#I LOVE YOUR ENTHUSIASM and YES!! I WILL MOOT YOU!!!

[low-iq-wisdom-kid]

who is a better duo pokey and gumby or the blockheads

OUUU OKAY UMM so, personally I like the Blockheads better. Since they’re evil, I think that they have so much more freedom to do crazy stuff. But I guess when thinking about who is “good”, it would be Gumby and Pokey. Because they’re just trying to be active in the community and help people while the twins are….. starting another recession the likes of which have never been seen by the U. S.

[mchlgayser]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ft mason mount

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You and Mason spending the whole day at home, just the two - four of you.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff / ✮

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: none

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This turns out very short but I don't wanna leave you guys hanging, besides we already reached 470+! Thank you so much you guys, and please interact with me or just ask me to be moots, I don't bite 😭😭ANW I LOVE YOU ❣️!! MWAHHHH xx

The sun seeps into the room casting dimmed light around, you and your husband are still in bed, asleep but woken up once a bright, feathery captivating voice reached the spacious room creating faint echoes 'Mama! Wake up, it's Saturday!' Your six-year-old daughter, Maxie went to your side of the bed to pet your body whilst she said 'Wake up!' And then goes to Mason's for kisses on his face 'Daddy, wake up!' He groans, and eyes squinting to prevent the bright glare

'What is it, hun?' He asked, his body half sitting up with his one arm propping underneath him 'It's Saturday! You said we will go on a picnic!' Indeed, the previous, previous night Mason and you had promised your daughter that you two will bring her to a picnic because you two were finally out of your hectic month.

You got out of bed with caution, and one spread palm on your round, seven-month belly. Maxie held your other hand to help you get up as she smile 'Where are you going, ma?' You get your silk robe from the closet and wrap your body in it 'I bake vanilla cake last night, you wanna help me put the icing and fruits?' She claps her hand in enthusiasm 'Yes!' Mason smiles at her, and then got up to the bathroom 'I'm gonna go shower first, yeah?' You hums giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek and then leave the room with Maxie. You are indeed thankful for Mason because he moved the room to the first floor. Your main bedroom upstairs is temporarily unused for the time being and you two use the guest room instead so that it'll be easier for you to move around without using the stairs.

Maxie held your hand as she continue dragging you to the kitchen hall and to the island top 'You want me to bring out the cake?' You shake your head at her and told her to bring out the icing instead while you get to the oven and bring out the cake.

Maxie gets you the vanilla icing along with variants of types of fruits such as green grapes, strawberries, and blueberries. You slice the cake into three sections and put the first one, spread the icing and smothered strawberries around, green grapes follow on the second top of the cake, and blueberries on the last. Once you two are done, you put the cake back inside the fridge for cooling.

Mason went out of the bedroom, well-dressed in a white shirt and short-sleeved silk collar tee to match and a slack.

'You two finished?' You hum picking up your daughter from the stool and getting her back to her feet as you two strutted to your bedroom 'I'm gonna have a shower! Maxie, you should go too!' She nods, and skips upstairs to her room with Mason following behind 'Call me if you need anything,' You purse your lip with a nod and then went back inside to shower.

You three finished dressing up and were all prepared but an unexpected event occurred just after. The rain started to pit-patter against the patio window. Clouds gloomy and days darkening. Maxie looks over the both of you with a frowny lip 'It's raining, we cannot go to the park, anymore!' A sheet of moist splay on her cheeks, wetting it. You pout at her as you did try to crouch down but Mason insisted you to sit down on the couch and he'll do the talk.

'Hey, what if I took another day off next weekend and we'll go on a picnic just like we planned? What about that, little one?" Maxie stare at Mason with big doe eyes as she spoke 'What if it rains again?' Mason chuckle bringing her into a hug and caressing her small back 'Then, I'll take another day off and another day off until we made it!' Maxie beams at her father bringing him into another bone-crushing hug 'Yes, thank you, daddy!' He smiles into her hair, kissing the crown of her head.

'Now, let's go bring the cake you and mommy bake!' You watch as the two of the entered the kitchen hall and re-exited along with plates, forks and the cake. Mason even got a jug of soft drinks to match the vibe.

Maxie sit in between Mason's leg from the front side of the couch as she faced the coffee table whilst you sat beside him.

Mason pours the drinks and you cut the cake putting it on the plates and giving one to Maxie and one to Mason.

'Even though it's raining, it's still the best day ever!' Gleam your six-year-old daughter. 'Ouch' You exclaimed feeling a rapid kick on your belly 'He agreed with his older sister!' Said Mason followed by a series of laughter from you all despite the pain of the kick.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

here to advocate for the short kings!! i'm currently dating a guy who's 5'5 and has a 7 inch dick. i was honestly pretty surprised the first time we slept together cus he has small hands and feet. and yes i've measured it myself lol we were joking around one evening about it being surprisingly big so i busted out the measuring tape since i was curious and he said he didn't care :'))

and he knows how to use it too, better than the tall dudes i've had. he's an aries btw ;)) anyway just here to say our short king christopher might hide something big in his pants despite his short statue.. i know it's possible

This is the perfect ask to respond too as I talk to my moots about how 'tall' and 'big' doesn't always necessarily mean skilled.

Are you taller than him or are you both the same height? And yes, great confirmation that hands and feet aren't always accurate in measuring a guy's dick haha.

I was talking with @anyamaris and she mentioned how short kings will deliberately compensate for their height and lack of length by being service-oriented and pleasure-oriented in the bedroom.

And enthusiasm i think is a big factor like you just know chris would be enthusiastic in the bedroom which heightens the tension and pleasure.

Because I'm open about being a virgin on here because I've had ppl enter my ask box and be like 'you must have a lot of experience because your smut is hot and accurate'

And I love that comment, I rlly do but I just need to reiterate that I rlly have no idea what the hell I'm talking about, I just know so much because of self-exploration and years of research.

Okay but can enthusiasm be a game-changer in the bedroom? Right because I've always believed that yes, I may be a virgin and inexperienced BUT

I think I can still give the guy a great and pleasurable experience just by being enthusiastic and 'excited???' in the moment.

You know like I would harness all my smut knowledge and use it to do the best I can with what I have and know.

Right?? Does that work in my favour?? I don't want to be a shit lay omg.

[acacia-may]

Can I ask what are your favourite Black Clover OC x CC ships from your mutuals? Ignore this ask if it's too much romance for you 😅

Hi there, Anon-friend! Thank you for the ask! There are a lot of really nice and well thought out OC x CC pairings in the Black Clover fandom, and I certainly have a lot of respect for everyone who takes the time, passion, and inspiration to make these OCs and their ships. Even though I'm not usually that into shipping (despite what the past few days of ship specific content on this blog might seem to imply), I have definitely enjoyed many Black Clover OC x CC pairings in the fandom, but from my Tumblr mutuals specifically, I think I've actually talked about most of my favorites as part of this ask game already. 😊

The only one of my all-time favorites that come to mind that's missing is @delicious-donna/@delirious-donna's Alina x Magna from Chasing the Sparks (AO3 Link) which is another that's probably just permanently part of my personal canon now. I personally find it very compelling because I think they're very well suited for each other. Alina is kind of this gentle and steady constant in the chaos of Magna’s life and Magna’s enthusiasm and loyalty really encourages her to build confidence and believe in herself and her abilities. They really bring out the best in each other, and it's very, very sweet. I also just adore Alina as a character (and not just because she's Finral and Langris's cousin though that is just a major bonus and I loved getting to write about their platonic cousin relationship in the story Donna requested, "Melting Snowman," and in a really fun collaboration project that unfortunately never got finished). But yes, they are wonderful and definitely an all-time favorite of mine. 💖

In terms of my other personal favorites from my Tumblr moots that I've already talked about, I'll just list them and link to the posts where I rambled about them already:

@loosesodamarble's Nacht x Josele (discussed here)

@lyranova's William x Zera (discussed here)

@thoughtfullyrainynightmare's Fuegoleon x Solara (discussed here)

@kalolasfantasyworld's Nozel x Helena (and I also really enjoy Gabriel x Vanessa, both of which are discussed in this post)

And a shout out to a new (and unexpected) favorite, @vilandel's Solid x Rosette which I just discovered during this ask game but definitely really enjoyed and rambled about here.

All of that said, shipping is very subjective and really based on very personal feelings, opinions, and preferences, as well as headcanons and perceptions of the characters. These are just the pairings that are my cup of tea and personally really compelling to me. I also only included pairings from my Tumblr moots. There are ships from friends from other places and a few from some relative strangers that I've seen floating around that I enjoy, but these are definitely my favorites from my Tumblr friends and pairings that I really think of as part of my personal canon for Black Clover and the characters' futures. Thanks for asking! 💕

[pinkwinesupernovas]

(this is a lot of yapping sorry in advance babe)

dear zel,

i miss you rn so i'm writing this for you in english class and probably the class afterwards knowing me, (edit in printmaking period two, yes i am still writing this hehe)

i'm gonna be totally honest i'm literally writing my english assesment about you bc i was lost for inspiration and the promt fit soooo it's about our freindship hehe ily. i'm not totally sure if i'll submit this one for the final thing but writing about you makes me happy which is sappy as hell but i don't feel embarassed abt it bc you make me feel very safe to be embarrassingly sappy with you <3 i will send you the thing eventually even if i don't hand it in for marking but i don't think i'm allowed to post it cause it's school related so i'll send it on discord when i finish the first draft hehe <3 (i wrote 600 words about you in one hour that is lowkey scary)

also i'm going to yap about you nowww because i love youuuu mwah <3

i'm literally so glad we're friends, i'm not sure what our first interaction was but i think it was for your event?? and i am forever grateful for it i'm so glad we're friends you're literally one of my fav people i've met on this app i love you with my whole heartttt

one thing i loveee abt you is that i don't feel scared to spam your asks or tag you in one million things, idek what it is but you make me feel very safe to be sappy and clingy and i love that bc with most people i overthink whether i should send them things but with you i don't even hesitate bc ik you'll respond well and i love thatttt <3 you also match my enthusiasm and send lots of asks back and i love that sm <3

i literally adore talking to you bc you're such a sweet and kind person i'm lowkey in awe of it like how is one person so lovely you just light up the world ugh i love you sm, you're so fun to talk to and i just love you smmm (i hate timezones but six hours will not seperate us i love yapping with you too much)

alsooo just so you know, in my mind we're in a field of flowers together picking flowers and yapping while we eat pastries from a cute little bakery and drink like iced matcha or something that's my dream <333 i wish we could live closer bc i just know i'd love baking with you and stargazing and just dong cute little things whenever we wanted, just know that whenever i like your posts thats actually me mentally giving you a flower or two bc ily <3

also what i feel for you can be kind of wrapped up with a few songs so here: birds of a feather by billie, glue song by bea and clairo, the last one by maisie, feels like by gracie, and lots more but those are the songs that i can't listen to without thinking of you <3

ahhhhhh i'm still at school and stupid school wifi blocks tumblr AND discord (i've tried literally EVERY vpn i can it's so annoying ughhh) so i'll have to send this when i get home but just know i was thinking of you allllllll day at school and i miss you and i love you sm <3

okayyy this is written proof that i'm literally a proffessional yapper i've been adding to this on my notesapp throughout the day so i'm going to shut up now byeee i love you i'll send this when i get homeee <3

don't apologize oml

ALSO ARE YOU KIDDING ME IM GOING TO CRY LUCY THIS ACTUALLY MEANS SO MUCH TO ME you're not real

omg you wrote about us??? i would love love love to read it 🥹

you're right our first interaction literally was for my event which im so grateful for omg!!! cause we'd been moots for a while but i was very scared to interact w you but you engaged w my event and it made soooo happy

you're adorable and this right here made my whole day, i was feeling very sick in the morning and throughout the afternoon which HAS NOW DISAPPEARED SEEING ALL YOUR NOTIFS literally beaming w happiness rn

i love you so much, wayyy more than how much words can convey <333

[seiwas]

