#sophia’s advent calendar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

misskathcake · 2 years

Text

Gingerbreadbunny

My other Holiday fic!

❄️🎄❄️

The light pitter-patter of small feet on the carpeted floors is enough to tingle Harry’s senses to awaken.

That’s what being a father to a too sunny, too active, too animated, too independent three-year-old daughter does to you.

Harry feels the familiar dip of his side of the bed, lips threatening to curl up on their own as his closed eyelids can imagine the highly cute way his daughter crawls to reach his ‘sleeping’ body, her little bum wiggling upwards to reach her father’s long torso. The sign of his daughter’s success is felt through warm, small hands finding purchase on Harry’s sleep-puffed face.

“Wakey, daddy, wakey.” Harry’s daughter tries to whisper in the quiet of the cold room, little fingertips tapping her father’s cheek in earnest.

Harry acts as if he was still asleep, body rumbling in a loud snore like all those times his daughter has decided to wake his wits too early in the morning without the necessity of waking at such time. Her giggles at Harry’s ridiculous acting etches the smile on Harry’s lips that he’s been trying to hold-off, his daughter’s knowing hands squeezing his cheeks together.

“Daddy, I know you’re awake, silly.” Molly giggles, same green eyes brightening up as Harry flutters his own to look at her daughter.

Harry is known to exaggerate sometimes, but he thinks it’s only fair that he feels the air get knocked out of his system every time he gets a good look at his daughter’s face that is no doubt a mini replica of his sleeping wife’s gorgeousness. Molly might have gotten his green irises, but all other physicalities (and personality, just wait and see) is all Sophia’s down to the T.

With that being said, the faux innocent tint his daughter is giving her sleep coated eyes, is one that Harry is familiar with even before Molly was born.

“Princess, why are you awake this early?” Harry quietly rumbles, hands reaching up to fix his daughter’s sleep rumpled hair, the little girl barely allowing Harry to do so as she moves away from his hands by crawling her way up to plant herself on her father’s chest.

“Ooof,” Harry lets out in slight surprise, resting his hands to hold Molly’s little body steady on his warm chest. “Always so jumpy in the morning, you are.”

Molly only giggles at her father’s comment, little chubby arms wrapping around Harry’s neck as she perches her chin right at the top of her father’s sternum.

“Have to wake-up cause it’s the 24th daddy,” Molly explains, “Why you and mummy still sleeping?” she tilts her head in a frown, far too adorable for Harry’s tired state.

Harry bops her nose, “And how do you know it’s the 24th hm, miss smarty?”

In a tone far more exasperated than the fond look Harry is giving her, the three-year-old rumbles, “It’s in the advent calendar, daddy! Last door today, mummy said!”

“Shh.” Harry quickly tells her daughter in a gentle approach, forefinger placed on his lips that his daughter tries to copy but fails ultimately because her pouting lips are pressed on Harry’s skin. “Inside room voice please. And mummy is still sleeping so we have to be quiet, okay?”

Understanding dawns swiftly on her daughter, green eyes rounding just like her cute little mouth formed in an ‘oh’ as she looks at her mother’s sleeping form beside Harry on the bed.

“Quiet, mummy is asleep.” Molly repeats firmly to Harry, the latter dimpling that he just got slightly told-off by her daughter by doing nothing after he slightly told her off for the one being too loud.

Harry really doesn’t want to accidentally wake Sophia by their daughter’s far too early bright energy since Sophia had been a real trooper last night finishing all their unwrapped gifts. Harry prides himself in being ace at gift wrapping so Sophia and him had planned to do most of it last night in one go. What they didn’t put into consideration is their daughter’s absolute excitement to anything Christmas related, Harry needing to assist a fussing Molly last night who didn’t want to sleep because the toddler was high-strung for their Christmas Eve activities the next day.

Nine hours of sleep later (she could have had twelve if she didn’t hackle her father for three hours worth of Christmas stories, singing and cuddles), Molly is obviously invading her parents' peaceful room to exude her youthful excitement for the festive day ahead.

That makes Harry stop in realization.

“Princess, how did you know it’s the 24th today? I don’t remember mummy ever saying that to you exactly.” Harry quietly hums, brow raising at the way her daughter bites her lip at his question. “Have you woken-up extra early to practice your numbers?”

Molly is obsessed with Christmas. She has been asking her mother to assist her with her special, sugar-induced treats advent calendar because despite her persistent independent desires, Molly is not yet completely fluent with her numbers thus the dates of the month are still quite tricky for her to remember correctly. How she was able to remember that today is the 24th of December, brings high suspicious thoughts into Harry’s mind.

Molly spills out giggles from her pink lips, cheeks squishing down and nuzzling on the expanse of her father’s neck like the cuddlebug that she is. Harry only hugs her tighter to his body, gently soothing her giggles to not escalate into full-on rambunctious laughter that will wake her sleeping, pretty mummy.

When Harry gently squeezes Molly’s hips, a reminder that he’s still waiting for an answer, Molly’s grinning eyes are trained at her father before answering in full honesty.

“Went downstairs to counted the days on the advent calendar before going to mummy and daddy’s room.”

“Darling.” Harry drawls, voice trying to sound exasperated but is overthrown by the feeling of endearment at his daughter’s antics. “What do I keep on reminding you about going down the stairs by yourself?”

Molly pouts, the words uttered by her father usually proceeds to him being cross with her. “Daddy, I promise I really went carefully down. I hold with my two hands the bars of the stairs, promise, daddy.”

“Did you really?” Harry exhales, eyes shining in admiration for his daughter’s innocent words of pure sincerity.

Molly nods her head enthusiastically, little chin digging on Harry’s skin almost uncomfortably. “Yes, I super promise, daddy.”

Instead of replacing her pout back to that of her saccharine smile, Molly’s bottom lip protruded even farther, green Bambi eyes rounding in a full wounded look which got Harry alert in mere seconds. But before he can fuss over his daughter and ask what’s wrong, Molly is grumbling on his chest.

“My tum-tum was telling me it was wanting food so I went down, daddy.”

Harry’s resulting laughter now deserves that earlier reprimand of his daughter to be quiet. How can he be blamed for letting out such an obnoxious noise when his daughter’s words are not far from the way Molly’s own mother would grumble to him. Sophia is highly notorious for getting close to tears when she’s hungry, there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that Molly’s saddened pouting face right now would escalate to that level if he doesn’t give her something to eat real soon.

“Did you eat anything then, darling? To soothe your tum-tum’s hungry calls?”

Molly shakes her head glumly, “No. Never eat breakfast with no mummy or daddy, mummy and you said.”

Harry positively coos at his daughter’s sweet words, Sophia and him instilling in Molly at a young age the importance of a family eating together when all are in the same place. Whether it’s in the kitchen at their home, daddy’s kitchen at his tour bus, or mummy’s kitchen at her nail salon. It’s a testament to Molly’s strong-willed mind that always wants to explore how far her parents would let her do things on her own, by still valuing the words they tell her.

“Aw, poor baby.” Harry coos, lips dropping to kiss his daughter’s forehead behind her messy fringe. “Did my darling wake daddy up so she can have food for her tum-tum?”

Like the true toddler that she is, Molly’s earlier display of a saddened puppy instantly shifts to that of an excited puppy at the mere mention of her father being there to provide her with food. Due to another thing contrary to his daughter’s wishes of feeding herself, she actually can’t do that if she can’t even reach the top of the kitchen counter without using one of their wooden chairs to stand on.

“Yes please, daddy.” Molly politely replies, the dents on Harry’s cheeks digging even deeper at the way he’s beaming at his daughter.

“Okay.” Harry taps her cotton bottoms clad bum, “Go wait for me near the stairs while daddy needs to get dressed before he becomes your chef.”

Molly makes a conscious effort of covering her giggling lips with the palm of her small paws, Harry shaking his head, highly endeared at his daughter who has quickly slid away from his hold on her body. Harry only realizes that Molly is actually already dressed for the day in a warm toned jumper with a silver, sparkling collar and plain, cream trousers. Gone were her favorite Frosty the Snowman pyjama set that Harry had stressed over last night after his daughter started having a tantrum when Harry told her it was still in the wash. Thank god for dryers really!

Harry’s slight lamenting for all his efforts washed away just like that is interrupted by Molly’s excited form turning back at him before making her way out to wait near their stairs.

“Daddy,” Molly says in a loud whisper, “wear a jumper cause mummy said it’s going to be super coldest today.”

Harry chuckles lightly, “How cold did mummy say it was going to be today, darling?”

Molly wraps her small arms around her own form, acting like she was shivering, “The super coldest!”

If only Sophia and Harry weren’t against the idea of having their daughter star in ad campaigns at such a young age, Harry’s pretty sure Molly’s charisma and adorable acts would have garnered them a hefty paycheck, enough to have bought all her Christmas gifts this year.

“Well in that case, daddy should bundle-up and listen to mummy, huh? The same way you little miss should be listening to daddy’s instructions earlier. No food for the tum-tum if cuddlebug isn’t careful.”

That etches a serious aura on Molly’s face like a determined little puppy, “Cuddlebug would be careful, daddy.” she says in full determination before making a show of slowly walking out of her parents room. That leaves Harry giggling to himself while fetching his equally warm clothing in their closet.

Having learned how to dress up quickly not only for hectic tours and Gucci fashions shows, but that too of being freshly out the shower and your daughter is already wailing for your attention, Harry easily finishes getting ready for the day in just under five minutes. The man smiled approvingly at his daughter who was waiting patiently at one of the single couches in the upstairs living room area by the stairway, the couch big enough to look like it was swallowing her small form.

“Look who’s being a good girl early this morning.” Harry says, offering his hand for Molly to take. “Such a patient girl, princess. I think you’re definitely going to get your pressies from Santa tomorrow.”

Molly gives him a toothy smile, preening at her father’s words while accepting his help of getting down from the large single couch. “You think so, daddy?”

Harry easily picks up his toddler to carry down the stairs, the little girl’s one arm snaked behind his neck while the other rests on his cheek waiting for an answer with her green doe-like eyes exhibiting intense anticipation.

“Daddy really thinks so, princess. You’ve been really good and helpful to mummy while daddy was away so I’m sure that Father Christmas will know that too.”

“How he know?” Molly quirks a confused brow as Harry takes the two of them to their kitchen. “You talk to Santa, daddy?”

“Not really because I don’t need to. Santa sees everything, remember?” Harry says while carefully depositing Molly on the surface of the marbled kitchen counter.

Something in his last words spiked a current of sheer joy on Molly’s face, the latter quickly wobbling to stand on her feet on the kitchen counter allowing Harry to assist her excited frame as to not to fall on the floor and cause her father a heart attack.

Despite being Sophia’s daughter through and through, Molly is still Harry’s daughter as well. Greatly exemplified when said daughter suddenly begins singing a classic Christmas tune all animatedly, with her small body bopping this way and that.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake!” Molly all but belts in her high-pitched voice, “He knows when you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!”

There’s nothing that gets Harry the most than seeing his daughter singing her heart out, easily getting tranced to join along the fun as they sing the chorus together, Harry’s arms gently swaying along Molly’s in a little happy dance.

“So! You better watch out, you better not cry. You better not pout, I’m telling you why. Santa Clause is coming to town!”

The two finish in absolute flourish, Molly’s ear-piercing screech hitting the last note of the song perfectly in Harry’s opinion. They both dissolve into rambunctious laughter after their singing moment, Harry’s heart growing triple its size at how unbelievably amazing his daughter is.

Harry drops a kiss to Molly’s grinning cheek, “I think that wonderful singing has made my princess more hungry, huh? Don’t worry, daddy’s going to give you a smoothie first before I start baking our brekkie.”

Harry misses the pout that formed on his daughter’s lips, back already facing her while getting some lime and spinach in the fridge, only to be interrupted by his daughter’s whine.

“Daddy! No green stuffies, please!”

Harry faces his daughter with his mouth ajar, “What do you mean no green stuffies? You love daddy’s smoothies, love.”

Molly shakes her head furiously, “Nu-uh, green smoothies are yucky!”

Harry actually gasps at the disgusted face his daughter is sporting, “Since when did my smoothies become yucky to you?”

