#(money is still lace i love being indulgent to weird ideas)

[pagesofkenna]

fantasy novel wip has officially crossed the 10k mark since i started the new draft with the new outline last month. gotten less writing done than i would have wished but when i am able to sit down to write i'm getting a lot more done than i had previously.

[writethehousedown]

When the Sun Sets on Us: Chapter 3 (Scyvie) — Phryne

A/N: Hey y'all! I’m back with the third chapter of When the Sun Sets on Us, a beach town romance between hopeless romantic Scarlet and cynical about romance Yvie.

Last Chapter: Scarlet dumped five drinks and a plate of nachos on Yvie, so Yvie naturally agreed to a date with her.

This chapter: A classic boardwalk date.

Enjoy!

Scarlet was perched on the railing outside the restaurant, her hands gripping the bar as her feet swung, back and forth, back and forth, like a metronome. When Yvie saw her, all clad in her denim skirt and milky white crop top, staring off at the ocean in the distance as though she were transfixed, she felt her beating heart increase its tempo, as though it were intent on keeping time with Scarlet.

“Yvie!” Scarlet called out, hopping off the railing, running toward her. It was as though she had snapped out of her spell, like she sensed Yvie’s presence a few feet away. She pulled Yvie into a hug, her hands flush against Yvie’s back, before pulling away, leaving behind some kind of sun-kissed, champagne-tinged scent wafting in the air, something Yvie couldn’t quite place but found herself intoxicated by, nonetheless.

No, Yvie was not going to allow herself to be consumed by the all-consuming Scarlet. She had decided on this previously, more specifically, the moment Scarlet had suggested the date and Yvie agreed. She had also reinforced the notion that she was under no circumstances going to develop deep feelings for Scarlet every moment after — while walking back to the motel, while showering, while pouring over outfits to wear on the date, while begging her brain to please, for the love of god, let her think about anything besides being close enough to Scarlet to count each little sun-spot that graced her face and arms and hands and chest.

“Yvie?” Scarlet looked perplexed, dropping her arms back to her sides.

“Oh, yes, hi.” Yvie blinked, focusing her vision back on the Scarlet right in front of her, shooing away her intrusive thoughts.

“I asked how you are, silly.” Scarlet poked Yvie’s arm, the spot feeling as though it were consistently touched, consistently warm, even when Scarlet pulled away.

“Sorry, yeah.” Yvie shook it off. “I’m good, how are you?”

It was simply a date. And a date did not require real, deep feelings, Yvie reminded herself. She could simply have fun with Scarlet, enjoy their time together, and then part ways afterward. She didn’t have to get too deep, become lost in her silken little drawl as she described sneaking out of work early to take a shower because she smelled like french fries, how she saw a stray cat wandering out from under her porch when she came home. She didn’t have to indulge her impulse to tell Scarlet about the alley cats behind her apartment, paint her a verbal picture of her home, each brush stroke within it. Hell, they didn’t even have to hold hands. In fact, Yvie decided that they would not do romantic, deep-feelings-date things, like hold hands, for example.

Scarlet took Yvie’s hand, their palms clasped and their thumbs crossed.

Shit.

“Okay, so I’m gonna give you, like, the classic boardwalk experience,” Scarlet said, tugging Yvie to start walking with her. “Come on.”

Scarlet led Yvie away, the two walking steadily, leisurely, as Scarlet unclasped their hands, only to weave their fingers back together, the two interlocked, fingers laced tight. She looked up at Yvie.

Oh god. Not a minute into the date and they’re already walking hand in hand. She’s already fixated on the gentle swing of their connected arms between them. Her skin already prickles as Scarlet’s shoulder brushes against her arm, and she’s so keenly aware of the shorter woman next to her, connected to her, the physicality of moving and walking together, that she barely knows how her legs are still moving while her brain is this overwhelmed.  

The Scarlet pulled away. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

It felt like a cold burn, though Yvie had to be sure she brought it on herself, knowing the panic that must have covered her face, knowing just how visible she was with her feelings no matter how hard she tried to mask them.

Yvie gulped, struck with the inexplicable feeling that she was in trouble with herself. “No, it’s okay.” Yvie let out a long-held breath before taking Scarlet’s hand, their fingers interwoven again, Yvie feeling herself return to what now felt less like panic and more like a natural, sustainable state.

It wouldn’t be too bad to hold hands, Yvie supposed, her thumb wiggling out to rest on top of Scarlet’s. It was nothing more than holding hands.

The sun was dimming, dusting the sky and the sea in a battered grey, the neon lights for psychics, name on rice, and hermit crabs intermittently flicking on for the night.

“So,” Yvie began, feeling Scarlet look up to watch her speak, a thrilling intimacy. “What’s it like to live here? You know, like you live where people vacation. That’s wild.”

“I guess,” Scarlet said with a shrug. “I’m just from here, so I barely even notice it.”

Yvie’s fingers gripped Scarlet’s knuckles. They passed a stand selling fried desserts, just turning on their lights. “It’s just like whenever I visit somewhere, I always wonder about the people who live there for real, you know? It’s like I’m just passing by and you’re here all the time.” Yvie flattened her lip. “I guess it would be fun? I don’t know it’s like I’m just passing in a place you’ve had your whole life.”

Scarlet turned away, the tension between their arms growing as Yvie felt further apart. Then Scarlet laughed.

“Wow, heavy first date topics.” She continued staring off, right over the edge of the pier. “Like thoughts about living in a temporary place for most people you meet, bonus points for discussing the idea of emotional permanency. Go,” Scarlet imitated, looking back up at Yvie and cracking a smile.

“Oh my god,” Yvie groaned. “Do I really sound that pretentious?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s cute,” Scarlet reassured.

“So, you’re saying I do.” Yvie looked back down at her, only finding herself struck by the teasing smile of the girl who just called her cute. She held the word in her lungs like air.

Yvie tugged at her hand, needlessly pulling Scarlet closer, their elbows knocking together. They walked in silence for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s only a little fun to live here,” Scarlet started, staring down at the boards. “Like everything’s only open for a few months a year. And then it’s dead. Honestly, this is the first time I’ve been, like, on the boardwalk outside of work in at least two summers.” Scarlet stole a glance up at Yvie, the corner of her lip curling, letting Yvie know she caught her staring. “I almost forgot it was fun.”

Scarlet let out a slow, deflating laugh, her face falling on the exhale. “But yeah, it’s weird to live here. It’s like everyone else is coming and going as they please and you can’t, like you’re stuck here. It’s not a bad place to be stuck in, don’t get me wrong.” A sigh. “It’s just I think I’d rather be stuck somewhere else, somewhere bigger and brighter. I’d love to be in a city, under a billion lights, you know?” Scarlet looked up again.

Yvie nodded. “That makes sense. Just being permanent in a way you don’t want to be.”

That was, of course, the shorthand understanding of the deepest, most desperate desire to get away and find yourself in a place you’d never like to leave, which Yvie felt creeping up on her with every step they took together. It was a feeling, much like the feeling of Scarlet’s touch, or the smell of Scarlet’s perfume, that had wrapped itself around Yvie. The feeling of being with someone who’s whole life was here, folded in these sands, fitted between the splintering boards. The feeling that Scarlet everywhere around her. It struck like a dizzying, brilliant light, and it remained.

***

“Oh my god, I didn’t know they still had that,” Scarlet called out, pulling Yvie toward a midway game with a childlike sense of wonder. It was the one where you had to throw ping pong balls into goldfish bowls filled with colored water.

“I used to be so, so good at this as a kid,” Scarlet elaborated. “I can’t believe they still have it. I was, like, too good at this game. I had them all lined up in their bowls on the kitchen counter.”

“Do you still have them?” Yvie had finally caught up with her, now standing next to Scarlet at the game. “Or are they all dead?” Yvie immediately kicked herself for mentioning a slew of dead fish.

She didn’t want a relationship, no. But she also didn’t want to become some brunch story Scarlet would later tell about the girl she went on a date with who didn’t want to hold her hand and also talked about her dead fish.

Scarlet laughed, digging in her purse, producing three folded ones. “Super dead. We made them, like a mass fish grave. My moms said they’d fertilize the geraniums.” She handed the money to the Carny before turning back to Yvie. “I think the little headstone I made is still in our garden. Also, I think the fish haunt me.”

Yvie felt her smile crinkling her eyes. She shook her head. “No way. You couldn’t have been good enough for a mass grave.”

“Uh huh,” Scarlet whined, releasing Yvie’s hand to take the ping pong balls. “I’ll prove it.”

“Sure, babe.” Yvie snaked her hand around Scarlet, resting it on her bare waist, needing to feel the warmth of her skin once more.

Yvie let her eyes wander all around the tent, up at the strands of prizes hanging down from the ceiling, which under no circumstances she was going to accept, should Scarlet actually be exceptional at this game. Leaving with one of those big ass panda bears, a stuffed banana with a gorilla wrapped around it, or that blow up alien thing, would be far too much. Far too close to real date, real relationship territory. And frankly, she didn’t want a physical reminder of how she felt looking at the paling sky, the feathering neon light from the rides in the distance. A reminder of how she let herself indulge in the unequivocal closeness of touch, the way her left hand fingered with the sliver of exposed skin above the waistband of her denim skirt, how it felt soothing to simply touch.