I'M A LITTLE LATE BUT!!! SELLL WAHHH HAPPY ONE YEAR 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm a broken record at this point but I'll say it again!!! I'm so so grateful that we're moots :(( <3 i don't know exactly when we became moots but I know that I don't regret any second of it. You bring such a warm energy to my dash like when ever I log on after a bad or long day and I see your post I think "what's sel been up to these days" and then I go to your page to catch up and re read your fics :"D thank you for indulging me and my silly little doodles and for being so so sweet and kind when I dash into your inbox, telling you about the random shit that happened to me, like a cat bringing you a leaf while it slow blinks and chirps

I have a smal simple idea for a colab if you're up for that 🧎‍♀️ I'm not too sure about the title just yet but I plan to make either one or two little doodles :>

My first idea is a gojo x gn!reader, just a doodle of cat gojo and bunny reader cuddling/sleeping

The other idea is a selfship of me and nanami dhjffh 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ very fluffy and soft

But yes I might do both but I will do the gojo one for sure >:]c

Happy one year once again sel!! ily and I hope you're having a great day/week ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

midi hello!! 🥺 not late all omg 🥺 thank you so much 🥺

i am so grateful that we're friends!! it's been such a joy sharing your infectious energy and enthusiasm for everything 🥺 and i love hearing all about your lil life updates too 🥺 you are so cute still re-reading my fics omg 😭 you are the purest soul midi!! always so supportive and funny 🥺 i appreciate you so much!! thank you for always sharing your thoughts with me!! i treasure our friendship loads 🥺

and your ideas for the art submissions for collab are already so 🥺🥺🥺 i can't wait for them!! thank you for joining 🥺 adding them to the masterlist rn 🥺

i hope you're having a great week 🥺 hugging you real tight rn!!

check out my one year anniversary collab event here! open to anyone who wants to join 🥺

[stitch1830]

I think that you shouldn't feel the pressure to ship whatever your moots ship just to fit in or maintain your friendship with them. It's really nice to have moots as your friends, but I don't think anyone deserves the pressure to ship whatever their moot ships because in the end, it's your blog, your aus, your headcanons. I've had spasms where I'm suddenly optimistic, ready to ship my moot's ships, and then I'm not, so I'm trying to convince myself that I'm me and I can ship whatever I want

Hi Anon, thank you for the ask, and I agree!

I will say it is wonderful when you do have common ships with your mutuals. It's like a spark of commonality, and typically it blossoms from there where you can find other common interests, or they show you new fandoms. I have quite a few mutuals where where we talk about our other interests now, and it all started because we started chatting about our favorite ships!

But yes, with everything, we grow, develop, and our interests change. Forcing ourselves to like things that we don't care for anymore isn't fun like it once was, and I would like to think that your mutuals would be okay with that! I don't necessarily have the same enthusiasm as I once did for some ships, but that doesn't mean my friendship with my moots has to go away. I personally am perfectly happy to engage with others about ships that I once adored and still like, but don't necessarily love or obsess over anymore. For example, I got into the ATLA fandom because of Tokka, and while they're not my OTP and I don't think about them 24/7, I'm happy to talk about them whenever! :)

At the end of the day, though, you're right. We all have our own individual blog for a reason. We get to pick and choose what we share, what we talk about, and how we interact with mutuals and followers. And that's so nice we get to make our own experience and share what we like as opposed to sharing what will make us likeable (you can do that as well if you want, share what makes you happy!)

I feel you when it comes to having bursts of excitement for your moot's ships and then not, I definitely experience that myself. But like you said, you can ship whatever you want, when you want. Your mutuals will hopefully understand!

And when it comes to mutuals sharing things that you don't particularly care for anymore, I'm of the mindset of just scrolling past it haha! No harm and no foul in that. :)

I know it's been a hot minute since you sent this ask, Anon, but I do hope all is well and that you are creating an experience that you enjoy for yourself! For me, I try to maintain a mindset of making my Tumblr experience a happy one, so as long as I like sharing things on my dash, that's what I look forward to. If I don't like what I'm sharing, perhaps it's time I look elsewhere, but we'll cross that bridge once we get there :D

Thank you again for the ask, Anon, and I hope you have a great day!

[himitsu-luna]

HI! Your blog is one of my favorite blogs on here and You are so adorable and lovely..I’m just wondering,, who do you ship ur moots with and Why? 💕🥰

Hii!! Ohh thank you so much anon! You are lovely!! ❤️

So, let's see (I'll consider my moots in this account and in my main account @thechoppersan )

@urirealvibekiller - Jaehyun(nct)/ Chaeyoung (Twice)

Oh well, I ship my sistah with Jaehyun and Chaeyoung, ofc!! I can't separate Jaehyun and her. I already imagined their entire life together! He would like her so much (who doesn't?)! They would have such a fun and light relationship, but deep and serious at the same time, with a never ending charm to it, you know. And Chaeyoung and sistah! The mutual admiration and respect would be everything!!

@rr0zu - Taeyong (nct) / Irene (Red Velvet)

This angel here, omg, I like her with Jaehyun, but I love her with Taeyong hoho They are such angels,inside and outside, it would be so adorable! They would have a sincere and deep bond, beautiful beautiful! Besides that, Taeyong is so trustworthy, so she would be in good hands. And I agree with sistah faye, Sam would be amazing with Irene. I see them treating each other as the most important thing in the world!

@sarahbkwl - Ten(nct) / Seulgi (Red Velvet)

Ahh cutie Sarah will always be shipped with Ten. That would be perfect! I see them in all that gallery confession scene Ten described omg and he would love her looks and personality, waa. And Seulgi, it would be so cute!! They are both so sweet, and Seulgi had this artistic side Sarah would like. You know the amount of cuteness they would hold??

@lovemyhyunjinnie - Hendery (nct)/ Ryunjin (Itzy)

I don't even need to say this, but I won't get tired of shipping her with Hendery. Yes! Hendery would feel like the most loved man in the world! And they would have so much fun together! And Ryunjin and her! I know Ryunjin is her bias, but I can't deny they would be a great pair! Two kind, trustworthy and genuine people! Always there to help you and talk to you.

@wonderl6nd - Seonghwa (Ateez)/ Siyeon (Dreamcatcher)

Omg, you know how much I ship her with Seonghwa? They are both sweethearts, and they have such delicate vibes! I do think they would get along really well, and they would have a really caring relationship Waaa. And Siyeon and her would be everything too! I really think Siyeon would treasure this girl so much!!!

@funkycloudplop - Han (Stray Kids) / Moonbyul (Mamamoo)

My neighbor! I actually feel like shipping her with Han now. She is so fun, passionate, smart and has this positive and nice vibes! They would be so cute and amazing together! And Moonbyul, they would be such a cool couple! They would have lots of fun together!

@kaepopsicle - Haechan (nct)/ Nayeon (Twice)

Ohohoho this sunshine, I have to ship her with Haechan! Because they are Sunflowers omg! It would be such a playful relationship, but Haechan would take everything so seriously too! (But I ship her with Johnny too, because I like the view hoho). And Nayeon and her, omg. Visuals. And I think Nayeon would love her personality!

@mairah-shaikh - Yuta (nct)/ Hwasa (Mamamoo)

Ahh I ship her with Yuta and Hwasa, ohh yees, what a ship! I think she is a strong, intuitive, honest person, and she has this powerful presence and deep personality. At the same time, she is kind and really friendly, and has a good heart. I think Yuta and Hwasa would be attracted to all these traits, really!

@kpopsnowball - Mark (Nct)/ Joy (Red Velvet)

She seems to be a really sweet, kind, open and friendly person, really!! So I want to ship her with Mark. I imagine them as a kind and giggling couple, really adorable! And Joy would like her friendly personality so much! I love it!

@ex0tic-vgh - Chanyeol (Exo) / Chaeyoung (Twice)

I've just became her moots and I already love her! I want to ship her with Chanyeol, because she give me strong but sweet and funny vibes too! I think Chanyeol would like her. And Chaeyoung, because they both are artistic and they have such a powerful presence! It would be great to see them together

@joonzreina - Namjoon (BTS) / Hwasa (Mamamoo)

She is so nice! I really like her! She is so beautiful and sweet, and her enthusiasm is contagious. She knows what she wants! I ship her with Namjoon, no doubt!! Namjoon would be in love, I'm sure! And Hwasa, they would be so nice together! I feel a relationship full of companionship!

I have more moots, but I still don't know them that well T-T I hope in the future I can tag them too!