“Mummy said eewiee last time you maked us smoothies so I say eewiee too.” Molly replies like it was a no brainer and Harry’s amused to say the least.

He should have seen it coming with the way most things about his daughter are slowly unfolding to be like the traits of her mother every day that she grows-up. Sophia’s aversion to green vegetables and fruits were put into a hold after the two of them have discussed that it was important that Molly would learn to love healthy foods and drinks at an early age. Harry’s quite certain that Sophia didn’t mean for their daughter to hear her disgusted comment about his smoothie since she’s been the best mother by being a good example to Molly and gulping her own pains away with Harry’s green smoothies every time he makes them.

But of course, their daughter had to be an attentive one and all Sophia’s efforts are put to waste at their daughter’s incessant look of displeasure after seeing Harry holding the green ingredients this morning.

“Don’t wanna green stuffies, daddy.” Molly pouts further, “Tum-tum don’t likey.”

Harry sighs, “What are you going to eat then, darling? Daddy’s still going to bake our brekkie and that would take awhile.”

Molly’s grin springs back to her face in an instant, it’s tone far too devious for a toddler which makes Harry quite apprehensive of what she’s about to say.

“May I please go to the pantry and I find snacks to eat while you bake brekkie, daddy?”

Molly asks the question so innocently, Harry not seeing the harm of agreeing especially with how polite she had asked for his permission.

“Alright.” Harry relents, acting exasperated at his daughter’s cheerful face. “You may go to the pantry and pick a snack. But please, pick something healthy, love. And please eat it at the dining table where I can see you, okay?”

His daughter nods her head enthusiastically, “Yes, daddy.” puckering her lips to land a kiss on Harry’s chin before quickly asking for help to be brought down to the floor.

Harry shakes his head in amusement once again as he easily carries Molly’s lithe body from the kitchen counter down to the heated floors, the little girl scurrying away to the door of their pantry before Harry can even tell her to be careful with her steps.

Like her mother, Molly has grown-up to love snacking at any moment the hunger for it strikes. Being the independent bee that she is, Sophia had decided it was only wise to get Harry to make their daughter a stepping stool that can be used for the pantry so that the little girl could go and get her snacks by herself after informing the two of them where she’s going.

Harry had been hesitant of the idea at first, scary thoughts of his baby girl loosing her footing on the stepping stool and falling on the ground without them near had plagued his mind. Those negative thoughts were quickly diminished when Sophia had ordered online a kit for the stepping stool, Molly’s eager aurora excitedly asking her father to assemble it for her, small hand not only tugging on his bigger palm but that too of his heart strings, was enough to get him to agree.

And now he isn’t regretting the decision. Harry makes the most out of the silent reprieve his daughter has given him by getting the dough that he chilled last night together with some butter, sugar, and flour from the cupboards all for the cinnamon rolls he’s going to be baking for their Christmas Eve breakfast.

Harry’s sweet tooth of a wife had actually been the one that had requested for this specific dish, and who was Harry to deny her kind wish when it was the season of giving after all. Besides, Sophia deserves some doting love from him after being the best mum in the world this past year with him being away from tour, or with Sophia being also his mum on tour when they were in the city where Harry was set to perform.

Harry wants to make this a special and delicious breakfast for his wife and daughter that he actually doesn’t notice what Molly is eating, just content seeing the flurry of her crazy-messy hair as she busies herself in the dining table while Harry begins to roll out the dough he proofed last night.

After rolling out the dough to be thin and wide enough for his liking, Harry’s focus was shifted to making sure he’s brushing equal amounts of butter on every surface of the dough as well as the brown sugar and cinnamon mixture he’s sprinkling is also of equal parts.

Too focused on the art of baking for his girls, Harry does not notice his wife coming down the stairs in all her sleep-rumpled glory, all cozily dressed-up and warm for the winter weather.

“Mind if I join the two of you here?” Sophia’s sweet voice breaks Harry’s engrossed state as he watches his wife almost glide to the kitchen towards them. Such a graceful creature that one.

It should have been a tell-tale sign when Molly didn’t even acknowledge the presence of her mother despite always worshiping the floor she walks on, wanting to be Sophia’s little version every single day. But one thing the married couple has learned after having their first child, is to value every second of child-less time that God gives them. So can you really blame the two when they went straight to each other in a tight embrace, lips locking in a sweet morning kiss.

“Good morning, my sunflower.” Harry dimples at his smiling wife, “I’d really want to cradle your face and kiss you so tenderly but my hands are sticky with sugar and cinnamon.”

Sophia coos at Harry’s pout, “It’s okay bunny, I’d just be the one to hold your face and kiss you good morning so tenderly.” Cupping Harry’s giggling face on the small of her palm, Sophia raises on her tiptoes to entangle their lips together in a loving kiss.

“Mummy! My kissies too!”

And that’s why you grab every opportunity you have to be able to snog your wife peacefully.

Harry and Sophia both sighed in each other's lips, more endeared than exasperated really, just like for everything else their daughter does.

Sophia turns her head towards Molly at the dining table, “Of course, my love. How can mummy forget my kissies for you?”

Their daughter shrugs, infamous pout forming once again, “I don’t know. Mummy should not forgetting to share daddy’s kissie with me too.”

Both Harry and Sophia let out surprise laughter at Molly’s clear admission of childish jealousy regarding Harry’s kisses. He should have known that a jealous mother would also mean a jealous daughter. Come to think of it, it’s not the first time Molly has interrupted their holiday smooches, only this time there weren’t any tiny hands pushing their heads away from each other.

“Oh, how unkind of mummy for not sharing daddy’s kissies with you, baby?” Sophia humors their daughter. “Why don’t you come here with us darling and give daddy amazing kisses and I go fix your messy hair while you’re at it with your father’s affection.”

Molly smiles, adorable baby teeth showing. And that’s when they see it.

“Molly!” Harry gasps together with Sophia, “What have you been eating, young lady?”

Molly shuts her toothy grin in an instant, features flushing in muted pink at being caught. She doesn’t reply to her father, so Harry has no choice but to follow his wife whose hand he’s holding, drags him to the dining table.

“What is this?” Sophia asks, gesturing incredulously at the plate of ‘snacks’ Molly had chosen from the pantry.

One of Sophia’s dainty white and gold plate sets that’s perfectly arranged for tonight’s roast dinner, is filled with mini Lindt chocolate bears, its classic gold wrapper with the touches of red, blue, and green all fit for the holiday outfits the adorable bears are wearing.

Seeing that her parents are more fond rather than cross (unfortunately) at her, Molly doesn’t cower away in the fear of getting scolded and instead gives her parents another toothy grin, evidence of her early sweet treat visible.

“They’re choccys, mummy.” Molly answers, so angelic-like it makes Harry believe Sophia and him are doomed when Molly becomes a teenager and get away with every single devious thing she’ll do because her parents are utter suckers for her precious face.

“I can see that they are choccys, darling.” Sophia confirms, head turning to Harry with a curved brow. “Now I don’t understand why your daddy let you eat some this early.”

Harry’s brows furrow, bottom lip sticking out just a little bit because it feels like the scolding will be directed at him unlawfully. “Sunflower, I told our little princess to get a healthy snack. Didn’t I, love?”

Molly might charm her way to get past her cheeky antics but one thing that she can’t do is lie straight to her parent’s faces, another thing she’s inherited from Sophia who can’t lie (even for a surprise for her husband) for the life of her. That trait goes in favor for Harry most of the time, easily getting the answers from Sophia when it’s date night and she had planned for them a surprise. Sophia can’t even last a whole five minutes in their ride and she’s already spilling the beans to Harry.

“Yes.” Molly pouts, nodding her head dejectedly. “Daddy said healthy snack before brekkie but I gotten choccys instead, sorry mummy and daddy.”

Molly makes grabby hands for either of her parents to pick her up, Sophia being the nearest one extending her arm to raise her daughter up and hold her tights to her chest. Molly quickly presses her soft baby lips on her mother’s in a kiss filled with apology, little head tilting at the side to reach for her father with her lips remained pursed. Harry coos, bending a little to meet his daughter half-way through, Molly smacking an equally apologetic kiss to his lips.

“It’s alright baby,” Harry promises quietly, “You’re forgiven, mummy and daddy aren’t cross with you.”

Sophia hums the same sentiment, giving her daughter a soft smile, “Daddy’s right, we’re not going to get mad at you if you’re so kind for being honest and apologizing right away. Look who’s in the nice list of Father Christmas?”

That brings the grin on Molly’s face back, giggling almost bashfully at her mother’s praise. “Sure mummy? Santa didn’t putted me in the naughty list cause I eated choccys for brekkie snack?”

“Yes, mummy’s sure baby. Remember, Santa has eyes everywhere, yeah?”

Both Harry and Molly lock gazes at that, mirth swimming in their green irises causing a frown of wary to etch on Sophia’s face.

“Uh-oh, why are you two looking at each other like that?”

Instead of replying, the father and daughter turned into the amazing singing duo that they are, breaking into the same Christmas song number from earlier. This time around, they’ve placed Sophia in the middle of their little dance routine, Harry and Molly showing Sophia how to properly shimmy her shoulders and bop her bum and hips like they’re back on tour once again.

It doesn't take long before Sophia and Molly tap out from tiredness, Harry giggles on his hands at the rather adorable flushed faces of his girls, bodies bent with their hands placed on their respective knees catching their breath like they’ve just ran a marathon. It’s yet another trait Molly got from her mother, getting easily physically exhausted and then pouting up at Harry asking for ‘cool down cuddles’.

On any regular day, Harry would have instantly jumped at the opportunity of getting to smother his two tired girls in his snuggles. But today’s Christmas Eve, he’s not going to let them have shitty breakfast just because they’re all too clingy and need attention, that’s really the bottomline of it, isn’t it?

Hence, Harry musters the bravest face he can make, one that can resist the double-trouble of his wife and daughter’s identical puppy eyes and pleading pouts (a hundred times more fucking difficult than anyone can ever imagine), asking Sophia to help Molly freshen-up and erase any traces of chocolate on her face. Despite Sophia’s resistance, she agrees minutes later upon remembering the bird nest state of her daughter’s hair, and the promise of freshly baked cinnamon rolls once they arrive back.

Harry promptly returns to work once Molly and Sophia have left hand-in-hand up the staircase once more.

One who absolutely loves cooking for his girls, Harry expertly cuts and rolls the cinnamon buns and is placed perfectly in a large baking dish in no time. It still does have to be baked though, so Sophia and Molly arrive back in the kitchen with the growing aromas of sugar mixed with spicy notes from the cinnamon, inhibiting the entire room.

“Oohh, smells yummy.” Sophia observes, nose visibly raising in attention to waft the heavenly scent.

Molly, who’s in her mother’s arms with her hair fixed into little adorable spacebuns, copies her mother with ease, eyes closing all lovely, “Oohh, smells yummy!”

The two adults share a laugh at their daughter’s undeniable cuteness, amusement unceasing when the cinnamon rolls have baked with Molly physically sitting on her own tiny hands to prevent from taking a bite of her own roll after Harry had served them with it at the dining table. Both Sophia and Harry have told their daughter about five times (in the span of two minutes) not to eat it yet for it’s still piping hot after being taken out fresh from their oven.

Harry would like to think that as much as Sophia is on his side for their daughter’s safety, he’s pretty sure Sophia is also at the edge of her seat, waiting for the go signal from Harry when it’s already alright to eat their sweet breakfast without anyone burning their tongues.

After all, the two do love their sweet food. Harry shares the same observation at the table once Sophia and Molly have dived straight into their own cinnamon rolls, forgetting about knives and forks unlike Harry.

“I mean, I like sweet food.” Sophia answers Harry's comment, “But I don’t know if I love it, per say.” and then proceeds to lick her fingers clean from the sugary icing Harry had poured earlier.

Harry raises an incredulous eyebrow at that, Sophia huffing with an eye-roll at her husband’s smirk.

“Okay, I love sweet food then,” Sophia relents, “but I don’t like sweet breakfast all the time. Like, I also want some savory food in the morning on some days.”

