with words that don't come as easily as the ones he uses for interviews.

“I was hurt,” he says, a little softer now. “When you left. Not just because you did. But how fast it felt. Like one second we were figuring things out and the next... you were just gone.”

There’s a long pause where neither of you says anything. You’re not sure what breaks you down first—his voice or the fact that it’s not angry in the way you last remember it.

“I didn’t leave because of that night,” you say eventually. “If anything… I stayed because of it.”

Joe finally looks at you and your hands tighten around your arms.

“I meant what I said,” you continue, slower now. Like the words are heavy in your mouth. “I believed you. What you said. How it felt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that before.”

The words keep coming even though your mind is already starting to regret opening your mouth. You should stop. You should just stop.

“I think part of me was already bracing for the quiet,” you say. “For things to go back to normal the next day. I don’t know. It’s like… the moment was everything I wanted, but it didn’t feel safe.”

You see the flicker in his eyes. You almost backpedal, almost say never mind, but you’ve already gone too far.

“It's not that I didn’t trust you,” you continue. “I just didn’t trust that version of us to last. And I didn’t want to stay long enough to watch it fall apart again.”

Joe’s silent. You shift your weight, suddenly aware of how exposed you feel, how fast your heart is beating now that the words are out there.

“I didn’t stop feeling it,” you murmur, eyes darting toward the window. “That was the problem. I finally let myself feel all of it. And once I did, it felt like too much to carry alone.”

He exhales slowly, like your words knock the wind out of him.

“So it wasn’t just the night,” he says eventually. “It was everything before.”

You nod. “Yeah. It was the before. The buildup. The silence. The feeling like I was always one step ahead of you.”

There’s a pause. Then, almost like a reflex, you add, “I know you meant what you said. I really do.” He looks at you then, something raw behind his eyes. “But I think I’d spent so long waiting for you to mean something,” you say, voice tightening, “that when you finally did, I was already halfway through learning how to let go.”

“I get that,” he says. You nod, surprised by the relief you feel at being understood. "So you left because you had to," he says, not a question.

"Because I had to."

The silence that follows feels different from all the others today. Not loaded with tension or unspoken accusations, but something closer to understanding. Like you aren’t standing on opposite sides of it anymore.

Joe straightens up slightly, and something shifts in his expression, still serious but with a hint of something lighter around the edges.

"So," he says, extending his hand toward you with a small, almost shy smile. "Hi. I'm Joe."

The gesture is so unexpectedly dorky that you feel a laugh bubble up before you can stop it. "Are you serious right now?"

"Starting fresh," he says, hand still extended. "New note."

You look at his outstretched hand, then back at his face, and despite everything—despite the history and the hurt and the complicated mess of what you used to be—you find yourself smiling.

"This is ridiculous," you say, but you take his hand anyway. "Hi, Joe,” you introduce yourself in the same manner.

The handshake lasts longer than necessary this time, in comparison to the one you shared earlier. When you finally let go, your fingers feel warm where his touched them.

"Much better introduction than this afternoon," you say, and Joe laughs—a real one this time.

"Yeah, well, I was trying to play it cool earlier."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"Terribly," he admits, grinning. "Clearly not my strong suit when it comes to you."

"Well," you say, and there's something softer in your voice now, something that feels like a door opening instead of closing. "There's plenty of time to get better at it."

The words hang between you, simple but loaded with possibility. Not a promise or a plan, just an acknowledgment that time exists now where it didn't before. That this new beginning, this fresh start, doesn't have to be figured out tonight.

Joe's smile changes, becoming something quieter. "Yeah," he says. "I think there is."

In that moment you realize the difference between starting over and starting fresh. One erases everything that came before; the other builds something new on a foundation that was always there, just waiting for the right moment to matter again.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow angst #joe burrow x you #joe burrow fluff

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harmonyrae · 6 months ago

Text

A Christmas Kiss

Merry Christmas! This is the SFW lots of fluff version, I am tempted to spend my Christmas writing the NSFW version LOL

Synopsis: Sylus told you he never celebrated Christmas, it was never a big deal. But Christmas holds a special place in your heart. Maybe you can convince him?

“Luke, be careful!”

Just as you utter the words you hear something shatter. You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing. You pray whatever Luke just broke can be fixed or easily replaced. You hold your breath as you bring the last box into Sylus’s office.

“Uhhh… Something may be broken.”

Luke stands over the box, his hand kneading the back of his neck. Kieran kneels by the box and gently opens it. He pulls out a clear crystal wing.

“You didn’t have an attachment to the angel tree topper, did you?”

You sink into the sofa and cover your face with your hands. Worst case scenario. That was the one thing you were excited to show Sylus. You knew he wasn’t big on Christmas, but priceless antiques? He would appreciate that. It was a gift from your grandmother when you moved into your first apartment on your own.

You held your breath to try and stop the sob threatening to escape. You feel the sofa sink next to you. You finally pull your hands away and see Kieran has sat beside you. He gives you a gentle side hug.

“Luke will fix it. Right Luke?” Even with his mask on, you can tell Kieran gives his brother an intense glare. You can’t help but let out a tiny chuckle.

“Uhm… yes. I’ll go find the hot glue gun. It’ll be good as new, promise!” Luke picks up the box and hurries out of the room.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t make it worse. Sorry Ms. Hunter.” Kieran gets up and heads to the door.

“Thanks.”

You can’t hide the sadness in your voice. You hear the door close and rub your hands together. Why is Sylus’s office so cold all the time when he has a fireplace?

You stand and approach the fireplace to toss in a few pieces of wood. Taking the matchbook from the mantle you light the kindling and watch the fire to flicker to life. As the warmth washes over your face and you finally feel yourself smile. You still have a lot of work to do and plenty of decorations that are not broken. Sylus will be back in a few hours and you want his office to look like Christmas threw up all over it. It’s time to get to work.

You approach Sylus’s gramophone. You always found it funny how Sylus had such an old school record player, but the look he gave you when you suggested an upgrade told you it meant more to him than you realized. You pull out the Christmas Classics vinyl from one of the boxes. While you knew you should wrap it, you couldn’t let this particular present for Sylus go to waste. You place the vinyl on the turntable and gently lower the needle. The soft melody of White Christmas floats through the room and you shiver with excitement.

Over the next two hours you carefully move folders and trinkets aside to make room for snow globes and tiny nutcrackers. You can’t help but giggle at the nutcracker you made just for Sylus. Tara dragged you to a Christmas crafting class and was teasing you the whole time as you struggled with the sheer red tool and ruby sequins.

The nutcracker has white hair, red sequin eyes, a black suit with swirls of red. Of course, you had to include Mephisto somehow. Fortunately, someone in the class had a shifting evol and helped you shape the helmet to look like a crow. More red sequins and some silver and red glitter made Mephisto shine. You chose the nutcracker with the bent arm so you could wrap the sheer red tool around its hand to symbolize his evol.

After the class, you were inspired to make more Sylus inspired Christmas decorations. But you also wanted to use some of your classic Christmas decorations too. You spent an hour packing some of your favorites before heading to the shop to buy some supplies for your crafting projects.

The snow globe was filled with soft white snow and a replica of the pouch you made for him during your impromptu adventure to the grasslands. There were five stockings on the fireplace mantle. Sylus’s name in bold black letters against the bright red fabric with little crow pendants sewn in. Yours with bold purple letters and the plushie pins you won at the arcade over the summer. Luke and Kieran had stockings as well, but when you had told them your plans they begged to decorate their own. Luke went with pink letters and polar bear pins while Kieran went with blue letters and reindeer pins. You hoped they’d be put up every year, starting, hopefully, one of many traditions for the little family you’ve made here in the N109 Zone. The last stocking was a baby stocking with a single black crow painted on the baby blue fabric. Mephisto, once again, would be thrilled.

The mantle was also adorned with garland wrapped with soft white lights, red candles in crystal Santa candle holders. The Christmas tree was delivered right on time and you made sure to take extra precautions to avoid the base leaking after watering. Sylus once told you the carpets in his office were handmade - you were not risking ruining those. It was a challenge to hang the lights and red and silver ornaments on your own, with the tree being over 10 feet tall, but you wanted it to tower over Sylus. Thankfully Luke and Kieran agreed to let you finish decorating alone after the angel mishap and found a stepladder. Luke was still trying to fix the angel, but you could tell it wasn’t going well from the updates Kieran was giving you.

You hung the wreath made of dark red Poinsettias above his desk. Twinkle lights framed the bookshelves. Fuzzy Christmas blankets and pillows lining the couches and chairs. You sat on the couch admiring your work before looking through the box at your feet for any final additions. Sylus would be home any minute and you wanted to change into a Christmas sweater and be in the kitchen baking cookies when he arrived. You found a small box with a few floral pieces. One stuck out to you, it was a cluster of mistletoe.

You wouldn’t need that. Or… maybe… You had been dating Sylus for a few months now, and while you were relieved he was taking things slowly, you were also wondering when he’d take the next step. Or was he waiting for you to take the next step? You were anxious and didn’t want to ruin anything. But this was your first holiday season together and maybe this was the perfect time to take that step. Staring down at the mistletoe in your hand, you square your shoulders and rise to your feet.

You drag the stepladder to the door of his office, you confidently climb the steps and stretch your arm up to secure the mistletoe to the frame. Just as the mistletoe is secured, you hear it, the doorknob jiggles and you don’t have time to react before the door swings open. The stepladder tips and you feel yourself fall. But you’re only airborne for a moment before you land in someone’s arms. Sylus cradles you to his chest, the look of surprise on his face almost makes you laugh. You’ve never seen him caught off guard before.

“What a surprise. I was wondering why Luke and Kieran were trying to keep me out of my own office. You’ve been busy, sweetie.”

You watch as he takes in the room around him, still holding you close. You finally release a shaky breath and giggle as he blinks rapidly taking in the new decor. You dare to glance just above him to make sure the mistletoe is still secure. When your eyes flick back to Sylus’ he is staring at you. You can feel your cheeks warm under his gaze. He raises a brow and before you can distract him he looks up.

“I have a lot to show you! I made some decorations just for you and I was going to bake some cookies. Tara also taught me how to make the best hot chocolate, I thought we could make that. And I brought some Christmas movies, did you hear the music? I got you a record and --”

You were rambling, you couldn’t stop yourself. Sylus looks down at you in his arms, a smirk forming on his lips and a brow raised. He finally cuts you off.

“Mistletoe? Are you trying to tell me something?”

You are absolutely trying to tell him something, but you didn’t want to be this obvious. He wouldn’t have seen it immediately if you hadn’t fallen from the ladder.

“Of course not! It’s just a decoration!”

Sylus smiles at your rushed explanation. You wonder if he’ll read between the lines and take the hint. You hung it up, you are ready for the next step, for your first real kiss with him. And if you’re honest, so much more. You held his gaze, falling silent. But instead of leaning in, he drops you to your feet. And he turns to walk further into the room.

Your heart hammers in your chest. He knows. He has to. You tried to make it seem like it wasn’t significant. But you knew he preferred it when you were direct with your intentions. He was punishing you. Your hand moves on its own and you grab his arm before he can move further away from you. He turns back to look at you and you stare at him silently, trying to convince yourself to just do it. Just be bold. If you see something you want, take it.

“Something you want to say, kitten?”

You’re done waiting, you push up onto your toes and put your arms around his neck. Your lips press against his, gently at first. You’re not sure what washes over you, but you feel brave and powerful. You take his lower lip between your teeth and pull him to you. His hands find your hips and he pulls your body close. You feel his chest vibrate as he grunts in approval. You feel nearly delirious when you finally pull back. He must feel the same, with his ears turning red and his eyes misty.

His arms wrap around you and he pulls you back to him. His lips crash into yours now, you could tell taking it slow was the last thing on his mind. You thread your fingers through his hair. His hands move down to the back of your thighs, he lifts you and you wrap your legs around his waist. You hear the office door close behind you before you are carried into the room. You feel heat across the right side of your face and you turn your head, allowing Sylus to dive into your neck placing kiss after kiss. You’re in front of the fireplace, the heat from the flames damn near suffocating as you try to catch your breath.

Sylus lowers to the floor, he positions your legs over his lap. One of his hands holding you upright while the other caresses your cheek, explores your thigh, your ass… He kisses you fervently, his tongue tracing your lips begging for permission. You can’t help but smile as you finally let him in, his tongue tangling with your own. It feels like hours before he finally pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“I knew you put that up for a reason…” His voice is breathless and raspy, making you giggle. Let him be cocky about being right, you know now more than ever, that you have this man wrapped around your finger.

“I didn’t realize we’d end up making out in front of the fireplace, I would have put some pillows down here.”

“Use me as your pillow then.”

He shifts and lays back on the floor, settling you on top of him. Your hands placed firmly on his chest, his hands rubbing your back ever so slightly sending tingles down your spine. You feel your stomach tighten as you stare at him. This man, he is feared by so many, but you have never felt safer. You want to stay here, laying on top of him in front of the fireplace, forever. No one vying for his attention, no Wanderers to fight. Just the two of you.

“Sylus…”

He puts a hand behind his neck, lifting his head to look at you better. You almost choke on your words, you were just thinking about how you two were taking things slowly and now… You wanted more. But would he want to?

“Yes, my beloved?”

You loved when he called you that. He started using it more often after getting back from the grasslands. And every time you catch yourself thinking about what life would have been like if you both had stayed. What would you be doing right now?

“I know what I want for Christmas.”

“Oh? But you said ‘No presents Sylus, I mean it’ just two days ago.” You roll your eyes to avoid blushing at his impersonation of you.

“I changed my mind.”

“Alright, what do you want?”

“You.”

He stares at you, his eyes wide with surprise. His ears start to turn red and you know he’s thinking up a snarky comment to make you just as flustered. But not this time. You weren’t going to lose your nerve, you were on cloud nine and didn’t want to let this moment slip away.

“You. Your time. Your space. Even your silly comments that drive me crazy. I just want you. And only you.”

You’ve never known him to be speechless, but he doesn’t even try to say another word. His lips pressed together, his jaw clenched. His eyes burrow into yours and you watch as every wall he built up comes crumbling down. Just like you feel entirely safe with him, he feels entirely safe with you. He caresses your face and you drop your gaze, feeling the weight of your confession hit you like a tsunami. He lifts your chin to look at him.

“You’ve always had me.”

His lips find yours once more. You hold his face with your hands, sighing deeply as his hands drift from your waist, to your hips, lower and lower…

“I FIXED IT!”

You pull away from Sylus in a rush and you both look over to the door of the office. Luke and Kieran stand in the doorway, it seems they are frozen as they take in the scene before them. You, laying on top of Sylus on the floor in front of the fireplace. They start to slowly step backwards out the door when you spot the angel in Luke’s hand.

“Wait! Oh my god! You did! You fixed it!”

You roll off of Sylus and stand up. Eagerly jogging around the couch to them.

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy and it, ughh… might not be like it was.” He hands you the angel timidly.

You inspect the angel. The bumps of the dried hot glue and the tiny cracks and chips that couldn’t be repaired. You hold it up to the light and glance behind you, spotting a tiny rainbow square on the floor.

“It’s perfect.”

Luke sighs, relieved. Kieran pats his shoulder and tugs at his jacket urging him to follow him out of the room. Luke nods his head and skips out of the room behind Kieran, closing the door as he goes. Sylus walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach.

“An angel?”

“A tree topper. An antique from my grandmother. I thought you might appreciate it being, well… unique, vintage? It’s my favorite.”

“Then it’s my favorite too. Let’s put it on the tree then?”

You nod, not bothering to hide the smile on your face. He lifts you and places you on his shoulder. He holds onto your legs as you lean to settle the angel on top of the tree. Once it is secure, Sylus bends to let you hop off. You look up at the angel as Sylus wraps his arms around you once more. You hold onto his arms at your waist and lean back against his chest. You feel his heartbeat, always racing, but steady. Sylus leans down and places a kiss to your temple before whispering into your ear.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora

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amethystarachnid · 6 months ago

Note

hi! i hope im not too late but can i request lost holiday spirit for loki x female reader?

maybe it could go something like loki and (avenger) reader both live at the tower and aren’t that close but reader hears about lokis lost holiday spirit and tries to get him to celebrate christmas in really cute ways and they end up together at the end? maybe due to some mistletoe and loki ends up celebrating christmas with the rest of the avengers. thank you!!

MR. GRINCH - part I

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 3.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The Avengers Tower sparkles like a snow globe come to life. Twinkling lights are draped over every railing and banister, a giant Christmas tree dominates the common room, and stockings hang above the roaring fireplace, despite its purely decorative function. You flit around like a sugar-fueled elf, adjusting ornaments, humming along to Mariah Carey, and basking in the glow of your favorite time of year.

Your enthusiasm is infectious to most. Tony grumbles about the electricity bill but still orders another dozen boxes of lights. Steve pretends to roll his eyes but secretly joins you for late-night cocoa sessions by the tree. Even Natasha doesn’t protest when you drape a little tinsel around her chair.

Loki, however, is a different story.

The resident God of Mischief is an enigma at the best of times. His presence at the Tower is still a relatively new and tentative arrangement, a diplomatic olive branch between Asgard and Earth. You’re not sure if he’s here to redeem himself, learn from Thor, or just avoid Odin’s wrath. Either way, he’s the ultimate Grinch in your holiday wonderland.

You first notice it when he steps into the kitchen one frosty morning. You’re perched on a stool, munching on gingerbread cookies and debating whether the kitchen needs a wreath (it does). Loki glides in, all dark robes and haughty demeanor, and pauses mid-stride when he spots the garlands you hung around the cabinets.