That's it!! Hope everyone likes it! 💗

[kimjoongs-main]

to spread positivity, could you tag some of your friends and write some nice words about them 🥺

ahh this is so cute

@cinanamon - i’ve known steph for a while and i absolutely adore her! not only is she a very talented writer, but she’s also super sweet too. her entire vibe and aesthetic is so nice and i love exchanging ideas with her because she responds back with the same exact enthusiasm. she’s really easy going and every interaction i have with her is nothing short of pleasant 💖💖

@woonggis - i’ve known bri for a while too, and she’s an absolute delight. her sense of humor is immaculate and her moodboards *chefs kiss* she’s so chill too like?? i find it easy to get along with her. plus she’ll occasionally spam my inbox and serenade me with disney songs which is quite literally the best thing ever #bribestgirl 😚💕

@peachjaem00 - bruh before lou and i became moots, i’d always see her in my notifs and i’d be like “idk you but whoever you are i like you” and when we started talking she’s been nothing but supportive of my content and just me being me in general LOL

@lilyunhowrites - ahh anna my love 🥺 she’s quite possible the cutest human being i’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to. when she found me on my ateez blog and sent me a bunch of asks i was already so charmed by her. SHE’S SO CUTE FIGHT ME ON THIS 💞💗💓 i’m so glad that we met and became fast friends bc i always look forward to interacting with her everyday

@oh-my-vocal-unit - liz makes me so soft :( she always tries her best to have a conversation with everyone and i love scrolling thru my dash and seeing her asks pop up everywhere ☺️ her good morning/good night posts are always such a delight to see and she honestly deserves only the good things in life

@seongghwaa - ah yes, my fellow seonghwa simp 😌 vivi never ever fails to put a smile on my face. i’ve only known her for a few days but when i talk to her it feels like months? her wholesome subscriptions in my inbox are my favorite part of the day and i get so happy when i see them. she always goes out of her way to spread love and positivity and tbh everyone needs vivi in their life 💖

@legendnct - BES ❤️ kinikilig ako dahil sayo hehe ☺️☺️ hannah is such a talented writer like if you haven’t read her fics then you are truly missing out just saying, she’s also my twinnie bc we’re both filo and nursing majors LOL (we’re struggling but it’s ok bc we’re struggling tgt) and she’s so so so sweet :( hannah deserves the world period

@toffee-hwa - ana my fellow aTINY (haha get it hahahahah) ana is suuuch a darling and every time i interact with her i always melt into a puddle bc she makes me 💞💓i love how easily she gets along with everyone, her personality is truly unmatched and i will fight anyone for her

[backtothestart02]

Return to Paradise - 2/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: The chapters will be much longer after this one. I hope you enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 2 -

Barry stood, watching Iris and Nora say goodbye to everyone else at STAR Labs, and tried his very best not to look depressed. Whenever Iris and Nora turned his way, he put on a brilliant smile. And truthfully, it would be fun getting to go on a vacation with Nora when they’d never had one together. He just wished it wasn’t right now.

He was all for embracing being a father to his adult daughter – though it was still a little weird, he couldn’t lie – but his need to have Iris all to himself was stronger than it had ever been, especiall after existing in a reality where she thought he looked like Oliver. And now every time they shared even the purest, fully-clothed moment, it would likely be interrupted by their very chatty, very present daughter, Nora West-Allen.

Somehow, he had to get his mind right. Iris had obviously accomplished it already, which was understandable since she hadn’t experienced a separate reality that she could remember.

“This was awfully nice of you to suggest,” Joe said, who also had no memory of the alternate reality and had come back to Central City with Cecile and Jenna for the Christmas holiday season.

“Actually, I suggested it!” Nora chirped, beaming proudly.

Joe looked over at her. “Oh, did you now?” He looked back at Barry, smiling. “How did that come up?”

“Oh, simple really.” Nora bounded over. “I went upstairs to wake up my parents, and –” She paused. “Well, they were already awake.”

Iris cleared her throat, stepping across the room before her dad could connect the dots.

“She heard Barry and I talking about a vacation before Christmas and –”

“Invited myself along!”

“I…see.” Joe looked back and forth between his daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter.

“We’ll be back in time for Christmas,” Barry said, squeezing Joe’s shoulder. “It’ll only be a week, maybe ten days.”

“Ten days,” Nora said, with stars in her eyes.

Barry swallowed hard and muttered under his breath, “Or maybe seven.”

Cisco, who was watching the entire scene unfold before him, suddenly picked up on the clues dropping like flies. Something was very wrong here.

“Hey, Barry?”

Barry looked over at him, relieved to briefly be out of the conversation involving the enthusiasm of a family vacation.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He gestured to the hall.

“What- Uh, sure, man.” He lowered his voice as he slipped past his girls, “’Scuse me.”

He followed Cisco into the hall until they couldn’t be heard and that’s when his best friend hit him with the mother of all questions.

“Why aren’t you excited about this vacation?”

“What?!” Barry squeaked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice still high-pitched. “I am. I totally am.” He willed his voice to lower. “I am.” But it lowered a lot, making him look awfully suspicious.

Cisco folded his arms.

“Spill, Bartholomew.”

Barry sighed.

“Okay, so there was this time change…”

Cisco hit him.

“It wasn’t my fault this time!”

“Whose fault was it then, Flash?”

“Shh!” He looked around worriedly.

“No one can hear us.” Cisco rolled his eyes. “But you, sir, have some explaining to do.”

Barry looked back at him and prepared to tell his tale.

“Okay, well, there’s a lot involved, and I’ll tell you all of it some other time, but there was a crossover and the bad guy was constantly changing realities to what he personally wanted.”

“Huh. Seems legit. Go on.”

“In the first reality I woke up to, only one thing had changed. I was Green Arrow and Oliver was the Flash.”

Cisco almost laughed at the ‘Green Arrow’ bit. Almost. But then he started to understand.

“Wait. Just you two had swapped? Not your wiv-”

Barry shook his head.

“Ah. So, you had to see Iris madly in love with Oliver thinking he was you.”

Barry glared.

“Just clarifying!”

“Yes,” Barry ground out.

“Did you ever get through to her? I mean, as Oliver?”

“Eventually, yeah.”

“What’d you say?” Cisco asked curiously.

“That she’s my lightning rod, obviously.”

Cisco’s lips twitched. “Works every time.”

There was a pause, then—

“Wait, if you had to see that, then I’m guessing your suggestion of a vacation was actually as a redo honeymoon and that Nora jumped to conclusions and invited herself, and she was so excited you didn’t know how to say no but now you’re stuck?”

Barry winced. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me? We can get Nora out of the picture. Surely she’d understand if you told her.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“She’s never had a vacation with her dad, Cisco.”

Cisco softened.

“If I take this away from her now… after we just had that breakthrough over Thanksgiving, I…”

“So, don’t take it away from her. Plan a family vacation over the summer. Cicada should be locked up by then, and you’ll probably have a few months before the next Big Bad comes around trying to kill you and everyone you love.” He patted his arm lovingly.

Barry snorted. “I wish I could say you were joking.”

“But I’m not. Go with God, my man.” He pushed him back towards the cortex. ���Oh, and out of curiosity, who else knows about this crossover that none of us remember?”

“Just Iris. Listen, I can’t just—”

“You can and you will. Go!”

They both entered the cortex again, just in time for an ecstatic Nora West-Allen to squeal and call her dad over for a family picture. Everyone else was smiling watching them, and even Iris warmed to seeing him again. Barry wondered if she was as prepared for this trip as he was.

“Come on, babe,” she called out to him, gesturing to their daughter. “Picture time!” She laughed a little.

Cisco suddenly understood.

“Have a fun family vacation, oh, dear friend of mine.” He clutched Barry’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

He squeezed his friend’s hand to near pain and then rejoined his family.

…

It took only seconds for Nora to start her interrogation once they’d gathered their luggage together at the loft.

“So, where are we going?” she asked, swinging one leg over her knee as she sat on top of the only half-filled suitcase meant for her.

“Bali,” Iris said, or started to. “It’s where we had-”

“Your honeymoon! Oh, yes! I love Bali.”

Barry’s lips twitched. “You’ve…been to Bali before?”

“Mhmm.” She nodded ecstatically. “You didn’t tell me much about your past growing up, Mom, but I did manage to find out where the two of you went on your honeymoon. It’s a trip getting there, isn’t it?” She blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Thank goodness we’re speedsters and don’t have to get sweaty sitting on a plane for a day and a half.”

Barry thought about the plane trips last year, and how well, yeah, they would’ve loved to spend their time doing other things and were pretty much exhausted by the time they arrived, but it was also a sweet time, and a sexy time for part of it, despite the complications of a tiny bathroom. The next time they were able to get away, he’d been hoping to get some of that first-class mile-high seating where you actually had a private suite and your chairs turned into a bed.

Not to mention, he’d planned to up the romance with the type of hotel suite they got this time. Maybe they’d get a villa or one of those tropical huts that extended way out into the water.

But all of that was moot with a third party.

“That sounds great,” Iris said, and Barry realized Nora must’ve been talking, listing things she wanted to do or things she had done. At least he guessed that’s what it had been when Iris’ elbow hit his side forcefully.

“Ow,” he mouthed. Neither woman took note of his reaction.

“So, we’re speeding there, right?” Nora asked hopefully. “I want to get started right away. Today should be a beach day!”

Barry thought of his and Iris’ beach days the year before and how this would be nothing like it. But then he reminded himself why he’d agreed to this venture in the first place. Nora’s eyes were glittering as she looked up at him, likely imagining all the father-daughter moments they hadn’t gotten when she was growing up that she would now get.

“Sure, why not? We’ll have to stop at a hotel first and make sure there’s actually a place to stay, though, since this isn’t a day trip,” he joked lightly. Neither woman got it.

“Great!” She cheered, jumping up and down. “It might take a couple trips, but I’m sure we can get all the suitcases to the villa I stayed at when I was down there.”

“Are you sure it’ll be there, Nora?” Iris asked. “I mean, we are 25 years ahead of schedule,” she joked. Nora laughed lightly, obligingly. Barry hid a smile.

“It should be there,” Nora said, eager to get past the awkward moment and bad mom joke. “But if it’s not, there should be some like it. It’s not like villas were just invented in my lifetime.”

Iris looked at Barry who smiled encouragingly. A possible villa had been part of his plan initially anyway.

“All right, a villa it is.”

Nora was gone with half the luggage in her arms before returning back for the rest.

“See you guys there!”

And then she was gone again, leaving no indication of exactly where in Bali she was going to. It was a tourist destination. She could’ve literally gone anywhere.

Barry looked down at his wife of one year and grinned.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, nothing. I just like my piece of luggage I get to take with me, that’s all.”

“Did you just call me a piece of luggage?”

“Light as a feather,” he promised her, then sealed his promise with a kiss.

Iris moaned in irritation when he pulled away.

“What?” he asked on a laugh.