Harry snorts, “Since when? I’m pretty sure our baby girl was eating chocolate bears earlier because she got that from you, like all things really.” and he gives Sophia his own set of eye-rolls, the underneath tone of bitterness in his voice is not lost in Sophia’s ears.

Sophia cackles, “That’s so not true.”

At the same time, Molly perks-up after hearing the magical word, “Choccy bears?” she asks in excitement, mouth messy with white icing and crumbs of sugar and cinnamon making the spouses giggle at their daughter’s messy nature.

Harry reaches forward to wipe his daughter clean, chuckling when Molly cranes her little neck to catch Harry’s thumb on her mouth to eat the sweet mess. Honestly, if anyone didn’t know any better, they’d probably think Harry is starving his daughter from the way she absolutely lights up after savoring those little granules of sweet food.

“Yeah, choccy bears,” Harry muses with a grin at his daughter, “darling, don’t you just love choccy bears cause mummy loves choccy bears?”

That makes Molly beam, all toothy and sticky hands clapping in glee, “Yes! Mummy loves choccy bears so I maded sure I love it too!”

The smug look Harry offers Sophia after that, is enough to convey the ‘I told you so!’ without needing to say it verbally. Sophia just pouts at her husband, brows meeting in the middle.

“Well mummy has a sweet tooth, so what can she do?” Sophia shrugs before turning to give Harry a fleeting look, baby blues looking too devious for Harry’s liking which all of a sudden disappears to give Molly an excited beam.

“But good thing daddy does quite well with helping us with our sweet cravings, yeah princess?”

Molly nods eagerly at her mother before turning to Harry with a lovely smile, “Yup! Daddy loves giving mummy and Molly with sweet treats, love daddy a bunch for gotted us choccy food all the time!”

Harry just absolutely preens at his daughter’s love-oozing words, “Aww, I love you too, princess. There isn’t anything daddy won’t do to get you and mummy what you like.”

“That’s why we love you,” Sophia says, devious baby blues back on a locked gaze with Harry’s own curious ones, “Always doing your best to give what Molly and I want or need. It’s a good thing you’re also down to help Molly make gingerbread cookies later because we’ve been craving for some since the start of the month.”

Molly actually screeches on her seat at the mention of that, fisted hands banging on the table ardently. “YES! Daddy and I bake gingerbread men NOW!”

In turn, Harry actually groans on his seat with Sophia cackling in laughter and Molly continually exclaiming the need for Harry and her to start baking already, the toddler far too keen already after talking Harry’s ear off about baking gingerbread cookies together ever since last night. And yes, it’s mainly the reason why his daughter didn’t want to have her kip last night.

This lot mainly stemmed from Sophia’s love for watching the Hallmark Christmas movies once the start of the holiday season has arrived from around the corner. Molly, being the studious girl that she is in wanting to be the best mini version of her mother, had also taken a liking to these films as mother and daughter tandem made a routine of watching a film or two a day to get their Christmas spirits going.

Most of the Hallmark films that Sophia has taped in their telly, revolved around some sort of Christmas baking with a love story entangled in it in some cheesy way. Molly, being a child who doesn’t really care about kissing under the mistletoe or awkward fumbling in the skate rink that turns to cliché falling on the ice and accidentally kissing, has focused her keen attention on all the baking of sweet treats in the movies.

As much as Harry is thankful that his daughter is not yet at the age of thinking that any boy would be much suited at taking care and loving her compared to her father, Harry is also placed in an unfavorable position after his daughter had pleaded with him that they too bake in the holidays like those people in the films.

Sophia’s a decent cook but she’s absolute crap in the field of baking, so it was clever of their daughter to direct her widened eyes and fluttering lashes at her daddy who on a normal day can’t resist giving in to that look.

What happens when it’s given to him during Christmas time?

Harry absolutely stumbles on his feet to teach his daughter how to make gingerbread cookies, that’s what happens.

That statement is also conveyed in literal terms, like Harry is literally stumbling on his own two feet from the amount of flour his daughter is placing in their dry ingredients bowl, so much that it’s also spilling on the kitchen floor causing Harry’s clumsiness to come into action.

“Alright, I think that’s enough, baby.” Harry says, hands coming up to wave off the puffs of flour floating in the air. He stands closer to his daughter who’s standing securely on one of their dining chairs, head raised to look at Harry in clear concentration, an extremely adorable look that Harry can’t help but giggle at.

“What’s next, daddy?” Molly eagerly asks.

“Now we have to add the remaining dry ingredients, like the salt, baking soda, and all our spices.”

To prevent more spillage, Harry takes it upon himself to tell Molly to wait (a hardship on its own that would take a lot of time to share how) while he measures into little cups all the other dry ingredients so all that his messy daughter gotta do is to dump its contents on their big bowl in an easy, and way cleaner manner.

Harry learns quite quickly that there’s nothing easy with teaching a toddler how to bake. Molly’s pudgy tiny fingers dipping on every measured cup, tongue poking out in disgust after having a taste of pure powdered cinnamon, clove, all spice, and ginger, all of which Harry had told her not to put directly in her mouth.

“That’s so yucky!” Molly grumbles, “Why we putted that in our gingerbread men, daddy?”

Harry shakes his head at his daughter’s cluelessness, filling a glass of water for Molly to drink to wash out the unpleasant symphony of spices in her pink tongue. Harry finds her amusing because he’ll never forget how Sophia did the exact same thing, and asked the exact same questions when they first baked gingerbread cookies together way back when their daughter wasn’t even born yet. Harry just hopes that Molly has a far better future in the baking scene than her mother.

“It won’t taste horrible later, princess, I promise.” Harry replies, accepting the empty glass from his daughter’s careful hands. “It just doesn’t taste good right now because it’s not cooked yet. Once it’s all mixed with our wet ingredients, we’ve rolled the dough and cut our gingerbread men, it’s going to taste really yummy once it’s done baking in the oven.”

His daughter only hums in acknowledgement at that, her attention span of being a toddler is quickly transferred to the pink KitchenAid mixer that Harry has just placed in the kitchen counter.

“I like the color pink.” Molly points out the electronic mixer.

“Why’s that?” Harry humors her despite knowing the answer just like he knows the sun will come down later and it will rise again tomorrow.

“Because mummy likes pink, so I like pink too.”

And how can Harry forget about that? His bloody nails are painted pink right now because Sophia seems to have a collection of all the shades of pink found in the spectrum of colors in the form of nail polishes. At the same time, he still lets out a shudder from the pointed glares that Sophia had given him for all the red outfits he wore at tour.

Harry proceeds to slowly instruct Molly about the wet ingredients that she needs to pour in a separate bowl. This time, he doesn’t bother warning Molly not to taste the sugar or molasses, but does place a foot forward when his daughter all out gobbles a cube of butter, buttery fingers trying to reach for another one which Harry intercepts easily.

“No more butter for you, missy.” Harry chuckles at Molly’s disgruntled face, traces of butter smeared on her lips, “Or we won’t have any cookies if your tum-tum eats them all.” Harry then tickles her pudgy stomach causing Molly to shriek in laughter.

In no time, Harry’s strong arms are guiding Molly’s smaller ones in combining both the dry ingredients with the wet ones, Molly’s fascinated eyes trained on the whirling motion of the mixer as it combines all the components of the gingerbread cookie into a warm brown colored dough.

“Wow.” Molly awes as Harry scoops the dough from the bowl, molding it a bit with his practiced hands before wrapping it in clingwrap.

“That’s cool, huh?” Harry dimples at his engrossed daughter. “Now we just have to wait and put it in the fridge to chill for an hour.”

His daughter’s enchanted expression of seeing their creation turn into a dough for her gingerbread men is quickly replaced by a petulant pout.

“Why?” Molly asks in a tone of pure protest, “Why put in the fridge, daddy? I thought we going to maded it now?”

Harry, having the sixth sense for a Christmas-obsessed toddler tantrum, makes his way to the fridge and swaps the dough they just made to one that he made from last night.

“Ta-da!” Harry showcases the chilled dough to his daughter animatedly, the green eyed girl covering her mouth in a gasp of surprise.

“Oh my.” Molly mutters when Harry begins to sprinkle the surface of the kitchen counter with flour, rolling out the batch of dough he prepared last night.

“Amazing right? I knew your little impatient bum couldn’t wait to get your gingerbread men assembled.”

Molly doesn’t reply from her father’s rib at her character. Either because she’s a child who can’t detect teasing that well, or because she’s precisely like her mummy who doesn’t take a damn from Harry whenever he calls out Sophia’s own impatient whining. Harry has his bets on the latter option of why Molly just ignores his words in favor of excitedly arranging the assortment of gingerbread man cookie cutters he bought specifically for her as an early Christmas present.

“Alright,” Harry claps his hands free from any excess flour after successfully rolling out the dough in the perfect thinness he was hoping to achieve, “daddy is going to show you how to cut out one gingerbread man, and you princess can do the rest after.”

Molly wordlessly hands Harry one of the cookie cutters, eyes glued solely on the slow motions of her daddy’s hands as he flours the cookie cutter before placing it in the dough.

“Now you have to press it hard, like this.” Harry tells her, pushing on his palms quite exaggeratedly with his face frowning in the faux strenuous activity just to hear his daughter’s amused giggles. “No giggling here darling. You have to put all your big girl strength in cutting these cookies or else there won’t be any cookies to eat.”

“No way!” Molly protests easily, “Have to get the gingerbread men cutted cause it looks so good in the telly that mummy and I watch.”

“Well here you go then,” Harry says, offering the jar of flour for Molly to take some for her cookie cutters, “cut away, my fine baking apprentice!”

Once again, Molly doesn’t pay attention to anything he said, just proceeds to copy her father’s earlier actions, little tongue poking out all cute in concentration as she presses hard on the cookie cutter to make sure it makes a dent on the dough.

Harry watches the scene unfold with unbridled pride blooming in his chest, attention lasered on every minute changes in Molly’s features that the second a small frown begins to form on her forehead, Harry is straightaway ready to ask what’s wrong.

“Why the gingerbread men have no heart, daddy?” Molly replies with a frown.

The question catches Harry off-guard. “What do you mean, darling?”

Molly sighs, “A heart, daddy!” she exclaims like Harry doesn’t know his basic anatomy. “Mummy said every living creature on earth has gotted a heart. That’s why we have to be kind to everyone even if they are meanies cause they also have heart and I can’t breaked other’s heart, daddy. Have to be kind, always, mummy and you said.”

Harry and Sophia have properly taught their daughter the vital importance of being kind in this world no matter the circumstance. What they should probably think of teaching Molly is how to not go melting people’s hearts from how wonderful and precious she is!

“So you also want to give your gingerbread men a heart, baby?” Harry coos, eyes probably formed into its own heart slits.

Molly nods, pink lips curved upwards, “Yes, daddy! Heart for my gingerbread men too cause people have gotted to be kind with them, too.”

Harry’s endeared to say the least, needing no other prompt to get their heart shaped cookie cutters for his daughter to use. “And we can’t go having people being mean with your gingerbread men cookies, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Molly affirms brightly, hands planting themselves on her hips with her eyes narrowing. “Don’t like meanies hurting my gingerbread men, but I still be kind if they do cause mummy said I be the bigger person.”

Harry tries to cover the laugh trying to escape from his mouth at the look of utter danger in his daughter’s green pools. “And you are the bigger person, princess. Look at you, you’re almost as tall as daddy!”

Harry’s poor attempt at joking results in an unimpressed pout on Molly’s lips, whining, “Daddy! That’s not funny.”

Harry wants to feel offended at Molly’s unpleasant words against his humor if only he didn’t know already that once again, his daughter takes on her mother for not being quite fond of Harry’s love to jest around. Oftentimes, the two girls are the first to groan at Harry’s dad jokes every time there’s company at home to entertain. Harry could say he might be annoyed, but he really isn’t when he knows deep down, Sophia and Molly would not have him in any other way despite their matching contempt every time he says, ‘knock, knock..’

The pair return to cutting their gingerbread cookies, Harry helping Molly to get the heart cookie cutter in the middle of each gingerbread man. Harry even made sure that the heart cookie cutters they’re using are all of the same size since Molly had given him a stink eye when he said some of them might be smaller than others.