“What is this excessive display?” he asks, his voice dripping with disdain.

You blink. “Christmas decorations.”

He narrows his eyes as if you’ve just declared your allegiance to an enemy kingdom. “Why?”

“Why?” You repeat, incredulous. “Because it’s Christmas! It’s festive and joyful and magical. Why wouldn’t you want decorations?”

“Because,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child, “it is frivolous and nonsensical. A mortal invention to distract from the bleakness of winter.”

You gasp, clutching a cookie to your chest as though he’s just insulted your firstborn. “You don’t like Christmas?”

“I don’t dislike it,” he replies coolly. “I am indifferent.”

Indifferent. To Christmas. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not just an opinion—it’s an affront to everything you hold dear.

“Loki,” you say, your tone turning serious. “You can’t live here, surrounded by all this cheer, and not feel even a tiny bit of joy. I won’t allow it.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I was unaware my emotional state required your approval.”

“It does now,” you announce. “Because I’ve just decided that you’re my new project.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a smirk. “A project?”

“Yes. I’m going to make you fall in love with Christmas.”

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to accomplish such a feat?” His voice drips with sarcasm, but you detect a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You grin, undeterred. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Day One

The next morning, Loki walks into the living room to find you perched by the stereo, scrolling through your phone. He doesn’t need to ask what you’re doing—Bing Crosby croons “White Christmas” as your grin widens.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you chirp. “I’ve made a Christmas playlist for the Tower, and I’m sure you’re going to love it.”

“Highly unlikely.”

Ignoring him, you press play, and the room fills with the unmistakable harmonies of Wham!’s Last Christmas. Loki sighs loudly, but you’re already dancing around him, singing off-key and attempting to get him to join in.

“You might as well embrace it,” you say. “There’s no escaping Christmas music in December. Resistance is futile.”

“I am not ‘resisting.’” He makes air quotes that somehow look aristocratic. “I simply fail to see the appeal.”

“Come on,” you coax. “Even you must have some fondness for a holiday that inspires such happy tunes.”

Loki regards you as if you’ve sprouted antlers. “My ‘fondness,’ if it exists, is reserved for silence.”

You pout dramatically. “Not even a little head bop?”

He ignores you, sweeping past toward the library. But later, when you catch him humming faintly under his breath—whether to mock you or not—you count it as a small victory.

Day Two

Your next strategy involves decorating the massive tree in the common room. Everyone else is busy, so you commandeer Loki, much to his chagrin.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, holding a string of lights like it’s a venomous snake.

“You’re tall,” you counter. “And I need help with the top branches.”

With great reluctance, he levitates to reach the higher sections. His magic comes in handy, and despite his complaints, you catch him inspecting the ornaments with genuine curiosity.

“What is the purpose of these trinkets?” he asks, turning a glittery bauble over in his hands.

“They’re not trinkets—they’re memories,” you explain. “See this one?” You point to a slightly crooked star. “Steve made it during his first Christmas in the Tower.”

Loki snorts softly. “It’s hideous.”

“Hey! It has character.”

You work side by side for an hour, and though he pretends to hate every moment, you catch him smirking when you struggle to untangle a particularly stubborn string of lights. By the time the tree is finished, it’s a masterpiece of shimmering ornaments and warm golden lights.

“You did good, Mischief,” you say, nudging his arm. “Admit it—you had fun.”

“I did no such thing,” he replies, but his tone lacks its usual venom.

Day Three

You escalate your efforts with a Christmas movie marathon, complete with a platter of cookies and the richest hot cocoa you can muster. Loki takes one sip and eyes you suspiciously.

“What is this concoction?”

“Hot chocolate,” you say, waving a candy cane for emphasis. “A Christmas essential.”

He takes another cautious sip. Then another. When the cup is empty, you wordlessly slide him a second.

You spend the evening watching Home Alone and Elf. Loki scoffs at the absurdity but doesn’t leave the room. You can’t tell if it’s the cocoa or the ridiculous antics of Will Ferrell that keep him seated, but you’ll take it.

By the time December 5th rolls around, you’re cautiously optimistic. Sure, Loki still rolls his eyes at your caroling and glares at mistletoe like it’s cursed, but there’s a softness in his demeanor. A flicker of something you can’t quite place.

And if he lingers a little longer by the tree at night, bathed in its golden glow, you don’t mention it. Not yet, anyway.

Day Four

You’ve discovered Loki’s Achilles’ heel, and it’s not his ego or his penchant for dramatics. It’s hot cocoa. Rich, creamy, decadent hot cocoa. Since the movie night, he’s been making increasingly frequent appearances in the kitchen whenever you’re whipping up a batch.

Today, you’re prepared.

You’ve set up a veritable hot cocoa bar: steaming milk, bowls of chocolate shavings, marshmallows, whipped cream, and even a jar of crushed peppermint. When Loki strolls in, feigning nonchalance, his gaze lands on the spread and narrows suspiciously.

“What is this?” he asks, though his tone betrays faint curiosity.

“It’s called variety,” you reply, grinning. “I figured if you’re going to keep stealing my cocoa, you might as well have options.”

“Stealing is an exaggeration,” he counters, but he steps closer, eyeing the setup. “What is the purpose of… these?” He gestures at the candy canes like they might attack him.

“Toppings! You can customize your drink.”

You demonstrate by ladling hot cocoa into a mug, adding a mountain of whipped cream, and delicately balancing a candy cane on the rim. Loki watches, his expression unreadable, before taking the ladle himself. He prepares a cup with precise movements, eschewing the whipped cream and opting instead for a sprinkling of chocolate shavings.

He takes a cautious sip. His expression remains stoic, but the way his eyes briefly close in satisfaction doesn’t escape your notice.

“Good, right?” you prod.

He nods minutely, still cradling the mug. You bite back a triumphant grin and lean against the counter, watching him sip the drink like it’s an elixir of the gods. Which, to be fair, it might as well be.

“You know,” you say casually, “you’re starting to get the hang of this Christmas thing.”

He snorts. “Do not mistake my tolerance for enthusiasm.”

But there’s no bite in his words, and you’re certain you’ve won another tiny battle.

Day Five

You decide to escalate your plan with a baking session. After all, what’s Christmas without cookies? Loki is less than thrilled when you inform him of this.

“You expect me to assist you with… baking?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes,” you reply cheerfully, tossing him an apron. “Think of it as alchemy. But delicious.”

He glares at the apron like it’s made of nettles. “This is beneath me.”

“Oh, come on,” you cajole. “You’ve got magic. Surely you can handle a little dough.”

He grumbles but ties the apron on with a dramatic flourish. The sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief, wearing a plaid apron that reads “Santa’s Favorite Helper” is almost enough to make you collapse in laughter, but you wisely keep it to yourself.

The baking session is… an adventure. Loki’s “assistance” involves levitating ingredients and conjuring unnecessary bursts of green light for dramatic effect. At one point, he grows bored and attempts to enchant the cookie dough, resulting in a sentient lump that tries to crawl off the counter.

“Loki!” you shriek, swatting at the rogue dough with a spatula. “This is not what I meant by teamwork!”

He smirks, watching your struggle with barely concealed amusement. “You did say I should use my talents.”

By some miracle, you manage to wrangle the dough back into submission. When the cookies finally emerge from the oven, golden and fragrant, you plop one onto a plate and shove it toward Loki.

“Taste it,” you demand.

He takes a cautious bite, his expression neutral. Then he takes another, slower bite.

“Well?” you press, bouncing on your heels.

“Adequate,” he says, but the way he reaches for a second cookie says otherwise.

Day Seven

It snows overnight, blanketing the city in a layer of white. The morning brings a rare moment of quiet in the Tower. You’re staring out the window, a steaming mug of cocoa in hand, when Loki appears beside you.

“Do you often waste time staring at frozen precipitation?” he asks, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

“It’s beautiful,” you say simply. “Have you ever played in the snow?”

He looks at you like you’ve suggested he jump into the Hudson River. “Play?”

“Yeah. You know, snow angels, snowball fights, building a snowman?”

“You forget that I hail from Jotunheim,” he says dryly. “I am quite familiar with snow.”

“Great,” you say, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door. “Then you’re already a pro.”

Despite his protests, you manage to drag him outside. The courtyard is pristine, untouched by footsteps, and you can’t resist flopping down to make a snow angel. Loki stands over you, his arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.

“You’re missing out,” you tell him, brushing snow off your gloves.

“Am I?”

You decide to take matters into your own hands—literally. Scooping up a handful of snow, you pack it into a ball and lob it at him. It hits him square in the chest.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then he looks down at the snow on his robes, then back at you, his expression unreadable.

“You dare?” he says softly.

“I dare,” you reply, grinning.

What follows is an all-out snowball war. Loki cheats, of course, conjuring multiple snowballs at once and launching them with precision. You counter with a combination of speed and sheer determination, laughing so hard your sides ache.

By the time you call a truce, you’re both soaked and breathless. Loki’s hair is damp, and there’s snow clinging to his robes, but his eyes are bright, his lips curved into a genuine smile.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly happy.

Day Ten

You’re sitting by the fire, sipping yet another mug of cocoa, when Loki joins you unprompted. He’s carrying his own mug, which you’re fairly certain he made himself—a small but significant victory.

“You’ve been unusually persistent,” he says, settling into the chair beside you.

“It’s called holiday spirit,” you reply with a grin. “And I’m rubbing off on you. Admit it.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gazes at the twinkling lights on the tree, his expression thoughtful.

“I will admit,” he says slowly, “that there is… a certain charm to this season. Though your methods are insufferable.”

You laugh, raising your mug in a mock toast. “I’ll take it.”

For the first time since you started this endeavor, you feel like you’ve genuinely reached him. And as you sit there, sharing the quiet warmth of the fire, you realize that maybe—just maybe—Loki is starting to believe in the magic of Christmas after all.

Day Eleven

The fireplace mantel remains unfinished—a glaring imperfection in your otherwise flawless Christmas wonderland. You’ve been putting it off, unsure of how to best arrange the garlands, candles, and lights. This morning, however, you find Loki standing in front of it, arms crossed, a contemplative look on his face.

“Are you admiring my handiwork?” you tease, stepping up beside him.

“I’m considering how to fix it,” he replies. “It’s… lopsided.”

You tilt your head, squinting at the decorations. “It’s supposed to look whimsical.”

“It looks haphazard,” he counters, glancing down at you with a faint smirk.

“Fine, Mr. Perfect. Show me how you’d do it.”

What starts as a playful challenge turns into a surprisingly intimate collaboration. Loki’s hands brush against yours as he passes you a strand of lights, his touch sending an unexpected warmth up your arm. He leans close to adjust a garland, his voice low as he critiques your “questionable” taste in ribbon colors.

By the time the mantel is complete, the room feels cozier—not just from the flickering candlelight but from the unspoken connection simmering between you.

“Admit it,” you say softly. “This was fun.”

Loki’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary. “Moderately enjoyable,” he murmurs, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

Day Thirteen

You’re perched on a ladder in the common room, attempting to hang a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling beam. The ladder wobbles precariously, and just as you’re about to lose your balance, strong hands grip your waist, steadying you.

“Careful,” Loki chides, his voice unusually gentle.

You glance down at him, your heart racing—not just from the near fall. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering as he helps you down from the ladder. When your feet touch the ground, you realize just how close you are. The mistletoe dangles above you, unnoticed, as you find yourself caught in his intense gaze.

“Traditionally,” Loki says, his voice dropping to a velvet whisper, “there’s a custom associated with this particular plant.”

You swallow hard, your cheeks heating. “Oh, yeah? I hadn’t noticed.”

His lips curve into a sly smile, but he steps back, breaking the moment. “Perhaps next time,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s teasing or serious.

Your pulse remains uneven long after he’s gone.

Day Fifteen

You can’t sleep. The glow of the Christmas tree calls to you, and you find yourself padding into the common room, wrapped in a blanket. To your surprise, Loki is already there, seated on the couch with a book in hand.

“Can’t sleep either?” you ask, settling into the armchair across from him.

He closes the book, regarding you with a softness you’ve come to recognize in these quiet moments. “I find the stillness… agreeable.”

The conversation flows easily, shifting from light banter to deeper topics. He talks about Asgardian winters, and you share memories of childhood Christmases. There’s an openness to him tonight, a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

At one point, you notice him watching you intently, his gaze tracing your features as if committing them to memory. “What is it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve met,” he says, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard. “Your insistence on joy, your… stubborn optimism. It’s infuriating. And yet…”

“And yet?” you prompt, your heart pounding.

He leans forward slightly, the space between you charged with unspoken possibilities. “And yet, I find myself drawn to it. To you.”

The admission leaves you breathless. You don’t know what to say, so you settle for a soft smile, hoping it conveys everything you’re feeling.

Day Seventeen

A freak snowstorm traps everyone inside the Tower. While most of the team grumbles about canceled plans, you can’t help but see it as an opportunity. You organize a board game marathon, but when Loki declines to participate, you seek him out in his room.

“Too good for Monopoly?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe.

“I prefer my games to involve a certain level of sophistication,” he replies, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Come on,” you coax. “It’ll be fun.” But when you understand the won't give in you try another tactic, just sto spend time with him. "Teach me chess instead,” you say, pulling a dusty board from a shelf.

The two of you spend hours by the fire, the snowstorm raging outside, as he teaches you the intricacies of the game. His patience surprises you, as does the way he occasionally lets you win, though he denies it every time.

At some point, you realize you’re no longer focused on the game. Instead, you’re studying the way his hair falls over his shoulders, the way his lips curve when he’s explaining a strategy.

“You’re not paying attention,” he accuses, though his tone is amused.

“Sorry,” you murmur, feeling your cheeks heat.

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps I’m more distracting than the game.”

You don’t deny it.

Day Twenty

The Tower is quiet after dinner, most of the team having retreated to their rooms. You and Loki are the last ones in the common room, the tree lights casting soft shadows across his features.

“You’ve done well,” he says, nodding toward the decorations. “This place feels… alive.”

“Thanks to you,” you reply, nudging his shoulder. “You helped more than you’d like to admit.”

“I admit nothing,” he says, though there’s a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

You fall into a comfortable silence, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension. When he reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, your breath catches. His fingers linger, his gaze dropping to your lips.

For a moment, time seems to stop. You’re certain he’s going to kiss you, and you lean in ever so slightly, your heart pounding. But then—

“Y/N!” Tony’s voice booms from the hallway, shattering the moment.

You both pull back, flustered, as Tony strides into the room, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I swear he has the worst timing,” you mutter after Tony leaves.

Loki smirks, but there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Indeed.”

Day Twenty-Four

The Tower hums with a warm energy on Christmas Eve. The team is gathered around the massive tree in the common room, the scent of pine mingling with the aroma of spiced cider and freshly baked cookies. You sit cross-legged on the floor beside Loki, the two of you half-listening as Thor attempts to recount a boisterous Asgardian holiday tradition.

Despite the chaos around you—Steve trying to untangle fairy lights, Clint stealing cookies from the tray, and Tony programming a robotic Santa to distribute presents—you feel grounded. Loki’s presence beside you has a magnetic pull, and you find yourself sneaking glances at him every few moments.

He looks relaxed, a rarity for the God of Mischief. His usual sharp edges seem softer tonight, the flickering glow of the fireplace highlighting his high cheekbones and the glint in his emerald eyes.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask quietly, leaning slightly toward him.

His lips curve into a faint smirk. “More than I expected.”

The gift exchange begins, the room filling with laughter and playful banter as everyone tears into their wrapping paper. You watch with amusement as Natasha tries not to laugh at the gaudy scarf Clint has given her, and Bruce chuckles at the chemistry-themed mug he receives.

Loki remains apart from the main commotion, though his eyes sparkle with quiet amusement. As the night winds down, the others begin to retreat to their rooms, leaving the two of you alone by the tree.

“You didn’t join the exchange,” you say, turning to him.

“I prefer to give gifts with intention,” he replies, reaching into his pocket.

He produces a small, elegantly wrapped box and hands it to you. “For you.”

Your heart stutters as you carefully undo the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside lies a delicate silver charm bracelet, each charm meticulously chosen: a snowflake, a steaming mug of cocoa, a tiny chess piece, and a star. You recognize each one as a symbol of a moment you’ve shared this month.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, your fingers trembling slightly as you lift it from the box.

“I thought you might appreciate a memento of your… relentless holiday enthusiasm,” Loki says, though his tone is soft, almost vulnerable.

“I love it,” you say, looking up at him with a wide smile. “Thank you.”

You hesitate for a moment, then reach for the small gift bag you’d hidden earlier. “I, uh, got you something too.”

He raises an eyebrow but accepts the bag, pulling out the contents with a curious expression. Inside is a beautifully bound leather journal, embossed with intricate patterns that remind you of Asgardian designs.

“For your thoughts,” you explain, suddenly shy. “Or plans, or whatever it is you write about. I thought you might like it.”

His fingers brush over the cover reverently. “It’s… thoughtful,” he says, his voice unusually gentle.

Before you can reply, a movement above catches your eye. You tilt your head back and groan. “Oh no.”

Loki follows your gaze, his expression shifting into one of amusement as he spots the sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you.

“Ah,” he murmurs, his smirk returning. “The infamous custom.”

You open your mouth to say something witty, but the words evaporate as Loki steps closer, his gaze fixed on yours. The air between you feels charged, and your heart hammers in your chest.

“Wouldn’t want to break tradition,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes.

Before you can second-guess yourself, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, unhurried, and yet it sends a spark through your entire body. His hand finds your cheek, his touch warm against your skin, and you melt into him, forgetting everything else in the world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless. Loki’s hand lingers on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone.