“Who knows the next time we’ll be alone together like this? You’re gonna leave me with just a peck? Really?”

He laughed, then sped her to the side of the building for a hot ‘n heavy passionate kiss worthy of an award. Iris was breathless when he pulled back this time.

“Was that better?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she nodded.

“Ready now?”

She took a breath and nodded.

“Let’s get this family vacation started.”

In a flash of color and wind, they were gone.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[apparitionism]

Helicobacter 14

The bering and wells tag got a little sleepy after Christmas, didn’t it? I can’t say this chapter is any sort of wake-up call, but ideally it’ll give you a laugh or two. Previously on Helicobacter, Myka was working on an idea. She told Helena about it in the wee small hours of the morning... sadly, over the phone. But they’ll be in the same physical space in this part, so who can say what will happen? Well, one thing that definitely will is that you’ll notice I haven’t cut and woven this part into a fully cohesive set piece. Everything was taking too long, so I decided to hone the little bits I had, take the hit, and move on. Also, in a break from previous practice, I’m not going to link to the other parts of this story here, because I’m having a problem with some posts not showing up in searches/tags. Probably due to all of that racy content I post. (Tumblr flagged me. Oh, the hilarity.) But there are thirteen parts previous to this one, and they should be easily findable on my tumblr. Which is not, for the record, home to content that is sensitive.

Helicobacter 14

That morning in her office, wishing she had not begun the day’s coffee consumption in the middle of the night, Helena found herself once again fatigued—yet the lack of sleep also rendered her energized, strung out on anticipation. She also found herself once again staring at those model trees, so valiant despite their small size. So valiant they had been, since the very beginning, and Helena envied them their ability to remain oblivious to the disaster that had befallen the model neighborhood they for so short a time called home.

Of course, the “plan” did not necessarily have to be the full catastrophe she was envisioning, for in the end, she and Myka could always swear that the (fictional) email-driven misunderstanding would remain that. No one in a position of power knew what had really happened. No one knew that anyone had said anything like “I love you” on the telephone in the middle of the night.

When she worked up her nerve, she asked Steve, “Do you and Liam have plans for Saturday night?” If he said yes, she could at least keep this... quiet. Somewhat quiet. A bit quiet.

Unfortunately, Steve said no.

“Would you like to participate in a disaster?” Helena asked next. “A theatrical disaster.”

“Is that supposed to make me want to say yes or no?”

“I have no idea. However, it might be better for me to have allies, simply as a check on my worst impulses where a certain someone is concerned. I find myself agreeing to things... so perhaps you can pull me back from that ledge.”

“The fact that we’re talking about plans for Saturday night that involve a certain someone suggests to me that you’ve already agreed to something,” he said, but he was smiling rather than observably attempting to control his breathing.

“That, I regret to admit, is true.”

“Have you jumped off a ledge?”

“Not literally.”

“But only because she hasn’t asked you to.” Still smiling.

“I regret to admit as well that that is the only reason. It might solve some problems if she did ask and I did do it. In the literal sense.”

He said, with a beleaguered air, “I guess we’d better come, if only to tie a rope around your middle.”

“You are the best assistant the world will ever know.”

“I try. Then again, so do you.”

“Not enough.” She looked at the model-piece. “We need to build more libraries.”

“That sounds like a ledge, or stepping off of one.”

“What does Liam like most?” she countered.

“Other than me? You’ll laugh.” In response to this, Helena again heard herself make the question-noise, which now would always remind her of Myka having recognized it. How that woman wormed her way into everything... Steve answered the now-Myka-reminiscent noise by saying, “Gardening.”

And Helena did laugh, as predicted. She’d expected the answer to be professional, such as “the law,” or perhaps something fitting Liam’s extraordinarily handsome looks, such as “Armani suits.” Then again, Myka was every bit as beautiful as Liam was handsome, and Myka loved books... Helena said, “Wouldn’t you build many, many greenhouses if you could? Because you could?”

“They’re pretty objectively good, right? Like libraries. Maybe we do need to build more of them.”

“I am not opposed. Find a project, or projects, and we’ll bid.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” she told him, with feeling.

“You’re not just saying that because I’m bringing rope on Saturday?”

“Everything is connected, my darling Steve.”

He chuckled. “With rope?”

“If necessary.”

“What is this really about?” he asked.

“I’ll let Myka tell you—it will please her enormously to go into detail.” Saying “Myka” aloud pleased Helena herself enormously. So rare a pleasure, lately. “Also I don’t understand any of the duplicitous particulars well enough to explain them to you. Sadly, I don’t have Greek, so I can’t read the epic poem in the original... plus, I haven’t slept.”

“I can tell... please don’t tell me why not.”

“Would that it were that.” She sighed. “My darling Steve. Am I ever going to feel in control again?”

“Have you ever? Really?”

“Comparatively.” She had certainly at some point not experienced this career-off-a-cliff need to agree with every objectively ridiculous proposal of an irresistible, book-loving city planner...

“Do you want to? Feel that way again, I mean?”

“Yes?” Because she ought to want to.

“So cancel the Saturday plans.”

“I can’t.”

“Then no. You won’t ever.”

“Hence the need for the rope,” Helena agreed.

“I think I’m going to have to learn how to actually do roping. Maybe not the tricks with the spinning, but enough to throw the loop around you.”

“I suspect your doing that would be met with great enthusiasm from a particular spectator.” So easy to picture the enthusiasm—the delight—on Myka’s face if she witnessed such a performance, but Helena tried to return to pessimism. “Not that I expect any of this to work out.”

“You know the real reason Liam and I’ll both be into this Saturday thing?” Helena shook her head, and Steve went on, “What always happens is that we’re at his place or my place, and we don’t have the energy to come up with any ideas about what to do, so we stay in. And then he complains that we never go anywhere.”

“So it’s because this comes prepackaged as an idea of what to do?”

“For him, that’s my bet. But for me, it’s because after he complains, he smiles at me. And I give thanks that I get to witness it. Myka’s got a pretty decent smile... I think you should have the opportunity to give that kind of thanks.”

From anyone else, such words might have cloyed. From Steve, they calmed. “The best person the world will ever know,” Helena said, with certainty.

To which Steve replied an impish, “Ruth Bader Ginsburg.”

“I will concede that you may have peers. Six-fifteen.”

“I have six hundred and fifteen peers?”

“Myka wants you there at six-fifteen.” Her name, out loud, again...

“Do you really think this is going to be a disaster?”

“That question is, at this point, moot. I tried, but I have met my match.”

“In more ways than one, I guess,” Steve said, but he continued to smile.

That gave Helena leave to answer, “You guess correctly.”

****

At six in the evening on Saturday, Helena stood in her customary spot outside Myka’s door, her customary flowers in hand, second-guessing her decision to bring one extra-large bouquet rather than two this time. But then her thinking and deciding didn’t matter at all, for Myka opened the door and was there, a physical presence not in a City Hall elevator.

Myka didn’t let Helena hand her the flowers, didn’t even get them out of the way; she pulled Helena close and kissed her as if they were alone. A fussy part of Helena wanted to protect the poor bouquet, but that part was outvoted by every other part, bodily and otherwise, all of which were celebrating standing once again in this space, enveloped once again in these arms, being kissed—she kissed soft, Myka did. Belying the body-crush, her mouth was careful, solicitous.

Helena eventually regarded the no-longer-impressive bouquet with a bit of disappointment. “Much as I enjoyed that, you might have let me set these down first.”

“You’re going to have so many more chances to give me flowers, and I’ll give them to you all the time too, and floriculture will flourish around the world thanks to us.”

“‘Floriculture will flourish’? Are you drunk?”

“Not yet, you beautiful... hm. I was going to call you a cheapskate again, but those flowers look like they might have been expensive before somebody made a mess of them.” She raised her voice. “Mom! Helena brought you some pricey smashed flowers!”

Helena said to Jeannie, who wore an extremely smug (and, Helena had to admit, extremely justified) smirk as she approached, “In the interest of accuracy, Helena brought you and your daughter some flowers, which your daughter caused to be smashed. Cost notwithstanding.”

“I saw you participating,” Jeannie said. Helena supposed she could hardly have missed it.

Then came another familiar voice—from the hallway, for Myka had neglected to close the door, Helena heard Abigail say, “That is an interesting euphemism for what they were doing.”

Myka shook a fist at her. “You weren’t supposed to get here before six-fifteen!”

Abigail, unmoved, said, “Like I didn’t know the reason for that.”

Apparently everyone had known the reason for that, and they had all wanted to see the six o’clock show: Rick and Varsha appeared behind Abigail, and Steve and Liam did too, making for a traffic jam not only of bodies but of introductions. Abigail enthused to Steve, of Liam, “He doesn’t disappoint!”

Liam said, “I’m... pleased?”

“I thought he was overselling your looks,” Abigail told Liam. “What with being in swoony love,” she added, and Steve blushed.

Myka said, into Helena’s ear, “Speaking of swoony love, it isn’t possible to oversell you. There aren’t enough words,” and when Helena tried to shush her, Myka kissed the ear she’d just whispered into.

Varsha, upon being introduced to Abigail, said, “Overjoyed to meet you. I was honestly beginning to think none of them knew any actual people.”

Abigail nodded. “It’s just me. Let’s do lunch or something. But only if you aren’t planning to, one, bid on a city contract, and two, fall in love with me, because there’s only so much of this kind of drama I feel like I can handle.”

“I can promise the first one,” Varsha said. “The second, that’s up to fate.”

Rick said, “Wait, what? Are you joking?”

“No,” Varsha said, in such a way as to make Helena wonder whether she ever joked.

To Rick, Abigail said, “You might need to class up your personal plating, Myka’s ex. I’m pretty charming.”

“Also not wallpaper,” Varsha added.

Myka said, “Confirm. She is not wallpaper. Can additionally confirm the charming point.”

“Should I be the one who’s concerned?” Helena asked. “You two are together most all day every day.”

Myka kissed her.

“Thank you for the reassurance,” Helena said.

“I didn’t do it to reassure you,” said Myka, and after smiling at Helena’s raised “then why” eyebrow, she said, “because I can,” and that was even better than reassurance.

Rick said to Myka, “You and I never got this far.”

“This far,” Myka repeated. “This far?”

“Rehearsal dinner.”

Myka squinted at him. “I really like that we can joke about this,” she said.

“Still too soon?”

Now Myka swatted him, her palm against his head. “In perpetuity, you ding-dong.”