“Daddy! All have same big heart, no small hearts!”

Harry prefers not to get berated by a toddler with a lot of sugar in her system, so he just follows along as he gently transfers each perfectly cut gingerbread man - with BIG hearts - on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.

Molly knows that neither of her parents allow her to be anywhere near any heat source which enables her to not start-up a fight when Harry proceeds to put the baking sheet in the pre-heated oven by himself.

“Want to go watch with mummy in the living room while daddy cleans up here?” Harry bends down to his daughter’s level to ask.

Molly shakes her head. “No. I have to help daddy to cleaned the messy in the kitchen.”

“Of course,” Harry smiles with a knowing glint in his eyes, “Mummy doesn’t like messy too, huh?”

Molly nods her head this time, a little smirk forming on her lips that makes Harry shiver internally on how in the world can she already look this devious when she wants to be at such a young age.

“Yeah, mummy doesn’t like messy.” Molly repeats, shaking her head. “That’s why mummy doesn’t like your studio, daddy!”

“Heyy..” Harry pouts at his giggling daughter of a traitor who’s exposing the current disarray state of his at-home studio, “That’s not true, love. It’s only messy right now because I let you color your Frosty the Snowman and Santa books there while I’m recording my songs for the new album.”

“Not true!” Molly declares, “Daddy’s studio is always messy!”

His little three-year-old should have thought better before saying that.

If she did, Harry would not be chasing her around in their messy kitchen with the promise of tickling her until she laughs so loudly like Father Christmas. It’s no surprise though that Harry catches Molly in his arms not even a full five minutes later, the child flushed tired in his arms once more making Harry embody the Christmas spirit of peace and decides not to go ahead with his tickling spree.

They’re in the middle of actually cleaning the kitchen counter when Molly does catch Harry in surprise.

Harry was now sitting on the chair Molly was using earlier as a stepping stool to reach the top of the kitchen counter, his daughter sitting comfortably on his lap, face nuzzled into the warmth of his neck, Harry’s own arms wrapped around Molly’s little frame hugging her tight in his embrace.

“Daddy?” Molly whispers into the skin of where his shoulder meets his neck.

“Hm?” Harry hums, hands gently running up and down Molly’s spine in an act to relax his surely tired daughter from all their baking and running about.

“May I please give mummy the first piece of our gingerbread men cookies that we maked? I love mummy a bunch of tons so I want her to gotted the first one.”

Molly Styles might be the exact replica of Sophia from the top of her head until the ends of her tiptoes, personalities and traits might also be a carbon copy despite her young age.

But one thing that Harry is dead-on sure that Molly got from him, is something so special that he doesn’t give a fuck if it’s the only thing his daughter got from his gene (the green eyes too, thanks).

Molly loves her mummy just the same as Harry loves his wife.

They give Sophia the same love, care and adoration that she deserves, Harry’s definitely happy to know and that it’s something he’s proud to say Molly got from him.

Molly wants to give Sophia the first piece of the gingerbread cookies Harry and her made just the same as Harry would make sure his wife gets the first serving of food in any Christmas party held under his honor.

Molly would wait patiently for her mummy’s reaction upon taking the first bite of the holiday cookie just like Harry who waited for Sophia’s reaction to the Christmas ornaments he got from every state he visited in the US during his last tour. Both father and daughter need that smile of approval from the woman they love to function properly afterwards.

Despite being a lover of sweet treats herself, Molly would only give half of her attention on the gingerbread cookie she’s eating, the remaining half is trained on her mother, waiting if she needs a drink before ordering her daddy to make mummy her special Christmas hot cocoa with extra marshmallows at the top.

Similarly, Harry would only give his favorite Christmas film ‘Love Actually’ half of his mind while the rest is focused on his wife who’s decorating their home all festive and cozy for Christmas time, always on high alert if she needs a hand on something.

After having enough taste on the gingerbread cookies, Molly would gladly cuddle her mummy in her small but insanely powerfully huggable arms, knowing full well how much Sophia loves a good warm snuggle with every food coma she nurses. Sophia’s tired state from last night had also garnered similar results, Harry welcoming his tired wife from all the gift wrapping she had done, her entire body going pliant in Harry’s strong hold as he oozes all the love and appreciation he has for her in that simple body contact.

The Christmas-obsessed Molly would even disregard all the fun holiday activities she has in mind just to show her mummy how much she loves spending time with her and doing barely anything. The little girl would no doubt agree to Sophia’s request of cuddling all day of Christmas Eve in the couch watching more Hallmark Christmas films or the Grinch once Harry gets bored of all the soppiness.

In the same regard, Harry would gladly politely decline any offers his friends have to join them for some Christmas party at some high-class pub or even a shopping trip to a fancy Christmas market, all in favor of joining Molly in loving up Sophia with her favorite hugs and kisses.

Harry and Molly’s love for the woman truly has no bounds, would happily do the same thing again come dinner time with Molly letting her mummy have the first bite of the Christmas roast, attentive eyes waiting for the signal to get her daddy to make mummy the ‘Christmas special drink for mummy and daddy only’ aka: mulled wine.

Harry wouldn’t even mind if that was the case, he’ll most likely even volunteer to start the cuddle fest himself after their Christmas Eve dinner. Arms wide open for his girls with Molly helping him make sure mummy is snuggled tightly with the thick, knitted blanket they got from Nanny Anne. It wouldn’t be a secret if the two indulge Sophia with another Christmas movie at night time, maybe one of the Princess Switch movies or Elf once Harry gets confused on why there are two Vanessa Hudgens that suddenly turn into three come the next movies.

All in all, when Christmas morning comes, Harry is confident that Molly and him love Sophia wholly and just the same by letting her have the first go at the pressies under their fabulously decorated Christmas tree.

Never mind the fact that Molly is a three-year-old toddler who’s been waiting for Santa’s gifts ever since the start of the ber-months, or that Harry is a 27-year old man who still outshines her daughter by opening more gifts than her in under a minute because he’s definitely still very much in-touch with his inner child once the holiday season strikes.

All of those Harry and Molly can disregard and throw the notion outside the door and into the snowing England pavements.

All in the name of their shared love and gratitude for Sophia.

“Yes.” Harry simply replies to his daughter, the two’s features slowly brewing in identical grins despite their clear differences in looks. “We can give mummy anything we want this Christmas Eve because we love her.”

“YES!” Molly cheers far too brightly for something so simple and so innate to them, “We love on mummy on Christmas Eve!”

And pretty much any other day of any other week of any other fucking year, they’d love on Sophia as much as they want.

This Christmas Eve is no exception.

148 notes · View notes

historyontheorientexpress · 4 years

Photo

The end of this year's Byzantine advent calendar is drawing nearer! The most emblematic and well-known of all Byzantine mosaics, the masterpieces in the Great Church of Constantinople (Hagia Sophia) span across more than five centuries and recount the rich history of Byzantine iconography in vivid detail. Beginning with the 9th century mosaic of the Theotokos (Image 1), the mosaics cover the period of the Macedonian dynasty, the reign of Constantine IX Monomachos (Image 2), the Comnenes (Image 3).

#byzantine #byzantium #bizans #tarih #history #istanbul #türkiye #turkey #constantine #constantinople #hagia sophia #ayasofya #iconography #art #sanat #mosaic #mosaics #byzantine mosaics

168 notes · View notes

henryandalex · 5 years

Text

MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 25th by @sandalwoodmalecs | ao3

Time Is Forgiveness

20 years ago, Alec and Magnus got married, their friends and family surrounding them in joy and peace and love. It was the happiest they’d ever been, they both thought. 15 years ago, Alec and Magnus adopted a beautiful baby girl. They named her Diana, after Alec’s favorite Roman myth when he was a child. This, they thought, was a happiness that would never be absent from their lives again. 3 years ago, they lost that happiness when Diana packed her bags and left, never to look back. Every year on Christmas Eve- their beautiful baby girl’s birthday- they sit on their couch and they wait for her to come home.

December 24, 2003, 8:52 PM, New York, NY

“This is the best Christmas present I could ever ask for,” Magnus sighed softly, clutching the tiny baby close to his heart, “Alexander, just look at her. She’s precious.”

“I know,” Alec smiled, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide his tears, for they came from a place of pure joy at seeing his daughter for the first time, “I still can’t believe she’s really ours, Magnus.”

“I know,” Magnus whispered and gazed up at his husband of five years, “After all this time, after everything we went through just to meet her birth mother, I-”

“I know,” Alec said, “I know.”

“Have you two decided on a name yet?” the nurse asked kindly.

Alec gave Magnus a peck on the cheek and stood, “Yes, we have,” he said, “We want to name her Diana.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” the nurse said, the corners of her mouth tilting upward, “I’ll get the paperwork, then.”

She rushed off, and Alec let out a deep sigh, settling into the hard plastic chair next to Magnus. He leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open so that he could continue to look at his daughter.

“Diana?” Magnus asked, intrigued. They’d had a few rows concerning the name of their daughter, and one night after a particularly nasty one, he collapsed into Alec’s arms and practically begged him to just pick a name.

“Diana,” Alec agreed, though he didn’t elaborate further.

Magnus hummed, and Alec laughed, “I’ll tell you all about it, I promise, babe,” he said, “Right now I just want to spend time with you and our daughter.”

“Right,” Magnus sighed, “We’re in for a lifetime of sleepless nights.”

“Yup,” Alec grinned, “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

December 24, 2018, 9:34 PM, Boston, MA

The old opera house was the perfect place for a homeless kid to take refuge in at night: run down, isolated, not too drafty, and plenty of seats to sleep in so that you didn’t have to sleep on the floor among the used, dirty needles and the rats.

Diana sighed and threw her backpack into a seat in the first row, where the pit would usually be. She sunk into the seat next to it and prepared herself for another cold, sleepless night. She pulled the hoodie over her head and tugged on the string, then promptly curled up into a ball and closed her eyes.

“I can’t imagine this is a very suitable place for a little girl to spend the night,” a deep, booming voice called out, and Diana shot up, whipping her head back and forth, searching frantically for the voice.

She hoped beyond everything that it wasn’t a cop.

The man walked towards her, and she observed his posture for a few moments before she relaxed slightly. It wasn’t a cop, so she didn’t have to worry about that, but there were other dangers out there she had to look out for.

She would allow herself to breathe, but she couldn’t let her guard down. That would mean certain death, she knew.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice steady and calm despite the fear brewing within her.

“A friend,” the man said, and his smile was so gentle, she almost believed him.

“That’s not an answer and you know it,” she said, “I’m 15, not an idiot. So who are you?”

The man stopped at the end of the row of seats she seated herself in and seemed to consider the question.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Nice try,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, “If you’re really my friend, you would know who I am. You wouldn’t have to ask.”

The man laughed and walked closer to her, sitting in the seat on the other side of her backpack. He stretched his legs a little, then settled back in the seat.

“My name is James,” he finally answered, “And yours?”

“Diana.”

By all means, she shouldn’t have been talking to this guy, much less telling him about herself. But he looked so much like her grandfather, Luke, and his demeanor reminded her of him, as well. His smile was bright and his eyes were kind, and Diana had missed the simplicity of kindness.

She missed her family, too, but she was never getting that back, so she decided to settle for second best for tonight.

“And what are you doing here tonight, hm?”

She ducked her head and wrung her hands together, drowning in her regrets.

“I can’t go home,” she mumbled.

“Your family does not love you?” James inquired, tilting his head.

“No, they do!” she whipped her head up, then sank back in her seat. “They love me more than I love myself.”

“If that’s the case,” the man said, “then why can you not return home?”

“It’s a long story,” she said.

“I’m not leaving any time soon.”

She looked over at the man and held eye contact for a few seconds before nodding.

“Okay,” she said, “but the first thing you need to know is that it was all my fault. My dads didn’t do anything wrong.”

James didn’t say anything and she let out a deep sigh. She felt tears slip down her cheeks, but she wiped them away immediately. Weakness was death on the streets.

“It happened three years ago.”

November 18, 2015, 4:37 PM, New York, NY

Diana huffed as she busted into the loft, throwing her school bags on the floor and slinging her coat off. She started stomping upstairs to her bedroom when she heard the door slam behind her and the voice of her angry father trailing behind.