“I won!” Scarlet tore her from her thoughts. “I told you. I absolutely told you!”

Scarlet did in fact have three ping pong balls in a row, floating in blue, purple, and another color she didn’t quite catch before Scarlet pulled Yvie in for a hug, her arms wrapped around Yvie’s neck, rising up on her tip-toes to whisper that spine chilling whisper, “I told you so,” right in Yvie’s ear.

Yvie held Scarlet out in front of her, her hands tighter than before on her waist as Scarlet came back down, feet flat on the ground, and Yvie desperately tried to come back down from Scarlet’s whiny, breathy lilt in her ear, desperately tried not to fixate on the warmth spreading through her core. She wouldn’t dare think about that happening again.

“C’mon, we gotta go get your fish,” Scarlet said, pulling Yvie’s hand off her waist and leading her over to the prizes.

“My fish?”

Yvie, who now held a fish in her right hand, whom Scarlet named F. Scott Fishgerald, reasoned that the fish was not a stuffed animal, so she was not in real date territory. The fish was, however, a living, breathing little bastard that she now had to take care of, because Scarlet named it and gave it to her, bonding Yvie to the fish.

Yvie looked down at the fish, who was bubbling and taunting her, reminding her that she now had a gift from Scarlet, a thing to take home and look at and remember the now inky night and its fluorescent glow.

***

Yvie shook herself out of it, spotting a cluttered storefront, canvasses spilling out of the entrance and into the concrete.

“I wanna go check that out,” Yvie glanced over at Scarlet, pointing toward the storefront.

“Ooh yes yes,” Scarlet said, so easily excitable.  “You’re in for such a treat, it’s all, like, garbage.”

“Garbage, babe?” Yvie asked.

A flush spread across Scarlet’s cheeks. Yvie ignored her impulse to brush her knuckle across Scarlet’s cheek, feel the heat rising off of her skin, warming Yvie from the outside in.

Yvie really had to stop accidentally calling Scarlet babe if she wanted to keep her feelings casual and her mind off of how cute Scarlet looked when she blushed.

Scarlet turned to the side to make it through the cluttered door, leading Yvie through the narrow walkways of the store, all lined with cheap beach: shorelines of only one shade of beige, white cresting waves from the shoreline all the way back; neon flip-flops that said live, laugh, love; imitation vintage Coca Cola advertisements printed on thin metal sheets; a display of pet rocks; a painting of a lonely red tulip in a sea of black and white tulips.

Scarlet let go of Yvie’s hand and spread her arms out wide, touching claustrophobic stacks of canvases on either side of her.

“Garbage!” She announced.

Yvie swallowed, immediately regretting this stop, feeling the paintings closing in on her, her mind wandering off to her art lessons, her professors, her paintings back home. It all made the air feel thick, viscous, something she couldn’t breathe.

“What’s going on?” Scarlet lowered her arms, looking Yvie dead in the eye, as though she already knew what the problem was but needed Yvie to confirm it. “Aren’t you enjoying the garbage?”

If she could help it, she wouldn’t laugh. But Yvie, of course, couldn’t help it.

“This is my future,” Yvie looked around the store once more, now noticing the paint splattered Pollock imitations; the singular umbrella and beach ball canvases; a stack of magnets that doubled as bottle openers. She gripped the fish tighter. “This is it. I’m gonna finish school and have nothing to do with my life after that. And if I want to do something with my art degree, I’m gonna end up making this knock off bullshit. And if I don’t, I wasted all my time and money.”

“Well that’s not true,” Scarlet replied, her voice soft, her tone firm. “I’m sure the people who make and buy this done even know it’s garbage. Like they’re people who are really excited to buy a picture of Marilyn Monroe with her skirt blown up, a puka shell necklace, and a pet rock, all in the same place.” Scarlet lent her a sincere smile, leaning against a table full of striped canvases. “You know it’s garbage because you do real art.”

“How do you know I do real art?”

“Because you’re always observing shit and you hate Photoshop.” Scarlet laughed, giving Yvie a nudge.

Yvie settled against the table as well. “Wanting to do real art doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”

Scarlet tilted her head toward Yvie, looking perplexed. “It absolutely does mean you’ll do it.” She placed her hand on Yvie’s thigh, scooching closer so their arms were pressed together.

“You’re the only one who decides what you’re going to do. If you don’t want to do some capitalist garbage art, then don’t do some capitalist garbage art. You’re the only one who has control over you.”

Yvie laid her head on Scarlet’s shoulder, finding her voice mild and even, steadying, affirming.

Scarlet continued. “So, if you’re going to do it, you know, be a real artist, be happy, the only person who’s going to stop you is yourself.”

Yvie inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled out her mouth, tilting her head up to steal a look at Scarlet, whose eyes were closed, her lips gently parted.

Scarlet was a warm soul, Yvie decided.

She laid her hand on top of where Scarlet’s lay.

She could have feelings for her, if only she were prepared for her heart to break so dearly.

***

Upon leaving the store, Scarlet announced that ice cream had to be eaten after a depressing conversation, on the basis of the full moon tomorrow and also her soul. Yvie could not, and did not want to argue with that reasoning, mostly because she found that reasoning exceptionally cute, especially as Scarlet blabbered on about the time she tried to make ice cream at home with her roommate. The two of them tossed the bag of cream, vanilla, ice, and rock salt back and forth until Scarlet threw the bag far too hard against the decorative swordfish — the one that came with the house and was apparently not budging from the wall — which caused the bag to explode.

Yvie nodded along, entering the store as Scarlet opened the door for her. It was endearing, how Scarlet went into a silly story that made her look foolish in the end, probably knowing how it would pull Yvie’s mood a few shades lighter than it was before.

“What do you think you’re getting?” Scarlet came up behind Yvie, peering over her shoulder to see which flavor she was looking at.

“Orange pineapple,” Yvie muttered, still staring at the ice cream in front of her, as though she were trying to figure it out. “Such a weird flavor.”

Scarlet hummed in agreement, “I think I’m gonna get it. Wanna split it?”

Yvie turned back to look at Scarlet, her face only inches away from hers, her heartbeat growing livelier and livelier at the proximity. Close enough that she could see the slight curl of Scarlet’s eyelashes. Close enough to know they shared the same air, same breath. Close enough to notice Scarlet’s lip gloss fading away, leaving behind only a few bits of glitter, sparkling under the fluorescents. In less than a few careless inches, she could—

“Yeah, uh, definitely.” Yvie’s words stumbled. “Let’s split it.”

She shifted the goldfish to her other hand. She was not going to kiss Scarlet. That, she decided, was a point from which she’d never return. She’d indulged her feelings against her logic, but that, that she would not do.

They sat together on a bench outside the shop, Scarlet curling her legs underneath herself, leaning in closer to Yvie, taking up her spoon.

“How is it?” Scarlet asked, holding the cup steady with one hand, scooping a bit of ice cream out with the other.

“It doesn’t really taste like orange or pineapple, it just tastes like orange,” Yvie replied, dipping in again, finding it hard to ignore the way Scarlet was practically sat in her lap, the innocent intimacy of sharing.

Scarlet went in for another spoonful. “I thought you said it doesn’t taste like orange thought.”

Yvie laughed at herself, lightly shoving Scarlet’s shoulder with her own. “I meant orange, like the color.”

“Honestly, I feel like orange should have different names,” Scarlet pondered. She licked off her spoon, pulling it out of her mouth with a pop. “Like, orange the color and orange the fruit should fight to see what’s going to be the alpha orange. Because right now I’m looking like an idiot in front of a pretty girl, just because orange and orange are the same word.”

Yvie held her spoon in place, trying to interpret what Scarlet just said, but falling short. All she could offer was a smile and a promise to herself that she’d spend all her time before bed turning those words over in her head: being addressed as pretty girl and the beautiful girl who’d spoken it.

***

Yvie handed F. Scott Fishgerald to a child, who was upset over losing the water gun race, who was worked up over not receiving a prize.

“We really are a couple of nice lesbians, huh?” Yvie chuckled, “You win a fish, we show the fish a good time, then the fish goes to bring joy to a child.”

Scarlet snorted, taking Yvie’s hand and leading her toward the Ferris wheel, which she insisted was absolutely necessary for a perfect summer date, a phrase that made Yvie bubble up inside the more she heard it and the longer she internalized it.  

“Please, you were probably gonna kill that thing anyway.”

Yvie held her hand to her chest, scandalized. “Excuse you, Scarlet? My most prized possession? F. Scott Fishgerald was going to die of natural causes in his sleep, surrounded by those he loved.”

Scarlet was overcome with laughter, bumping into a couple of signs as they entered the line for the Ferris wheel, Yvie steering her through the line.

“Like you were going to surround that fish on his deathbed.” Scarlet quirked a brow.

Yvie snorted. “Like that fish loved me.”  

The line moved quickly, much quicker than expected. Within minutes, Yvie found herself sitting next to Scarlet in the cart. Scarlet gripped the lap bar eagerly as they ascended, inching ever upward and ever closer to Yvie, until they were suspended above the blackened ocean and Scarlet’s head lay on Yvie’s shoulder.