Ding-dong? Helena began laughing at how ridiculous such an utterance sounded, certainly from Myka’s mouth, and when Myka looked at her quizzically, she could offer only, “I’ve never heard anyone say that.”

Rick said, “You should’ve hung out with us in—what was it, fourth grade? Some entire school year, it was everybody calling everybody a ding-dong.”

This made Varsha bark a laugh as well. She said, “Oh my god, it’s worse yet also better when you say it.”

To Helena, Myka said, ‘I want to hear you laugh like that in perpetuity. And you are not a ding-dong”—which set Helena off again, and Myka said, “Well, maybe you are,” but she softened it with a sweet nuzzle into Helena’s hair.

In fact throughout the entire evening, Helena found Myka to be physically demonstrative to an extent that was... new. Every time Myka neared Helena, her right arm extended toward Helena’s waist, her hips, eventually settling onto the concavity just where fixed ribs gave way to floating, there on the right side—there, or resting, higher but just as happy, in the middle of Helena’s back. These placements of her hand: Helena found them correct. Feeling the fit, the lock into place. Like sides of the bed.

All this prompted Helena to ask Myka, at a later point when, for a moment, they did not seem to be the center of anyone’s attention, “How much had you been holding back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before. In contrast with all this contact now, tonight,” Helena said.

“I told you I was going to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you.” And Myka proceeded to do that.

“I did think that was hyperbole. I’m not complaining, but you didn’t do this before.”

“Well, before. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You were doing me a favor with the engagement. Several favors.”

“I thought I was.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable now? I can stop.”

“Can you?” But Helena was teasing. “I haven’t seen you stop yourself from doing much of anything you want to do. Certainly not anything related to this evening.”

Myka shrugged. “I’m really committed to working toward certain goals.”

Helena regarded the relaxation of Myka’s posture, the playful smile on her lips, the glow of her gaze... and she was struck by, but couldn’t bear, the possibility of Myka being deprived of all this, of having to once again become the pale picture of irritated overwork she had been before. And this was no pretense of happiness, as Myka had said she’d been putting on as part of her project; rather, this was the real thing: Myka happy, not holding back. Yet had they spent enough time together for Helena to be sure that that was so? “Is this how you are, with me?” Helena asked. “Is this how we are?”

“I wouldn’t be bothering otherwise.”

Helena didn’t doubt it. “I’m sorry I haven’t worked as hard as you have. Toward those goals.”

“You can make it up to me later. Long game, you beautiful cheapskate.”

“The bill will come due?” Helena asked, pretend-rueful.

“I certainly hope so.”

“I do too. But can you promise me that we will never have to engage in a performance this ridiculous again?”

Myka put on a show of considering, then said a simple “No.”

****

Scenes from a Rehearsal Dinner

*

Helena pulls Abigail aside to say, because she has not had a chance to say it, “I thought we weren’t doing this. I thought we were actively keeping her safe. No possibility of public shaming. I did try very hard to—”

“Except for the glasses incident.”

“That was a mistake, one that I, if no one else, made a sincere attempt not to compound. Why are you helping her in this? Why are you not physically preventing me from helping her?”

“Didn’t she tell you her theory?” Abigail asks.

“Oh god, what now.”

“They’d never public-shame her over this, if they find out what she’s really been doing—and if she somehow gets in trouble for any part of it, they will definitely find out, because she’s planning to tell them the entire story, her idea being that it’s too insane.”

“That’s...” Helena begins, but she realizes she has nowhere sensical to go. “Well, that’s....”

Abigail nods. “Right? Because who’s going to call the org chart into a room and say ‘Here’s what you can’t ever do: put on a play about having your cancer recur so as to persuade your boss that you’ve fallen back in love with your ex-fiancé who it turns out is really a contractor who, if you can’t have her, you’ll waste away and die, but you would still like to keep your job, please and thank you.’”

“When you put it that way, I have no idea how anyone could follow it.”

“Exactly. In Myka’s own extremely special way, she’s brilliant... and as far as I can tell, the cancer—and you—really made her drill down on that.”

“Rick does say this isn’t how she behaved in the past,” Helena concedes. “But I’m beginning to think her newly revealed talents are being wasted in her chosen field.”

“Someday she’ll rule the world. And then, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I bet we’ll all be buckling our seat belts and hanging on for dear life. And enjoying it. I mean, look at you: you’re enjoying it right now.”

“‘Enjoying’ may be a shade too positive. In any case, you seem to have a part in the play too.”

“Point taken.” Abigail snickers. “I told her to buy grapefruit, and she asked me why. Never got around to breakfast after that glasses incident?”

“I did not punch her in the face.”

“You’ve said.”

“But I may yet punch you.”

Abigail waves off this concern. “I’m helping. Also, I’m not wearing glasses. So punching me wouldn’t get you going at all.”

*

Several pizzas arrive. Myka asks Helena, “Did you know there’s such a thing as lobster pizza?”

Before Helena can answer, Rick says, “Why wouldn’t there be? Can’t you slap anything on a pizza crust?”

Abigail says, thoughtfully, “Then again, Myka’s ex, you may be my kind of chef.”

Varsha warns, “Mind yourself, not-wallpaper. I don’t want to have to cancel lunch.” She eyes the pizza boxes. “I also don’t want to have to engage in any avoidance behaviors.”

“No allergens,” Myka tells her. To Helena, she says, “Which means your dreams are safe, too.” Myka then busies herself handing out what she calls “the scenario”—several stapled-together pages of which Helena is as terrified as she ever has been of creatures that are large and have claws. She reads the first line: “First, there was a fountain.” She wishes she weren’t driving; she needs several stiff drinks.

Myka says, “Okay, nobody’s got lines as such because I didn’t have time to learn all the medical terminology, and also I’m not sold on anybody’s ability to get it down by Monday.”

“I love improv,” Liam says as he receives his pages.

“So do I!” Jeannie tells him, and they make exclamatory faces at each other.

Liam continues, “Ooh, can I be one of the doctors?”

Jeannie, for her part, sighs. “I suppose I’m relegated to being the mother.”

“Relegated?” Myka demands. “Mom!”

Helena mutters, “How could this go wrong.”

“You’re such a pessimist,” Myka says.

“Why does that make you smile?”

Jeannie, for the moment embracing her relegation to the role of mother, says to Helena an indulgent, “Everything about you makes her smile.”

*

\Myka beckons to Helena. “Come with me,” she says, leading her down the hallway, in the direction of the bedroom... raising Helena’s hopes for a brief, scandalized moment... but their destination is instead a different room, this one an office (with air a bit chilly at the moment but not stale; Myka must in fact spend time here) featuring a computer with a large monitor. “Dad’s actually really going to call in this time,” Myka says, “and if I’m trying to hold my phone screen steady he gets seasick. So this works better.”

And indeed, after not much time, there appears a slightly choppy video image of a some-days-bewhiskered older man sitting in the stern of a rowboat. He wears a fishing hat of an incongruous bright red. Whatever technology is enabling the call seems to be his only companion in the boat, yet he regards it as if it has appropriated the entire armrest between them on an airplane.

Myka begins, “Hi, Dad. Any luck?”

“Fishing is not a matter of luck,” her father says; this must be a customary exchange. “It’s skill.”

“Any skill?”

He answers a solemn, “Only on the part of the fish.”

Myka pulls Helena into view of the computer’s camera. She keeps her arm around Helena’s waist as she says, “Dad, this is Helena. Helena, this is my dad, Warren Bering.”

“Helena.” He nods. “Myka’s explained.”

“Has she?” Helena asks. “Fully?”

“How should I know?” he asks in turn, and Helena has to concede that this is a reasonable question.

“I’ll go grab Mom,” Myka announces.

“Wait—” Helena calls, but she is gone. And there Helena still is, expected to speak cogently to Myka’s father. Having recently thought about the time she spent in his daughter’s bedroom. She coughs and says, “I’m pleased to... semi-meet you.”

Myka’s father, who does not seem, based on this first semi-meeting, to be someone given to sentiment, nevertheless offers Helena a kind, if gruff, lifeline. “Semi-same. You want to go fishing?” he asks.

“Do you mean right now?”

He shrugs. “Get on a plane.”

“You have no idea how appealing that sounds.”

“Oh, I have some idea,” he says.

“And yet your wife and daughter would, I suspect, exact revenge on me if I failed to participate.”

“Get used to the feeling. Or leave the family.”

“These are my choices?”

“From where I sit.”

“You’re in a boat,” Helena observes.

“Well, or spend a lot of time fishing.”

“I don’t know how to fish.”

“Guess you’d better participate, then.”

“Or leave the family?”

“Myka hates how red her face gets when she cries,” he says. Factually. As he might state Myka’s age, or her eye color.

“You’re saying that the ‘leave the family’ option is off the table,” Helena tries.

“I’m saying that Myka hates how red her face gets when she cries.”

“You are a member of an overall very strange family.”

He leans against the back of the boat; the change in posture makes him far less forbidding. “I heard your brother married some lady because she wrecked his car,” he says, with a little conjurer’s wave of his right hand.

“Touché,” Helena says.

*

Helena finds herself standing next to Rick. They are both watching and listening to Myka, who with great animation is detailing for Steve and Liam—and Abigail, but Helena knows that she already knows—the motivations of the characters in “the scenario”: “This is preposterous,” Helena says. “Does anyone honestly expect me to believe that this inclination—this readiness—to deceive is a new development in Myka’s character? It seems far too well-honed.”

Rick says, “She was always really really smart—especially in a get-things-done way—but I swear to you, if I’d known she was likely to turn into somebody like this, I probably wouldn’t have gone out with her in the first place.” He pauses to scratch his blond head. “Or maybe I wouldn’t ever have let her get away? I’m really not sure.”

“Well. Too late,” she tells him, and he bows that blond head in recognition.

He then says, “I need more food,” and wanders off, presumably to find some, mumbling words that sound like “lobster” and “pizza” and “I wish.”

*

Steve is telling Abigail, “I like your idea about not rerunning what happened before too exactly.” Myka has given her credit, in the written scenario, for this innovation. “I bet Helena likes it too—no blood on her this time.”

Abigail says, “We’re getting fake stuff that doesn’t stain. But also, history doesn’t literally repeat. Or it shouldn’t.”

“It can’t,” Myka says. “Same river twice.”

Abigail comes back with, “Or, better, first time as tragedy, second time as farce.”

“Whatever you say, Marx,” Myka tells her.

Helena mutters, “More like the Marx Brothers in this case.”