“Diana Sophia, if you take one more step, I swear to god-”

“You swear to god what, dad?” she demanded, whirling to face her father, “You and I both know damn well that you and papa don’t believe in physical punishment, so what are you going to do? Ground me? I’m 12 years old, that doesn’t work on me anymore.”

Anger flashed dangerously in her father’s eyes, and Diana almost backed down.

“You guys are so overbearing, god!”

Keyword: almost.

“Overbearing?” Alec said, and the tremble in his voice shocked Diana.

When Magnus was mad, he was calm, but in an intense way that affected the entire room. When Alec was mad- really mad, not just the kind of mad you got over after an hour or two- his entire body would shake.

She gulped, but again, she didn’t back down. She had a stubborn streak that even Magnus and Alec had a hard time crossing, especially now that she had hit puberty.

“If you think me being concerned for your safety is overbearing, then you have another thing coming for you,” Alec said, “Go to your room. I’ll deal with you when your father comes home.”

Diana turned and walked away, muttering under her breath about you are my father, just deal with me now, and I was going to go to my room before you stopped me anyways.

Alec inhaled deeply, slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to calm himself down. He always knew that Diana would be the death of him, but this was just too much. He looked at the clock and noted that it would be at least another half an hour before Magnus got back, so he took out his phone and sent his husband a text.

Alec, 4:42 PM

Your daughter is going to be the death of me.

Magnus, 4:43 PM

That’s not a good sign.

Magnus, 4:43 PM

What happened?

Alec, 4:45 PM

She became a teenager.

Magnus, 4:46 PM

Ha ha, very funny. Seriously, what did she do?

Alec, 4:49 PM

The usual, kind of. She was hanging out with those older kids when I picked her up from school today so I tried to talk to her about it, nudge her in the right direction. She just rolled her eyes and refused to talk to me so I yelled.

Magnus, 4:51 PM

We all know how much she loves being yelled at. She go to her room?

Alec, 4:51 PM

I had to let her go. I was so angry I couldn’t stop shaking.

Magnus, 4:53 PM

I know.

Magnus, 4:53 PM

We’ll talk more about this when I get home. I need to get back to work so I can leave.

Alec, 4:55 PM

I love you.

Magnus, 4:57 PM

I love you too.

Magnus, 5:28 PM

On my way. Dinner?

Alec, 5:28 PM

Just pick some pizza up or something. Be careful.

Magnus, 5:30 PM

Will do. See you at home.

Alec, 5:31 PM

See you at home. Love you.

Magnus, 5:48 PM

Love you too.

December 25, 2018, 9:34 PM, New York, NY

Alec sits on the couch, staring at his phone, rereading the old text messages between himself and his husband for the millionth time that night. Magnus sits on the other end of the couch staring into the distance, mind lost in the void. He was holding the glass of wine he’d poured 3 hours ago, still completely untouched.

Suddenly, in a fit of frustration and helplessness, Alec threw his phone across the living room. It hit the wall by the TV they hadn’t used in 3 years and it shattered. The noise startled Magnus out of his stupor, though his reaction was delayed, almost sluggish.

“Alexander?” he asked. His voice was rough; neither of them had said a word since they climbed out of bed that morning.

“Every year,” Alec said, “we sit on this couch and do the same exact thing. We sit here and we do nothing. You stare at the wall. I stare at my phone. Nothing ever changes.”

Magnus didn’t have anything to say to that. It was the truth, after all.

“Something needs to change, Magnus,” Alec pleaded, and he hadn’t cried in so long but tonight it felt like he might.

“I know,” Magnus said and ducked his head to the floor, “I know.”

It was silent for what felt like hours, but in reality was only a minute or so. Alec leaned back, scrubbing his hands over his face, desperately trying to erase the nothingness he felt deep within.

“Did I ever get around to telling you why I chose Diana?” he asked, “I mean, we all know why I chose Sophia for her middle name. There’s no real story behind that- but Diana has a story.”

“I don’t think you did, no,” Magnus said, and he almost swore that he felt his lips twitch upwards.

“When Izzy and I were kids, we got super into Roman mythology,” Alec started, “It was insane. It drove our parents up the wall.”

Magnus didn’t say anything, but he wondered how he never knew that about Alec. He’d always believed they told each other everything.

“In all honesty, it wasn’t a very long phase, and I mostly forgot about it,” he continued, “But the story of Diana and Apollo always stuck with me.”

Magnus hummed. It was appropriate, really. Alec, the strong, serious older brother with a younger sister that shone so bright you could barely look and an outgoing personality to boot.

“Back then, Iz and I would pretend that she was Apollo and I was Diana. As I got older, and after we met, I started thinking what it might be like to have kids. And I thought, what if I had a daughter? What would I name her?”

Alec shook his head at the memories, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips.

“I always circled back to Diana. Every time. And, you know, it was just perfect giving her Izzy’s middle name on top of it. It was like my little girl could have both of us with her, all the time,” Alec sighed, and Magnus felt a tightness in his chest when he saw the tear escape, “And now she’s gone, and she’s scared and alone and I- I wish I had told her that. There are so many things I wish I could tell her now, so many things I wish I had told her before.”

Maybe then she wouldn’t be gone.

December 24, 2018, 10:03 PM, Boston, MA

“You know,” James said after a moment of contemplation, “There’s still a lot that I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?” Diana asked, confused, “I told you. I had a fight with my dads over something stupid. I pissed them off. I packed a bag and left. What more do you need to know to be able to understand?”

“Well, for one,” James said, “Why would you run? Your story made it very clear that you love your dads, and they love you. Why make the decision to leave?”

“I don’t know,” Diana confessed, “It seemed like the right idea at the time. I wanted to be able to choose my own friends without them trying to convince me they were bad people, and every time they yelled it felt more and more like they were protecting me from nothing. I wanted to make my own decisions.”

“Every child does go through that, at one point or another,” James agreed, “But there is another thing I can’t quite grasp.”

“What?”

“Why can’t you go back?”

November 18, 2015, 7:34 PM, New York, NY

The dinner table was silent. Magnus had insisted they eat before they have any sort of conversation, but it was tense and uncomfortable and honestly, he almost regretted it.

Diana moved to get up from the dinner table, and Magnus cleared his throat pointedly. She rolled her eyes and plopped back down in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So I guess you’re on his side in all this?” she asked him, and her tone was so scathing it took Magnus aback.

“First of all, young lady,” Magnus began, “Just because you are angry with us does not give you the right to use that manner of tone with us. And don’t roll your eyes at me, either. Your father and I treat you with every ounce of respect that you deserve, we expect the same from you.”

“Right, because people who respect me tell me that I’m not old enough to pick my own friends or choose who I spend my time with, right?”

“I never told you that you can’t choose who you hang out with, Diana,” Alec stepped in, “What I said was that you ought to be careful with who you do choose. The world is not kind, I know you know that. I only want what’s best for you.”

“I’m old enough to know who’s bad and who isn’t!” she screeched, angry tears flowing down her face.

“We know that, but-” Magnus tried.

“But nothing! All you ever do is control what I say and what I do and I’m fucking sick of it!”

“Language!” Alec snapped.

“That is exactly what I mean,” Diana cried, “It’s just a word! Why can’t I say it? Fuck!”

“That is enough from you,” Magnus said, standing from his chair, “Your father and I have tried being gentle, we have tried being kind, but clearly it has not been effective. You’re grounded. No technology, no hanging out outside of school events. I will be taking you to school in the morning, and I will be having a conversation with your teachers and the principal about your behavior.”

“What?” Diana yelled, “That’s not fair-!”

“Fair or not, I have already decided.” Magnus said, “Go to your room. I will be up shortly to collect your phone and your laptop.”

Diana stormed off, screaming all the way up. She slammed the door, and the sound echoed throughout the loft.

Sharing a knowing look with his husband, Magnus gathered the dishes and brought them to the kitchen. Alec followed him, wrapping his arms around his waist gently. Magnus intertwined their fingers and leaned back into his embrace, sighing.

“I know,” Alec muttered, pressing a kiss into his neck, “I’ll go up there.”

“Alec-” Magnus tried, but Alec shushed him.

“You were the judge and the jury tonight,” Alec insisted, “I’ll be the executioner.”

Magnus smirked and sat up, turning to face his husband. He patted him on the chest reassuringly.

“Hurry back, then.”

Alec grinned, placing one last kiss on Magnus’ lips before he made his way upstairs. As he reached his daughter’s bedroom, he knocked three times. No response. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m coming in, Diana,” he announced, pushing the door open.

Dead silence. Peering in, he looked around the room. The door to the ensuite bathroom was closed and Diana was not in the bedroom, so he shrugged and assumed she was wiping her face after crying. He noted the laptop and phone laying on the bedspread and walked over to them, picking them up and settling them in the crook of his left arm. He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked three times.

“Go away,” came the muffled, sniffling voice of his daughter.

“It’s dad,” he called, “I have your phone and your laptop.”

“Whatever, I don’t care,” she said, and he nodded.

“Goodnight, Diana.”

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and made a quick pitstop to his and Magnus’ room to keep the phone and laptop until further notice. He returned back downstairs and raised his arms in a sort of victory pose.

“Completely painless,” he remarked, “She was in the bathroom, but she had the stuff on her bed.”

Magnus sighed, taking a deep sip of wine and collapsing on the couch. Alec sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close. He pressed a kiss into his hair for a moment, eyes screwed shut.

“Whoever said raising teenagers is hard is an idiot,” Magnus muttered, “There are no words to describe how difficult this is.”

Alec hummed, running his fingers through his husband’s hair.

“Maybe the next one won’t be so difficult,” he suggested playfully.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Magnus laughed, “We are nowhere near ready for a second, especially not a baby. If we think Diana is bad now, imagine trying to introduce another child in her life.”

“You’re right,” Alec conceded, “But who said anything about a baby?”

“I suppose,” Magnus hummed, “Maybe we can talk about it once we adjust to the new Diana.”

Alec laughed, not disagreeing.

Later that night, as they were getting ready to go to bed, Alec suggested they go say goodnight to Diana. They hadn’t heard any noise from her bedroom the past four hours, but they figured she was still upset and shrugged it off. Still, seeing their daughter at the end of the night always brought them comfort.

Knocking on the door, they didn’t really expect any sort of response, but they waited a moment after anyways. When no response came, Magnus announced their entrance and opened the door. The lights were off, and it was cold. Magnus shivered and turned on the light, concern for his daughter’s health trumping his desire to let her rest should she be asleep.

The lights flickered on and he gasped in horror. The window by her bed was wide open, and her sheets were rumpled as if she had been standing on the bed. Her clothes were scattered across her room and her school bag was missing.

“Alexander,” Magnus gasped.

“I’ll call the police,” Alec said, immediately running off to find the phone.

Magnus stood there, shocked to his core. His hand was still raised, resting on the light switch, trembling violently. Sucking in another breath, he began to sob.

December 24, 2015, New York, NY

They’d been searching for over a month now, and still, there was no news. They had searched every back alley 10 times, they’d checked the train stations, CCTV footage, everything they could possibly think of.

Their little girl was gone.

That first night, the police had assured them that there was no reason to believe Diana wouldn’t return of her own free will. They would search, in the meantime, but until then it was just a matter of waiting.

3 days later, when they still had nothing, Alec’s stepfather- Luke, a former cop- suggested they buy advertisements to help look for her. They chose the most recent photo they had of her and released a standard description: southeast asian, female, brown hair, brown eyes, five-feet-3-inches tall, one hundred and twenty pounds, born December 24 of 2003, missing since November 15 of 2015.

Nothing came up.

They sat on the couch, Alec staring at his phone and Magnus staring at the wall. They’d stopped turning on the television a week after she had gone missing, weary of the news reports and not willing to entertain themselves.

So they sat. And they waited.

But she didn’t come home.

December 23, 2016, 1:34 AM, Milford, CT

Diana knew three things. One: ever since she left home, she hadn’t stopped walking. Two: she misses her dads, but she can’t go home. Three: she hasn’t eaten in almost 2 days.