“Mistletoe,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Convenient,” he replies, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.

The two of you stand there for a moment, the world around you quiet and still. You glance down at the bracelet on your wrist, then back up at Loki, and you can’t help but think that this is the best Christmas Eve you’ve ever had.

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noideabutsims · 6 months ago

Text

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therentyoupay · 10 months ago

Note

Which of your last five works is your favorite/extra special to you?

you will make me choose between my own CHILDREN??? 🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭 💕💕💕💕💕 seriously, thank you for always asking such thoughtful and interesting questions to play with 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🙏

here are my last five works, from most recent (1) to least recent (5).

🌟 updated aug. 24 (today, lol): more than you know the first collab i've ever done with CO-AUTHORING!! i've done writing+art collabs before, like for not in so many words, which was our KRIS+XRIS super fun soulmate!au, but mtyk is my very first author-author collab (+AND ART/PRODUCTION lmao) and this would literally only be possible with a twin flame like @callimara, i literally could not imagine trying to take on (let alone accomplish!!) a project of this caliber with anyone else!! 😂😭✨ so, this one is extra special, for sure 💕

posted aug. 21st: only honor a very quick ficlet that i did not expect to write, and love, about dragonmother!elsa and astrid in a brotp!alliance ❄️🔥😂

🌟 posted aug. 17th: two homes a full-length one-shot that i REALLY did not expect to write, to answer the question of "how might elsa fall first, before jack?" this one is also so so special to me because it's been like, a solid 9 years since i sat down and wrote something like that all in one sitting, in a true, good, ol'-fashioned one-shot 🤣🌟

🌟updated. aug. 7th: snow globe i love this modern au that i created out of the prompt, "just say it," because i feel like it really represents the kind of genre that i'm most interested in reading at this stage in my life! i feel like each of my stories is, in so many ways, a time capsule of who i was as a person, and so i'm really especially loving this story on an emotional, intellectual, and creative level 💕 so that's extra special, too 🥺💕🌟

posted jun. 19th: uninvited another prompt-based ficlet, based on "Jelsa + office/workplace AU for 3 sentence fic please?" that i really loved writing!! 😭💕 writing quick little ficlets and micro-fic for askbox prompts can be so soothing and refreshing 😭💕💕

#therentyoupay ask #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE AMAZING ASK MY LOVE #sanfangirl-cynicalromantic #therentyoupay more than you know #therentyoupay callimara more than you know #therentyoupay snow globe #therentyoupay uninvited #therentyoupay two homes #therentyoupay only honor

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born-to-lose-writing · 6 months ago

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You Make It Feel Like Christmas

Pairing: old!Roger Daltrey x reader

Requested by anon

Summary: You spend the holiday season with Roger.

Tags: fluff, one sexual reference

Words: 1,321

A/N: Since I've been down bad for old man Roger lately, here's some Christmas fluff 💖

Tag list: @johnentwistlesbassguitar

These weren't your first holidays with Roger, but the first you spent with him entirely after you had only had a small personal celebration on the 23rd last year before spending actual Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with your families, respectively. To say the least, you were excited to experience the whole holiday magic as you now lived with him and had the chance to prepare for and celebrate Christmas with someone you loved like you had dreamed of.

However, Roger was a worthy opponent in the battle of who was more excited. Since mid-November, he had pointed out nearly daily how many days there were until Christmas. You adored how he was still looking forward to it this much while most people his age weren't too invested anymore and only saw the stressful side of the holidays. Despite having played Ebenezer Scrooge, he wasn't one at all.

It was almost like he was a child again, especially when you started decorating the house. He had plenty of decorations—many from the time when his daughters and sons were little—and he let you go through them all and choose this year’s theme. In case you found you needed more, he offered to buy some with you, but his selection was good enough and you only ended up getting a new table runner while you accompanied Roger buying presents for his kids and grandkids.

You had met them all separately before during your time with Roger, but this year, you were going to be together with his whole family for the first time as they were coming over for Christmas Day. You were a little anxious, even though there was no real reason to be, yet you also couldn't wait to see them all again, not least because Roger was happy whenever they visited him.

First, you decorated outside the house, but it was inside where you got to be more creative, putting up fairy lights, candle arches, paper stars, bows, snow globes, nutcrackers, porcelain figures and whatever else you found in his collection. You regularly asked Roger if he thought it was too kitschy, but he just watched you adoringly, handing you more decorations with sparkling eyes and saying he got to decorate every year, so you were welcome to do whatever you wanted.

Obviously, you let him help you decide where to put the items you had picked. That way, it was more fun for both of you and to reward yourselves afterwards, he made some eggnog and you cosied up to the fireplace in the living room together.

“We should get matching socks, shouldn't we?” you suggested, rubbing your leg against his.

“I wasn't going to reveal it until Christmas Eve, but I got us two pairs,” he said after a short pause. “It's not the only thing I have for you, so if you want, we can wear them earlier than that.”

“You really think of everything, don't you? It’s up to you, I don't mind only getting them for Christmas either,” you shrugged.

Roger put his mug down and wrapped both arms around you. Suddenly, you started giggling. “What is it?” he asked, smiling because you sounded like you were up to something.

“I also got matching outfits for us, but you'll definitely only see them in three weeks.”

“That’s okay, I like surprises,” he laughed, interlocking his fingers with yours. He did like surprises, but he was curious what your matching outfits would be; he had a feeling it would either be ugly Christmas sweaters or those silly costumes you could get at department stores.

Besides decorating and other projects Roger had to keep busy and liked to involve you in, you took walks on most days and when it snowed, it was even better. There wasn't enough to build a snowman or make snow angels, but it was nice to just watch the snowflakes fall and realise that Christmas was coming closer.

Of course, you also baked at least twice a week and always together. Roger's recipes were the best and it was no wonder the cookies, cupcakes and cakes you made were gone within two days.

You put down the tray of cookies and turned around to get a plate from the cupboard, but bumped into Roger, who was puckering his lips. “Give me a kiss!”

“Again?” you asked, surprised. He had just kissed you before turning off the oven when the timer rang.

“Didn't you see the mistletoe?” He grinned and nodded up at the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above you.

You wondered where he even picked as much mistletoe as he hung up all over the house, insisting it's tradition every time you were standing underneath one. However, you were not complaining at all. You would kiss him all day if you could and he was committed to getting as close to kissing you all day as possible. His smile each time you leaned in to give into his gentle demands was the cutest thing.

You chuckled, putting your arms around his middle and pointing out, “You put them up everywhere, and I know you have one behind your back.”

Roger moved his face towards yours and closed his eyes, mumbling, “Mhm, that's for special kisses.”

Then he raised his occupied hand above your heads and eagerly kissed you—deeper than your usual chaste and sweet mistletoe kisses. In the heat of the moment, he pressed you against the edge of the counter, but he soon pulled away and reached up to open the cupboard, handing you the plate you had almost forgotten about by now.

“Thank you,” you said, still playing with the curls at the back of his head and pecking his lips before he stepped aside to let you get back to what you had been doing.

Finally, the day to see your promised matching outfits came. You had wrapped them in pretty paper and gave Roger his, leaving the room to get dressed yourself. Watching each other change was no issue at all, but you found it would make for a more dramatic reveal if you did that separately. Your costume probably looked more stupid than his, but you liked wearing it for a laugh.

You heard footsteps getting louder from the doorway of the living room and before you stood Roger dressed up as Santa Claus, wearing his classic wide smile. As you looked him up and down with a grin, he put his hands on his stomach and laughed exaggeratedly. Due to the way his normal laugh often sounded like a jolly elf, your costume may have been fitting for him too. Perhaps next year. However, he looked better in this outfit than you had expected. A little silly, but it suited him and he seemed to be having fun with it.

“Father Christmas? More like Daddy Christmas,” you purred teasingly, walking up to him and placing the matching hat on his head.

He put his hands on his hips and looked over the edge of his glasses. “Don't make me add you to the naughty list.”

“Oh come on, I’m only guilty of innocence,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him. God knows he had been naughtier than you, though much less now than back in the day, which you appreciated in certain aspects.

Roger sat in the armchair next to him and you immediately took a seat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. He gently put a hand on your thigh to keep you in place and smiled, stroking it with his thumb. Then he straightened up and asked like a mall Santa, but with genuineness in his tone, “What's your wish, darling?”

You stayed silent for a moment, getting lost in his blue eyes. “I have everything I could wish for,” you replied, gently pulling down his fake beard and cupping his cheeks as you leaned in to kiss him.

#mel writes #the who #roger daltrey #musician #self insert #fluff #one shot #roger daltrey x reader #roger daltrey fic #the who fic #2024

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writing-for-life · 1 year ago

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Sandman Fics and Poems

The list gets updated regularly, and I love your comments and thoughts (no, it’s not weird to interact, it’s what fandom is about)…

Fics

The Pillars of Creation (Ao3) (long fic in progress, ~8,000/~80,000 words. The sequel to “The Light of Stars”, Morpheus/OFC)

Lupē (one-shot for Sandman Rarepair Fest, Ao3) or Tumblr (completed, 615 words, Calliope/Morpheus)

The Self-Love, Sex and Pursuit of the Helm Novels: A Tragicomedy in Three Movements (Ao3) (crack fic in progress, ~4,500/app. 7,000 words, Morpheus/The Helm)

The Light of Stars Tumblr Master Post or straight to Ao3 (completed long fic, ~ 75,000 words, Morpheus/OFC)

Snow Globes and Whisky (one-shot for Christmas, links in with “The Light of Stars”) (Ao3) (completed, ~2,500 words, Morpheus/OFC)

As It Was Before The Otherness Came (one-shot for Sandman Femslash Weekend) (Ao3) or Tumblr (completed, ~3,700 words, Johanna Constantine/Rachel Moodie)

Poetry

A Poem a Day March 2025 (a couple of these are The Light of Stars inspired, but most aren’t and of a more personal nature. I’ll still link them here anyway)

Aftermath and Dreams of Light (poems for Sandman Rarepair Fest)

Ode to Death and Requiem (poems for Death Appreciation Week)

Sandtober/Inktober 2023 Haikus (Ao3) or Tumblr (completed)

Incandescent Light (the prompt poem/vignette hybrid that sparked The Light of Stars)

Series

Check out the ongoing Dream’s Therapist—a tragicomedy straight from the therapist’s couch…

To avoid disappointment: I don't write for the big ships because

a) I am generally not a shipper and

b) they tend to be m/m, and as a bi woman, my main interest is writing m/f and f/f. It is important to me to write female protagonists, and I prefer to write from a female point of view—her feelings/wants/desires and sexuality without the detour of projecting them onto a man.

Apart from that, I love myself a good crack fic and rare pairs, and you will definitely find those. I only started writing fanfic in 2022, and I spent most of that time writing a longfic called "The Light of Stars". I am fairly proud I saw it through, and the sequel is in the making (apparently, people liked it: Can I just say how excited and grateful I was when someone gifted me the Literary Badge? Thank you, you know who you are 🥹).

TLoS is a Morpheus x OFC fic, but it is not a self-insert or Y/N-fic. I am fairly prickly about that distinction because fandom's tendency to throw them into the same pot regularly drives me up the wall. I write OCs professionally (albeit in a language other than English), so the assumption that they are all straightforward self-inserts always seemed fairly odd to me…

I also love writing short-form poetry—you might find the odd one here, too.

Link to full pinned post with all my stuff

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29625 · 6 months ago

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Slimav Yuletide treat—A tale about a tacky snow globe, Maverick’s pining for Slider, and Slider being a drunk magpie.

Came up with this little piece when I was browsing some holiday decorations. Post TG, pre-relationship (one-sided pining by Mav). Set in my long-term Slimav universe, Just What I Needed, somewhere around late 80s.

Happy holidays!

“Tell the Magpie I Love Him”

“Snow globes are for adults,” he muttered. “You hear that?”

The dive bar was bustling as usual. Maybe more than usual, and more than his own liking. The holiday spirit was all time high, now that the X day was in their sights. Almost three days left. That was why there was a snow globe sitting on the counter, he supposed. A cheap-looking one at that. The red base was ten shades lighter than looking less like a malfunctioned plastic, and even under the dim light, their choice of figurines inside the sparkly water was quite questionable—a Santa and a snowman, their faces melding with the tint of sun-breached glass as they stood, smiling like they meant it.

Maverick nodded at his clearly drunk friend—and quickly came to realize that he wouldn’t make himself understood in the pool of noises, just like trying to talk under the water, their voices bubbling and dissipating into the deep green sea. He enjoyed spending time with him, nevertheless. Even if the topic didn’t make sense, or didn’t sound like it made sense, chit chat, chit chat, it was a perfect talk that both would both amuse and soothe him. He knew how to entertain, or tame, his fiery yet somewhat awkward former classmate-colleague-turned into a friend with his nurturing charm; a small incentive for having dealt with his baby brother and his equally fiery and slightly more reasonable pilot.

His personality had long grown on Maverick. If he wasn’t using the relative term, then, Maverick had long been liking him, even.

“I hear you.” he replied, idly kicking the leg of the bar stool. “Those gaudy little glitters and Santas and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah.” Slider said unfazed and tilted the glass globe in his hand. In an almost delicate manner, he’d say, despite the calloused look of his fingers—matching with Maverick’s own. And that was one reason why he could bring himself to listen to him for a little longer, if not solely for how soothing his deep tenor was in his stoned ears. “Very much so.”

He cleared his throat before placing the snow globe down on the sticky counter. His head soon dropped to the eye-level of those aesthetic atrocities of festive figurines. Not minding his awkwardly squashed posture, or maybe not feeling the uncomfortableness from all the booze in his system. Maverick could relate, at least—he felt warm and cozy inside, in spite of the draft of the air leaking inti the room.

“You think snow globes are for adults?” Maverick asked after a long, drunk, and rather comfortable pause.

Slider nodded in response, his head still rested on his arms. He gazed at the globe, and Maverick followed by lowering his eyes to really look at the same sight as him.

“Y’know,” he muttered. “They are just…some finer things in life.”

They watched as the glitters floated around the miniature house. Those things shined bright, then turned almost colorless under the shadow. Drifting and moving, falling off and shaken up. It had been Slider who would touch the globe, but Maverick soon joined in, each taking turns being the one to influence and the one to witness the sight unfolded. It reminded him of the idle morning in the winter, or how its beauty would blow some chilling wind caressing his cheeks. The paint job, as well as its overall structural sturdiness, would’ve been called a bad one, indeed, considering this thing had sat in some random dive bar as a last-minute and whimsical effort for the festive season. Yet he found himself being drawn to those figurines, how they beamed at them with those derpy eyes and oddly tinted lips, for their peculiar charm that seemed to enhance the sentimental beauty of shimmering snowflakes.

“See?” his teeth were peeking from his lips as he smiled, coloring a soft, boyish look on his otherwise sharp features. “It’s for us adults, those who ‘precitate stuff.”

“Or,” Maverick grinned back, turning and facing him. “It could be for you magpies.”

“Dickhead,” he scoffed at the teasing remark, returning his gaze for a moment worth of teasing glare. “You don’t know shit about good things in life, clearly.”

“What? Tryna be prissy and start critiquing me?”

Maverick playfully nudged him on one shoulder, not being able to ignore the warmth beneath his clothes. His muscles are firm yet pliant under his fingertips, and his lightweight sweater radiated a certain warmth that seemed to cling to his own. The little scenery tilted in the glass globe as they—two grown-ass, muscular men—squirmed in their seats.

“Careful,” Slider said in between his amused giggles. “Think about breaking this, man.” he pointed at the globe, now sitting on the counter, with the water inside of it turned slightly upset. “I don’t wanna look too much like I piss glitters all over my weenie.”

“Your Johnson,” Maverick replied almost instantly, uttering the first thing that popped up in his head. “Was it?” he grinned.

“Jerk.” was the only thing Slider muttered, burying his face further into his crossed arms.

Maverick knew he was most likely giggling still, despite the façade of offense. His hazel eyes peeked from the façade of their childish play, shimmering under the fairy lights above them. Slider was still holding the tacky globe like a fine glass of whiskey, with his mesmerization palpable in the glow of his cheeks, his glued eyes, reflecting all the shimmers on those irises that shone no less brighter than the glass surface. He swore he could see as the small world of the snowy ski resort and the Denali and the Santa village strips its cloak of mirage in his eyes, above the hint of blush on his cheekbones, on those thin lips adorned by the faint residue of gin.

“You joining Baby Goose for the holidays?”

The sentence hit the atmosphere quietly. Slider was not looking at him, his gaze still lingering on the tacky glass globe.

“Well, duh.” Maverick took a sip of his own drink as if to fill in the raspy halt in his speech. “…C’mon, what’s so fun about holidays if not for your cool Uncle Mav, huh?”

Slider returned an approving grin that spread across his face. He’d always be like this, inadvertently showing a glimpse of his nurturing side whenever he was secure—vulnerable—with him. “You two kids have fun, then.”

“Want me to tell him how to appreciate snow globes?” Maverick asked as he rested his head in his hand.

Their eyes met for a while, with his gaze and Slider’s glossier hazels getting intertwined like threads. The tingling feeling would creep up like a plague. It had been creeping up like a plague, like a trail of cold wind tugging him by his ankle. The close proximity between them seemed to amplify the tension that was about to melt the damp blue of the glass in his hand.

“Definitely,” Slider whispered. His lashes framed his droopy eyes, motionless as he gazed into him. His eyes were like a half moon in the sky, reflecting all the luminous lights on those bright surfaces before they were gone in the clouds, hidden by the shadow of his long lashes as he smiled. “I’d love that.”