“In this case,” Abigail says, “which time is tragedy and which is farce? Genuine question for Myka. I mean the blood situation seems to support Marx’s version, but...”

“No times as tragedy,” Myka says firmly. “First time as TV hospital drama, second time as romantic comedy.”

“Not farce? Really?” Helena asks.

“Not unless the pies start flying,” Myka assures her.

Liam says, “I think that’s technically slapstick.”

Steve laughs and gives Liam a peck on the cheek. “I love you.”

“None of it oversold,” pronounces Abigail.

“You know, you’re right,” Helena says, for Myka chooses that moment to catch her eye and smile. And Helena gives thanks.

*

“I’m so happy,” Myka says to Helena, as if she’s been trying not to say it but can’t hold it in. Helena welcomes the words both as themselves, and as confirmation that her impression about pretense—or rather, its lack—had been correct.

“Are you?” She doesn’t need to ask the question, but Myka seems to be multiplying her joy by speaking it aloud.

“I am. About all of it. This”—a kiss—“and also that everybody knows everything now.”

Helena feels compelled to state, “Not everybody. Not yet.”

“I just said I’m happy. Quit raining on my parade.”

“It is quite a parade. And yet Rick seems to be sleeping through it.” She points at Rick, who is on the sofa, head back, eyes closed, mouth open.

“Hey, mister!” Myka says at him, and his eyes snap open. “Nap on your own time.”

“This is my own time,” Rick objects. But he says to Abigail, who happens to be beside him at that moment. “I think I did fall asleep during part of the briefing. Are they engaged in this version?”

“Not yet. The email proxy, remember?”

“Right. Sorry. I’m just tired. Long shifts. I’ll read the cheat sheet later.” He pulls a decorative pillow to him, clasps his arms around it, and closes his eyes again. Embroidered on the pillow is a fine-featured monkey, attired to assist an organ-grinder. If Rick were wearing a fez, their kinship would be unmistakable. As it is, Helena is left to wonder why Myka has a decorative pillow that depicts a fez-wearing monkey, why she herself has never noticed that fact before, and how Myka manages not only to say things Helena does not expect but also to decorate in that way too.

*

Helena feels a tap on her shoulder; she turns to see Jeannie. “Mm?” Helena asks. (She imagines both Charles and Myka laughing at her for it.)

Jeannie sighs, with great ostentation. Then she points at Helena and says, “Words about destiny.”

“Mm,” Helena now says. “Myka told you. That much of it?” Everybody knows a far greater portion of everything than I was aware, she thinks.

“My daughter is a lovely person.”

“I... know?”

“But she is a talker.”

“Also known,” Helena says.

“And yet not with everyone. In fact with very few. It’s a sign.”

“Suspected, yet not entirely known. Very much appreciated, however.”

“Destiny,” Jeannie maintains.

“I don’t disagree. Also very much appreciated.”

Myka, carrying two full wine glasses, clearly in transit, bends her head to kiss Helena’s cheek. She says, “Told you it sounded more upbeat than fate,” kisses her once more, then moves on.

“Thank you,” Helena says to Jeannie.

“For?”

The entirety of this gift. “The unanticipated.”

*

Rick and Varsha are the last to leave, save Helena herself. She suspects Abigail and Steve and Liam, who departed together, are staging some sort of private afterparty of their own.

Jeannie hugs Rick. “Didn’t I tell you that you’d find a nice young lady?” she says.

“I don’t prefer to be thought of as nice,” Varsha informs her. She evades a hug, as if to prove her point.

“You’ve been perfectly nice to me,” Jeannie says, though with a tinge of thwarted-hug disappointment. “I asked if you’d mind if I ate the last piece of the pizza that had the artichoke hearts, and you said ‘not at all,’ even though we both liked that one best.”

“I did say that,” Varsha allows, but with a hostile witness’s displeasure that this overzealous prosecutor is using her past statements against her.

“So you’re nice under certain circumstances,” the prosecutor continues, and Myka nudges Helena and murmurs what’s a circumstance. “Are you nice to Rick?”

Rick hurries to say, “It’s all good, Mrs. B.”

Jeannie crosses her arms. “I didn’t ask you, mister.”

Helena doesn’t bother to hold back a laugh. “And just like that, you turn into Myka.”

“I’m her mother.”

Myka, for her part, doesn’t bother to hold back a snort: “Don’t even try acting like you’re proud of that, Mom. Somebody named you was complaining about being relegated.”

“In the play.”

“Also, you’re the one who got upset about not being called in to get all relegated the first time.”

“That was real.”

“Would you be happier if this were too? I could always knock back a shot or two of H. pylori.”

Helena says, “Do. Not. Tempt. Fate.” Myka gives her a comical stare, and Helena sighs and amends, “Destiny.” To Jeannie, she notes, “But I am not saying words about it.”

Varsha says, “Fate or no, I would be very interested in the case if she did knock back those shots.”

“I’m not sure what reading that gets on the ‘nice’ meter,” Jeannie says.

“Throws its calibration off completely,” Rick says. “It never works again.”

“I do like you,” Varsha tells him.

*

Jeannie says she will busy herself “collecting pizza boxes,” a euphemism for “ignoring the two infatuated women saying goodnight in the magic foyer.”

Myka’s conspiratorial whisper to Helena: “I’d ask you to stay, but my mother’s here.”

“Sneak out,” Helena whispers back.

“Who sneaks out of their own apartment?” Myka says this as part of a smile against Helena’s neck.

“You make me so strangely happy.”

A chuckle. “I’ll leave her a note. Still think it should say ‘be right back’? How fast are you feeling?”

“Happy,” Helena reaffirms. “But strangely so,” she adds, as well as, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t find a part for Charles in the play? Otherwise he’d be at my house, and what would we do then?”

“It’s like you never heard of this amazing invention called a hotel room. They’re incredibly romantic, plus you get clean towels every day if you don’t care about the environment.”

“You make it sound like a very judgmental place.”

“Or you can hang up the ‘do not disturb’ sign and save the environment.”

“I don’t think that’s technically what that sign is for.”

“You’re not very into mixed-use design, are you? Which is weird for an urban architect. But I’m not worried; I’ll meet Charles eventually. And in the meantime, he’s not here.”

“He is not.” And in any case Helena would throw him out into the street if it meant she could be alone with Myka...

“Don’t tell him I said this—because I want him to like me—but: good.”

****

When Helena opened her door to Myka this time, she did not need to ask “why are you here,” and she did not need to wish that Myka would push her way in: after only a breath of standing and looking, Helena pulled her, because she wanted to get Myka to the bedroom as fast as she could, not because either of them needed to be fast, but to make sure that she was there, where Helena had feared she would never be, before anything happened to prevent it.

“If this doesn’t work,” Helena said, as Myka smiled at her haste, “and I don’t see how it could, so I should say when this doesn’t work...”

“Then it’s your turn to dream something up. I know you can.” Myka stopped moving, which drew Helena to a halt too. “You will, won’t you?”

Myka’s voice held not doubt, not exactly, but somewhere within that light won’t you Helena felt a vibration, a reed disturbed by a breath of unease. “We’ll move to Maine and refuse to fish for lobsters,” she said, because she would dream something up. Something, anything—because nothing was more important than this. How could she have thought otherwise?

“From a fountain that doesn’t exist. Don’t forget that part.”

She would dream something up. She took Myka’s hand, kissed it, and began to lead her once again. “I will never, ever forget that part.”

TBC

[adotblog]

The One Who Always Made The Grade-Chapter 2

Pairing: LMM x Reader

Warnings: cursing

Notes: I’ve never written from Lin’s perspective before, I hope it comes over ok.

Words: 1260 (super short for me!)

Tags: @judesnavi @alexanderusnavilindelahamilton @sunnyandtwisty @starrynerd

—————————————————-

“See you around”.

You aren’t prepared for the empty feeling those words leave in your tummy. You stare at the ceiling and wonder why that feeling is there. Do you like Lin? You always have fun together but it’s only ever been at work. Sometimes when he’s played his songs for you, you’ve felt like he’s baring his soul to you...but maybe he’s just keen to perform, eager to share the material. Sometimes you’ve thought he’s looked at you a certain way…

You’ve absolutely looked at him a certain way-when a guy moves you to tears with his music, it’s hard not to get carried away, you think. That’s all it is. Come Monday, when you meet your new professor, you’re sure you’ll have forgotten this pit in your stomach.

Besides, you’re not likely to see him again-he did say you should come to see In The Heights but then “See you around” is about as non-committal as it gets. You give yourself a shake.

——————————————————

[Lin’s POV].

Where the fuck is my phone? I root through the mess at the end of my couch and find it shoved between the cushions. Grabbing it, I check the time. 6:40. Oh, right. Normally I’d have been grading papers with Y/N by now. I look around the empty living room. Kinda wish that’s what I was doing now-never thought I’d say that! For a second I think of texting her and telling her. I even open a new message. But why would she want to hear that? That her ex-colleague is so bored he’s wishing he were working? This is ridiculous.

I get up and find my jacket as I dial another number. “Alex? Wanna meet at the arcade?”

——————————————————-

The next day I’m sitting waiting for the train when it occurs to me: Y/N hasn’t called for a reference yet. God, I hope that doesn’t mean she’s struggling to find a position to apply for. She really deserves to be teaching her own students by now, she’s got a natural knack for it. Maybe I should call her and see how it’s going.

The train rumbles to a stop and I get on, sitting in a mostly empty car. What is it with my compulsion to call this girl? That’s like the second time in two days. I guess I miss the late nights at the piano. And the cookies. Fuck. I miss her.

I miss her.

——————————————————

“Is it creepy?”, I ask-unsure if I really want the answer. Chris gives me a wearying look “Dammit, Lin, how old is she?”, he asks sternly. I burst out laughing at his Dad-face. “Relax, she’s two years younger than me-she’s not a student”. “Thank god. Then no, it’s not creepy that you like her-I mean, you’re saying you like her, right?”.

I take a drink before I answer, because I’m not sure what I’m going to say. “Maybe. I never thought about it before-well I guess I thought about kissing her once. And she’s beautiful, so…but anyway, we spent so much time together, for work, I just never thought about more.”

Chris nods. “And now that she ain’t there any more, you decide you like her?”.

“Why do I feel like I’m coming out of this badly?!”, I ask. Chris just looks at me. “I just realised that I miss her. I dunno, maybe we’re meant to be friends or something. I just...I want to see her.”, I grumble.

Chris throws me my phone. “You’re an idiot. Call her.”.