The hunger pains were the worst. The fatigue and the blurry vision she could handle, but every time she found herself stuck in a position like this, the worst thing was the pain.

She had always despised pain.

She does her best to distract herself, but without energy, there isn’t much to do. She can’t think of home; there’s no going back there, she knows, so what’s the point? She doesn’t have any friends to talk to; on the streets, there was no such thing as friendship. At least not for her, at least.

So she wanders from street to street, an hour at a time, searching for a bite to carry her through.

Every so often, someone will walk by, and she’ll hold out the styrofoam cup she keeps with her, begging for change.

Most people scoff or ignore her. Some are kind enough to give a few coins, but none stop for long or give too much.

She spots a man walking towards her and she holds out her cup, praying to gods she doesn’t believe in for something.

The man reaches into his pockets when he spots her, and when he finds what he’s looking for, he walks up and leans over to place it in her cup. He straightens and leaves, and she breathes a heavy sigh of relief.

Looking down to see what fortunes he had bestowed, she freezes at the sight of green. She snaps her head back up, but the man is long gone. With trembling fingers, she reaches into the cup to see how much, and she gasps once more.

Sitting in her hands is 3 $100 bills and a small note. She unfurls the note and reads it, tears stinging her eyes.

Merry Christmas and may God bless your soul. I can only hope this kindness brings a smile upon your face and light into your life.

December 24, 2018, 10:08 PM, Boston, MA

“You left out of anger,” James said, “and you never looked back. Until you did.”

“Until I did,” she agreed.

“And by that point, you were so far from home, there was no point in turning back?”

“That’s right,” Diana agreed, “I know my dads love me, and I love them, too, but…”

“But?”

“They’ve moved on by now. I know it.”

“Do you, though?” James pushed, tilting his head, “You say you know the entire story, but I don’t think you do.”

“And what makes you think that, oh wise one?” Diana bit back sarcastically, scowling at the man.

“Only years of experience,” James chuckled, “Listen, Diana. There is always more than one side to a story. You’re always privy to at least one, but never all.”

“Maybe so,” Diana muttered, “But there’s no way they’d take me back after everything I’ve put them through.”

“Diana, do you miss your parents?”

“Of course I do,” Diana insisted.

“Then what makes you believe they do not miss you as well?” James asked.

“I know they do,” Diana said, “But we have to let go of those we love. That’s life.”

“This is true, but perhaps they’re not ready for that just yet,” James said, “Especially with the hope that you may still be out there.”

Diana didn’t respond to that. She picked at the thread of her hoodie, and James heaved a deep sigh as he stood. He brushed his khaki trousers and turned to face her.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting rest sometime tonight,” James said, “I’ll leave you, but when you wake, I want you to consider long and hard about what you want, even if you think you can not have it. Maybe then life will fall back into place as it should.”

Diana furrowed her eyebrows in confusion but nodded at the man, “Thank you,” she called out as he walked away, “for listening to me.”

James turned back and shrugged, “It’s what I do.”

And then he was gone.

December 25, 2018, 3:07 AM, New York, NY

Alec laughed lightly as Magnus finished his story. All night, they had been sharing memories of Diana, fighting to keep her spirit close.

“She’s so stubborn,” Alec sighed, downing the rest of the wine.

“I miss her,” Magnus said, somber.

Alec just nodded in agreement.

There were no words to make up for the loss of a child.

December 25, 2018, 3:07 AM, Boston, MA

Diana woke up with a jolt, and the notebook that had been resting in her lap fell to the floor noisily. A rat scattered away, startled by the sudden noise, and Diana rubbed her eyes.

Leaning down to pick up the journal, she frowned. She didn’t remember falling asleep but she was fairly certain she hadn’t been holding a journal when she’d slipped into unconsciousness.

Suddenly, she remembered James’ words to her.

There is always more than one side to a story. You’re always privy to at least one, but never all. I want you to think long and hard about what you want, even if you believe you can not have it. Maybe then life will fall back into place as it should.

She smiled; this must have been James’ form of a joke, she supposed. Flipping open the journal, she caressed the soft pages, admiring the craftsmanship. Her Aunt Clary had instilled an appreciation for the arts in her when she was young, and it had never quite left her.

Flipping through, she furrowed her brows when she found an envelope resting in the middle. She picked it up, marveling its presence for a moment before tearing it open. Inside was a plane ticket to New York City, set to leave at 6 AM. Behind the ticket was $1000 in cash: enough for a cab ride and anything else she may need in between. Behind these two items, though, was what made her sob and press her hand to her face.

A photograph, dated December 25, 2003. In the photo was her, just a tiny newborn at the time, in the arms of her papa. Her dad stood next to him. Neither of them was looking at the camera; their focus was reserved entirely for her.

Stuffing the items into her bag, she ran and ran and ran. She hailed a cab and hopped in, frantically requesting a ride to the airport.

She could finally come home.

December 25, 2018, 8:34 AM, New York, NY

She could still remember the address of her old home, so the moment she touched down to New York, she acquired a cab and demanded a ride there.

It was about halfway there she realized that they may have moved in the time she had been gone, and the nerves hit. She fidgeted nervously, tapping her foot and chewing on her thumbnail. The cab pulled in front of the building and she handed him one of the 100 dollar bills, rushing from the cab without bothering to get the change back.

Money didn’t really matter anymore.

Despite her anxiety, she climbed the steps to her dads' apartment and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the Lightwood-Bane plaque hanging by the door. Reaching underneath her hoodie, she pulled out a small chain with a silver key attached to it, biting her lip, hoping beyond everything that the key would work.

She inserted the key and was about to turn when she heard a peal of laughter coming from inside. She recognized it as her papa’s. She paused as all her regrets about coming home came rushing back all at once.

What if they didn’t want her? Resting her head against the cold wood of the door, she felt the tears escape. Moving to turn back, she gasped when she realized she could hear what they were saying from inside. She pressed her ear harder against the door and waited.

“She was a mess alright,” her dad laughed brightly, “But she was our mess.”

“Oh, for sure,” her papa cried, laughing along with his husband, “It’s what made her special, really.”

There was a pause, and she wasn’t sure if they had stopped talking or if she just couldn’t hear what they were saying. She pressed harder, her body flush with the door, the key digging harshly into her hip.

“I just wish she would come home. It’s all I ever wanted, ever since she left that night,” her dad said.

Rushing back, Diana lifted a hand to her mouth. They wanted her back. They always had, they still do. Rushing forward again, she gripped the key in her hands and pushed, swinging the door open.

“Daddy! Papa!” she cried loudly, launching herself into the arms of her shell-shocked parents.

“Diana…?” Alec said, his voice broken, “Oh my god, it’s really you!”

Lifting her up with ease, Alec tightened his grip around her and sobbed. He let her down, but Magnus was quick to pick her up next, crying softly into her neck. He set her down, too, taking her in.

“My god, you’re so different, now,” Magnus muttered with awe.

“She’s perfect,” Alec said, eyes shining brightly.

“I missed you guys so much,” Diana sniffed, “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Hush, baby,” Magnus said, “It’s alright. All that matters is that you’re back.”

“Yeah, I am,” she agreed, smiling through the tears and the snot.

She launched herself at them once more, gripping tightly as she promised herself that she would never let go.

December 25, 2018, 10:07 AM, New York, NY

Magnus walked in from the bedroom, smiling at his sleeping daughter on the couch. Her head was in Alec’s lap, his fingers cascading through her hair.

“I just got off the phone with Maryse and Luke,” he informed his husband, sitting on the other end of the couch by Diana’s feet, “they were delighted to hear that Diana is home, but they said they would give us until tomorrow before visiting. The others all said the same thing when I spoke to them.”

“Who all did you talk to?” Alec asked, not removing his gaze from Diana’s sleeping form.

“I talked to Isabelle, Simon, Maia, Clary, Jace, and Lydia first. They were all together for breakfast,” Magnus said, “I talked to Cat, Ragnor, Raphael, and Madzie next. They were also gathered together for breakfast. Jem, Tessa, Will, and the kids were all together as well when I spoke to them.”

“I guess with it being Christmas it would be easier to tell the news to everyone,” Alec joked.

Magnus laughed but didn’t say anything. He rested his hand on Diana’s feet, caressing the skin softly.

“I still keep thinking I’ll wake up and realize this was all just a cruel dream,” Magnus whispered.

“Me too.”

They sat in silence for a few more moments, basking in the elation of finally having their baby home again. There was a part of Magnus that had started to believe his daughter had died, and that she was never coming home. He’d never been happier to be so wrong.

The 3 years since Diana had left had been rough for them. The only reason they were even still together, though Magnus was loathed to admit it, was because of the hope that Diana would return. They’d kept the apartment, the locks, the phone numbers all the same so that Diana could someday find her way home.

“We should go to bed,” Magnus whispered, “I’m sure she misses sleeping in a real bed.”

“I don’t want to leave her yet, Magnus,” Alec choked.

“We’re not going to,” Magnus promised, “We can all fit in our bed. It will be fine.”

Alec nodded, and Magnus stood to pick her up. She was light as a feather, and it broke Magnus’ heart to know that she weighed less now than she did the day she had left. Alec followed him to the bedroom, adjusting the covers so that Magnus could lay her down in the middle. Once she was situated, Alec pulled the covers over her sleeping form and kissed her forehead. They both climbed in on either side of her, snuggling close.

“She’s home,” Alec whispered as if it had finally sunk in.

“She’s home,” Magnus agreed.

Now that their hearts had been lightened of the distinct and unending emptiness that was unique to the loss of a child, Magnus and Alec could finally sleep peacefully. With unspoken promises of never letting go hanging in the air, the Lightwood-Banes allowed themselves to rest for the first time in three years.

Diana Sophia Lightwood-Bane had finally found her way home.

#sandalwoodmalecs #malec fic #malec #shadowhunters #mac18 #mac18:fic

43 notes · View notes

55shadesofblue · 3 years

Text

night of March 6th / morning of March 7th 2021 - REBROADCAST OF A PREVIOUSLY AIRED SHOW

This show previously aired on the night of December 12th, 2020

EL PACK VOL.2 by ZUTZUT

ITX019 Etch - Polarity by Etch

LuckyMe Advent Calendar 2020 by Jacques Greene

SHARE A VIEW by Mall Grab & Turnstile

Sault "Free" Youniss "No Subtitles" ZUTZUT "Completo" Jacques Greene "Thaw" Rozzma "Hout" ZUTZUT "Tu Arca" Nazar "Clan" Sega Bodega & Låpsley "Make U Stay" Dorian Electra "My Agenda" A.G. Cook "3" Turnstile & Mall Grab "The Real Thing" A.A.L. "Hopeless" O.L.I.V.I.A. "7 AM" Spivak "Sec" Etch "No Paradise" Moist 96 "Carjul" Helena Pulkkinen "Hello Flower" Etch "This Isn't Music" Yona "Where Are You" Sueuga Kamau "Cierra la Boca ft. La Favi" Dark0 "Opia" ZUTZUT "100k" Giant Swan "Silkworm" Salem "Sears Tower" HIDE "Man's Best Friend" Dadras "Bad Habits" Jam City "Sweetjoy" Skeleton King "I'll Be There" Avalon Emerson "Rotting Hills" UMFANG "Off Court" Smerz "The Favourite" Sophia Loizou "Celestial WEb" Ase Manual "NYC Steel" Hyph11E "Doppleganger" Sully "Poison" AG Cook "Airhead" Maral "Avaz-e-del" Dorian Electra "Flamboyant" Tygapaw "Run 2 U" Ccontrary "Two Face" Ssaliva "Provider" Salem "Starfall"

youtube

0 notes

takaraphoenix · 6 years

Text

Phoe’s Advent Calendar: Day 21

Sooo close to the Big Day! This one goes out to @insomniacsnowflower!