“I feel very small,” Scarlet spoke against Yvie’s shoulder, nuzzling herself into Yvie’s faded t-shirt.

“I think it’s hard not to, Scar.” Yvie inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs fully, clearly, before exhaling, if for nothing but to feel the fullness, the reminder that she was very little more than air.

She peered down at Scarlet, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. She brushed Scarlet’s hair out of her face, her fingers slowly brushing over Scarlet’s cheek. She took her time, as though it were a new land to explore, to cherish.

Soft skin. Sparkling perfume. Pouting lips. Open heart. Eager eyes. Silken voice. Warm soul.

And the curve of her cheek.

Yvie found herself disinterested in the ocean below them. The slightness of the waves could not hold her gaze like the slightness with which Scarlet looked up at Yvie and said, “the stars are out. You look to your right and you’ll see them.”

But Yvie did not turn her head to see the stars. She wouldn’t release herself from the vision of Scarlet lit by the bulbs that dotted the outside of the Ferris wheel. The light caught on her cheek. The tip of her nose. Her collarbone. Her jaw.

Above the world, all that is worldly, her worldly self, there was only Scarlet caught in the afterglow of neon.

Yvie brushed her thumb across Scarlet’s jaw before tilting Scarlet up to meet her gaze.

Scarlet’s mouth opens, her eyes blown out.

“Scarlet, I…” Yvie trails off, as though she had something to say. She had nothing to say. She had run out of words. She found herself without excuses, stipulations, or reason. She found herself leaning in closer. Their foreheads met. “Scarlet—”

“Please,” Scarlet exhaled, her hot breath against Yvie’s lips.

Christ.

Yvie inched forward, capturing Scarlet’s still open lips in her own, resigning that she will never find a word to counter a please spoken like a revelation

[sciendere]

What’s This?

Snowdeke fluff, post S7 in my self indulgent headcanon where everyone gets a happy ending and absolutely nothing bad happens to anyone. 

Summary: The holidays can  be stressful, especially when it’s your first Terran Christmas and you’re still learning how to properly people. Deke is trying to help Snowflake navigate the holidays through the help of movies, and she finds herself relating in particular to the misadventures of one Jack Skellington. A series of scenes of Snowflake discovering and trying to understand Yuletide, as set to the lyrics of What’s This? from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Inspired by my Snowflake Christmas headcanon post.  Just tumblr now, this is the first fic I’ve completed in literal years and I’ve lost my AO3 login information because I’ve never really had anything to put there until tonight. Enjoy my odd little story please!

~

Adjusting to new cultures is never an easy thing. At least that’s what Deke kept repeating to himself under his breath as he tried, with his limited modern-day Earth knowledge, to help Snowflake acclimate herself to Terran life. She’d managed a basic grasp of most mundane daily situations- be friendly, be polite, and knives stay in your pocket- but special occasions, holidays in particular, were still a bit foreign to her. Routine was so much easier, especially when for years it was literally the only constant in her life. Something he even understood, so when words failed him, he had a secret weapon- passwords to every streaming service he had. Television and movies were his teacher, and now they were hers. December had come before they knew it, and as she watched the Thanksgiving Day parade, confused and bewildered by the strange-to-her things on display, he realized the time had come to teach her about the winter holidays, Christmas in particular. Christmas meant parties, parties meant company, and company meant the fiancee needed to be on her best and least embarrassing behavior. This was already a bit of a tall order for Snow, and for the most part, Deke let her eccentricities slide as long as there were no injuries or casualties, but he also didn’t want her to feel left out. “So,” he said one day, handing her the remote to the TV like a proud father handing his child the keys to their first car, “Christmas is coming. You need to learn about it.”

“Ooh, is it binge-watching time again?” she asked. Her eyes lit up. “I love binge-watching!”

“It’s binge-watching time,” Deke replied. “Your mission: gather as much intel on the Terran celebration of Christmas as you can. Preferably in the next week or so. Parties start early, yo.” “Mission accepted!” she squealed. She snuggled into the beat up couch in their apartment’s living room, making herself comfortable. “Great, have fun,” he said. “You want me to order pizza or anything?” “You know my regular order.” Deke rolled his eyes. Engaged life had its ups and downs, and one of them was having to recognize your woman, as much as you might have in common with her, will always disagree with you on extremely important topics. He sighed. “Pepperoni, canadian bacon, and pineapple,” he said, disgusted and horrified but still a supportive man to the very end.

“That’s my boy,” she said.

~ A few hours later, stacks of pizza had been devoured by both of them during that evening’s Christmas movie marathon, and Deke had dozed off beside Snow on the couch. They’d worked their way through several of the classics- Elf, Muppet Christmas Carol, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street, and A Christmas Story- and Snow clicked her way lazily through the titles on the screen, looking for one that really caught her eye without Deke’s helpful advice to guide her. She’d come to understand the holiday a bit from them, but it was still so foreign. The movies were good, but she just didn’t grasp entirely the sentiments behind them.  One in particular truly stood out to her, one that from the poster art didn’t even look like much of a Christmas movie at all, but instead, bore a smiling dapper cartoon skeleton man. “The Nightmare Before Christmas?” she read off the screen. It was certainly different from the other titles she’d seen. “Awesome.” She hit play on the menu and watched as the stop-motion puppets filled her screen, already in love with the morbid imagery. Finally, a movie that spoke to her soul. Deke woke up about half way into the movie, to find Snow beside him paying rapt attention to it. “Huh what’s this… oh Nightmare Before Christmas? Always watched it at Halloween myself but I guess it’ll do too.” “This movie is amazing! Jack’s just like me.. He just wants to learn and figure out Christmas and he sang a whole song and he’s just trying to make Christmas for everyone!” Snow pointed to the screen, where Jack was puzzling over the secret to Christmas. “See? That’s me now,” she said. Deke just smiled, happy his woman was happy. Maybe she’d figure out this Christmas thing in time… ~

Nightmare became a favorite for her over the next few days. Though she still puzzled over Christmas, Deke had begun to walk her through the holiday by explaining it to her the best he could, but late at night she’d return to Halloweentown, feeling a little less alone in Jack’s bewilderment at a world he loved but also didn’t totally understand. Of all the songs, “What’s This?” captured her feelings best, she thought, not just about Christmas, but getting used to another world entirely.

~ What's this? What's this?

There's color everywhere

What's this?

There's white things in the air

What's this? “So.. the white ornaments on the trees are-”

Snowflake had never cut Deke off faster, and she was used to him saying several stupid things a day. “I swear to gods, Deke, if you even try to explain the concept of snowflakes and snow to me. Like I don’t know what my own damn name means. It’s the one thing I DO get about the holidays.” She smiled, but it was one of her smiles laced in venom and dried blood on the blade of a dagger, one where you were reminded, and fast, she’d spent years as the galaxy’s deadliest assassin, and she could go back to that life anytime if she really wanted.

He chuckled nervously but knew she meant business, even if she was joking. And God help him if he ever wound up on her bad side. “Yes’m,” he said. 

“False advertising, though, there’s none out here right now even though it’s winter. I feel like it’s just a tease to throw those picturesque landscapes at you when we don’t know what the weather on the 25th will be at all just yet. This is a planet with varying climates, is it not?” “Well, yes…”

“Then why is it being advertised like we’re on a frozen planet?” “Snow, honey, it’s stylistic, just don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink most of it. In fact, thinking? Highly overrated in general.” “First time you’ve made sense all day. You know, though,” she said, “it’s not hard to pretend half the songs on the radio right now are actually about me. Because everyone here just loves me that much.” “You were wanted for murder and larceny in five states before I bribed Daisy into hacking their law enforcement’s networks to clear your name.” And it was expensive as hell too,  he thought to himself. “Let it Snow. Is about me.” “Right, right,” Deke said. “You’re right.”  

~

What's this?

There are people singing songs

What's this?

The streets are lined with

Little creatures laughing

Everybody seems so happy

“So you’re just telling me people go out in big groups and sing in public places, not even for money, and no one really cares? And they’re called… Curlers?” Swing and a miss, Deke thought, but he gave her points for genuinely trying. The two were on a park bench listening to a choir sing in the city park. “Carolers. Curlers play a weird ice sport with brooms and a rock.” “Who’s Carol? What’s she got to do with it? Should I know about her? Is she the lady statue over there?” Snowflake pointed to a nearby church’s Nativity scene and Deke quickly pushed her hand down, praying the awkward stares from passerby stayed at a minimum.

“It’s just another word for song, they just.. They sing. To make people happy, make them remember stuff. It’s fun.” She still struggled at the idea of being a street performer just for the enjoyment of it, not sure why anyone would do anything like that without it getting them money, but it was simultaneously the most adorable thing she’d ever heard. “I’m glad they’re doing it. Their singing is pretty.” ~ Oh, look

What's this?

They're hanging mistletoe, they kiss

Why that looks so unique, inspired

It was the afternoon and Snow couldn’t help but notice the weird little bit of twigs hanging over the doorway of the kitchen. “Deke, there’s plants on the doorframe! What have you been up to this time?” “Decorating?”