His lashes fluttered as he blinked, like the silver snow in the water. Onto his shoulders and across his chest fell a strip of shadow, etching a sharp, strong line on the mixture of colors and shapes breathing underneath. And that was the moment when Maverick was reminded of how his body had felt against his fingertips, how pliant his muscles were—moving, writhing, waxing themselves like the shiny wings of those birds. It felt great, however weird it might have sounded. It made him crave for more, a never-ending chase for the shimmer.

For a moment, he felt as though they were alone together, basking in the distant glow of lights, watching the world tilt and flicker.

“Merry Christmas,” Maverick whispered against the rim of his glass as if to say his prayer. “Merry Christmas, Ron.”

His eyes held a serene halo within them, blessing him. His lips opened and closed a few times before forming a slight smile. “Merry Christmas, Pete.”

#slimav #top gun fanfiction #ron slider kerner #slider x maverick #top gun 1986 #pete maverick mitchell #ao3 writer #Yuletide treat #Sli being a magpie and Mav being cluelessly smitten by him #may post this on AO3 after I edit this idk #29625’s top gun fics

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raccoonfallsharder · 1 year ago

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future projects.

october 2025 onward part one | part three | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

below you can find the stuff i am working on, in order of (hopeful) release date. i have a lot of simultaneous projects so these will be coming out slowly over the coming months. thank you for bearing with me ♡♡ you are better than bonfires and s'mores and fireflies.

october 2025

kinktober 2025.

For Science: A Blackmail Material Epilogue. | mcu ❤︎‬❤︎ rocket's long-pondered how he could improve on your little sex-toy. your second anniversary seems like a good time to test out his new inventions. CONTEXT/CONTEXT/WARNINGS: mcu-inspired au. bondage, sex toys, voyeurism, dirty talk, fucking machine. enjoy!

The Deneb-7 Stage Show. | mcu ❤︎‬❤︎ you and rocket end up with a broken-down ship, stranded on deneb-7. unfortunately, the part rocket needs for repair is too big to steal by himself, and too expensive for the, ah, current budget. unfortunately, there aren't that many ways to make money on deneb-7. CONTEXT/WARNINGS: comics-inspired, exhibitionism, voyeurism, use of aphrodisiacs and sex-toys, bondage, dirty talk, absolute filth.

Myth: A Sex Pollen Story. | au ❤︎‬❤︎

red glitter & red kiss & bow dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws | red support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics

myth: a sex pollen story. (title subject to change) 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f! x rocket | ?? | word count: pending. a dark little story for the end of your october.

gold ribbon, wisteria, and purple blossom dividers by @/sweetmelodygraphics | purple mdni/support banners by @cafekitsune

november 2025

autumn comfort collection: year two.

to be considered:

Tim Tam Blam. Murdered. | comics ✮

Snowed In on Contraxia. | eidos ❤︎‬❤︎

Skull City DJ. | mcu ‬✩❤︎

fairy light divider by @/thecutestgrotto | animated pumpkin & lace dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws | support banner by @/saradika-graphics

december 2025

borealis: year three.

clara & the rat king. MDNI | f!oc | three parts? | word count: pending.

deep in the sleep-shift, the eclector is ghostly-quiet and dark — but clarity steeltree cannot sleep. she tosses and turns, haunted by the half-drowsy dreams of yondu's questionable "christmas stories," and a voice that purrs to her from the walls. inspired by the nutcracker & the mouse king.

CONTEXT/WARNINGS: mcu-based; a little dark-christmas-magic for you. warnings to come.

to be considered:

Krampusnacht | mcu-based au ❤︎‬❤︎

How to Cheat at Dreidel. (inspired by bumbrella on ao3) | comics ✮

A Christmas Carol (3 parts) | mcu ✩

After-Hours at the Toy Shop. | ?? ❤︎‬❤︎

pink globe fairylights by @/thecutestgrotto | pink snowflake and candycane dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws | pink support/mdni banners by @/cafekitsune

other future projects...

part one | part three | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

#aspirations #rfh fanfic #future projects #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon fanfiction #gotg fanfiction #gotg rocket #rocket raccoon x oc #rocket gotg #rocket raccoon x you #rfh masterlist

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spiritflakess · 3 months ago

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Witches’ Brew

AO3, tumblr

Chapters: 2/?

Words: 2.3 k

Ongoing:

Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & CafésProfessor QifreyCafe owner OlruggioMenace BeldaruitBeldaruit used nepotismQifrey needs an extra large coffeeOlruggio wants to sleepAgott Coco Tetia & Richeh interactingDad Olruggio

Autumn had begun to settle down, inviting roots of winter to take hold. It brought back memories of knitted blue mittens and oversized woolen coats, bundled tightly. Qifrey ironically enjoyed the frigid season, greatly preferring its biting chill to the torrential downpours of summer. Typhoon season was his greatest enemy as a small child, after social occasions of course.

He arrived back home a few hours ago, stepping off the platform to a town frozen, in season and time. The same station staff, the same cracked pavement no one was ever going to fix, the same dingy trams. As much as he liked snow globes, this little pre-holiday diorama was unsettling. How the hell had this place not changed in 10 years? How is it the same station he fled from one humid, scorching summer night?

It’s a short, scenic walk to his childhood home, past old unkept city trees and worn pavement. Beldaruit always liked that, liked how unkept town looked, said it gave it a certain color that the cities didn’t have. Home, a place that should be warm, should feel welcoming. So why does it not inspire feelings like that in him? Why, as he faces the charming little house he grew up in, not feel at home? This void, no black hole, sitting quaintly as it always had on that hill.

Beldaruit perched under his covered porch, sipping one of his fruity teas with some ancient bound text. He has half a mind to scold the old man for being out in the cold with no coat, ‘and he says I take terrible care of myself..’ Qifrey mutters under his breath, walking up the frosted path.

“Dearest Qifrey!” His grumbling alerts the old man, whose eyes light up with a dozen stars. Text promptly closed and tea forgotten in favor of reunions, the whrr of his wheelchair sounding softly. Qifrey raises an eyebrow, stepping up the porches incline to meet his guardian halfway.

“You know I was starting to get worried you wouldn’t show! It's so good to see you again s-” Qifrey softly raises a hand, stopping his elders' words. Beldaruit’s face scrunches a bit, knowing damn well he’s about to get chewed out...so much for hugs and tearful greetings.

“Firstly, you should be wearing a coat, old man-” Qifrey sucks in a breath through his teeth, forgoing his own coat and with more care than he shows wrapping his guardian up. His chest falls with a sharp exhale, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to suppress the anger toward his...father.

A wry grin peeks from behind Beldaruit’s shroud of abashment, whispering faint traces of his amusement towards the gesture. Qifrey all about picks up the elderly man’s book to hurl it at him, however, he can’t bring himself to take his anger out on the poor bundle of pages. The younger man collapses into the worn wicker chair next to Beldaruit, a resigned huff escaping his chest.

“We’re talking, when I have the energy to deal with you.” Qifrey puffs, white hair falling in messy tuffs as he leans backward. His declaration met with a pleased hum and the scraping of a cup pushed across the table.

“Of course, now tell me, what my favorite child has been up to!~”

‘I’ll take over the cafe Grandfather! Don’t worry, you can count on me!’

Oh, what a load of total bullshit! He must have been on the heavy wine that family reunion, because never in a right mind would Olruggio have offered to do something like that! Seriously, why the hell did he think this was gonna work, like holy hell, ‘Oh It’s just making drinks and whipping up some foods, it can’t be as hard as retail!’. Oh, smashed Olruggio, you poor sweet summer child, how wrong you were!

Sure, he’d been managing to barely run the place the past six months, but as it stood his entire business was being sustained by 6 loyal regulars. Four of which were students from a local private school, who ordered his consumables with a ritualistic ferocity that could rival a pack of wolves. Where the hell four middle school girls were getting unlimited funds to order drinks and snacks every day is beyond him, but to hell with it. Complaining about money? You’ll hear no such thing from him, he’s not asking questions.

As far as he’s concerned, they’re little blessings postponing his inevitable declaration of bankruptcy! Softly ringing, the bell on the cafes door sounds as four sets of footsteps pad over to the bar counter. Stools scrap against the wooden floor, as the excited chatter of school kids fills the empty space. Yes, thank the heavens for these mysteriously loaded, sugar loving heathens.

“Sup kids!, what’ll be your brew today?” Beady little eyes stare back at him, yeah, yeah that was bad. God, He’s 26, when did he become this cringe?

A fluffy black forest of curls piped up first, her tone not lacking it’s punch as usual, “Mr.Olruggio, please never say sup again.” Agott’s face looks a cross between mild disgust and faint secondhand embarrassment.

Tetia hurriedly buts in, pulling Agott’s school cap down over her head, earning her a swat from the other girl. She swats right back, glancing apologetically at Olruggio, as though her classmate’s murdered him.

“We’re so sorry Mr. Olruggio! Please don’t kick us out!, Agott’s just cranky cause she failed our history test!” Tetia is quickly dragged into a battle of who can shove the others cap down harder first, leaving Olruggio to the remaining two who’ve yet to join the altercation.

“Hi again, Mr.Olruggio! I thought your greeting was nice!” Coco’s soft genuine smile was always a contrast to the little band of vibrant personalities she was rolling with. His eyes move over to Richeh, who as usual is half asleep, face planted into his counter. Shaking his head, the cup he’d been wiping is set down.

“One more time, pick your poison kiddos.” He poses once again, with a huff of fondness for the chaotic quartet. All at once, they stop and look to each other, and then to him. For a moment he’s almost unnerved, feeling like a mouse under the watchful eye of four, small house cats. Tiny, yet deadly.

“It’s the first day of winter Mr.Olruggio!” Tetia chirps with her usual cheer, leaning on the edge of her stool.

“Which means that one should...be drinking warm things, to combat the cold of the season.” Agott begrudgingly adds, arms crossed as she nudges Richeh from her quest of eternal slumber.

“Too cold, hate it.” Richeh adds her own drowsy commentary, yawning as she flops her head back on the counter.

“We’d like hot chocolate, please!” Coco finishes their order, kicking her legs back and forth to waste her own pent-up energy.

All four collectively nod, the council having made their decision on today’s demands. Olruggio can’t help but snicker, nodding along like a hero accepting the wisdom of four great sages. He moves to gather the ingredients, looking over his shoulder as he works.

“Did any of you want art-” Olruggio starts to ask when---

“FUZZY WORM!” Richeh immediately bolts up, fists pounding into the counter in a fit of pure passion for cafe “mascot”. Blue eyes shine with a single-minded goal, to see Olruggio’s original character in latte art form.

“Agott and I’d like a cat!” Tetia chirps along, grabbing the thorny girl's hand and holding it up. Agott squawks something at her but huffs and accepts her fate in the end. A cat...doesn’t sound all that bad anyway.

“Oh Oh um a bird? No no a flower? Uhm Uh There’s so many, I can't choose!” Coco meanwhile wallows in despair, knowing she can’t possibly see all the arts today...

He chuckles to himself, already pulling the milk out of the fridge under the counter.

#qifrey #orufrey #olruggio #witch hat atelier #beldaruit #coco witch hat atelier #coffeshop su

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dinosauranimalcrossing · 6 months ago

Text

The forgotten villagers cookie project.

Hey animal crossing tumblr! I'm new to the tumblr and I'd love your help with the animal crossing project im doing. I want every villager that is in pocket camp but doesn't have a cookie yet, to be given a cookie with a concept. You can help out by helping me with the concepts and comment ideas.

Collecting cookies is my favourite part of the game. Seeing the animals interact with the furniture from dancing at a ball to bathing in a luxurious spa really makes the game so much fun. It made me actually sit down and realize how much animals weren’t given a cookie. So I made one for every animal that was missing one. edit: i gave up after 80 cookies xD. my brain is fried

I can’t drawn, sadly, I have been told I can write, so I will describe the idea as best as possible and I hope it’s enough.

If you have a idea for a villager cookie, especially those I couldn’t think of, or have a better idea, or a addition to a idea, dont hesitate to comment! Thank you! You will be credited and your idea will be filled in the empty cookie space!

If you like to remain secret or anon that is possible too and totally acceptable! You can send me a anon on here or on the reddit where i crossposted this.

Admiral= Admiral. The only idea I had for admiral was going to be a old vintage wooden ship, and uhm a bit pirates of the caribbean like, but from the bad guys (so i guess the navy) p.o.v xD. There would be wigs and spy glasses you can hold in your hand and map rugs and villagers can spin the world globe…which wasnt invented yet but shhh. (that was around that time when folks realized, hold up, this thing is round not flat)

Agent S=Agent S is i think a perfect fit for undercover stuff. So think about gadgets. Villagers can fly with a jetpack, they can roll under lasers at the 5 star vault to break in so to speak, and there are some sleek outfits in this collection. Inspired by totally spies and action movies alike, this set is sure to blow your socks off. (not literally)

AI=Al’s binge cookie. Cuddle up with a cozy blanket, and expierence home comfort like never before with the Binge cookie. Watching series is what he does best, so expect comfortable new media inspired pyjamas (k.k slyder on the print, or the iconic animal crossing leaf pattern) a popcorn maker and a soda machine. There’s also a lounge couch where six villagers can sit on, so you can gather together to watch that one show with your favourite friends

Alice= Alice is going to be a creative one. It is going to relate to a modern art theme. You can watch villagers paint with the new furniture, watch them react to new statues and wear chique new modern clothing. New furniture is also going to be very modern pop-art like, so imagine bright colours and weird designs like a candypop shaped chair.

Ali=Ali is a fairytale cookie from the fairytale of the snow queen. Picture a new snowy dress, a snow castle made of ice and handheld items that let your villagers cast real ice magic. You can also imagine the colours blue, purple, and dark green to be used a lot.

Anabella=Anabella would like to open her own bed and breakfast! You can now collect parts of her cozy furniture and decorate your campsite to fit the theme. The furniture will mostly be british countryside based with mostly white and beige colours, new kitchenette items like cooking stoves but also fitting decorations to make that bed and breakfast look amazing. You can expect two new outfits for the owner and can give villagers now small suitcases or bags depending on your preference.

Anchovy=Anchovy’s fishy cookie. It comes with fishing furniture. Based on fishes, so you can have a sea bass table and a octopus chair. The outfits are fish onesies you can wear and the 5 star item is this large, aquarium that stands on the floor and villagers can kinda, hang above it a bit, leaning, looking into the water and smile at the fishes.

Agnus= Agnus Beef. He should get a cookie that allows you to and I am sorry for all cow villagers, open up a beef restaurant. It would not come with anything bloody, but imagine lovely rustic chairs and tables, with plaid tablecloths and lovely little glasses. It would be very cute. The 5 star cookie reward would be a mechanical bull your villagers can ride.

Anicotti=Anicotti’s fashion boutique. This set is more about making clothes, rather then selling them like Bree’s lovely cookie. You will see villagers sewing at the tables, size each other up with size measurement labels and can expect some true True Jackson shenigagns from this cookie xD. (man that show was so long ago but so good) 5 star cookie reward will be a office table where your villagers can have a meeting, imagine space for 8 villagers max and you as the boss will stand beside it. It will be great for mulitple story telling purposes. Fashion is not unimportant as the outfits will be Anicotti approved

Ankha=Travel back to Ankha’s time with this unique cookie. Ankha has recently found a portal and has begun importing goods and clothing from her time. The villagers can be dressed in beautiful linen (common in that time) usually in white colours with bright gems and jewerly details (not so common, at least not for everyone) Imagine a sphinx statue that your villagers can talk to (it wont say much but sometimes they get a either ‘’blessed’’ or a ‘’cursed’’ face from it) The reward is a classical Feluccas. these beautiful boats have sailed the seas since the ancient times and can host up to 6 different villagers, all with different interactions. Someone will wave, another will raise a glass, and two are doing the famous titanic ‘’I am the king of the world’’ scene. xD I have much love and appreciation for (Ancient) Egypt and I really tried to keep this respectful and accurate. I hope so, at least. Except the titanic scene but thats just..that had to be there.xD

Annalise=Annelise’s cookie is going to be a hit for bridgerton fans. Shock, and delight, indeed my friends. The carriage is the 5 star reward that takes up around twenty space. ‘’WHAT SO MUCH?!’’ Yeah, because it drives around, in a small circle. The dresses are inspired by the netflix hit show but it wont be a official collab. I don’t know how the area is called but I do know its after Elizabeth I and before Elizabeth II XD. So, imagine ballgowns, uhm, dance floors in a more natural colour, high hats for gentlemen villagers, cakes that rotates and it opens and butterflies come out of it, as the villagers clap, and you have a podium where a villager can stand on, and up to six villagers can kneel around the stage, as if its a coronation. You can also change their emotions to make them look angry to make it look like a uprising xD. Just something I thought of. Yeah. Cute cookie:)

Antonio=Antonio’s run. Antonio’s cookie is going to be inspired by a pretty big sport events; Marathons. Imagine little fences, two kinds. You have one where two villagers can stand behind (imagine mom Annalisa and dad Julian cheering on their kid Filbert) ((ignore genetics, this is a example)) or one fence where one villager stands behind (awh, grandpa dobie came out to watch his grandson filbert! how cute!) the outfits will be two different sport outfits each with fitting numbers on the back like the person is actually participating in a marathon. You can also hold sports drinks. The special item is a ten spaces big running space where five villagers can run in, while three villagers cheer. It also comes with a villager with a camera doing a photo finish. ‘’...they use computers, nowadays…kath…’’ yeah, i know but imagine how cute it would be!! x

Astrid=Astrid’s paparazzi office. Get ready for scandal and socialites! Astrid has recently opened her own magazine, and she needs your help. Paparazzi comes with starlight spots, where you can put two villagers who might be dating and sitting on a bench, holding paws, and then another villager lies on the ground, next to a bush, taking photos. xD. This is the five star item. There are star spotlight separate items for example, there is one of a villager angry stomping you can put that down, and place a standalone of a paparazzi hiding close to it. There’s also a open paparazzi one, in case you want to create a movie premiere. Now you can. xD

Avery= Sheriff Cookie= Avery wants a classical cowboy cookie! There’s a new sheriff in town. Yes. YOU! There will be hats, of course and a very vintage old western style of furniture. The biggest one and I am sorry for liking this idea but you can imprison villagers in this small cell. One cell holds one villager, and, a villager can also interact with the prisoner. xD its so silly.