“Yeah?”, I ask, surprised but relieved.

He shakes his head “Shoulda called her two fucking days ago”.

——————————————————

As you pack up your class notes and head out of the auditorium, you dwell on the lack of enthusiasm you have for this course.

You know that the relationship you have with your new professor is exactly as it should be-professional, mentoring- but you miss working with Lin. He was so much fun. He made you laugh and you miss singing and goofing around with him. It’s only been a week or so since his last day but you’re definitely feeling the loss.

A couple of days ago you had finally admitted to yourself that you liked him. You missed him too much for it to be platonic. You’d always felt an attraction to him but chalked it up to admiration or friendship. Now you were pretty sure it was more than that.

Either way, it’s a moot point because you’re not seeing him anymore. Since you can no longer use the campus instant messenger system, you thought he would maybe send a text or two. But the “See you around” nonchalance of his goodbye to you should’ve given you a clue. You were only ever colleagues.

You unlock your door and toss your keys on the table, just as you hear your phone ring. You scrabble in your bag to find and answer it but they’ve hung up before you get to it.

You look at the missed call. “Lin”.

Why would Lin be calling you? You know you should call back but you need a second to gather yourself first.

——————————————————

[Lin’s POV]

“Hey, sorry I missed your call, what’s up?”

“Y/N, hi! Uhhh I was just wondering... we’re putting on a presentation of In The Heights and there’s a rehearsal on Friday...some friends and family are coming to watch. I wondered if you want to come?”.

“Oh my god, yes! That’d be great!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! Oh I’m so excited!”

“Awesome! You got a pen? I’ll give you the address”

——————————————————

I see her when I’m about halfway through the opening number. She’s at the back, wearing jeans and this blue sweater that fits her like…

I nearly mess up my words, too distracted by how good she looks. I try and avoid looking at her too much for the rest of the presentation because I’m not sure if I’ll get through it. I concentrate on the lyrics and the other actors and it goes just fine. Everyone hollers in the right places and the ending goes down great.

I’m pretty giddy once we’ve finished, I try to get a few people to go out for drinks but it’s late and people just want to get home. I’ve just said goodbye to my Dad when I notice Y/N talking with Chris at the back of the room. I approach them and Chris is giving me all kinds of looks. I silently will him not to say anything to embarrass me.

“Here’s the maestro himself!”, Chris exclaims. I roll my eyes and say hello to Y/N. Chris makes his excuses and goes, telling Y/N that it was nice to meet her. I’m about to ask what she thought when she gushes “Lin I loved it! It was incredible! I know I’d heard parts of it already but I had no idea how beautifully it would all fit together! I can’t believe you wrote all that!”. She is fucking adorable. Oh man, I have it worse than I thought.

“I’m so glad you liked it”, I manage to interrupt. My phone buzzes and I glance at the message.

Chris: Ask that girl out. Now. You are an idiot if you don’t.

“Hey, Y/N...are you free sometime next week? I wondered if you want to grab a drink?”, I ask. She stutters for a second, then says yes.

Here goes.

[multipleservicelisting]

In Los Angeles, Teachers and Students Struggle With ‘No Human Contact’

LOS ANGELES — In Elissa Elder-Aga’s 25 years of teaching elementary school, reading aloud has always been her favorite classroom activity, a chance to captivate her audience and impart all sorts of lessons — from grammar to morals.

But after many tries in the fall, she reached a sobering conclusion: No matter how hard she tried, how many voices she used, she could not hold the attention of kindergartners while reading to them on Zoom.

“When it didn’t transfer, I was shocked,” she said. “I am used to 25 pairs of eyes on me.”

None of Ms. Elder-Aga’s kindergarten students have spent a day inside a classroom this school year, like a vast majority of the roughly 600,000 students in the Los Angeles Unified School District, the nation’s second-largest after New York City. And her struggles echo those voiced by teachers nationwide: Will all-remote instruction cause lower-income students and students of color to fall further behind their more affluent peers?

The data is sparse, but early surveys are worrisome. In November, Austin Beutner, the Los Angeles superintendent, said the district had seen a 15 percent increase in D’s and F’s among high school students this school year compared with the last, and a 10 percent drop in reading proficiency among elementary school students.

A few weeks later, the district announced that it would defer any F grades until the end of January in an attempt to give students more time to catch up on their work.

“If you’re a first or second grader, and someone at home is not helping you, you’re probably not making a ton of progress,” Mr. Beutner said. “There is just no question this is disproportionately hurting students who can least afford it.”

Chicago, San Diego, Philadelphia and many other big city systems have also relied heavily on remote learning this school year. Those policies have been shaped in part by concerns about the disproportionately deadly impact of the coronavirus on Black and Latino communities. Powerful teachers’ unions alarmed about possible in-school transmission of the disease have also had a major influence.

But while some large districts, most notably New York, have tried a mixture of in-person and remote instruction, Los Angeles has resolutely kept its classrooms closed to all but a very small number of special needs students. All indications are that it will continue to keep them closed well into 2021.

Experts have found that remote instruction falls far short of classroom learning. But surveys have shown that a majority of Black and Latino parents in Los Angeles are still hesitant about sending their children back into schools. The district is roughly 74 percent Latino, 10 percent white, 8 percent African-American and 4 percent Asian-American. Roughly 80 percent of students live in poverty, according to the district.

���The teachers have really been trying, going out of their way to communicate, but there’s been virtually no human contact for months and months,” said Julie Regalado, whose daughter is a high school freshman. “Studying virtually is nobody’s dream. But I cannot imagine my daughter going back at all this year, since we’re seeing a rise in cases every day.”

Before the academic year began in August, Los Angeles school officials distributed hundreds of thousands of laptops, iPads and internet hot spots. But there have been holes in the system.

In November, a group of parents sued the state, asserting that officials were failing to live up to their constitutional duty to provide a free public education to every child. There were children without working computers, others with no access to the internet, and others who were not receiving the number of hours of instruction that the state required.

The district has tried to provide some classroom instruction to its neediest students. In October, it opened about 200 schools to provide in-person instruction to roughly 2,500 students who were either homeless, in foster care or had disabilities.

But shortly after Thanksgiving, Mr. Beutner closed even these small classrooms, citing the increasing number of coronavirus cases and deaths throughout Los Angeles County.

The district has been widely praised for continuing to distribute free meals — some 85 million and counting — to poor students and their families, even though their school buildings have remained closed.

Teachers, meanwhile, rely on frequent experimenting: Many say that their decades of experience inside classrooms are rendered moot and that distance learning has returned everyone to the trials and errors of their rookie years.

Ms. Elder-Aga has set up her classroom at her kitchen table, the bright books and illustrated alphabet that would normally line her classroom walls behind her. Instead of a whiteboard, she relies on computer slides to show students the sentence of the day. “I see the red fox,” she intoned one recent morning, coaxing them to read it aloud.

As she conducts class, she wonders what her students are getting from the lessons. Many of them struggle to find a quiet place in their home; she sees them wiggling on top of their beds or next to a brother or sister. Often, she asks students to mute themselves so that the voice of a sibling’s teacher doesn’t interrupt her.

“In a classroom, we would be closer to kids, kind of nudging their progress,” she said. “You could do the mom look and get every kid to give you eye contact — that’s just not happening now.”

Students, too, miss the casual, helpful interactions that come in classrooms and hallways.

Nefer Garcia, a 17-year-old senior at Ánimo Pat Brown High Charter School in South Los Angeles, said she longed for the days when she could greet a former teacher between classes. And when she began completing college applications and financial aid forms, she grew frustrated because “you can’t just go down the hall to ask for help.”

Though she has managed to keep her grades up, Ms. Garcia is suddenly more skeptical that her ambitions will work out. “It is not as easy to have this clear plan in mind and think all these goals are within reach, because I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring. I don’t know what today is going to bring.”

To help, many schools are offering voluntary lessons on Saturdays to students who are among the furthest behind. But, as school officials understand acutely, those tutorials cannot totally take the place of in-person instruction.

This is especially true for the district’s youngest students, who would ordinarily pick up social skills by interacting with their teachers and peers in a lively classroom.

Ms. Elder-Aga worries that this year will dampen their enthusiasm for school next year.

“I am your first or second teacher, I am teaching you to love learning, but can I teach kids to attend school as well?” she asks herself. “It’s a puzzle.”

When Ms. Elder-Aga paused recently to consider whether her students were learning to read at an appropriate pace, she struggled to answer.

“I want to say yes, because it makes my heart ache to think we cannot rise to the occasion,” she said, noting that many children started further behind than usual this year because they were all-remote last spring as well.

“I want to think that we can provide enough ways to close that gap.”

    Multiple Service Listing for Business Owners | Tools to Grow Your Local Business

www.MultipleServiceListing.com 

from Multiple Service Listing https://ift.tt/3921BQH

[delightfully-difficult-pirate]

Assassin’s Creed: Misthaven (14/18)

 Summary: For hundreds of years, the Brotherhood of Assassins and the Templar Order have waged war.  For Princess Emma of Misthaven, that war has become personal.  After a mission gone wrong, the Templar Grandmaster, placed a curse on Emma’s son that is slowly killing him.  Emma will stop at nothing to save Henry, even if it means going rogue from the Brotherhood and consorting with pirates.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Sex, Adult Language.

AN: A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta.  To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created.   And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.  

AO3

Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12  13 14  15 16 17 18

Art for Chapter 14 by @cocohook38

              Much to Killian’s relief, the crew voted twelve to eight to remain in Arandelle. Ollie had grumbled loudly as he hobbled off, but it was James that Killian and Joshua kept a close eye on as the crew dispersed.  

               The two of them retreated to the Captain’s cabin after the vote, and Killian dropped into his chair with a sigh. “He’ll be trouble, Captain,” Joshua warned.

               “He already is,” Killian agreed, running his hand through his hair.

               Joshua nodded, and sighed. “I’ll do my best to put down any more talk of leaving before the repairs are complete, but once they are, the men will expect us to be on our way.”

               Killian acknowledged the further warning with a nod, and the other man left to see to the disgruntled crewmembers.  Once he was alone, Killian dropped his head onto the wood of the table and groaned in frustration.

               It was just his luck that the woman he had fallen for was a Princess.  He could only imagine that Starkey was having a good laugh at his expense in the next life.

               He had a choice ahead of him.  If he was to pursue a serious relationship with Emma, there was no way he could continue with his marauding ways.  A pirate was not an appropriate consort for the heir to the throne of Misthaven.  It would be disastrous to the kingdom’s political relations.