She reached for the leaves the best she could with her tiny frame and sniffed up into the air. “Mistletoe,” she said. “We had this on my planet. Leaves and berries are poisonous. Really good for if you want to take someone out without a lot of mess- is this a present? For me? Who do you need-” “Wait wait wait- Snowflake NO, no one is getting poisoned.” 

She frowned. “Waste of good mistletoe if you ask me. What is it for, then?” “So… you hang mistletoe from doorways, and if you and your love walk under it… you kiss.” “We kiss under the poisonous, parasitic bush?” She was confused but intrigued by this strange custom. “Look, it’s tradition, don’t ask questions, I don’t know either.” “And I thought Terrans were soft… that’s the most badass thing I’ve ever heard of in my life. Kiss me under the poison.” “You really don’t need to put it like that-” Deke said, but before he could finish, Snow had pulled him in for a kiss. One he happily returned. He wasn’t about to waste some good mistletoe, after all. ~ They're gathering around to hear a story

Roasting chestnuts on a fire

Snow threw a copy of The Night Before Christmas across the bedroom. “No, I’ve tried to understand so much of this holiday, most of it I’m coming around to, but this? This is where I draw the line.”

“Sweetie, it’s a kid’s book, it’s not that big a deal-” “No, I’m not upset about a book,” she said, “This… this Santa? No sense at all,” she said. “The sleigh is just magic, like any other kid’s story, you really don’t have to try that hard to understand it.” “Oh no,” she replied, “the sleigh makes perfect sense to me. Santa knows what’s up, you put in your coordinates, fiddle with a few things, the ley lines get you to the nearest destination. Easy, basic dimensional travel, even if it might be a bit more efficient if he didn’t insist on using reindeer. Makes all the sense in the world to me, the rest of you all just need to get on our level. But everything else about the big man… No.”

“I’m going to hear about your problems with him whether I want to or not, aren’t I?” Deke asked. “Bingo,” she said. “You people are just okay with a man in a red suit breaking and entering? To leave presents for children? A man in velvet and fur does that, it’s holiday spirit, I do that, and it’s ‘creepy’ and ‘wrong’ and ‘next time, Snowflake, just knock’” “I warned you Nana and Bobo have been Terran all their lives and they were going to take your ‘extreme baby surprise’ a bit differently than you thought they would.” “And I told you it’s good for the little brat, keeps them on their toes and gives them a bit of exciting mystery in life. So I get why the Terran children love this story so much, even if I think it’s a case of double standards. But the man’s clothes are simply not stealthy or tactical. You can’t sneak in red, especially on your mythical white Christmases, you’re going to stick out from a mile away! And don’t get me started on the chimney… what happens if you don’t have one. We don’t have one, would Santa just climb in through the window? Lockpick?”

Deke nodded. She made several points, even if it was a bit much for her to approach Santa through the perspective of her area of expertise. “I got nothing on those last two points.”

“He goes to all that work… for snack food,” Snow said. “At least you lot could tip your home invaders a bit better. I’d expect at least large sums of money, in small unmarked bills, for that kind of performance.” Deke nodded. Milk and cookies really did seem like an unfair trade-off for overnight delivery. “I hear what you’re saying but that’s just the Christmas spirit for you, he’s grateful just for the snacks. He does it to be giving. At least, I think that’s supposed to be the point of it all.” 

His reply took her aback. She would rather lose her right hand than admit Deke was right in this conversation, easily, but at the same time, she could see the little nugget of truth in what he had to say. One that made her stop and think. Snow pulled herself out of bed and walked across the room to pick the book up. “But all that aside, it’s a lovely story,” she said quickly. “Even if nothing about it makes sense.” “You never make sense. Like. In general.” “I know. Get used to it, because we don’t do sense in this household.” “Wouldn’t have you any other way.” ~ What's this?

In here they've got a little tree, how queer

And who would ever think

And why?

They're covering it with tiny little things

They've got electric lights on strings

 “This one,” she said, “this is the perfect ornament for the dead tree.” Snow waved a Christmas ornament in front of Deke’s face in the packed gift shop, a kitten in a gift box holding the banner “Meowy Christmas.”

“For the last time, it’s called a Christmas tree,” Deke said. “Even if it… is… a dead tree. Technically.”

“Well the dead tree needs a festive Flerken on it,” she said, putting the bauble in his shopping basket. “They’re cats here, snowbunny,” Deke whispered, “cats.”

“Cat, Flerken, potayto potahto, isn’t that how it goes? We have to buy these too,” she said, putting a box of round glass ornaments into the basket. Deke looked in and was unsurprised to see glittering snowflakes painted on all of them. 

“These are just regular ball ornaments we have plenty of- oh,” he said. He knew despite her original misgivings about the guarantees of weather, the snowy motifs made her feel a little less alone and out of place, and had been playing along for a while with her insistence they were about her. “Of course we need them.”

“That’s how everyone will know the tree is mine,” she said proudly. 

“We have enough now,” Deke said. “Our tree isn’t that big, and we still have lights and garland for it-” “No,” she insisted, and another boxed ornament was in her hand. “Just one more?” The ornament was a ceramic retro styled semi truck, decked out in Christmas lights and wreaths. Deke looked at it, and spent a second in confusion as to why she’d want such a mundane thing on the tree, until it clicked.  Despite the hard times she’d had in her past, she still had a few fond memories of her adventures with the crew- Jaco in particular- and an occasional homesickness for her intergalactic, interdimensional home for so many years. And for all her confusion, she’d seemed to figure out part of Christmas was celebrating the past. “We.. we never had Christmas… or much of any holidays, really, it happens when you can’t really stay in one place for too long, on there… but it’d be like this, if we had,” she said. “You know.. Just in memory of the family who couldn’t make it.”

Deke nodded. He’d lost his family going back in time too, and understood how Snow felt. The tree was covered in lemons as a sort of nod to his past, and adding snowflakes and trucks to that mix just seemed right. 

“You’re right,” he said. “We’ll buy this one more thing.” “One more? Oh no,” she said, and in her hands was a strand of lights with clear snowflakes around the bulbs. “That dead tree isn’t done until you can barely see tree under it.”

Deke smiled. She was starting to get it.

~

The smell of cakes and pies

Are absolutely everywhere

 “What’s your favorite sweet?” Deke asked, out of nowhere at breakfast on a cold December morning, a few days before Christmas. 

“Huh?”

“Nana and Bobo are coming Christmas morning. So we’ll be doing the cooking this year and having our dinner with them. I thought I’d make the actual dinner, you could maybe do the baking and something sweet for dessert? I know you love sweets.” 

Snow thought for a moment, then started listing things, counting them off on her fingers. “Cookies.. Pies.. cakes.. Bread-” She stopped suddenly. 

“What’s wrong?” Deke asked. “I thought you loved all the treats you’ve been trying this month.”

“I do, they’ve all been divine. I just thought of my options for baking and then I thought of how much Jaco would love this time of year… He taught me a few things and I can probably use that knowledge to make just about anything, but it’s just not the same without him there to give me advice.” Her blue eyes grew big with bittersweet memories and Deke could see the sparkle of tears forming in them. Her sad face always destroyed him, knowing all the pain and loss her expression held. Deke grabbed for her hands and held them tightly. 

“We have cookbooks… we can call Nana for advice, she’s a biochemist, baking is just chemistry you eat… we can watch videos if you get stuck. I know it won’t be the same, and I know nothing will ever replace what he meant to you, as a big brother.”

Snow nodded. 

“But he’s also always right there in your heart, no matter what,” Deke said. “Nana taught me that about loss, people never really leave us, as long as we remember them. So bake the most delicious Christmas treats you can, and make him proud. And as long as you do that, as long as you use what you learned from him, Jaco will be with us.” 

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I’ll do the best baking anyone’s ever tried, and it’s all going to be in his memory.” “That’s the spirit. So what are you making, then?” Deke asked her. 

“Everything!”

~

The sights, the sounds

They're everywhere and all around

I've never felt so good before

This empty place inside of me is filling up

I simply cannot get enough

 Navigating last minute shopping downtown was the last thing Deke expected to be a challenge for the two of them, but it had become one. It was a case of Snowflake’s natural, corvid-like attraction to shiny, sparkly objects- and Deke trying to stop her before her natural kleptomaniac impulses could kick in-against her lack of acclimation to so much sparkling, bright, merry surroundings. Spending a  good part of your life in a dimly lit truck was something that stuck with you for a while, and even on the most neon lit planet she’d paid a visit on her journey, nothing could top the spectacle of Earth during the Christmas season. Every surface sparkled and shone with bright lights and glitter and tinsel and foil, every storefront played happy tunes about warm feelings, and the jingle of bells was never too far, as though magic simply floated through the atmosphere at that time of year. 

It was everything Snow ever loved, but it was also so, so much, almost too much for her at times. The sensory overload tired her out and she quietly pulled on Deke’s arm, guiding him to a nearby bench. He understood immediately and followed her to sit down beside her.

“I think I’m finally starting to understand this Christmas,” Snowflake said. “It’s still strange to me in a lot of ways, but whatever, life is boring without a little strangeness, isn’t it?” 