Bam=Bam’s fire…animal cookie. Bam’s cookie is all about fires. And putting them out. You can now dress your animals as if part of the fire brigade, but you can do more than that. There are different small fires that can be interacted with and placed, and villagers if they decide to go to that, will try to put the fires out. Fires cannot expand on their own, or with a villager, and will naturally re-start when you leave the campsite or cabin, or go upstairs or to your garden. The 5 star item is a firetruck where two villagers can sit in, with sirens on. A 3th villager can be seen clutching to the ladder on the roof, like some superhero xD (do not do this at home!)

Benedict: Benedict would like to open a diner. Not any diner. A chicken themed diner. So there’s a chicken mascot suit, chicken themed chairs, and chicken themed tables. For the 5 star item, there is this item that allows your villagers to fly up (wearing a chicken suit) and fly around a bit. It is quite the spectual. The design, …it’s gonna look red and black and white like a KFC. XD i am sorry.

Bertha=Bertha dreams of having her own library. You can expect small carts with books that can be pushed one block by a villager. There is also a interactive bookcase wall, where a villager can walk to and take out a book, for example. There is also another interactive one, where they will shelf the book. The 5 star item is a library café counter.

Big top=Big top offers a unique cookie in the way of racing. He likes racing and you can expect more cars, a 5 star bonus circuit where two villagers can race against each other, and other car related items in this cookie.

Bill= Bill’s cookie is about a extreme sport. Bungy jumping. You can now place special rocks in your campsite or your cabin, or special bridges and watch your villagers jump down the rocks and the bridges. The ropes will always be tied properly, and no animals were injured.

Billy= Billy wants to have a barber shop. It will be old fashioned, imagine 1920s ish with decoration, but also a mix with modern furniture. Animals can sit in front of the big mirror or chair or drink coffee on the couch, enjoy a magazine or a cookie. The 5 star item will be a hairsalon cap that can be placed over a villager’s head as in city …let’s go to the city. The animals hair won’t change, but sometimes they will get up happy and sometimes they will get up crying xD.

Bitty= Bitty dreams of having a adorable hippo enclosure. Imagine a hippo suit. A hippo couch. A hippo bed. The 5 star item will be a hippo enclosure where a small hippo walks around, screaming angrily. (You know who this is) The vibes will be brown with pink. It will be den. Dare I say…Moo-deng?

Bones: He has a bone to pick with you (I’ve been waiting a hour for that one) Bones wants to find his favourite bone he buried in the garden and he needs your help. During digging, he found some…interesting things. Like a lovely skeleton that is armed with a sword, two skeletons that can stand as guards and a very mysterious casket that can open…on its own. The 5 star item will be a bone related item where the player can summon visions with the bones. Imagine a spooky, skeleton set for this cookie. Not too much like we had, like its a shade darker. Maybe too dark, but I’ll leave that up to you.

Boomer= Boomer’s cookie is about him running a modern pc store. He had it with these youngsters and their pear phones and their dumbwatches and their xswitches and nintenstations. He wants to know what the hype is about so he decided: Let me open my own store that way I’ll surely learn. Nope. xD. You can expect modern computers, laptops, desks, chairs, and a repair desk (premium 5 star item) to be added along with a uniform for the store. The repair desk will be two animals. One is the client, the other the worker. The worker will have the phone, and checks this. Sometimes the animal will smile, it is fixed. Sometimes, the animal will drop the phone on accident. whoops. and another time, the worker can’t figure out what’s wrong with it, so they smash it on the ground and jump on it. xD

Boone= Boone has a new hobby: Pottery! You can get messy floors or pottery stations where one villager can work at. The outfits will be aprons to avoid your clothes getting dirty and also there are several pottery art works, like Tom Nook or Isabelle in clay. You can also expect a bigger pottery station where two villagers can work together to create something beautiful.

Boots= Boots has a beautiful store together with Kicks. Furniture items will be store related things, but also boot related things. Imagine a giant boot sign or a rack with shoes. Villagers can sit on special stools and will put on new shoes, trying them out. the 5 star premium item is a check-out counter where the villager is handed a boot-shaped bag with their purchase.

Boris= Boris’ cookie is going to be a very interesting one. You can now dress with cloaks, sharp teeth and sleep in a casket. Yes, vampire cookie is here. The cookie will have dark/red theme for the furniture. There won’t be blood in it, but there will be tomato juice packages so you can have that aesthetic, so to speak. Interactive objects: There is a casket that one villager can lay in, to sleep, and another villager can open it. The villager who is sleeping will scare the villager who woke them. There is a dark, crimson red, glass dancing floor where the undead villagers can dance. Likely to be the 5th star premium item.

Boyd= Boyd’s cookie will be a cookie where you can get expierence with the archery set. Your villagers can carry around bows and shoot with arrows at practice targets. The premium item will be a rotating target that a villager can shoot at with the bow. Items will be looking scottish and brave-like.

Brofina=Broffina’s dream is to begin a Pharmacy. (Her name already sounds like a medicine) You can find store related items with shelfs filled with shampoo for example or bottles with vitamines. There are chairs your villagers can sit in, these are special chairs that make your villagers sniffle or look a bit ill. The special item is a counter where a sniffling villager can get medication in a cute bag.

Bruce=Bruce’s music cookie. Bruce dreams of making a rock band and he needs your help. More furniture in blue, dark colours and also electric guitars and now also a piano. You can line the stages up to create a band. It is very familiar to Cherry’s cookie, but this one is more blue themed. (if they can recycle concepts, so can i)

Buck=Buck’s horse ranch cookie. This cookie comes with ranch furniture and darker versions of that, alongside a horse onesie and a interactable carousel horse.

Bud= Bud dreams of being a swimwear model. The idea of this cookie is to have items to create your perfect beach shoot. Camera’s, towels, and bikni’s, but also surfwear. You can see villagers pose with surfboards, lay on towels and even do tricks on the ‘’fake wave’’ a electronic wave creator where they can experience a moment of fame on their boards xD.

Buzz= Buzz cookie is all about space. You can create a NASA office with this set. You have computers where villagers can be put behind, who look very seriously and there is also a big tv following the launch of the rocket. The set also has a monitor where two operators are sitting, who have contact with another villager. They will cheer.

Camofrog= It’s time to shape up and get up! Camofrog’s bootcamp is here. You can now climb, crawl, and experience the hardships of the camofrog bootcamp. There is this net villagers need to crawl under, wooden things they need to climb over, and a full training track. Your villagers will be in tip top shape!

Candi= Candi dreams of opening her own candi shop. Cute and sweet mix in this store concept. You have big shelfs with candy pots and also a place where villagers can pick their own candy and put it in a bag. There is also a cute uniform and a adorable new window where villagers look from the outside, inside longingly at the sweets they see.

Carmen= The cookie for Carmen will be about diamond painting. You will see new decorated and paintings like classic rembrants now with diamonds. The diamond painting hobby can be popular under villagers. Your 5 star item will be a group table where four villagers can work at their diamond paintings (all different paintings) and theres also a three star variant with just one villager place. There is also a gigantic shimmering teddybear with diamonds.

Caroline=Cozy sleepover. You can now sleepover in style. You will find sleeping wear and sleep bags as well as classical pyjama party items. The special item will be a couch where two villagers are pillow fighting.

Cashmere= The cookie of Cashmere is one close to my heart. Everyone knows the story of the Wicked Mutton of the West. But do we know her story at all? This set will be green/pink items befitting any witchling or anyone looking to cry their hearts out after seeing a certain movie.

Cheplabot= The Unforgettable Findings of set (UFO) is the set inspired by Chep’s beautiful and questionable heritage. Where did he come from? Is he truly an alien? This set explores new space related items in the light of aliens. You can expect more rocket ship items, but also alien related things. ‘’Vague.’’ hmhm. You can for example, get a beam of light, you can place, like a spotlight. If your villager stands in it, they will float, as if being dragged to the sky, and a ufo will appear. xD. There is also a cow onesie. Cows and ufos go hand in hand. they know something.

Chabwick= Canadian ice hockey set. Imagine like goals, and ice where villagers can play hockey on. There are uniforms and benches so other villagers can cheer the four playing villagers on.

Chadder=Chadder has a strange cookie. Chadder is cheese as we all know so his cookie is just a cheese store. ‘’That’s not a real thing.’’ I assure you, it is-A dutch woman xD. So imagine furniture made of cheese and also store items. The 5 item special is a wheel of cheese as big as a villager, and a villager like rolls it around. xD

Charlise=Charlise’s therapeutic cookie. Charlise wants to help others with this cookie. This cookie offers a talking chair, a listening chair, different boxes of tissues and just warm hugs and vibes. (i went to therapy myself and i would never shame anyone for needing this. this is meant to be a reminder that you can and should always put yourself first and ask for help. you don’t need to prove to anyone or anything but yourself. this is not me mocking this, this is not me making jokes, this is just me hoping that if this is put in the game, people would open their options more. give it a chance, maybe. idk. If it can make a difference, its worth the try)

Claude= He just seems like the guy who would run his own newspaper company. Like imagine it a bit retro, big printing presses and there is this redaction with large trenchcoats and hats looking for scoops and news. I can imagine there would be a desk with a chair that a villager can type stories on, on the type writer and there is also a interview station where two villagers can sit, and one will take notes every now and then, nodding as the other talks. The premium item is a printing press where a villager is changing the ink.

Claudia=She has her own bridal boutique cookie. You can pick out wedding dresses here. The items are in slight blush pink and very pale white. There is this pedestal where a villager will stand on and try on dresses. You can assign a crying couch to it (comes with the cookie) so that it looks like the villager’s entourage is so moved by their beautiful dress that they had to shed a tear..or just sob. xD

Clyde=Clyde has a fun idea for a cookie and its all about science. You can now put your animals in labcoats and put lab stations around your campsite, and watch your animals experiment. The premium item is a lab that shoots off fireworks.

Cobb= ‘’It’s alive!’’ Yes. That book. You can now play as the famous doctor who made frankenstein. You can assign bolts and creepy clothes to your animals, and the premium item will be this metal table where a villager is sleeping on. Another villager will be standing nearby, flipping a switch and the sleeping villager will wake up. The villager with the switch will laugh diabolically. The other items are very scientific creepy like jars with liquids and stuff. Perfect for halloween. Maybe not for all ages xD.

Coco=Coco’s dreamtravel. You can see coco’s adventures in this cookie. Your villagers can buy her furniture which allows them to visit a spooky crypt, dance in a palace or pay tribute to a temple.

Cole= Cole’s cookie is all about mining for stones. You can expect mine carts, stones, gems and more in this set. there is a item where two villagers push a mine cart, and also there is a three tile big item that is a minecart where a villager sits in, enjoying themselves as they are rolling down xD

Coustau= Cousteau will be a french inspired restaurant with luxury chandeliers gilded tablecloths. In the chandeliers, it is possible to hang one up where your villager can swing around in, like that scene in Dumbo’s live action movie.

Cube=Cube’s baywatch cookie. Cube is responsible for beach safety. Imagine red bathing suits, and also villagers running in slow motion. it is all possible now. There will be a rug that works as a interactable place where villagers will run into one direction, in slow motion. You can aim this at the beach to create dramatic scenes. The premium item will be a lifeguard jetski where the villager preforms a trick on.

Curly=Curly’s fairytale cottage. The cottage is inspired by the fairytale of the three pigs. You have cozy fairytale furniture and clothing. The 5 star object is a door that can be kicked down.

Curt= The best he can do is five tokens. Curt is a interesting bear. In his life, family comes first, money second…depending on who you ask. The thing he loves most about his job? He never knows what comes through that door. Pawn shop inspired cookie. You can display unique items and finds. Because a pawn shop oftenly has different finds, you won’t find much matching stuff. But you can find unique stuff. The interaction are for counters and the premium interaction is a villager inspecting a painting, and then the other villager is sweating xD

Cyd= Fandom cookie. Cyd is all about that new band and loves writing fanfiction for it. Now your villagers can dress up in fandom gear and write fanfictions, and stare longingly at posters you display around your camp. There also could be a incident as two jealous villagers might fight in a small circle for who the better fan is.

Cyrano= The world of westreling really interests Cyrano. His cookie comes with a wrestling spot so two of your villagers can clumsily battle it out. You can also expect decorations and furniture befitting this theme. No excessive violence will be used.

Deena=Deena’s cookie is all about red shoes. The red shoes are placeable and wearable, (two different pairs, but it will look the same pair) if villagers chooses to interact, they will dance with these shoes, and dance a long time. If your villagers wear them because you assigned them as outfits, they won’t. This is based on a fairytale, the red shoes.

Del=Del’s cookie is a interior store where villagers can buy cheap but good furniture for their homes. Expect uniforms, new swedish furniture options and villagers stocking shelfs with items. The premium item will be a villager pushing a shopping cart with another villager in it.

Deli=Deli’s cookie will be a nail studio. You can have your nails done her. Villagers can be seated and attended to, and there are also facial masks to enjoy. The premium item is a villager who is applying nails on another villager.

Derwin= Derwin’s cookie is a expetion cookie where there are tents and investigation stuff. There is also a lot of polar bears in the cookie. The main item is a plastic polar bear that villagers can mount.

Diva=Diva’s cookie is very chique, very gold and black and very 007. Expect that glamour and drama of a james bond film, complete with a explosive scene (premium item) and bond clothes. not a official collab.

Dora= Dora’s cookie is very vibrant and colorful. a hippie cookie with coloruful prints and a drivable van where two villagers will stick their heads out of (premium item)

Drago= Drago’s dragon cookie. You can expect fierce dragon items like wings, but also eggs to hold, dragon inspired crowns and gowns that wouldn’t misstand in that one new tv show. You can also expect a mechanical dragon to be added, so your villagers can fly. (premium)

Drake= Drake wants to start a repair store. The cookie will focus on repairing items and having them restored. There will be a table where two villagers can work on a plushie or a table where a villager can craft alone. The 5 star item will be a villager presenting the finished the product to another villager, who will cry of happiness.

Drift=Drift’s cookie is all about friendly competition. You can now enjoy four different boardgames with your animals, and place these around your camp for a fun night. The premium item will be a table where six villagers can sit and play at

Ed=Ed wants to learn how to talk with horses. The items will be horse themed, familiar to how Bitty’s theme was hippo shaped.

Elise=Elise has a optician store where she helps animals with their sight. You can pick new glasses here. The interaction items will be sitting space and counters and the premium item will be a villager who tries on glasses.

Elmer=Elmer’s cat and donkey cookie. Based on the fairytale. You can now find cat and donkey items in this cookie. The items vary from boots and hats and capes to a statue of a donkey that hicks up money.

Elvis=Inspired by the old castle time, reainsence items. You can expect royalty dresses and crowns as well as castle pieces and furniture. The premium item is a throne where villagers are kneeling in front of.

Eugene=Boyband cookie. Eugene’s cookie is about making a boyband. You can put stage pieces together again here once again, and have a boyband. There is a special new item in this cookie, where a villager can fake-faint if you would place it. ideal for the dramatic fananimal.

Faith=Faith’s tropical cruise. You can expect items worthy of the seven seas in this cookie. New loungewear as well as furniture and also a small bubblebath so your villagers can enjoy some bubbles.

Flip=Banana cookie. Everything is based on Bananas. The special item is a car painted as banana. The bananananan…BANANAMOBILE.

Flo=Winter’s resort. You can expect winter sport items like places where they can snowboard, skii, and also warm wood colours with the other items. The premium item is a hottub made of natural stones where animals can warm up in

Frank=Frank’s bountiful celebration. Frank’s cookie is a special one. It is about celebrating festivals and events and dancing, music and having fun. You can expect dancing villagers spotlights (they dont take up much space as floors) and different stalls selling merch of the festival. The premium item is a animal singing and doing a dramatic pose.

Frett=Frett’s cookie is going to be a garden center cookie. You can buy plants and alike there. The items will be like the sweden furniture set, in way of working, but they will look different to fit other story telling purposes. The premium item will be a animal climbing on stairs to dress a holiday tree.

Freya: Freya has a own jewerly shop. You can expect a fancy lay-out for your shop and also other things. The interactions will be sitting and counter stuff. Premium interaction is that two villagers are standing near the counter as customers and the 3th villager stands across them, helping them pick out rings.

Friga: Friga will have a fridge related store where you can buy appliances. You can imagine that it would be very industrial and that you can also see villagers look at stoves/fridges here and that the premium item is a villager helping another villager pick out a fridge or something.

Frita: Frita’s cookie is about frita owning a restaurant, or a snackbar as we call it. There can be fries ordered here and there are deepfryers all around. The premium interaction is the animals waiting in line to be served. You can also have smaller animal interaction with a animal who for example, flips or shuffles the fries in the frying pan.