Title: Advent Calendar Project – Mistletoe Mishap

Fandom: Shadowhunters: The Mortal Instruments

Disclaimer: All rights to the Shadowhunters show reserved to Ed Decter, the books the show is based off and its characters belong to Cassandra Clare. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Warnings: shounen-ai, polyamory (threesome), pining, Christmas fluff

Main Pairing: Magnus/Alec/Jace

Side Pairings: Luke/Cat, Simon/Clary, Bat/Maia, Lydia/Izzy

Shadowhunters Characters: Jonathan Christopher 'Jace' Wayland, Magnus Bane, Alexander Gideon 'Alec' Lightwood, Isabelle Sophia 'Izzy' Lightwood, Lydia Branwell, Clarissa Adele 'Clary' Fray, Simon Lewis, Maia Roberts, Bartholomew 'Bat' Velasquez, Madzie, Catarina Loss, Luke Garroway

Summary: Magnus didn't go after Alec, because he has been around long enough not to chase after someone who wasn't ready to come out. Instead, he got together with Jace. Now, Alec finds himself pining after them both.

Links: FFNet | AO3

Mistletoe Mishap

Magnus had been instantly intrigued by Alexander the moment they had met. But then they had summoned the demon and he saw that Alexander was in love with Jace. He got to know Alec a bit and saw that Alec was too deep in the closet to be ready for a relationship and too in love with Jace to acknowledge other dating options. Magnus had been around long enough to know when something would end in misery for him, so he gave that part up. He still helped the Shadowhunters though and at one point, he gained a roommate in the form of Jace. He saw the Downworlders, male and female, leave the blonde's bedroom. They got drunk. Really very drunk, after the body-switch incident, after the pain Valentine had put them both through. And they ended up in bed together. It had just been angry sex. Relief. Seeking the warmth of another body. It was surprisingly fun, actually. And somehow, it became a reoccurring thing for them to stumble into Magnus' bedroom together, until at one point, Jace completely stopped going to his own bed and they started trading gentle kisses when waking up and parting ways. When that realization hit, they sat together and talked about the way their relationship had evolved and after talking it through, they decided to tell the others. There was nothing to hide. They cared too deeply about each other.

The war proceeded and their relationship only grew stronger and as the war ended, Magnus and Jace had Madzie move in with them. Magnus saw too much of himself in the girl – the lonely little warlock who had used her powers to kill and was so afraid. Jace saw just as much of himself in her though, after everything Valentine had put her through. They weren't ready to put the name on it that it definitely had – that they were getting domestic, becoming a family.

"You excited about Christmas, buttercup?", asked Jace gently, smiling.

Magnus' own smile was gentle as he watched them. Jace was so soft and loving with her as the two of them were finishing up the very last decorations on the Christmas tree with Isabelle and Clary together. Lydia, Alec and Simon were in the kitchen working on dinner. Magnus was indefinitely glad for Lydia Branwell. Though she had nearly gotten married to Alexander – which would have just been a disaster on all ends – Isabelle had crashed the wedding, kissed the bride and saved all parties involved from a loveless marriage. Now, Alec had slowly warmed up to the idea of being gay. He had officially come out two months ago, though it had been nerve-wrecking for him. Everyone around them supported and cheered him on. Magnus realized he had never truly gotten over that original infatuation with the dark-haired Shadowhunter, regardless of how hard he had fallen in love with Jace. Which would be a problem if he didn't know that Jace had fallen just as much in love with Alec by now. Dying had shifted Jace's perspective and while Jace had sought Magnus a lot, he also sought his parabatai even more than after any other trauma in the past year – and there had been a lot of trauma that Jace had gone through.

"Now, Cat said she'll pick our wolves up and bring them along for dinner", stated Magnus. "I still don't understand why you won't just let me use my magic for this dinner, but..."

"Babe. We talked about this", grunted Jace with a teasing grin as he came up behind Magnus, resting his chin on Magnus' shoulder. "It's Madzie's first Christmas with us. It's our first Christmas together. We lived through the war, together. Let's do this mundane."

"You're an awful influence on me, my angel", sighed Magnus dramatically as he twisted around enough to lay his arms around Jace's waist and pull him into a slow kiss.

"Ew", chorused Isabelle and Clary, simply out of principle to annoy Jace.

Madzie however was giggling, hiding her face behind her hands. The way Jace bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too hard told Magnus just how happy his blonde really was. Leaning in, Magnus placed a gentle peck on Jace's cheek as he slipped a hand into Jace's back-pocket.

"Hey! You guys could at least be useful! Instead of making out!", called Simon over.

"Say that again, mundie", prompted Jace. "Coming into our home, calling us useless."

There was a warmth blooming in Magnus' chest as Jace referred to the loft as his home, while Simon squeaked and hid behind Lydia for safety reasons. Lydia smiled and rolled her eyes.

"He's not entirely wrong. There's still a lot of work to do so dinner will be ready in five hours."

/break\

Alec sat in a corner, subdued. He was clinging onto the eggnog Maia had brought as he watched the others. Clary and Simon as well as Lydia and Isabelle were dancing to some awful Christmas music. Luke and Cat were sitting together, talking and laughing. They had started dating a few days after the war had ended, having met and hit it off during the celebratory party. Bat was sitting on the floor, playing with Madzie and her new toys. His cheeks were covered in lip-stick because he had adamantly refused from leaving his spot under the mistle-toe in hopes of getting a kiss from Maia. Isabelle, Lydia and Clary were first. Even Jace had kissed Bat – though that was what had given Maia the final push, which made everyone around them happy because Bat and Maia had been dancing around each other for weeks now. Though it made no one more happy than Simon, because he had been rooting for them ever since Simon and Maia had found the newly turned werewolf. Clary on the dance-floor laughed softly and kissed Simon briefly as Maia butted in to join them. And then there were their hosts. Magnus and Jace sat on the armchair together, Jace comfortably placed on his boyfriend's lap. They were such a perfect couple, so gorgeous and fierce. The Herondale heir head of the Institute and the High Warlock of Brooklyn; they were a power-couple. Sure, Alec was Jace's co-head and Jace's parabatai, but... He felt wildly out of place. As he always felt with them. Jace was the one Alec had been in love with for years. Magnus was Alec's biggest 'What if'. What if Alec would have been strong and brave back when Magnus had asked him out for a drink, instead of retreating and freaking out about his own sexuality? No. No, it was fine. It was better this way. Magnus and Jace were so good together, so beautiful together. They deserved each other. It was okay that there was no room for Alec, he could live with that, as long as he got to be a part of their life in some kind of way. His hand rested against his parabatai rune, pressing lightly.

Even after all those weeks, he was still downright paranoid about it. About how it had disappeared, how he had known that Jace was dead. How he and Magnus had broken down together and only Isabelle and Lydia and their combined strength had forced the two to keep going until they were at Lake Lyn and got to embrace Jace again, because Jace was back alive.

"Alec, my man", grinned Simon as he sat down, leaving Clary and Maia to dance alone.

"Don't... call me that, Lewis", sighed Alec frustrated. "What do you want?"

"Well, it's Christmas and everyone is cheerful. Only you look like the Grinch", offered Simon.

"What in the world is a Grinch?", asked Alec, sure he was going to regret that question.

"Alec, Alec, Alec!", exclaimed Madzie excitedly, saving Alec from Simon's explanation.

"Yeah, sweetie?", asked Alec with a small smile, leaning forward.

"Teach me shooting?", asked Madzie pleadingly, eyes large.

He had gotten her a toy-bow with nerf-arrows. Literally everyone had cooed as she had unwrapped that present, thinking it 'so Alec' and also 'so adorable'. Alec got up and let her pull him aside so he could explain to her how to best hold the bow and take aim. She giggled happily as she hit Simon on the forehead and managed to hit Luke's glass of eggnog. Alec smiled softly and got up, taking a few steps back and leaning against the doorway as he watched her. Bat dutifully played the frightened wolf hiding from the dangerous hunter and soon Clary, Isabelle and Simon were roped into the game too. The little girl was such a sunshine, really.

"You're lurking in the shadows again, parabatai", whispered Jace softly.

Alec startled as Jace suddenly leaned next to him. Taking a bit of a step away, Alec eyed his parabatai. He startled again when Magnus approached him from the other side. And then his brain failed as Magnus kissed him suddenly and his brain completely died when Jace kissed him next.

"Mistletoe", whispered Jace against Alec's lips, pointing up at the ceiling.

Alec relaxed for only a split second, before frowning. No, the mistletoe Izzy had put up in the loft hung literally opposite of him. As he looked up, there was mistletoe though. And there was a blue shimmer around Magnus' hand as his magic slowly faded. Alec frowned confused.

"Oh, sue a warlock for wanting to have some fun", sighed Magnus. "I mean, it's not like either of you would make the first step. Jace is still confused about how his feelings for you shifted and you are... You have settled so well with never speaking out about your feelings, Alexander."

"W—What?", sputtered Alec and stumbled backward.

"Oh, let me be some more straightforward then", chuckled Magnus.

With a flick of his wrist, there was a large red bow wrapped around Jace's chest. Jace looked very unimpressed, glowering at his boyfriend, who looked completely unapologetic. Alec had no idea what was going on here. He looked between Magnus and Jace.

"Don't mind Mag. Mag is an idiot", assured Jace gently, grasping his parabatai's arm. "Don't think you're obligated to do anything, Alec. It's just that we... like you. Mag and I. A lot."

"We'd like to take you out on a date, if you'd want that", added Magnus gently.

"Why?", asked Alec, squinting at them in confusion.

In the background, Clary and Izzy were laughing softly as Luke and Cat took the dance-floor. Alec's eyes flickered over to the sound on instinct, watching all the happy couples in the living room.

"We're happy. We're in love. But we could be... happier... with you", muttered Jace, hand slipping down to take Alec's hand and link their fingers. "After... When I died. When I died, I felt our bond severe. I was just dead for moments, but it felt like years. Years without you. A—And I can't be without you. Having you support me since then, holding you... I... I started seeing you in a different light, parabatai. You're so important to me, but... in a different way than you should. Please, at least... think about it. It's okay if you don't, but..."

Jace was shut up by Alec impulsively grabbing him and pulling him into a slow, deep kiss. He needed to feel this for himself. To be sure this was true. Magnus laughed softly and was more than eager to be pulled into a kiss next. Alec smiled brightly as he found himself embraced by them both.

~*~ The End ~*~

#malace #magnus bane #jace wayland #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #fanfiction #fluff #christmas fluff #pining alec #phoe's advent calendar project 2017 #jace herondale #OTP: one soul at a time

19 notes · View notes

orthographewrites · 6 years

Text

ADVENT CALENDAR DAY #15

Day Fifteen: A brotp

THIS IS LEGIT THE HARDEST DAY OF THEM ALL BECAUSE ALL MY BROTPS ARE PRECIOUS!!! Like Erin and John? Cora and Oliver? Athena and Angelica? Simon and Cameron! MARION AND SIMON!! MARIUS AND ROBIN!!!!

So extreme. So good. But since they happen to be the latest brotp I’ve talked about I’ll make this rant about Caden and Oliver :’) They are twins in denial, highkey outcasts and have two timelines in which they befriend and CARE FOR ONE ANOTHER AND GET TO FIGHT SIDE BY SIDE FOR ABSOLUTE JUSTICE! Sophia and I came to piece them together the first time after I’d seen Logan at the movie theatre because I kind of sat there all “damn this plot would sort of be cool for Oliver” and I just ranted about it to Sophia (being she is one of few allowed to interact with him omg) just so that she could tell me she had a lovely character named Caden Murdock that would match! Like it sort of hit jackpot ( ;D) from the start and we almost refuses to stop plotting and wow!! Can’t believe Oliver and Caden have adopted ten lil mutant wizard children they now have to raise as their own. Caden literally goes from having the duty to hunt Oliver down since he’s one of the last mages alive to being hella protective of him instead and they both fight and mentally hug and then they fight again :’) Their kids has to smack sense into them constantly.

Cue to a few months later and Sophia and I joke about making this shared universe for our characters lmaooo since most of them end up meeting or connecting anyway and it’s amazing. Sophia sent in a meme for Oliver and Caden and I placed it in this timeline of theirs, and after I later told her about a plot me and Hannah had discussed we went on and created this whole new story for them that is EQUALLY AS AMAZING AND WONDERFUL AND GREAT! There’s just so much mutual understanding between the two, similarities and differences that make them a lovely team in any situation. They really get to experience the importance of other people’s support in either timeline and I’ll forever just lay down on my carpet and cry when I think about them.