“Guess that means as long as I’ve got you my life will never be boring, then,” Deke replied. Snow playfully punched him in the arm, even though she knew he was right.

“I’ve seen so much in my short life and so many different worlds but this is the first I’ve seen where everyone spends a month just being kind to one another, giving out of the goodness of their hearts, inviting others into their homes to share food and company and good times, just loving each other. Before I came here… we didn’t have a lot. We were poor constantly, we only really had each other, and we ate almost every meal like it was our last because we never knew when our next would be coming. It’s so different going from that… to all this.”

Deke held her tight. “But you know things are different for you now, right? You don’t have to worry anymore, you know that.”

“I do, and that’s why I understand. Because I feel like that’s what all this is about. The winter is dark and cold and long, and sometimes, people don’t have what you do, and we just have each other. So we make everything brighter and warmer and share what we have with people who might not. We remember the people we love who might not be here. And it makes that darkness just a little easier to get through, if we get through it together.”

Deke was at a loss for words. He himself had never considered Christmas that way, but what she had to say was absolutely right. The two were from such different backgrounds, but in the end, they weren’t that different, two people who were thrown from their normal into something totally new. He was proud of her for coming to that conclusion by herself, because deep inside, it sorted things out for him, too. 

“You know, I don’t understand as much as I pretend to sometimes, in fact I understand literally nothing, but I think you’re right.”

“I figured it out with your help. I’m so grateful I have you to help me learn and feel less alone, less weird, less different. You’re better than any present anyone could ever give me.”

“Really? I just do my best…”

“It’s all we really can do, isn’t it?”

~

I want it, oh, I want it

Oh, I want it for my own

I've got to know

I've got to know

What is this place that I have found?

What is this?

Christmas Town, hmm

 It was Christmas morning, and the grandparents were due, and Deke was mildly nervous about how well the future granddaughter in law would go over with them. Although it took a while to get them acclimated to their… eccentric… new family member, Fitz and Jemma, on the whole, were able to move past their initial misgivings and find aspects of her they could both admire and focus on, rather than the fact a woman they met after she tried to murder one of their found family, would soon be married into theirs. “Just… try to not horrify them too much,” he reminded her that morning. “I know in-laws can be difficult, but I think we can manage the best Christmas ever as a family, too.”

“Deke, I’ll be fine,” Snow reassured him. She was dressed for the festive occasion, wearing a knit sweater, covered, of course, in silver foil yarn snowflakes. The words LET IT SNOW filled the front of it. “It’s not like I’ve never met them before.” She reached into the oven and pulled out a tray of gingerbread people to cool. Sitting on the kitchen table was an array of the goodies she’d stayed up all night baking. After all, she needed something to do to pass the time in case Santa paid them a visit, so she could sit down with him and teach him basic stealth principles. Platters of cookies in various shapes and varieties- snickerdoodle stars,  sugar cookie snowflakes, and a small pile of shortbread butterflies- and a big basket of fluffy herbed rolls, a recipe she’d learned years ago from Jaco, covered almost every surface. “What do you think? They’re going to love it.”

Deke smiled. “It’s great but.. Where am I going to put the turkey, or just about anything else?”

“We have a whole living room,” Snow said, and Deke raised a finger and opened his mouth, ready to point out maybe that was a better place for the sweets, but he wasn’t about to be a buzzkill when she was in such an excited mood. 

“Right, right, living room turkey. Classic Christmas tradition. Right.” This was going to be a fun one to explain to Nana and Bobo… who were ringing the doorbell that very minute.

“I’ll get it-” Deke insisted, but Snowflake was already opening the door to welcome the two in. “Merry Christmas!” she squealed, in a cheerful singsong voice. Fitz tried to dodge her embrace by sidestepping her, but her well-trained reflexes were faster, and he found himself in an awkward hug from the tiny woman, sending desperate looks Jemma’s way. His wife gave him a look that said, without any words, oh no, she’s your problem now. “Bobo!”

“Pleasedon’tcallmethat,” Fitz muttered under his breath. Jemma helpfully pulled Snow off him to give her adopted future granddaughter in law a hug, only for Deke to quickly swoop in on his grandpa before he could even enjoy his newfound freedom.  Snow was surprised. She’d always had a harder time getting through to Nana, but maybe it was the holiday spirit bringing them a little closer today. Just a bit more of that magic she’d never totally understand, but that was fine.

“Oh, Snow, how have you been hanging in there?” Jemma asked her. 

“Baking!” Snow said proudly. “So many cookies in the kitchen, and more coming, please eat them so Deke doesn’t have to put the turkey in the living room!” Jemma mouthed something that looked like “what?” to Deke and he replied silently with one of his usual “don’t ask” shrugs. 

“Great, I need coffee. We grabbed the redeye flight and I wasn’t about to pay ten dollars at the airport,” Fitz said. “Bloody crooks.” 

“Also in the kitchen, unless Snow finished it in the ten minutes since I made the pot,” Deke said. He was eager to diffuse some of the awkwardness that was growing in the apartment. A little awkwardness might be part of the holidays, too, but it seemed to run more in this family than others. A little strangeness keeps life from being boring, that’s what Snow said, he reminded himself. But if he could help it, he preferred to not exhaust the entire day’s supply this early in the morning. 

~

After a delicious Christmas dinner -where the turkey, thankfully, remained on the kitchen table- the Fitzsimmons-Shaw-Snowflake family gathered in the living room to enjoy one another’s company by the fireplace. Card games were played, stories were told, and everyone just seemed to come a little closer together.

“Hey Snow,” Deke said, during a bit of a lull, as their feast began catching up to everyone and making them tired, “why don’t you put on a Christmas movie for us?” 

“I’d love to!” she said. “Deke taught me about Christmas watching these, and you know? I really love Earth more now. It’s the only planet that does all this.” She turned the TV on and from the menu, flipped over to the movie that had been making her feel like she  truly belonged over the last few weeks, the one she knew almost by heart. The soundtrack kicked in and a voiceover started. “Now, you’ve probably wondered where holidays come from… if you haven’t, I think it’s time you’ve begun-”

“Snow, are you sure you want to go with this one?” Deke asked, realizing oh god, she’s really going to play Nightmare Before Christmas for Nana and Bobo. Not Elf, not Christmas Vacation, this one. 

“Of course! It taught me so much, the least I can do is share that with your grandparents,” she said. Deke looked desperately at Jemma and Fitz, hoping for at least disapproving or bewildered expressions from them to convince Snow- well, really, him, and he knew this- that this was a bad idea, but to his surprise, they seemed okay with her offbeat choice. 

“That’s so sweet,” Jemma said. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one, either.”

Deke shrugged. If the grandparents were happy, so was he. He poured everyone another mug of hot cocoa,  as This Is Halloween started playing in the background, 

Sometimes the best gifts at Christmas didn’t come in packages. Sometimes the best gift was the gift of family, the gift of memories, the gift of time spent with those close, and if this Christmas brought his family, new and old, closer together, then for him, it was truly a Christmas worth celebrating. 

[emospritelet]

Sprite my buddy, my pal, my dude. I want an NSFW Golden Lace fic in which they get it on in a deserted Granny's. "It looks like we're snowed in"

I kind of tweaked ANG’s prompt ever so slightly.  Plus I already did 23 so…

32: “Is that a candy cane in your pocket?”

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

AO3 link

The diner was clean and dimly lit, the only illuminations those behind the bar and the Christmas lights still strung around the place, and the jukebox was playing a variety of Christmas tunes at a fairly low volume.  Gold hadn’t complained about the music, which Lacey was counting as a win, and she was in no hurry to head home to her cold apartment.  The weather had taken a turn for the worse; snow was gusting against the windows, the wind whining outside when Lacey went to lock the door, and she shivered, glancing out at the empty streets before dropping her keys in her bag, setting it on the bar and taking her seat again.

“Anyone out there?” he asked.

“Not a soul,” she said, and he grunted, taking a sip of his drink.

Lacey had found that Gold was reasonably good company when the pain in his leg was mellowed by whisky, however rough a brand Granny sold (and boy, had he complained about that until she poured him another and told him to shut up).  She herself was pleasantly tipsy, having drunk several gins and a rum and coke, and the two of them were seated at the bar, elbows almost touching.  

“I should really get home,” said Gold, at last.  “I was only going to have one, remember?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t it feel better now you’ve had three?” she asked, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Four, but who’s counting?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” she said.  “It’s Christmas Eve, Gold.  Live a little.  What do you have to get up for in the morning?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” he admitted.  “What about you?  Christmas dinner for one, or do you actually have plans?”

Lacey sighed.

“Guess not,” she said.  “Just gonna be me, the contents of my fridge and a ton of booze.  Ruby said I could always come over to Granny’s for dinner, but I kind of feel like I’m intruding on family time, you know?”

“Oh believe me, I know,” he said quietly, and drained his glass.

She glanced across at him, chewing at her lower lip as she debated asking him something.  Gold caught her eye, his brows raising in the middle to give him a somewhat weary expression.

“Go on, then,” he sighed.

“What?” she asked.  “You want another drink?”