Frobert: Frobert’s fancy masqurade: Frobert is throwing a masquerade and you are invited. Features: masks, dresses and suits and also dance floors as well as a reskin darker of the sky lavish theme.

Gabi: Gabi’s mystery game. Gabi is hosting a real life murder mystery party! Items are based on the game cluedo. the premium item is a crime scene lay out where a villager is laying, who was the victim. Because this is a party, no one was actually hurt, and the villager can be seen to be breathing or even snoring.

Gaston: French provincial town set with a herd of sheep a villager can chase around. If you know, you know.

Gonzo=Gonzo’s koala set. Items with koalas, works the same as the hippo set

Goose=

Graham=

Grizzly=

Grouch=

Gruff=

Harry=

Hopper=

Hornsby=

Huck=

Ike=An idea is suggested for the animal. I am waiting word for the person if I am allowed to credit them.

Jacob=

Jackues

Jeremiah

Jitters=

Katt=

Kevin=

Kid cat=

Klaus=

Knox=

Kyle=

Leonardo=

Limburg

Lionel=

Louie=

Marcel=

Marlo=Mafia inspired set by the godfather. Premium item is four villagers surrounding a grave being lowered into the ground.

Megan=

Mergenue=Strawberry set. Works the same as the banana set. The premium item is a strawberry that can be rolled around.

Mira=

Monique=

Murphy=

Naomi=

Octavian=

Pango=

Paolo=

Pate=

Patty=

Peaches=

Peanut=

Peck

Peewee=

Penelope=

Pierce=

Pietro=An idea was suggested for this animal, I am awaiting word if I am allowed to credit the person for the idea.

Plucky

Prince=Princess and the frog cookie. Comes with cooking stuff, a romantic lake where villagers can dance and a dinner seat.

Puck=

Pudge=

Raddle=

Rasher=

Ribbot=

Rio

Rizzo

Rocket

Rodeo=

Rolf=

Rooney=

Roscoe=

Roswell=

Rowan=

Samson=

Sandy=

Savannah=

Scoot=

Shep=

Simon=

Sparro

Spike

Sprocket=

Static=

Sterling=

Stu=

T-Bone=

Tabby=

Tad=

Tammy

Tangy

Tank

Tedd

Tex

Tiansheng

Tom

Truffles

Tucker: Dinosaur cookie with dinosaur items and a triceratops onesie and a t-rex villagers can climb on.

Tutu

Tybalt

Vic

Vivian

Walker

Wade

Weber

Zoe=Zodiac cookie. Comes with a constellation device where villagers can read the stars.

#Animal crossing #Animal crossing pocket camp #Animal crossing pocket camp complete #The forgotten villagers project #cookies #cozy #wholesome #writing

4 notes · View notes

inneedofsupervision · 4 months ago

Text

In a World full of Color, We only see Black and White (Chapter 7)

Summary:

Being homeschooled until now, Chan stands two days after turning sixteen in front of an actual school for the first time in his life. Chan's plan; keep low and get this done without causing himself trouble. But that's easier said than done when you only pretend to be human. In a society where people split into those who can use magic and those who are not, demons have nearly hit extinction. They are beasts accepted but still frowned upon by society and thus live with their true nature hidden. To this day, demons almost started becoming a myth. Chan is one of them.

Seventeen fanfic; High School AU, Fantasy AU, Demons and Humans AU

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Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

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“As expected, Vernon is a quick learner. Unlike someone else.”

“Do you want to get slapped with a book?”

Chan grins and holds his hands up in case Seungkwan decides to let actions follow his words. The latter rolls his eyes at Chan’s grin.

“You are lucky to be helpful," mutters the blond while putting the book back down.

“What was that?”

“I said you are an idiot.”

“It’s good that we found this classroom,” interrupts Vernon while putting away his notebooks.

“They would have thrown us out of the library because of you two," he adds, but with a smile on his face.

“I bet it would not be Seungkwan’s first time to be thrown out of the library,” teases Chan.

“Do you want to pick a fight?”

Chan laughs and flees around the table, hiding behind Vernon as Seungkwan lifts the book in his hand for a second time.

“I should not have helped you when you stood lost in the hallway. Biggest mistake of my school life,” says Seungkwan. “I am too nice for my good.”

“Hmm, if you say so,” retorts Chan with a laugh.

They did not manage to meet after classes yesterday as Vernon had more chores in the greenhouses than expected. In the end, they went home after finishing their extra work, deciding to postpone their project meeting on Tuesday since Vernon could not make it in time.

“I cannot believe we finished this so easily after all the trouble earlier.” Seungkwan taps against the snow globe, standing on top of a pile of books. The lights shining through the window break against the domed glass, throwing a small rainbow onto the pile of snow that covers the bottom of the globe. The snowflakes appear as fine and delicate as the ones formed by nature. They seem out of crystal, each one owning a unique shape and form. The bottom part of the snow globe is about two inches in height, the surface provided through a grooved silver sheet wrapped once around the pillar. Snowflake-inspired ornaments of diverse sizes run around the silver, a few adorned by little ice-blue crystals.

Seungkwan eyes Chan roam around his bag with a sour expression.

"It's not going to open just because you glare at it," mocks Chan as he puts the egg on the table. Seungkwan ignores his words, crossing his arms over his chest while leaning back into the seat. Vernon pushes a few books around the golden egg, keeping it from rolling down. The three students sit around the makeshift nest, and while Seungkwan and Vernon discuss their notes, Chan stands in front of a problem. He had helped them with their projects, giving some inconspicuous hints and keeping them from straying too far. But Chan forgot to lead his group mates on his project. How should he explain something to them that comes to him naturally? Chan takes the egg and runs a finger over the golden embellishment. The presence of the magic inside is perceptible just by touch. The seal of Seungkwan's cube reacted to the spell as soon as Seungkwan started to cast it. Chan knew that the same technique would not work on the egg. Putting the seal inside seems like not much of a hindrance at first. But to take the visual hint of how much magic is needed to manipulate the seal sets the difficulty for a new class more advanced than expected.

"It will not be enough if both of you try to break it."

He had not meant to speak his thoughts out loud, realizing what he had done after Seungkwan looked up.

"Care to elaborate?", asks the blond.

"Seungkwan, can you cast your spell from last time?" Chan says instead, hoping Seungkwan would drop the matter.

"I do not believe that is going to work again," counters Seungkwan.

"You do not have to put a lot of magic into the spell. I want to test something," reassures Chan. Seungkwan does not look convinced but stands up nonetheless. The blond's tongue peeks out as he concentrates before the first few words of his spell fill the room. A similar flare of orange sparks appears, forming a thin ring around the egg. The sparks continue to float, little specks of light hovering in their position while Seungkwan recites his spell. After the last word is said, the sparks fade away as quickly as they have appeared. The egg lays still just as it has a minute before.

"It does not react to the spell at all." Seungkwan let his hands fall with a sigh. "You did well Seungkwan," encourages Vernon. He turns to Chan, seemingly having caught what the other was hinting at.

“If we assume that the spell is working the way it should, but the egg did not react, does that mean the seal might be on the inside? It would explain why we could not see anything.”

Chan hums in agreement. "That could be a possibility. If that is the case, we need to find a way to make the seal visible. If one of you can provide a view of the seal, the other can open it by casting a second spell."

Seungkwan perks up at the idea. "I think I can manage to break the seal once I see it. But how do we make it visible?"

_________________________________

The cracking of knuckles pulls Chan out of his daze. The tired teen quickly rubs at the corner of his mouth, hoping to have gotten all the drool wiped off his face. Chan needs a brief moment before comprehending that he is still inside the school.

"I told you not to do that!"

Seungkwan slaps Vernon's shoulder, not hard but enough for Vernon to pull a face at the action. A grin finds its way to Chan's face as he sees Seungkwan's disgusted expression while the latter scolds his friend. Vernon and Chan's eyes meet, the American teen sending him a little grin. He playfully rolls his eyes at Seungkwan's words, leaving Chan chuckling. While Chan stretched, the jacket that got put over his shoulders with care fell to the ground. He bends over the chair and picks it up, eying the familiar college jacket with curiosity.

"While you were sleeping Vernon and I found some spells that could be useful," says Seungkwan with a smug expression.

Chan could feel the tip of his ears burn. Did he fall asleep? Well, that was awkward. He folds the jacket and hands it quickly back to Vernon, the latter looking amused at Chan's shy reaction. Chan gets up and walks around the table. He takes a glance at what the other two have written down. He skims over the spells, mouth quietly moving as he reads over the words. The magic spells are not flawless, but they should work.

“Do you want to try these out now?” Chan points at the notes.

“I think that would be a good idea,” says Vernon while he starts putting away the notes to create more space. He and Seungkwan get in position, standing in front of each other with the desk between them. Chan stands a few steps aside behind Vernon, observing the two others.

“Vernon is going to start. As soon as the seal is visible, Seungkwan will cast his spell. Vernon, you got to guarantee that the seal is thoroughly visible first and holds the magic up long enough for Seungkwan to focus on it. If you cannot keep the image up long enough, we can give it a second or third try. We have time, alright?"

Vernon and Seungkwan nod in agreement. Chan watches Seungkwan shaking his arms and legs before he gets ready. Vernon stands still in front of the table and takes a few seconds before he stretches his hands out. Chan is about to tell the teen to relax his posture, but Vernon’s voice already fills the room. Chan shuts his mouth and decides to let Vernon try on his own, observing the white layer of magic enveloping the student's body like a second skin. The words are unfamiliar, but the magic feels as natural as breathing as it floats around Chan. He catches Seungkwan’s eyes growing wide as the first signs of Vernon’s spell start manipulating the magic around them.

A bluish haze starts to appear, thin at first but getting thicker as it grows in quantity. It pools together in the middle of the room, accumulating a few inches in front of Vernon’s palms. The ball of fog concentrates until it melts into a mix of white with faint shimmers of bright blue swimming to the surface. The ball of mist moves under the command of Vernon’s words, slowly making its way over to the motionless egg sitting on the desk. Instead of laying itself around its target, the ball stopped moving, hovering right in front of the egg. Chan and Seungkwan throw a glance at Vernon. The latter is standing with his shoulders hunched in an awkward stance in front of the desk, arms slightly shaking. The magic around Vernon grows thinner, some places starting to dissolve, causing holes to appear in the cover. The breaking of the surrounding spell causes the fog to lose focus. A shiver runs over its surface, akin to a flame getting shaken by the slightest sign of wind. It causes tiny wafts of mist to come loose in some places and grow out of the ball.

“Try to relax your shoulders a little."

Vernon jumps at the sound of Chan’s voice. The sphere of fog grows fuzzy around the edges as the teen's attention starts wavering. It begins to lose its form before it breaks, dis-aggregating into waves of mist that drop to the ground, disappearing before they can spread further.

“That was good!”

Seungkwan beams at Vernon, although the latter does not look convinced.

“The spell sounds good. We probably need to work on your posture more than the spell”, jokes Chan and sends Vernon a thumbs up.

They try two more attempts, with Chan giving Vernon tips to improve his stance and get more comfortable. It was an intriguing experience. He had never been in a position to explain the use of magic, all the more where he had to think about the usage of spells. It gave Chan a new view of the way he uses magic himself. He had thought about the need to use words to provide aid to weave magic into them, creating a place for the surrounding magic to flow. Although he has watched people around him use magic many times, it feels different when he has to put himself into their shoes. He would have to think about how he could make this easier for Vernon.

Back in his apartment, Chan sits on his bed, the ring on the bedside table. He unzips his bag and pulls the golden egg out, holding it in both hands. Green eyes scan the egg with interest. The teen has no intention of eliciting its secret now. He would let Vernon and Seungkwan open it, wanting to do this together. In the blink of an eye, a clicking sound breaks the quietness. As expected, a small flow of magic sent from his fingertips is enough to snap the seal open. But how is he going to explain it? How would he fit this magic into a spell?

Now that he is at it, Chan feels the need to unwind. Opening the egg left him weirdly unsatisfied. It had taken a tiny amount of the pressure that had built up inside his mind and body. He feels like needing to get rid of the rest that is still left as it keeps trying to worm a way into his consciousness, leaving him restless. He absentmindedly rubs his hands together as he slowly gets lost in thought about what he should do. He does not notice the room getting darker with the sun setting outside, shadows growing larger. The darker it gets inside the room, the brighter the green of his eyes glows. Darkness swallows everything inside the apartment as Chan leans back against the bed's headboard and closes his eyes.

The smell of rain mixed with a familiar sweet fragrance coaxes Chan to open his eyes. The sight of an endlessly starred sky greets him. He takes notice of the moon missing tonight, its place filled with another handful of thousand stars.

The grass feels comfortingly cool against his skin. It invites the young teen to keep lying down, letting sink in the tranquility. He could taste the thick sweetness lying in the air. It makes him take a greedy breath, drinking up the sense of familiarity. After what feels like a short eternity, Chan gets up. He stands in the middle of a small grass patch, surrounded by a sea of blue hyacinths.

The teen follows a path up the small hill where the flowers circle the highest part, leaving a small grass-covered field open. The soft glow of the small budded flowers provides enough light to find his way through the night. Chan walks until he stands in front of a white wooden bench, standing in the middle of the starlit field. He takes the blanket hanging over the armrest and pulls it around himself. A breeze sweeps over his locks as Chan sits down, with his knees pulled up against his chest, head leaned back to gaze at the stars above. Although he is only wearing his pajamas, it is not cold with the blanket around him. Time starts to fall apart as Chan sits on the bench, accompanied by only himself and the stars, but he does not feel lonely. The patch of grass is narrowing as the blue sea of flowers grows, hundreds of new flowers breaking through the ground. They begin to bloom in a matter of seconds. It takes a few moments until the bench stands surrounded in the middle of a silent sea, unnoticed by the stargazing teen. T

The horizon melts from a mellow blue into sempiternal darkness, covered by sparkling lights. The floral scent of the hyacinths intensifies by the time the morning dew covers them under a wet glimmer. With the first rays of the sun, Chan knows he has to leave again. He closes his eyes. The hard wood of the bench gets exchanged with a soft mattress and blanket.

The pressure he has felt is gone. It surprises him to see the sunrise from his place on the bed. Chan has forgotten how well-rested he could be. Although he is not sure if he slept or not, he feels much calmer. His knees nearly gave in after swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. It takes a moment before he finds enough strength to make his way to his closet and change into his uniform. On his way out, Chan takes the bag with Minghao and Jun's clothes.

______________________________________

“Is this a good idea?”

Chan looks a little skeptical at the bag. He cannot imagine someone coming into the workshop, taking a glance at the bag, and robbing it. He doubts many students come to the art room at all. It leaves him wondering if they even know it exists in the first place. On his way to the room, he has not met a single student in the hallway. He drums his fingers against his mobile phone, unsure if he should simply message his seniors, telling them he left it there. In the end, Chan puts a small note with their names on the bag. If someone steals it, they know whose anger they would reap. But what if Minghao and Jun hold Chan accountable for their stuff getting stolen? Those are pretty expensive clothes.

“Ugh, this is frustrating.”

He has not had much time to waste. Chan visits the workroom before classes start to avoid running into the two Chinese students. As friendly as the two seniors were, Chan knew that it would not end with him simply leaving the bag and going his way. He can see Minghao pushing him to sit next to a gaming Jun, asking him how his day went and if he wants a cup of tea. He has no intention of getting buddy-buddy with the two, although he appreciates their help.

“Oh. Hello Chan.”

Chan stares wide-eyed at one of the few people he desperately tries to avoid, hand still holding onto the door handle, frozen in place. So much for sneaking in and out without getting caught. Jun looks at him with as much surprise as his sleep-swollen eyes could muster. The older student looks like he could sleep for at least another eight hours. As on clue, a yawn overcomes Jun, the latter lazily holding a hand up to cover his mouth. He blinks owlishly, before looking down at Chan. “Are you looking for Minghao?” asks the Chinese student, catching him slightly off guard.

“I am looking for you,” answers Chan, feeling a little bad for lying as he sees Jun’s surprised expression. He does not know the older well, but if it's Jun, Chan thinks he might have a chance to pass the clothes and get this over quickly.

“For me?”

Jun points at himself, sounding bewildered that Chan would be looking for him out of all people. Now Chan feels kind of terrible for lying to him.

"I want to give the clothes back."

Jun glances past him as Chan points at the table, nodding as he sees the bag.

"Thank you, Chan. That's nice of you." He gives Chan a sleepy smile. Chan feels like a jerk.

"I have classes now. Thank you for last time."

He dashes past the tall brunette, as soon he hears him saying goodbye. The list of people he needs to avoid grows with each week. While he runs at the sight of Sejong and the group of scary seniors, he starts avoiding the Chinese students for a different reason. If anything happens to them because of him, he would feel bad. Now that he thinks about it, he should avoid Seungkwan and Vernon too. He knows he is a hypocrite at this point. During classes, Chan’s thoughts keep drifting off to the group of seniors. Minghao being not on good terms with Joshua has helped Chan out once, but he cannot rely on their dislike for each other to help him again if he runs into them. As much as Minghao appeared like a knight in shining armor, it won't end like that next time for sure.

“Earth to Chan.”

He blinks at a hand suddenly appearing in his vision. The waving motion pulls him back. Seungkwan points at the door. “Are you going to keep sitting here or move so we can work on the project later?”

“Sorry.” Chan apologizes while getting up and following his classmates into the hallway. They split up like yesterday in front of the library, Vernon and Chan walking outside together.

“I’m impressed. You do own real gloves.”

Vernon chuckles next to him.

“You are just jealous.”