#this is such a useless rant #but c:#brotp: underneath it all we're all savages #advent calendar

2 notes · View notes

sebastianstanrps-moved · 6 years

Note

Sophia & Shiloh.

ship meme: christmas edition ( accepting ) !!

who starts putting up decorations in october? if he knows Sophia is excited about the holiday, Shiloh would make sure the decorations are up for her.who buys the advent calendars?Sophia. Shiloh’s Jewish, so while he will celebrate Christmas for her sake, little things like that don’t pass his mind.who places mistletoes all around the house? Shiloh, mostly for shits & giggleswho wraps the presents for other people? Shiloh, he’s super meticulous. who puts the final star/angel on the top of the christmas tree? Sophia, but Shiloh has to lift her up.who’s the one that hates eggnog? Sophia, at least more so than Shiloh, he loves the stuff.who’s the one that bakes christmas cookies for guests? It’s a bit of a collective, the kind of work together on that.who sends out the christmas cards? Sophia makes a list of the people she wants cards sent out to, Shiloh makes sure they get to the mailbox in time.who knows all the words to twelve days of christmas? Sophia, most likely? Shiloh knows it too I’m sure, but probably a bit rusty.who’s the better snowman builder? Shiloh, and if anyone tries to tell him otherwise, he will Calvin & Hobbes that shit so fast.who starts snowball fights? Sophia, most likely because she’s being sassy with him and throws one and then commence the fight.who’s the one that wakes the other on christmas morning by playing christmas songs really loudly? Sophia probably gets up before him any day, everyday, so most likely her.

#answered.#| meme:shiloh |#shiloh matthews.#| shiloh x sophia |#heardroleplays

1 note · View note

heartofbarbelo · 7 years

Text

My Wheel of the Year

The following is my own personal religious calendar, a syncretism of the Eight Sabbats, the Gnostic liturgical calendar, Sophian Gnostic feasts and orthodox Christian festivals.

Advent (December 1st)

This marks the beginning of the liturgical year in my practice. After the dark month of November, where the Archons power feels like it might suppress the world, the Light begins to grow in the womb of Sophia. The rest of December is for excitement and preparations for the coming of the Divine Child.

Winter Solstice (December 21st)

Also known as Nativity of the Holy Daughter. She who proceeds the Son and is the first incarnation of the Light on Earth, both in the body of womankind and in the Holy Spirit that unites all souls on Earth as family. While the Mother still prepares to give birth to the Son, the Daughter dances in the pride of the Heavenly Father. Celebrations are held for the Princess of Peace.

Christmas (December 25th)

Also known as The Feast of Mother and Child. The Son is born to one day show us the path back to the fullness of God. Our Mother is honoured with both her Daughter and Son who together form the Christos, the anointed ones who are our saviours against the Archons influence. The Father’s radiance and love shines around them; uniting them as the four-in-one Almighty God. This is a time for being with those we love, our families, whether they are ones we are born into or find ourselves.

Baptism of the Lord (January 6th)

Also known as the Feast of John the Baptist, or Feast of Master and Student. Yeshua is baptised by St. John the Baptist and cleansed of his past sins by the grace of the Father. The rest of January is focused on starting the year anew, letting go of regrets of the past and looking to the future.

Imbolc (February 1st)

Or Our Lady’s Initiation. Just as the Son was tested, as was the Holy Daughter, who having shared in experiencing the sufferings of this world, cleanses Herself again in the name of the Blessed Mother. Images of the Holy Daughter or Maiden Goddess from all around the world are honoured this day. Candles are lit to symbolise the ever growing light of the Christos in the world, specifically in the form of the Sacred Feminine.

Shrove Tuesday (41 Days before Easter)

Or The Feast of Twin Flames. On the Tuesday before the beginning of Lent, where fasting and spiritual contemplation take place, a feast is held in honour of the Holy Daughter and Son of God who were tempered by the sufferings of this world and made strong in their wisdom and faith in God. The two have found each other and will guide us through the following month in the united Christos, the Holy Child, our Teacher and Priestess.

Ash Wednesday (40 Days before Easter)

The beginning of Lent. The Son cleanses the Daughter of Seven Demons, also described as Him helping Her to ascend above the Seven Hells, to raise Her to Her true glory. Through the following month we remember that, in this life, we are one with the dust that forms our bodies. But we also remember that we are not bound to the dust forever. We give up one attachment that causes us physical, mental or spiritual damage to learn to be free of the bonds of this existence.

Palm Sunday (Sunday Before Easter)

As Gnostic Christians we remember Lady Mary and Lord Yeshua entering the holy city, on the backs of noble donkeys, hailed by the disciples as the Queen and King of the new Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. The light of the Christos and the wisdom that has been shone through their teachings is strong. Darkness lies ahead but today is one of celebration and honour for the Lady and Lord.

Holy Monday (Monday before Easter)

Our Lady repays the Lord’s blessings in cleansing Her by anointing Him in sacred oils in preparation for the coming sacrifice. Reverence is paid to the Holy Daughter who anoints us all with the Spirit of God and who prepares and comforts us in the coming of our death, as well as all other trials in life. It is for this purpose that the Holy Spirit was called The Comforter.

Maundy Thursday/Good Friday (2 days before Easter)

I won’t go in too deep on these as they speak for themselves. Thursday we remember the Last Supper, when Our Lady and Lord sat together with the apostles, and performed the first communion. This is the last time the Son and Daughter are together before the Son’s crucifixion. On Good Friday, the Daughter suffers internally while the Son suffers the physical agony of this life. As Gnostics, we are not remembering an offering of blood in return for our own sins, but a spiritual sacrifice where the divine shares our pain so that there might be a bridge between us and God.

Black Saturday (Final Day before Easter)

The Son’s spirit journeys through Hell to collect the souls of those lost in darkness, continuing to endure further torment, while the Holy Daughter keeps a vigil on this Earth. Just as Mother Sophia held the candle of hope before the birth of the Holy Child, so Our Lady carries half the light while the Son is lost. Images of both are shrouded, as the Son remains in the darkness of the underworld, and the Daughter veils Herself in mourning for her twin. It is a day of mourning but also hope and anticipation.

Easter / Resurrection Sunday

Also called The Festival of Risen Light. The Son is risen and greeted by the Daughter who is the First Witness to the conquering of eternal life over mortal death. The Son is still moving between realms, having risen from the darkness, and beginning His journey back to the Mother-Father, but remains as much as He can on this earthly plane. After the trying month of Lent and the Holy Week, a great feast is held to welcome back the Light of the world as the Son and Daughter.

May Day (May 1st)

Also called Coronation of Our Lady. As the Son prepares to ascend fully to reunite with the Mother-Father, the Daughter pledges to remain on Earth, to further guide the lost children of God. The Son chooses Her to lead His disciples and become the foundation of the holy ecclesia. She is honoured as the May Queen, the Apostle to the Apostles, the Great Priestess and Lady of the Light.

Ascension Day (May 25th)

The Son leaves us, for now, in his current presence, but He will be reborn again. His teachings are written in the hearts of humanity and in each generation at an enlightened one comes, be they male or female, in order to remind us of the Father’s law - the Law of Love. Praise is given to Christ-the-Logos who rises to become King of Heaven while Our Lady remains as Queen of Earth. We look to The Son as a reminder of our own potential in defeating death and reuniting with the Mother-Father.

Summer Solstice (June 21st)

Feast of the Light Bearers. As Our Lady shines as Queen of Earth and the Son as King of Heaven, the promised Holy Spirit of both the divine masculine and feminine shines bright on the world. Reverence is paid to St. John the Baptist who cleansed baptised the Son and imparted the secret gnosis for Him to share. Bonfires are lit in memory of all the figures of Light that have come to our world; the teachers, messiahs, gurus, prophets and enlighteners who are all examples of the Christos shining in our world - not just in Yeshua and Magdalene. We also pay homage to our personal Light Bearers in our life, be they our parents or professors or whomever. Bonfires are lit in honour of They who are and continue to be the light of the world.

The Feast of Mary Magdalene (July 22nd)

The Gnostics Ascension of Our Lady. After living out her days on this earth and continuing to spread wisdom to whomever would receive, Our Lady lets go of her failing body and allows Her soul to be raised up into the Pleroma, where She takes up Her throne as Queen of Heaven. Yet, just as the Holy Word remains with us, so does the Spirit of Holy Wisdom. We remember the life of the Holy Daughter, of what she endured and learned and taught, of Her sacred mysteries and Her true power that the orthodox church attempted (and inevitably failed) to cover up. She is our Co-Redeemer, Co-Saviour and the embodiment of Sophia on earth.

Lammas (August 1st)

First day of Harvest and the beginning of the dimming of the light, but this remains a holy time, for it is a reminder that all earthly things fall away, to rise again. But the light of Christ is eternal and what we can hope to attain if we wish to fall away from this cycle. But for many of us, it will continue, so we tend to our crops and the creatures all around us. We remember the light of God lives within all things, that nothing is separate from Them, and we must care for our planet for the new life that will come next year.

Mabon (September 21st)

The Second Harvest Festival, or Day of Thanksgiving. Though the spirit of Our Lady and Lord have ascended, they have not left us alone, for their angels and luminaries and fae and other holy spirits remain with us as the nights draw in. We give thanks to God and ask that Their blessed servants help us prepare for the darkness to come. It is a festival of sharing the bounty we have helped to produce, as well as continuing to share the wisdom we have learned to those who are new to hearing it, making preparations for both the body and soul.

Allhallowtide (October 29th - November 1st)

This three day festival commemorates the end of the liturgical calendar. October 31st marks Samhain, as well as The Assumption of Sophia. With the Holy Child’s mission complete, and the divine soul having been risen out of the sufferings of hell, She is reunited in the Fullness. It is on this day that the veil between living souls and those that have passed into other realms or become one with God is most thin and we feel closest to Them. Though the world may seem darker, the inner light of creation shines brighter than ever, as we look to the day when all have found Gnosis and become one with the Divine once again. The following day marks All Saint’s Day or The Descent of Sophia. As the journey of Sophia and Her children is one that takes place outside of time, its events have happened, will happen, and are occurring at this moment. It is a continuous cycle, a spinning wheel of fate, all due to the will of God who seeks to know Thyself.

The month of November, beginning with All Soul’s Day until Avent, is a time for meditating on the strengths of Sophia, as She descended into the world of matter, seemingly under the control of arrogant and foolish false gods. As Lent is a time for purification and spiritual contemplation, November is a time for being active, for taking control of ones agency. The Archons attempted to subdue Sophia but She fought back against them with Her compassion and courage. She paves the way for the Holy Child that is still to come. It is a time for focusing on images of the Dark Mother, the Black Madonna, the Queen of Darkness and Light. She carries the souls of the world alone and so She is at her strongest and most fierce.

The Feast of Redemption (November 27th)

(This is a minor holiday I began personally honouring last year. I’m not American so I never celebrated Thanksgiving around this time - our closest festival to that would be earlier, on Mabon, during the Harvest Festival. But November is such a trying month it deserves a second holiday.)

Also known as the Day of the Holy Fallen. As Our Mother tries to protect us from the harmful forces of this world, Her power is witnessed by an authority - an Archon - one of the false gods who sought to control Sophia’s children. Witnessing Her majesty, he rejects his father and is cast out of the false kingdom. He seeks the Mother and swears loyalty to Her. He pledges to be a bringer of Her light to all the lost children, and for this She raises him back up in renewed splendor. His name may be Lucifer, Sabaoth, Abraxas, Lilith or Lower Sophia, or the name of any of us who have fallen from grace and sought forgiveness after recognising our sins. Sophia, our loving Mother, always forgives us when we truly seek to earn Her forgiveness. We are all capable of being redeemed; even the darkest of demons can become beacons of light. This is a day of repentance, earning forgiveness, as well as forgiving those who seek the same from us. For it is the Fallen Angel’s redemption that gives light to the Christos within Sophia’s womb.

#gnostic christianity #christopaganism #son of god #holy daughter #mary magdalene #yeshua the christ #god the mother #holy sophia #wheel of the year

9 notes · View notes