“No,” he said.  “Well yes, but that’s not what I meant.”

Lacey slipped off her stool again, going around the back of the bar to pour them both another.

“What is it?” she asked, letting a stream of whisky run into his glass.

“You looked as though you wanted to ask me something,” he said, and she hesitated.

“Yeah.”

“So go ahead.”

“You won’t get mad?”

“Oh, I can’t promise that,” he said, in a dry tone.  “But I’m feeling more melancholy than mad right now, so knock yourself out.”

“Okay.”

She poured her own measure of whisky, then turned her back and used the palms of her hands to boost herself up onto the bar before spinning around to face him, letting her legs dangle over the edge next to him.  She caught Gold having a sneaky look, but she wasn’t about to begrudge him that considering she’d spent the afternoon trying to flash him.

“You said you didn’t celebrate Christmas,” she said.  “How come?”

He sighed, tapping his fingers against his glass as he stared into his drink.

“Not much to celebrate when you’re alone,” he said.

“I’m alone,” she said.  “Still decking the damn halls and being as jolly as I can.”

“Yes, but you have people around that love you,” he said, and bit his lip, looking awkward.  “I - I lost the only person I loved.  My son, Neal.”

“Oh.”  Lacey wriggled a little on the bar.  “I’m - I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, he’s not dead,” he added, which made her feel a little better.  “Just - well, maybe I’m dead to him, I suppose.  He doesn’t speak to me anymore.  Hasn’t in years.  His mother saw to that.”

Lacey wrinkled her nose.

“Man, family break-ups always suck,” she said, with feeling.  “Your ex got custody, I guess?”

“Not entirely,” he said.  “We split up when Neal was four.  I would have taken him, but Milah - my ex - insisted on me seeing him only every other weekend.  I’m almost certain she only did it because she knew it would hurt me. I wanted to push for more, but - well, in those days I didn’t have the resources I have now.  Or the ruthless streak.”

“Still,” said Lacey.  “You did what most fathers do when there’s a break-up, right?  I mean, it takes two people to make a separation work for the kid.  It’s not just on you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not how Neal felt,” he said.  “And honestly, it’s not how I felt.  I should have done more, fought harder.  I should have done whatever it took to see more of him.  I’ve no idea how she treated him, but he grew colder and colder and in the end, he said he didn’t want to see me again.” 

“Ouch,” said Lacey, with a wince, and Gold shrugged.

“Oh, I daresay he has his reasons,” he said.  “I just don’t know what they were, and he wouldn’t let me ask.  It’s been almost ten years now.  I write, send cards and things, but he never answers.”

“Sorry,” said Lacey.  “Ever thought about reaching out in person?  Maybe now he’s older…”

Gold shook his head.

“I don’t want to push it,” he said.  “He knows where I am.  I’m hoping he’ll come around.”

“Let’s hope so.”  She took a drink, swinging her legs.  “You know, I don’t talk to my dad either.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah.”  She put down her glass, glowering.  “He was an abusive bastard.  My mother refused to leave him, and when she died he kind of took it out on me.  Couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“Oh.”  His mouth flattened.  “I’m sorry, that’s terrible.  Does he live around here?”

“Down in Boston, last I heard,” she said gloomily.  “Assuming he hasn’t already drunk himself into an early grave.  He’s not exactly on my Christmas card list.”

“Ah.”  He nodded slowly, and took another drink.  “You know, I could always send Mr Dove down there.  He’s very effective.”

Lacey giggled.

“Are you asking me if I want to take out a hit on my dad?”

“Of course not,” he said blandly.  “That would be illegal and wrong.  And I absolutely wouldn’t offer you a discount.”

She laughed harder.

“Oh, trust me, I’m tempted,” she said.  “But he’s not worth it.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Lacey grinned, and took another slurp of whisky, coughing as it burned her throat.  Gold was watching her, dark eyes calculating, and she waited for him to say whatever was on his mind.  He was very attractive with his collar open and his hair a little mussed, and she couldn’t help thinking that he would look like that in the morning after a wild night of passion.  Coloured lights flashed in the windows, casting an almost eerie light on his skin and making the shadows of his eyes and cheeks deeper and darker, the line of his nose a little stronger.  He licked his lips, one flick of his pink tongue, and she felt a low pull of desire deep within her.  It was a pleasant sensation, and one she didn’t mind indulging in the privacy of her own mind.  Even if he wasn’t remotely interested in her that way.  Too bad, really.

“Can I ask you something?” he said then, and she shrugged.

“Fire away.”

“The other night when you first came to the shop,” he said.  “You seemed to think I was offering to pay you money to sleep with me.  Did you really think I’d do that?”

Lacey winced.

“Hey look, sorry,” she said guiltily.  “I realise it wasn’t one of my finest moments, okay?  I don’t really think you’re a creep, it’s just - well, it’s just that I was desperate, and I thought it’d be easy money.”

Gold almost choked on his whisky, staring at her.

“So - so you’d have done it?” he said disbelievingly.

“Well - yeah,” she said bluntly.  “Why not?  You’re a good-looking guy, and kind of interesting when you’re not being an arsehole, and I watch how careful you are with everything you handle.  I figured you’re probably good in bed.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Thank goodness I’m a slightly better man than you took me for,” he remarked.  “I’d hate to be the cause of disappointment.”

“See, now you’re just trying to make me curious again.”

Gold laughed harder, his eyes twinkling, and she grinned at him.  The smile fell from his face as their eyes met, and Lacey felt her heart thump in her throat, that low-down tug making her squeeze her thighs together.  He licked his lips again.

“Well,” he said.  “Good thing you no longer owe me any money.”

“A very good thing,” she agreed, and he nodded, turning back to his whisky.

“Now I can ask you without it being weird,” she added, and he looked up with a start.

“What?”

Lacey sighed.

“Like you said,” she explained.  “Now I don’t owe you anything.  So if I ask you to kiss me, it’s not because of some ulterior motive, right?”

Gold was silent for a moment.  He swallowed hard.

“Are - are you gonna ask me?”

“Maybe.”  She put down her glass, shifting across the bar a little until she was in front of him, knees pressed together and feet either side of his legs.  “Do you want to kiss me, Gold?”

He let his eyes travel up her legs, sweeping back and forth as they reached her body until they met her own.  The tip of his tongue darted out again, moistening the soft swell of his lower lip.  He looked nervous, and it was almost adorable.  She smiled.

“Do you want to kiss me?” she repeated, her voice a low purr, and he nodded.

“Yes,” he whispered.

She shifted forward a little, bending her head until their noses touched, her breath quickening as she caught the scent of his cologne.  One hand lifted, his fingertips running over her cheek, and she could feel his cool breath on her lips as she tilted her head to kiss him.  His mouth was soft and warm against hers, his lips yielding to the pressure, and she let out a tiny moan as his tongue slipped into her mouth, the heat of whisky on it.  His fingers pushed into her hair, sending shivers through her, and she shifted closer, sliding forward on the bar, her legs either side of him.

He let his hands drop to her knees, thumbs slipping between them and pushing them apart as his palms slid up her thighs, and Lacey gasped into his mouth, her hands sinking into the softness of his hair.  He let out a low groan that went straight to her groin, and she slipped from the bar onto his lap, straddling him as the kiss grew messy and frantic.  Gold was breathing heavily through his nose, his hands sliding around her back and tugging her close against him, and Lacey moaned as she felt the hard length of him through his pants, rubbing against her core.  She pulled her mouth from his, lips brushing over wet skin as she tried to catch her breath, and her eyes flicked upwards.

“Is that a candy cane in your pocket?” she whispered, and he grinned wickedly.

“Certainly not.”

“Good.”  She let the tip of her tongue trace the inner walls of his lips before nudging his nose with hers.  “Doesn’t mean I won’t be sucking on it later.”

“Fuck, Lacey!” he growled, and kissed her again, harder, more desperate.

She managed to get his jacket open, sliding her hands inside over his chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin silk and the buds of his nipples.  Rubbing her thumbs over them made him growl, and so she pulled her lips from his, kissing along his jaw and down his throat to where his shirt gaped open.  Gold let his head roll back with a gasp, hands clenching in her hair as her tongue swept over his skin.  He smelt good, of woody, spicy cologne and musk, and she wanted to kiss on down, to trail her mouth over his chest and belly and explore the rest of him.  To take his cock in her mouth and suck until he lost his mind.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him, knowing it was exciting him as much as her, and kissed up the other side of his neck, biting down a little and pulling a low rumble of pleasure from him.  Her mouth found his ear, and she flicked at it with her tongue, feeling him shiver at the feel of her breath.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

Gold put his hands on her waist, pushing her back from him a little, and she held onto his shoulders as his hands slid between them, up beneath the hem of her sweater dress.  He pushed it up, over her breasts, thumbs tugging down the cups so that they spilled out, and bent his head, his hands gripping her rear and tugging her closer so that his mouth could fasten on a nipple.  Lacey moaned, pushing into him, his lips and tongue sending sensations coursing through her body.  He kissed across to the other breast, lips sucking, tongue swirling, and his hands dipped between her legs again, grasping the tights she wore.  There was a sound of tearing fabric, and Lacey moaned as he rent a hole in them, a hole big enough for his hand to reach inside, fingers pushing beneath the edge of her panties.