“Of gloves that can probably glow in the dark or gloves that warm only half of your hand while your finger freezes off?”, teases Chan, laughing as Vernon takes a bit of snow from a nearby bush and throws it at him.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. These gloves are pretty neat.”

Chan eyes the neon-colored mittens with played disgust, earning him a snort from Vernon and another handful of snow on his clothes. They keep joking until Vernon bids Chan goodbye at the training grounds. The door to the building is locked, and not a single light is lit inside. Amazed at the trust Mr. Gwan put into him, Chan decides to quickly but thoroughly get his work done. That was the plan until the teen finds himself standing wide-eyed in front of the arena. The large stone plates from last time are gone, but that is not the part that leaves the student staring in disbelief. The area of white sand has vanished. In its stead, there are four widespread stone steps leading down to a field of stone, the latter completely flooded. As he steps closer Chan notices the mirror-like water not being as deep as expected. In the middle of the ring rises a stone square slightly out of the water, about two meters in width and five meters long.

It's Chan’s first time seeing a duel arena with his own eyes. He had heard that it’s normal for the gifted to show off their magic in play fights, calling it a battle among mages and glorifying the winner. Of course, they would train their youngest for such kinds of events. Chan should have expected as much.

He wastes no time going around the stairs and searching for lost items, but his eyes kept wandering back to the arena. There is a single bucket hat lying lonely on one of the seats close to the middle of the gymnasium. Chan snatches it from its place before he walks to the room where Mr. Gwan had taken care of his injuries on Monday. He finds a note written in neat letters, telling him there are no training utensils that need to be put away today. Chan takes the paper and puts it into the pocket of his trousers. He eyes the bucket hat in his hand. He had forgotten to bring the bag for the lost items last time. With a shrug of his shoulders, Chan puts the hat on, checking his reflection in the window of the room. Not a quarter of an hour, and he is already done with his work for the day. His steps are light as he walks into the gymnasium to put the lights out.

There was no need for him to walk up to the arena in the middle, but Chan finds himself drawn to the water-filled area. The student's hand closes tightly around the keys. He has locked the doors after him out of instinct, not wanting to get surprised by an unexpected visitor. The teen stares with curiosity at the platform. He knows he would never in his life fight in a duel. But he cannot help wondering what it feels like to stand on a stage similar to this one. Would it feel any different than standing on the sidelines? After checking and finding no presence reacting to him sending out his magic Chan takes a quick step forward. It takes him four jumps before he reaches the platform, his footsteps leaving small circles of waves where his shoes had touched the water.

“It does feel different,” whispers Chan to himself as he turns around once. He takes in the number of seats facing his direction from all sides. He stands right in the middle, the center of attention in front of an invisible audience. Chan pulls the bucket hat deeper into his face, hiding a small grin playing on his lips. Although he did not like to admit it, it felt good to stand on a stage. Chan scolds himself for losing his rationality by simply standing on a platform. He should avoid attention, not seeking for it. It could cost him everything dear to him and more. The teen's mood turns sober abruptly. He had no idea what had come over him on his way out.

_______________________________________________ “I think I’m going to have a panic attack. Get ready to call an ambulance or something.”

“Seungkwan, calm down.”

Vernon holds Seungkwan by the shoulders, getting him to breathe slowly. It would be amusing if Chan could not empathize so well with where their friend's fear came from. It’s the day of the presentation, and half of the class has already taken their turn. Most of it ended in a disaster. There had been several small explosions, a desk in flames, and a hive of fist-sized angry bees. It was the nightmare of every allergic person. At this point, everyone that had not presented yet became nervous, and those who had were nervous for their classmates.

“Now we know why Mr. Choi said we should not work on this outside off the school grounds," muses Vernon, as he helps Seungkwan go through a breathing exercise. It still smells a little burnt inside the classroom, with all windows already opened.

“But didn’t he also mention none of the objects being dangerous?", asks Chan from his place on the desk. He is snacking on some of Seungkwan's milk bread. Seungkwan twists his way out of Vernon’s well-meant hold to turn towards the other two students, angry pout on his face.

“You two are not being helpful. Not even a little bit,” he points at the two with a glare. Chan tries to look sorry, even though Seungkwan’s dramatic act is kind of hilarious. The break is nearly over. Seungkwan has calmed down with the help of Vernon and Chan, although he still looks a little pale around the edges.

“We are going to start the second half of the lesson now. There were some ups and downs, but it's a good experience to learn from mistakes. Don’t take it to heart but take it as a lesson. A mistake is always a step forward if you take the opportunity to learn from it. With these words, I want the next person to come forward and show us what they learned during this exercise.”

Seungkwan jumps slightly at his name getting called. He walks down to the front of the class as if walking into his doom, shoulders hunched and anxious eyes scanning the classroom. Mr. Choi gives him an encouraging smile, but Chan knows from the look on Seungkwan’s face that it has the opposite effect. From what Chan had noticed, Seungkwan hates letting people down, and Mr. Choi is one of the few teachers Seungkwan seems to genuinely admire. If he fails in this class, he will start to hate himself.

“Please begin.”

Mr. Choi steps back to give the student in front more space.

“Yes, Sir.”

Seungkwan places the cube on the teacher's desk. It’s still inside the classroom while Seungkwan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opened them again, it was like there had never been a sign of nervousness. Seungkwan’s eyes are focused solely on the object before he gets into his stance. The spell comes easily over his lips, practicing perfecting the flow of the magic-loaded words. An echo of amazed noises hushes through the students, as they witness Seungkwan’s orange sparks settling onto the cube. It looks almost too easy how Seungkwan bursts the seal with his spell, with no hesitation as he casts his magic. He steps back a little after he finishes, arms falling against his sides, and the nervous expression is back as he waits for a response from their teacher.

“That was excellent!”

Several students join the applause after Mr. Choi claps, visibly pleased.

“Can you also tell me what kind of object you got?”

Seungkwan nods hastily, liking his lips before answering.

“It is a magic cube, similar to the ones we used in our earlier lessons. With it, one can create a barrier.”

“Well done, Seungkwan. You can sit down again.”

Vernon shows Seungkwan a thumb up, and Chan holds his hand out for a quick high five as soon as Seungkwan is back in his seat.

“That was awesome.” compliments Chan with a low voice, a genuine smile on his face. He did feel happy for Seungkwan, knowing how much effort the others had put into this project. As if Seungkwan has set a prime example, the second half of the class goes on smoothly. Two students did not manage to open their seals, but no additional school property got destroyed, and with Mr. Choi’s quick reactions no one came to harm. Vernon also manages to present his spell without faults. The seal breaks with a small bolt of white light.

“Would you explain to us what you got here, Vernon?”

“I believe it’s a toy, Sir.”

“Maybe that question was too easy,” says the teacher with a laugh. “But you are right, it’s a toy. Please shake the globe once.”

Vernon nods before he takes the silver colored snow-globe, giving it a soft shake before putting it carefully back onto the desk. A few seconds pass before a single snowflake flutter from the ceiling. The teen holds a hand out and watches in wonder as it sinks into his palm. When he looks up, another snowflake floats down right in front of his face, causing him to take a surprised step back. Vernon watches in amazement how his classmates point at the increasing count of snowflakes dancing around the classroom, excited at the sudden sight of snow falling out of nowhere.

“I think that’s enough snow for the day. At least inside the school. Well done, Vernon,” praises Mr. Choi but stopping the teen from getting back to his seat.

“Chan, Seungkwan, if you would like to come forward. We got one last project left.”

All attention is on him as Chan walks up to where Seungkwan and Vernon are waiting for him. It only takes a short moment for the egg to stop moving after he places it on the desk, but the seconds feel incredibly long. It's surreal how nervous Chan feels. He is not even the one who has to show anything.

“You can begin whenever you are ready,” says Mr. Choi. It irks Chan how relaxed the teacher is leaning against the wall. It feels like he expects that everything will go without incident. While Chan wants to believe that also, the teen is restless. He had not been in control of anything lately, and now he had to rely on people he did not even know for two weeks. Not like Chan cannot trust Vernon and Seungkwan. He wants to trust them. He misses Vernon and Seungkwan throws him a glance as he steps back. The explanation starts a little slow, but the more Chan talks, the more confident he gets.

“We will show you what we have worked out now.”

Vernon and Seungkwan stepped closer as on clue. Like they have practiced, the two students stand opposite each other with the desk between them. The blue fog is thicker than before, its color still light blue as it forms into a ball rather quickly. The ball floats without stopping towards the egg and encloses it in its middle, swallowing the golden-black object at once.

Some students let out a surprised gasp as light breaks through the blue fog, similar to sunshine breaking through clouds. The dense fog begins to clear as more rays break through it. A wide-meshed net weaved with threads of different sizes of light lays around the egg. The main lines lead together into a central junction, the core of the seal. Orange sparks set on the net on Seungkwan’s command, most of it focused on the place where the threads run together. The net is engulfed in an orange glow by the time Seungkwan's spell reaches its climax. Seungkwan’s brows furrow as he puts the focus on the seal. Small shock waves run over the threads, some thinner ones starting to vanish in a beat, while the main ones slowly begin to disperse. The last trace of Seungkwan’s magic left together with the last thread of the net snapping, causing the egg to move slightly. With the seal gone there remains the unlocked black-golden egg on the teacher's desk.

“Very well. A beautiful display of two very different kinds of spells working together. Now, if you would tell us the purpose of this mysterious object, Chan? Please activate it.”

Acting on the teacher's command Chan pushes his finger against the nearly invisible button on top of the egg. With a clicking sound, the four gold sepals start to unfold. They set it onto the desk and push the egg a few inches from the ground, stabilizing it in midair. The black stone that lays free begins to rotate counterclockwise before stopping. Chan, and the rest of the class, watch with wide eyes how the stone parts are in the middle. A golden circle starts to unfold around the egg, making it look like a small orbit is running around it. The top part above the gold ring starts to rotate again before the upper half of the stone divides into two more separate parts. Another this time smaller golden ring parts the newly divided halves. With a low buzzing noise, the top part of the egg divides into four pieces. They turn in their place, inside showing out before a hidden mechanism unfolds them into hundred pieces. The small metal parts latch together, fitting perfectly into their lodgings, and create an even surface.

The mechanism stops by revealing two illustrations carved into the metal, the right showcasing an image of the sea and the left showing an island. Chan reaches out and pushes against the picture of the waves. With another buzzing sound, the illustrations are covered by another plate moving over them, and Chan can only stare at the process, trying to make sense of the ever-shifting object in front of him. When it finally halts, a cylinder stands proudly in the circle, the center between eleven elevations that grew out of the surface.

There is a sudden increase in magic, and by the sudden boost of the volume Chan knows, the growth of magic is strong enough that everyone inside the classroom can feel it. The black stone begins to pulsate and grow darker. In a matter of seconds, the classroom has turned inky, particularly above their heads, the ceiling not visible anymore. Chan thought the stone was about to swallow the light, but instead of absorbing it, it begins to take the light and concentrate it at one point. About half a meter above the egg begins a ball as large as a baseball to form. Once it stops growing, it starts to move in a circle above the egg before stopping, letting the cylinder throw a shadow onto the surface.

“What is happening?”

“Are those stars under the ceiling?”

The students begin to shout in excitement, causing Chan to glance in the direction several fingers point. They are right. There are stars. The ceiling is completely gone and what Chan and his classmates are looking at is the vast night sky opening right in their classroom at 12:00 p.m

“So Chan, what do you think is the purpose of the object?”

Chan had forgotten about the question at the sight of the spectacle. He takes another glance at the egg, the latter not resembling an egg that much anymore.

“It seems to be a navigation system.” Chan points at the light floating above the egg. “The light most likely resembles the stance of the sun and shows the time by throwing a shadow. To see the stars at any time of the day can be useful when navigating with the help of constellations.”

“Great observation. Thank you, Chan.”

Mr. Choi steps next to Chan and pushes against a button the student has not noticed until now. In mere seconds the egg folds back together, and with a blink, the confused students sit in a bright classroom, the sun shining into the room through the windows.

“This object is indeed an ancient navigation system. It has been passed around, by several generations of traveling mages. Although at this day and age, its purpose is more to show off than anything.” Mr. Choi laughs as if he told a great joke that none but him understood. Chan gives a polite smile before quickly returning to his seat.

“We talk about your grades for this assignment after I read through your reports. Please leave them on the desk on your way out.”

“He’s right, that thing is extravagant.”

Seungkwan turned to face Chan, once Mr. Choi ended the class.

“I thought it won’t ever stop moving at one point.”

Chan laughs while Vernon nods with a grin.

“By the way, is something happening outside?”

All three turn their heads towards the door at Seungkwan’s question. The students flocking the hallway and the growing tumult outside in the corridor made them throw curious glances at each other. Vernon sits on Chan’s desk, kicking his feet as he stretches his neck, trying to get a glimpse over the heads of the other students.

“Can’t see a thing.”

“Don't bother," says Seungkwan while spinning his pen with a bored expression. "It's probably Kim Mingyu walking past or something.”

Chan tilts his head at the words. Kim Mingyu? Isn’t that the name Sejong had mentioned?

“You know someone in school called Kim Minygu?” asks Chan. The question throws the teen off, the pen flipping off his hand and landing on the ground. Chan meets Seungkwan looking appalled at the question as he hands him his pen.

“Are you telling me you don’t?"

Chan feels a little thrown off at the shocked stare that Seungkwan throws in his direction. It’s not like he has done anything wrong. He just started attending school, how should he know every person famous or not? He sends a glance at Vernon, searching for help, but the older teen shrugs his shoulders.

“Sorry Chan, he is dramatic about these things.”

“What do you mean, dramatic? How can you not know Kim Mingyu? Did you live behind the moon before coming here or what?”

“Sorry to interrupt you,” The three teens look up in surprise at the girl standing in front of Chan’s desk, an excited friend of hers pulling at her sleeve to make her hurry.

“Yes?” asks Chan, a bit confused at being talked to by anyone else than his friends.

“Someone is waiting outside the classroom for you.”

“I see. Thanks.”

After the girl is done, her friend pulls her back to the door, joining the excited crowd.

“Chan?” ask Seungkwan, leaning to the side to see past his friend.

“Hm?”

Vernon still keeps trying to look outside without having to stand up from his place and Chan grabs the desk a little tighter just in case.

“What have you done?”

Chan could only shrug helplessly.

What has he done?

#svt fanfic #seventeen fantasy au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen demon au #seventeen high school au #lee chan #svt dino #seventeen dino #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #chwe hansol #vernon #svt vernon

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mywifeleftme · 1 year ago

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270: Purple Mountains // Purple Mountains

Purple Mountains Purple Mountains 2019, Drag City (Bandcamp)

At times David Berman’s final album Purple Mountains feels like it’s from a rock mockumentary: specifically, the album an exaggeratedly burned-out artist would release just before taking a bath with his amplifier or finding religion. I imagine the talking heads saying things like, “It came out of nowhere, nobody could’ve known how Dave was feeling,” while a song literally called “All My Happiness is Gone” plays in the background. Here’s how the record opens:

“Well, I don’t like talking to myself but someone’s got to say it—hell, I mean things have not been going well— this time I think I’ve finally fucked myself.”

And, later on in the same song (“That’s Just the Way That I Feel”):

“A setback can be a setup for a comeback if you don’t let up, but this kind of hurting won’t heal. The end of all wanting is all I’ve been wanting, and that’s just the way that I feel.”

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Attentive listeners to Berman’s previous project Silver Jews certainly got plenty of Dave’s biography from his lyrics, but on Purple Mountains he writes like a man who’s been suffering alone for so long he’s lost the habits of social adroitness. Eliding his despair must’ve seemed to him like trying to disguise the spurting stump of a hacked off wrist by holding it behind his back, so he allows his struggles to be the subject of the evening. Even if you don’t know the broad details of his years outside the spotlight (his separation, his monumental credit card debt, his treatment-resistant depression), most of it’s stated quite baldly in the lyrics. “I Loved Being My Mother’s Son” in particular is crushing to listen to on headphones, his slurred voice in your ear seemingly holding in a sob, the lyrics simple and devastating: “I wasn’t done being my mother’s son / only now am I seeing that being’s done.”

This newfound directness shouldn’t be mistaken for a diminution of his gifts as a lyricist. The verses of “Nights That Won’t Happen” use a villanelle-like structure with alternating refrains (“the dead know what they’re doing when they leave this world behind” and “all the suffering gets done by the ones we leave behind”) that give his words a sense of somber inevitability. Meanwhile, “Margaritas at the Mall” hearkens back to the Apocalyptic existentialism of Tanglewood Numbers’s “There is a Place,” only reversed—where on that 2005 song Berman spoke of reaching the bottom of despair and finding there the shadow of God looming over the world, here the presence of God is so subtle as to render life as trivial as drinking sugary booze in a food court.

Still, as gloomy as its subject matter often is, Purple Mountains is never a drag to listen to. It combines the countrified indie rock Berman mastered long ago with the cosmopolitan psych of Woods, who serve as his producers and backing band. The production is warm and richly detailed, and the band has a protean groove (especially on “Storyline Fever”) that makes what otherwise might be a funereal set of songs feel limber and amiable. On “Snow is Falling on Manhattan,” Woods take the lyrical note and turn the tune into a snow globe of organ, twinkling vibraphone, and festive trumpets. Berman’s guitar basically quotes the verse of “Imagine” as he delivers the album’s fondest words, its imagery of wanderers finding respite from the cold embracing the listener: “Snow is falling on Manhattan / Inside I’ve got a fire crackling / And on the couch beneath an afghan / You’re the old friend I just took in.”

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I’ve heard Purple Mountains described as an auditory suicide note (and in lazy moments called it that myself), but its real message might be that a person can remain himself despite his illness wracking him toward the point of no return, able to see the world’s strangeness and charm even as the borders of his vision begin to darken. On the catchy “She’s Making Friends, I’m Turning Stranger” and “Maybe I’m the Only One for Me,” Berman delivers priceless jokes with practically his last breaths (“into my mind the thought begins to seep / if no one’s fond of fucking me / maybe no one’s fucking fond of me”). It’s one final bow from the guy that gave us “Honk if You’re Lonely,” like the portion of the wake where the grief has been spent for the moment and everyone’s swapping memories of the good times—and suddenly the departed’s there in the space between, sharing the kind of laughter that purges as it heals.

270/365

#purple mountains #silver jews #david berman #'10s music #indie rock #singer songwriter #alternative rock #music review #vinyl record #woods

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theonceoverthinker · 2 years ago

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Summary: When Luigi and Bowser find themselves stranded together in the Lost Kingdom after a turbulent windstorm sends them flying off Bowser’s airship, a busted up Odyssey becomes their unlikeliest of saviors. Now reluctant traveling companions, doomed to remain marooned without the other’s help, the two gather power moons and embark on a globe-trotting adventure home. However, as they fly and hunt for moons together, encountering and overcoming any and all conflicts in their way, their reservations about each other wither away while a fondness forged through their travels grows into something neither of them ever thought was possible.

1-1, 1-2, 1-3, 1-4, 1-5, 1-6, 1-7, 1-8, 1-9, WZ 1-1, 1-10, BS1-1, WZ 1-2, 1-11, 1-12, 2-1, 2-2, 2-3, 2-4, 2-5, WZ 2-1, 2-6, BS 2-1, 2-7, 2-8, 2-9, 2-10, 2-11, BS 2-2, 2-12, 2-13, 2-14, 2-15, 2-16, 2-17, 2-18, 2-19, BS 2-3, 2-20, 2-21, WZ 2-2, BS 2-4, WZ 2-3, 2-22, 2-23, BS 2-5, 2-24, 2.5-1, 2.5-2, 2.5-3, BS 2.5-1, 2.5-4, 2.5-5, WZ 2.5-1, BS 2.5-2, 3-1,

()()()()

WORLD 3-2

Some decisions in life aren’t as hard to make as others.

When one finds themselves caught in a blizzard with no end in sight while practically spitting distance from a means of safety from its wrath, the best choice for what to do next isn’t hard to spot.

Luigi and Bowser barely need to check with each other to know the other’s thoughts on how they should proceed before doing so, heading straight back to the Odyssey as soon as it becomes clear that any trying for moon collections in the face of this storm is naught but a fool’s errand.

It’s pretty clear that they’ll need to wait out this storm, that until then, they’ll need to stay holed up inside the ship.

The prospect isn’t great – in some ways miserable, in fact. Staying cooped up in the Odyssey – for as safe a barrier as it creates between the storm and themselves – makes for a full half of a day of no moon collecting, and that will lead to having an extra full half day of moon collecting to make up for it before they can go home.

However, it can’t be helped, can it?

They can’t see anything – that’s the fact of the matter.

That’s the rotten, rotten fact of the matter, and that rotten, rotten fact is far from a morale booster.

Bowser doesn't look angry, per se – Luigi knows what an angry Bowser looks like – but his jaw is clenched and his eyes stare straight at his destination, not drifting one bit. It’s not hard to guess what his mood is. Luigi, while unsure of exactly how he looks, is confident that the corners of his frown could touch the deepest of seafloors and his eyes could join them down in the freezing, watery sand.

Needless to say, neither his nor Bowser’s moods create the decent conditions for engaging in a friendly – if not somewhat pretty competitive – game of poker.

No, this environment – dark, morose, chilly – begets a degree of quietness, maybe some space from each other as they both absorb their impromptu increased bout of detention.

They’ll talk soon enough, he’s sure, likely when it next comes time to eat.

Well, that’s one good thing; thanks to how they packed, particularly their stock of pizza, the two of them have enough food to last the rest of today as well as some of tomorrow, should the storm persist.

Luigi hopes to the lumas above that it doesn’t.

The anticipation of that particular unknown makes Luigi’s stomach feel like it’s flipping; it’s a sensation not helped by the cold air.

Even inside the Odyssey, the Snow Kingdom’s chill persists, the freezing outside perpetually caressing the metal walls to make for a cold inside.

The temperature is nothing he can’t tolerate, but at the same time, it’s not exactly pleasant.

Remembering his plan from before leaving for his round-trip trek from the Odyssey, Luigi gets back into his clothes from earlier, and sits down in the ship’s rightmost chair.

A longing comes over him, one subtle in its source, but powerful in its memory and now craving.

Luigi finds himself wishing that before they left the Metro Kingdom, he’d invested a couple of coins in a pack of hot cocoa mix.

Ah, hot cocoa…

Luigi can recall the sensation of hot cocoa as if he just had it yesterday – the smooth flavor of liquidy chocolate, the subtle, yet unmistakable smell of cocoa, the feeling of tasting the leftover packet powder touching his tongue like a chocolate-flavored meeting of sand and sea…

Hot cocoa always makes him feel better, and especially in this kind of weather, it would be perfect. He could dip his cookies in it, feel his stomach warm up like he imagines Bowser’s does when he prepares his fiery breath, and…be reminded of home.

Days like this remind him of snow days in the past spent at home with a nice steamy mug of hot cocoa, harmonizing moans of delight and laughing at the sight of marshmallow mustaches…with Mario.

Luigi sighs.

He misses Mario.

All he wants to do is get back to him, or even just to know that Mario is alright and have him know that he’s alright in turn.

The vision of his last moment with Mario presses itself in Luigi’s mind, but Luigi pushes it back through sheer force of will until it returns from whence it came.

It’s not a permanent solution – he’s not even sure how long it will work for, if he’s being honest – but Luigi will take what he can get.

Luigi knows he wouldn’t mind a distraction, but doesn’t feel like either seeking one out or asking Bowser for one.

It’s a weird contradiction of feelings, a sentiment he’s been encountering a lot lately.

Unghh.

Maybe he can kill some time with a nap. He always sleeps well on snow days. It’s the same thing with rainy days – something about being just on the other side of wet, less-than-hospitable weather makes him feel secure enough to take a deep rest.

There are worse ways to deal with the situation at hand.

Luigi closes his eyes, and for a moment, he finds the prospect of sleep physically beckoning to him, drawing him in as if to a pool on a hot summer’s day.

It’s almost enough to work. Luigi feels his breathing slow, his thoughts quiet, his body truly relaxing itself.

However, sudden sounds of strong, familiar footsteps deprive Luigi of that final push to fall into slumber’s embrace.

Luigi opens his eyes, preparing himself to ask Bowser to quiet down a bit.

That, however, is when he sees what Bowser is doing.

Bowser’s in the kitchen area. Luigi would find that none too weird – Bowser does love pizza, as should anyone who’s the least bit sane – but he’s holding a bowl, a big metallic bowl.

Luigi’s seen Bowser use a plate plenty of times since their first slices of pizza in New Donk City, and they both know there are no shortage of plates left of what they got back in the Metro Kingdom.

He sees Bowser inhale, through both his nose and mouth.

Then, the spot of orange by his throat glows, his scales made practically transparent through its brightness.

Luigi’s up in a flash.

He yells at Bowser to stop, and is just fast enough to get Bowser to abandon his fire breathing before a single flame is released. Luigi grabs the bowl in Bowser’s hands, and by some miracle manages to remove it from his grasp, tucking it under his right arm.

With the Odyssey saved from danger, Luigi calls on Bowser, nearly yelling as he does so, to explain exactly what it is that he thinks he’s doing. Bowser, seemingly not the least put off by what was just barely avoided, simply shrugs and says that it’s cold, speaking of it as if blowing fire in a bowl is the most natural thing in the world before asking Luigi what’s the problem.

Is he serious?

Bowser can’t be, and yet his expression – confused, perturbed, and looking at Luigi almost as if he’s crazy – quite clearly states otherwise.

Luigi, still yelling – albeit in a way that reminds him of his mother’s voice when she used to catch Mario sneaking in stray pets – argues that lighting a fire inside their only way home is hardly the best remedy for a chill!

Albeit undeniably annoyed, reluctantly, it seems, Bowser abandons his plans for the bowl, walking away from the kitchen area; for that Luigi gives an unashamed sigh of relief.

Maybe now he can get his nap up and running.

However, before he can do more than hope for that, Luigi sees that Bowser, while leaving the kitchen, doesn’t return to his seat on the bed.

No, Bowser instead approaches the closet, and Luigi realizes in a second that this isn’t the end of this matter.

Oh, no.

Is Bowser going to throw his outfits out of the ship to the vast unknown of the stormy Snow Kingdom as revenge for stopping him from possibly lighting the Odyssey on fire?

That’s not fair!

Bowser takes one of the outfits out of the closet – the brown suit.

No!

Luigi wanted to wear that one! Why does Bowser have to destroy it?

However, within seconds, Luigi sees that that’s not what Bowser does.

No, Bowser doesn’t toss the outfit outside – he instead tosses it onto his bed.

It’s not the only outfit to meet such a fate. Once he’s done with the brown suit, Bowser next takes another outfit and then another, with yet another quickly joining the fray.

One by one, Bowser takes them off their hangers and throws them onto his bed until the closet is empty.

Luigi opens his mouth to ask Bowser why he's doing this -- it's been well established by now that no clothes in the closet fit Bowser and that unless the Odyssey has a trick or two left unshown up its propellers, that’s not about to change.

Then, something hits Luigi with the force of a diamond bullet train hitting a brick wall.

He feels like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

Bowser is a reptile.

He’s a magical, talking, fire-breathing reptile, sure, but he’s a reptile nonetheless.

Outside of the ones he’s faced in this realm, Luigi doesn’t know a lot about reptiles.

That said, even he knows one of the cardinal rules of basic reptile biology.

Reptiles are cold-blooded.

For as uncomfortably cold Luigi is now, he knows that there’s a world of difference between how his own warm-blooded body reacts to the cold and how Bowser’s cold-blooded one does.

A literal kingdom of snow is incredibly dangerous for a Koopa like him on a good day, and the continuing storm means that this near-evening is fast proving to be as bad a day as days tend to come.

The knowledge makes Luigi’s next deduction pretty simple.

Bowser is using the clothes as essentially a collection of miniature blankets.

The Odyssey isn’t packed that well for certain weather; its warmest offerings are the light blanket on Bowser’s bed, and some of the closet’s outfits, neither of which can do much in the face of the Snow Kingdom’s wrath, especially for someone Bowser’s size.

Luigi's sure that the combined forces of the blankets and the outfits are helping, but they also don't look to be enough. Bowser, now sitting on the bed once more, has covered himself with the blanket and is hugging all of the warmth that it and the clothes provide close. However, despite what looks to be Bowser’s best efforts not to show it, he’s still clearly shivering his scales off.

It’s a helplessness that’s different from what he saw back in the Lost Kingdom, when Luigi found him trapped on his back. This helplessness is more prideful, more dignified, and theoretically better concealed.

Unfortunately for Bowser’s ego, it’s not concealed well enough.

They have to do something about this.

Bowser’s condition is serious and can’t be ignored, no matter how much Bowser might – and no doubt will – try to do just that.

Luigi still insists that lighting a fire in the Odyssey is too dangerous. If one thing was to go wrong – one slip of the bowl, an errant foot against its metal, a guard too lowered – he and Bowser would find themselves stranded indefinitely in a kingdom whose very climate is hell-bent on Bowser’s demise.

It’s not happening.

Fine, but then what else can warm Bowser up, at least enough so that he survives until some more proper means of warmth can be procured?

And then the idea strikes.

…Oh.

This idea, this insane idea…it could work – it will work, he’s sure – but Luigi is terrified of implementing for fear of…well, fear of everything, he supposes. Of course, Bowser’s response or even retaliation to it makes up a good chunk of the reason for his reluctance. However, it’s not all that.

Just the thought of enacting his idea with Bowser…it makes Luigi’s body feel like it doesn’t notice the very chill that’s necessitating this plan in the first place, like bursting into flames is a very real, and frankly presently very welcome possibility.

Still, it is a practical idea, Luigi’s not about to combust any time soon, and given Bowser’s condition and the all of nothing that they have to work with on hand until this blizzard clears, it’s Bowser’s only real means of safety.

Of all of the things that he could ever expect to do with Bowser for their team up…this certainly is beyond even the wildest of possibilities his brain could come up with.

Mamma mia!

Bowser’s going to kill him.

He’s going to die.

…

Well, if he’s going to die, it’s at least going to be from doing something heroic.

Mario will be proud of him…maybe.

No, he will be, even if it does become moot once Mario kills Bowser for killing him.

Is a circle of death what he wants?

Luigi takes another look at Bowser, clothes tattering his body as if patches on the blanket, shivering.

He’s pretty sure he heard a clack of his teeth.

It looks like the risk of a circle of death is one he’s just going to have to take.

Here goes nothing.

With a small stutter, Luigi calls Bowser’s name. Not a beat passes as Bowser looks at him, his ruby-colored gaze intense. Luigi can’t stifle the gulp he lets out, but still approaches. Bowser’s making a futile attempt to hide how cold he truly is, putting up a neutral front of an expression despite clinging to his cloth-based sources of warmth.

Bowser repeats that he’s cold, though minimizes how cold he is through an aloof shrug, telling Luigi that he’s just going to have to deal with him using his clothes for the time being, but Luigi waves it off, telling him that it’s fine. A low inquisitive hum comes out of Bowser.

When he’s right in front of him, Luigi implores Bowser to not get mad at what he’s about to suggest.

Bowser stares at him, confused and skeptical, but a firm look from Luigi that he’s, to no one’s surprise more than his own, able to muster up states his insistence. Bowser huffs, but doesn't say anything, though not removing his eyes from Luigi’s. It’s a little…no…very intimidating, but Luigi takes that as as good of a sign as anything else and goes to say his piece.

Luigi takes a breath and opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Anghh!

Fine, he knows he’s a little worried about how Bowser will react to this, but it’s to the point he can’t even speak?

Oh, this is awful!

Luigi tries to talk again, but the results are the same.

Bowser prompts Luigi to speak, giving him an inquisitive, yet still intense stare.

Doesn’t he know that’s not helping?!

Luigi gives verbal communication one final go, only to hear his silent failure repeat itself.

This can’t be happening.

But he can’t just not say or do anything!

Well, if he can’t say anything.

Oh, no…

So, with three unsuccessful attempts at his back to explain himself and a panic at the pressure from Bowser as well as himself to do something, Luigi just decides to do what he has approached Bowser to do in the first place.

Here goes nothing.

Turning around so as to have his back to Bowser, Luigi gets on the bed and sits directly in front of him.

Luigi’s back just barely touches Bowser’s belly before the retaliation starts.

Frankly, Luigi’s surprised that it took even that long.

Perhaps he should’ve given a verbal explanation a fourth try.

Four is a magic number, too, right?!

Bowser yells to Luigi to explain what the hell he’s doing while trying to push Luigi off of him. Luigi, fighting the paws attempting to pry him off via his shoulders, finds himself finally able to summon words – groaning internally about how they couldn’t come out earlier – as he tells Bowser to listen to him. Bowser tells him that he tried to, and instead of saying something, he just sat in front of him. Luigi says that he knows that, but now he wants another chance to explain himself and that this is important!

It takes a few seconds for Bowser to stop pushing him, but he soon enough does, growling that this better be a good explanation before allowing Luigi to properly make his case.

Luigi, grateful for the return of his ability to speak, wastes no time; he points out that Bowser’s cold-blooded. Bowser, smirking so hard that Luigi doesn’t even need to see it to sense it and even giving a little dark chuckle as he speaks, tells Luigi that he’s obviously cold-blooded.

Sighing, Luigi elaborates that he means cold-blooded biologically, bringing up the dangers of a reptile being in the cold with little heat available, that he's already showing signs of chilling, ergo his use of the clothes and shivering. Luigi interrupts Bowser’s clear attempt at defending himself by saying that he’s not just cold, but freezing, and he knows that, no matter how much Bowser tries to hide it, earning a low, yet weak snarl from Bowser in return.

Continuing, Luigi says that his body heat, as reluctant as the two absolutely are to both share and accept it, will keep Bowser from freezing out overnight. He tells Bowser that it’s just until the storm clears. Then, he’ll go get him some warm clothes or blankets so they won’t have to do this again. For now though, they’ll need to share body heat, and that's the simple reality of the situation.

Looking at Bowser, Luigi can tell that he’s searching for an argument to counter Luigi’s, but is blustering.

He can’t help but relate – it’s not like he didn’t try to find alternative solutions; they’re just without the means for any of them.

Bowser starts stumbling over his words.

Knowing what that means, once more, Luigi finds himself relating. He’s fighting the urge to put his face in his hands from the sheer embarrassment of what he and Bowser need to do – he has no idea what Bowser wants to do, outside of pummeling him into a green smoothie.

If not for the pain, he would almost invite him to do it.

Finally, after a long, long minute, clearly resigned to his fate, Bowser growls to Luigi that no one is to ever know about this.

That’s no problem whatsoever for him.

They both agree to Bowser’s condition, and Luigi, heart thumping into his and Bowser’s settled choice as he does so, scoots further back in Bowser’s direction.

Some decisions in life aren’t as hard to make as others.

And some decisions, while not difficult to make, can feel nearly impossible to handle once they’ve been made.

#bowuigi #bowser #luigi #super mario bros #super mario #nintendo

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