Fingers flickered, sliding through her folds and releasing a rush of slippery fluid, and Gold let out a groan of pleasure, stroking her.  Lacey let out a cry, clutching at his shoulders as she lifted herself a little to let his finger enter her.  Gold kissed up her neck, sucking on her flesh, biting gently as he pushed deep.

“God, you feel incredible!” he breathed.  “I want to get inside you, Lacey!”

She moaned as his thumb brushed her clit, tilting her hips to push against his hand, and he stroked her, his finger sliding in and out of her.

“You wanna get out of here?” she asked breathlessly.

“Not yet,” he whispered.  “First I need you to come.”

His thumb swirled over her clit again, and she let her head roll back as the sensations washed over her.  It felt incredible, and she squeezed her thighs around his, lifting a little to push against his hand, fingers stroking through his hair.  Her breath was coming hard in her chest, and she rocked back and forth as he kept up his rhythm, stroking and thrusting and rubbing.  She was close, her breath quickening, cheeks flushing with pleasure as his thumb slipped through wet flesh, and she came with a cry, fingers twisting in his hair.

Gold let out a growl at the feel of her, his fingers still pushing inside her, and Lacey tried to catch her breath, panting a little as she licked sweat from her upper lip.  She kissed him hard, her tongue stabbing into his mouth as his stubble scraped her chin, and he slowly drew out his fingers as she settled back on his lap.  Lacey watched, locking eyes with him as he slipped them one by one into his mouth, a low, rumbling groan coming from him at the taste of her.

“That was pretty incredible,” she said, her voice unsteady, and he sent her a dark smile, his eyes glinting.

“Indeed.”

The bliss was fading, but her arousal had only increased with his touch, and she tugged at his belt buckle, getting it open and unfastening his pants.  She wanted more.  She wanted to feel him inside her.  Gold’s breathing hardened as she reached inside his pants, her fingers stroking against silk, trailing along the hard shaft of his cock and making him gasp.  Lacey bent to kiss his neck, and he let his head roll back, exposing the length of his throat for her lips and tongue.  She licked at him, tongue sweeping over salty skin and feeling the rough rasp of his stubble, and her fingers worked their way inside his underwear, wrapping around hard, hot flesh and squeezing.  Her lips brushed his ear.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, and he chuckled hoarsely.

“Condom?”

“Oh - right.”

She reached to the side, one hand scrabbling for her bag, and tugged it towards her so that she could retrieve one of the condoms she always kept there.  Lacey tore it open with her teeth, fumbling a little as she rolled it on, and shifted forwards, lifting herself up off his lap and guiding him inside her.  She sank down onto him with a gasp, and Gold let out a long groan of pleasure as he filled her.

“God, that feels good!”

Lacey pressed her brow to his and sat quietly for a moment, getting used to the feel of him inside her and listening to the ragged sound of his breathing.  She clenched her muscles, squeezing hard to feel the girth of him, making him hiss an expletive through his teeth.  Her hands were in his hair, soft strands slipping through her fingers, and she met his eyes, kissing him gently as she began to rock slowly back and forth, feeling him slide in and out of her.  There was friction from his clothing rubbing against her, and from his hair and her fluids, and she closed her eyes, letting the sensations build, concentrating on the hardness of him and his hands on her body and the feel of his lips at her throat.

One arm had gone around her waist, pulling her tight against him, and she moaned as the friction increased, her pace quickening, her hips bucking as she worked.  Her belly was aching with the strain of it, with fucking him hard and fast, and she could hear her breath coming in pants and the low, rhythmic groans from deep within him.

“Lacey, please!”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze, seeing the desperation in it, and she clamped down, squeezing his cock with her body, tugging at it.  His eyes rolled back in his head as he let out a low cry, and she felt him pulse inside her as he came hard.  The sensation made her see stars, and she cried out as she followed him, pumping her hips, pushing up against him as he bit down into her neck.

Bliss seemed to pour over her body, making her skin tingle and her heart thump hard, and she slowed her pace, trying to catch her breath, fingers dropping to his shoulders to clutch at him and keep her balance.  Gold’s breathing was hard and ragged, his head drooping a little, and she put a finger under his chin and lifted his head to meet his eyes.

“There,” she murmured.  “I said you’d be good in bed.”

He sent her a sleepy-eyed grin.

“We’re not in bed.”

“Oh good,” she said.  “That means you still have something to prove.”

Gold chuckled at that, looking deeply amused, and reached up to stroke her hair back from her face, a tenderness in his eyes that she had never seen before.  He kissed her gently: lips, nose and forehead, and settled back on the stool, his other arm still around her waist.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You’re asking me to stay the night?”

“If you want.”

Lacey smiled.

“Yeah,” she said.  “I want.”

x

Christmas Day dawned bright and cold, sunlight sparkling off the fresh fall of snow, and Lacey shivered a little as she looked out of the window, nursing a cup of coffee between cupped hands.  She was wearing one of Gold’s sweaters, rolled up at the sleeves and just covering her butt, and she gazed out of the bay window of his bedroom, enjoying the view of the snow-covered garden that stretched all the way to the woods.

“Come back to bed,” he said, from behind her.

She turned to see him sprawled on the bed in his silk robe, coffee in one hand and his hair awry.  He had a sleepy look in his dark eyes and a lopsided, somewhat dirty grin on his face.  As well he might, given the night they had had.  Lacey returned the grin, walking back to the bed with a sway in her step that made her hips swing and his eyes follow them.

“Well,” she said, setting down her cup.  “It looks like we’re snowed in.  Guess we’ll have to stay in bed.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” he growled, reaching for her, and Lacey squealed as he pulled her back under the blankets.

[shepgeek]

Film Review of 2016

Disappointments

Since everyone seems so keen to dispatch 2016 asap, let’s start on the downers!

2016 has definitely had its occasional moments but we seem to be fast converging on a generic blockbuster soup. The year was littered with blockbusters which had both impressive visuals and charismatic performances but also had nothing new to say, beyond sticking a franchise marker in the ground (Doctor Strange, Fantastic Beasts, Ghostbusters, Kung Fu Panda 3, Warcraft, Jason Bourne, The Magnificent Seven & even the largely over-praised Civil War). Whilst all of these films passed the time well & were basically enjoyable, there is the ever-increasing whiff of missed opportunity around the primary Hollywood fare. Less successful were Independence Day: Resurgence (distracting but pointless) and X-Men Apocalypse - an uneven, florid and unexpected misfire, although nowhere near as far behind Civil War as was generally made out.

Meanwhile, over in the DC Universe, Warner Brothers kept fumbling what should be their easiest win. From a low start, Batman vs Superman fades badly on repeat viewings (even the ballyhooed Special edition). There are definitely no problems in their casting department and I remain a fan of Cavill; his mournful look in the courtroom is played magnificently. Ben Affleck’s Batman was expertly portrayed but bore almost no resemblance to the essence of the character that I for one love, delivering in his place a psychopathic fascistic jackass who was a far cry from the world’s greatest detective. How we’re supposed to root for him then or in the future is a mystery - I would honestly take Clooney’s portrayal over this. Poor Affleck - he delivers what he is given magnificently; blame the architects and not the builder. Gal Godot’s cameo keeps me hopeful that Patty Jenkins may just save the whole damned thing with Wonder Woman next year, but Warners are certainly running out of strikes. The idiotic shambles of Suicide Squad was only barely saved from one-star dreck by the huge charisma of Will Smith & Margot Robbie, and whatever spark the concept started with seemed produced and edited into manufactured oblivion. To make it worse, DC’s TV shows remain such charming and silly fun: I wonder how much appetite standard audiences still have for the upcoming JLA films.

Arrival came trumpeted with massive critical heraldry but I was greatly disappointed.  I found it derivative (Torchwood: Children of Men with the pilot & finale of DS9) and, as with The Martian and Interstellar, flirted with scientific ideas (which film reviewers mistake for “intelligence”) only to discard them for woolly sentimentalism. Only Zemeckis’ Contact reigns supreme in this expanding genre of science storytelling and, even though the performances in Arrival were compelling, the film (albeit decent) left me greatly frustrated.

Another smash hit that I did not care for was the Secret Life of Pets, a tedious and rambling Toy Story knock-off (though my daughter loved it so what do I know?) but nothing compares to the real disappointment of the year- Swiss Army Man.  My take was this: a smug, cold, flimsy and empty experience, it became the first film I’ve walked out of.  Ever.  In fact I did so about 5 minutes before the end, since I knew exactly where it was going and was so disengaged that it was only going to annoy me. I should add that I do like very much that the film exists and I could imagine friends and reviewers whom I respect loving it (as many did) but it bounced off me completely and ultimately left me irritated and even a little angry.

  Moments

In the midst of an uninspiring year for cinema, there were still a few moments which blazed through the repetitive fug & reminded me how joyous cinematic storytelling can be. Spielberg’s BFG had many such notes, from the visual poetry of the Giant silently twirling through the shadows of London to the childish joy of the whizzpopping Queen. Other moments of delight included the moment of “Hang on - are they doing this? - oh Yes They Are!” when the Beastie Boys’ bassline kicks in during the final act of Star Trek Beyond and, whilst The Revenant may have been a tad indulgent, the bear attack had me yelling at the screen.  Any scene featuring Flash the Sloth in Zootropolis was laced with comedic genius whilst our arrival in the city, combining Shakira’s perfect pop with gorgeous animated depth and colour, was magical. Ryan Gosling’s masterclass of toilet gunplay clowning in The Nice Guys was only topped comedically by the rampant and prolonged genius of the game of “Would that it were so simple” tennis in Hail Caesar! But narrowly pipping that for my cinematic moment of the year though, was Lord Vader himself.

I feel conflicted over Rogue One as ultimately it is yet another film which exists because it can, not because it needed to. To note the lack of comment about the unsettling fake Peter Cushing (squarely in the uncanny valley) after the shrieking which greeted the prequel trilogy’s “Dodgy CGI!” headlines perpetuates the accepted myth that those films are disasters to discard  but I see little difference.  Rogue One is another three star entry to the saga; I’d put it on a level with Attack of the Clones in terms of quality, ahead of Phantom Menace. Disney have a whole Galaxy to explore but choose to sustain the increasingly weird trend of aping preceding classics with an echo instead of trying out a new voice. Quite what Joss Whedon made of the final act is anyone’s guess: “the feisty rebels fight their way past a space armada (losing comedy relief Alan Tudyk along the way) to climb a radio antenna so they can send out the message to topple the evil empire” rang a few bells with me anyway. Rogue One also felt choppily re-edited (what was with the psychic space octopus?) whilst the new characters didn’t really land at all.  Indeed directly after leaving the cinema I (and all of my party) struggled to name any of the characters (Erm…. Jinn, the moustache guy, the blind guy, his mate, the pilot, Forest Whitaker, the funny droid, the small thing that looked like a testicle…).  Despite this problematic emotional deficit we were treated to some glorious set pieces and nicely pitched beats, but when Darth Vader’s lightsaber illuminates his terrifying visage we are treated to a moment of cinema as resplendent in its awesomeness as it was shamelessly gratuitous.  After my considerable mithering about not being able to share Star Wars with my children last year it was almost a relief to see such a grim conclusion (No Way is it suitable for under 10s) but it makes me return to my wondering of who Disney are making these films for.  Episode VII is rumoured to be “darker” still; where is the cheerful space-fairy-tale where we all started?  Eventually they’ll stray too far from Lucas’ indelible first film (still the finest of the lot, for me) and step back cinematically but they run the risk of increasingly diluting the specialness of the whole thing. The fun “Star Wars Rebels” TV show fills a bit of this gap but even that has clouds of doom in the background (although seeing Chopper & The Ghost in Rogue 1 was a nice touch). Maybe after the sad loss of Carrie Fisher last week now isn’t the time to whinge about gloom in the Star Wars Universe, but I feel that my love for the franchise is certainly starting to be tested.

The year in numbers

Number of films seen: 93

Way down on other years- I blame box sets).

Number of ***** films released in 2016 : 0

This happened in 2011 too, but I’d normally expect at least 3.

Number of 2016 releases seen: 32

 About par for the course.

Number of cinema trips:29

Again about my average: I’ve been to the cinema 188 times in the past 6 years.

Number of new films seen:51

I’m improving here, which pleases me.

 Most anticipated for 2017

Baby Driver

Edgar Wright’s films are ace (except that one which I don’t mention since people shout at me).

 La La Land

This looks gorgeous and I thought Whiplash was sensational.

 Logan

I like everything about how this looks.

 A Monster Calls

Original storytelling! Yes!

 Paddington 2

Obvs.

 Star Wars Episode VIII

A New Hope?

 T2: Trainspotting

Hugely exciting- these film makers have only grown more talented in the past 20 years.

20 years.

Gods I’m old.

 Thor: Ragnarok

My favourite Marvel franchise goes comedy-space loopy. Has the potential to be my favourite of them all.

 Wonder Woman

I love this character and I want my daughter to as well. Get this right DC. Please.

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

 Missed during 2016 but would like to have seen:

Allied, the Big Short, Finding Dory, Midnight Special, Money Monster & Passengers. I also did not see either Room or Spotlight, because I was never in the mood for the grimness of either.  Look, I’m busy and I’ve turned 40. Can you tell?!

  Top 10 films of 2016

Bubbling Under: The charming and colourful Moana and also Kubo and the Two Strings were superior family fare whilst The Jungle Book was an immersive treat.

 10        The Revenant

Technically stupendous but also oddly emotionally detatched and often needlessly arty- truly great cinema puts storytelling before craft and allegory with the latter drawn from the former (if it can) and I felt that, despite the stupendous cinematography and artistry on display, that beauty was sacrificed for emotional or narrative strength- certainly for plausibility. I’ve had these issues with Iñárritu before, but there is no denying the fact that this remains a remarkable piece of cinema.

9          Deadpool

Actually a bit more sharp than I’d first realised and a clever piece of programming, but still not what it could be if it halved the budget and really cut loose.

#driveby

8          10 Cloverfield Lane

The main problem is the name (It has nothing to do with the 2008 film and I was always waiting for them to tie together), but the claustrophobia and paranoia are immersive, shocking and unpleasantly tense.

7          The Hateful 8

A trifle indulgent at times, but a terrific theatrical experience.

6          The BFG

Not as comedic as you’d think, with a pervasive melancholy vibe of loneliness, guilt and regret emitting from the screenplay, lead actor and the director. It takes a while to get going and doesn’t aim for huge emotional sweeps, but the patient craft of Spielberg is clear to see. The BFG is lovely filmmaking with a real gentleness at its core and it will only grow in reputation over time. Also features explosively farting Corgis.

5   ��      Star Trek Beyond

The best Blockbuster of the year I was surprised and delighted to see how much it grew on repeat viewings. This warm and witty love letter was assembled at huge pace but it made for a thrilling piece of cinematic escapism. A considerable improvement on its predecessor, the highlights were the pairings of the characters, especially Spock & McCoy. They did fudge the character of Kirk a little in order to both complement the story’s main theme & provide a suitable reflection in the villain and as a result Kirk is, paradoxically, the least convincing part of the piece but, after a terrific and assured finale and beautiful grace note for the 50thAnniversary, the films ends perfectly with the whole crew, as it should.

4          Hail Caesar!

Another film that gets better the more you think about it, Hail Caesar! loves movies almost as much as its protagonist and this feels like one of the Coens’ more personal films. Their goofy wit is littered throughout it and it nods to cinematic tradition constantly, including some wildly unnecessary set pieces which spectacular and as fun as there are knowingly indulgent.

3          The Nice Guys

Quintessential Shane Black it may be, but his voice is so distinct and entertaining that a film with this level of charisma is hard to take against, no matter how familiar the ingredients might be.

2          The Man who Knew Infinity

A truly delightful surprise, I was expected this to be a guilty pleasure (given my love of Maths and knowledge of the subject matter) but instead I was treated to a terrific piece of film making: quiet, earnest, substantial, well acted and gracefully told.  Seek it out! It may appear like a generic biopic but the subtle exploration of Ramaujan’s talent and his faith and the search for absolute truth in both Mathematics and Religion that connects him to Hardy (along with circumstance) is well rendered. It is certainly considerably superior to the Imitation Game.

1          Zootropolis

So Disney has eclipsed Pixar- that Lassiter dude certainly knows what he’s doing.

I’m pretty amazed to see this as my film of the year, as it is a kids’ film, a cartoon. And yet, when I look back on everything I’ve seen over the past 12 months, it is the one film which made me smile the most and it continues to grow on repeat viewings (which my children beg for).  It is kind of expected that incredible colour, imagination, design and wit are de rigueur in these films but not only does Zootropolis get all of these ingredients exactly right, it sneaks in small hints of profundity. After a year in which unsavoury debates have been poisoned by irrationality, this film, without every threatening to be preachy, gently illustrated to my children exactly the message I needed them to see. The core of the film concerns how we can get judged by what we are, not who we are or what we do and even both protagonists, who are wildly different, fall into this trap during the course of the story.  Judging a book by its cover is in our DNA but reflecting on how we process this instinct is something that struck a chord with me, long after my first viewing. Concepts of “Them and Us” are challenged directly but without ever lecturing or straying from the narrative or the wit.  The film is subtly layered both narratively (themes of exclusion and lack of purpose are examined through deft comedy) and visually (a quick rewatch of the final 10 minutes allowed me to spot nods to Speed and The Empire Strikes Back) and the music and humour are hugely pervasive.  It is no masterpiece but is certainly the film I needed in 2016.

This may be a cheesy way to finish the year but the lyrics to the (frighteningly) catchy main song from Zootropolis contains a message for Film Producers (despite being sung by an alarmingly sexy gazelle):

“I want to try everything, I want to try even though I could fail;  I’ll keep on making those new mistakes.”

I’ll take more Swiss Army Men every now and then if it leads to more Whiplashes.  Let’s hope to see cinema trying everything in 2017.

Happy New Year!