               His only options were to walk away from the Jolly Roger and being Captain Hook. He could either return to being Killian Jones, former Templar… or adopt a completely new identity that hopefully wouldn’t ruffle too many feathers. Especially those of Emma’s royal parents.

               Killian contemplated his future for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening.  After he joined his crew for a splendid supper of roasted salmon, he sent Smee to the palace with a letter to Emma to let her know he would be staying on his ship that night.  The crew was still too tense for him to leave his ship unattended.  Smee had assured Killian that he would be able to sneak off the ship without the notice of either his fellow crew or the badly disguised members of Arandelle’s navy that were keeping an eye on the visiting pirate vessel.

               To put his time aboard his ship to good use, Killian returned to his charts of the waters around Misthaven.  His conundrum of how to properly court the country’s Princess would be a moot point if they couldn’t quell the siege Regina had on the Kingdom.

              He was trying to decipher the scrawl of whoever had drawn one of the charts when a small breeze blew through his cabin.  He looked up and frowned at the hatch that led to the quarterdeck. He’d secured it earlier in the day, but it was now propped open.

               Killian reached for his sword as he inspected the room. He jerked when he felt a hand slip over his.

               “Relax, Captain,” Emma whispered in his ear.  She came around his chair and sat herself on his desk, directly in front of him.  Killian raised an eyebrow.  

               Emma was wearing an outfit he had not seen before; one he was sure she hadn’t borrowed from the royal family.  Her long legs, which she had crossed in front of her, were clad in brown leather trousers.  She wore a long white overcoat that had red accents along the interior, its tails, and its upright collar.  A leather pauldron with metal embellishments in the shape of wings adorned one shoulder, and from it a half cape flowed over Emma’s back, its design a style he couldn’t remember seeing outside of a history text.  Finally, a large belt with the logo of the Assassin Brotherhood front and center was cinched around her waist.

               “This is quite the getup, love,” Killian said as he reached forward and ran his hand down the soft leather covering her hips.

               Emma chuckled.  “Elsa’s laundress is still holding most of my clothing hostage, so I borrowed this from one of the Assassins aboard the Nautilus.  I couldn’t very well sneak aboard your ship in a dress, could I?”

               Killian stood, placed his hand and hook on either side of Emma, and leaned forward.  “What did I say about coming aboard my ship without permission, love?”

               Emma grinned as she reached up and toyed with the charms of his necklace. “I believe it was something about throwing me in the brig.”

               “I can’t very well do that to a Princess, though, so I guess I’ll need to come up with a different punishment more suitable for a lady of your status,” Killian whispered in Emma’s ear as he coaxed her legs open and fit himself between them.  He rubbed his hardening cock against her.

               Emma moaned as she lifted her hips to meet his own. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close for a passionate kiss.  They explored each other’s mouths until Killian pulled back. He stepped backwards and sat back in the chair he had vacated earlier.  He beckoned Emma to follow him with the curl of a finger.  Emma raised a single brow but hopped off his desk.  

               “I find your presence aboard my ship very distracting, your Highness,” Killian said as he rubbed his hand across the bulge of his cock.  Emma’s eyes followed his movement.        

               “My apologies, Captain,” she said, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.  He grinned: she seemed to be following along with his game.

               Killian deftly undid the laces of his trousers and freed his cock from the confines of the leather.  He took himself in hand and slowly moved his fingers along the length.   “Since it was you who has caused this problem, I think it is only fitting that it is you who takes care of it.”

               “Is that so?” Emma stepped forward and reached down until her hand wrapped around his on his cock.  Killian suppressed a moan when she ran her nails lightly along his length.

               “It must be so hard, getting any work done with such a large problem,” Emma said with a grin.  She dropped to her knees as she continued to pump her hand up and down.

               “That it is…” Killian started to say before Emma leaned her head forward and wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock.  He let out a long moan when she swiped her tongue along its head.  Killian wove his hand into Emma’s hair and toyed with the soft strands as he enjoyed her ministrations.

               When he felt his climax nearing, he tried to warn Emma with a tug on her hair and a gasped, “Love, I’m…”

               However, Emma only continued with more enthusiasm. Her lips and hand worked in tandem and a minute later, Killian’s body tensed as he came.  His eyes rolled back in his head as Emma continued to suck as he released his seed into her mouth.  She swallowed one final time before leaning back on her heals.  

               “So, Captain, am I forgiven for my trespassing?” Emma said with a wicked grin.  Killian stood and reached his hand down toward her.  When she took it, he pulled her to her feet.

               “More than forgiven,” Killian told her as he guided her backwards until her ass bumped into the edge of his desk.  He quickly loosed the belt around her waist and pushed her trousers down until they rested on her hips.  He grabbed one curve of her soft bottom in his hand and, bracing the other with his hook, lifted her so that she could sit on the sturdy wooden surface.

               Killian dropped to his knees and placed soft kisses along the inside of her thighs as he removed her boots.  Once he had, he pulled her trousers the remaining way down her legs. He tossed them over his shoulder as soon as they were fully removed.

              “Now allow me to treat you like the Princess you are,” Killian said as he situated Emma’s legs on his shoulders.  This spread her thighs wide and he was greeted with an unobstructed view of her glistening womanhood.

              “Already so wet for me,” he whispered as he traced his fingers through her sex.  He brought them to his lips and sucked her essence off each finger, his eyes never leaving hers as he did so.  “Is this why you decided to sneak aboard my ship, love?  So that I could take care of this problem for you?”

              Emma opened her mouth to reply but Killian pressed his head forward and sucked on her clit, so all that came out of her was a high-pitched moan.  Killian continued to pay special attention to the bundle of nerves as he inserted one, then two, fingers into her entrance.  One of Emma’s hands pulled sharply on his hair when he curled his fingers to tease the sensitive spot within.

              With lips, tongue, and fingers Killian brought Emma to the edge of her climax before slowing his movements, denying her completion. The growl that rose from her throat sent a jolt of satisfaction down Killian’s spine and his cock began to rise to attention once more.  

              “Killian,” Emma whined as he slowly teased her clit.  He pulled back just enough to reply, “Yes, your Highness?”

              With another growl, the frustrated royal lady yanked Killian’s head back between her legs.  As much as he enjoyed teasing Emma, Killian knew that he couldn’t deny her completion any longer. He applied all his attentions to making sure that she got what she desired.

              As her climaxed neared, Emma’s hips began to buck against his face.  Killian wrapped his hooked arm around Emma’s bottom and pressed the flat side of his hook against the small of her back to steady her. He moved his fingers in and out of her quickly and when Killian felt Emma’s inner walls begin to contract, sucked hard on her clit.  Emma’s scream was muffled and Killian glanced up to see that she had placed her hand over her own mouth.  

              When Emma’s climax had ended, she lay back along his desk, breathing heavily. Killian, however, did not intend to let her catch her breath.  She had denied him her screams of pleasure, which only made him determined to make her scream again.  He quickly lined his hips up with hers and rubbed the tip of his cock along her slit. That was the only warning he gave her before he placed it at her opening and pressed forward until he was fully seated within her.

              “Oh fuck,” Emma moaned as her back arched off desk.

              Killian chuckled as he grabbed Emma’s hips for better leverage.  He pounded his cock in and out and grinned as Emma’s breasts bounced in response.  Emma pressed her hand to her mouth again but Killian quickly reached forward to remove it.  Emma’s eyes, which had been closed, snapped open.  Killian tugged on the hand he held and helped her sit up.  She grasped his shoulders to steady herself from the force of his thrusts.

              “I want to hear you scream, love,” Killian told her.  “Nothing gives me more pleasure than to hear the sound of you getting yours.”

              “But your crew,” Emma panted.  “If they knew I was here…”

              “Are jealous that their Captain has found himself such a fine woman,” Killian growled in her ear.  At the same time, he moved his hand down between them and began rub at her clit. Emma’s head dropped backwards and she moaned.  Killian bent his head and pressed his lips to the curve of neck her movement exposed.  

              “Most of them have to pay a whore even to come near them, but here I am, with a Princess willingly taking my cock,” Killian said as he moved the collar of Emma’s shirt out of the way to expose the curve of her shoulder.  He sucked lightly at the skin before he bit down.

              Emma jerked in his arms and her quim tightened.  He repeated his actions on the other side of her neck and coupled it was a hard press on her clit.  She screamed as this triggered another orgasm.  

              “That’s it love,” Killian crooned in her ear as he continued to fuck her through her climax.  The rhythmic clenching of her inner walls pushed him over the edge and Killian came with a loud, drawn-out groan.

              Emma sagged against him.

              “Satisfied?” She asked.

              Killian hummed against Emma’s neck.  “Very.  You?”

              “Obviously, you pretentious asshole.”

---

               Later that night, Killian lay on his small bed with Emma half-sprawled across him.  The two of them had satisfied each other with lips, tongues, and fingers before she had fallen into a contented slumber, but he found himself unable to sleep. Something teased at the back of his mind that he couldn’t put his hook on.  

               After a fruitless hour of trying to concentrate only on the feeling of Emma in his arms and get some rest, Killian gave up and carefully removed himself from her embrace.  He pulled on a pair of loose linen trousers and relit the lantern on his desk.  He hoped that returning to the task that Emma had interrupted would help him recall whatever it was his mind was trying to remember.

               It was nearing dawn when Killian finally figured it out.  One of the charts Killian had ‘borrowed’ from Captain Kenway had a set of coordinates scribbled in the waters that around Misthaven.  He’d visited the location not long after acquiring the chart and had found evidence that the area was being used by smugglers.  He’d intended to utilize it himself, but the need never arose.

               Until now.

               The cove was located in the north of the kingdom, along a rocky stretch of coastline, only a two day’s journey from the Royal Castle.  The area had an extensive cave system and the smugglers had constructed a tunnel that connected it to the top of the cliffs.  It would be an ease for a ship to sail in, drop off some men in a few longboats, and sail away before anyone noticed.

               A hand on his shoulder startled him as he sketched out the layout of the cove as best as he could remember.  He looked up to find a bleary-eyed Emma gazing down at him.

               “Come back to bed,” she tiredly beseeched him with a tug on his arm.  “We can work on a plan to free my kingdom in the morning.”

               Killian grinned. “I may have already found one,” he said smugly, with a gesture toward his rough drawing.

               Emma’s brow furrowed as she leaned over to study the chart and his sketch.  She was completely nude, and Kilian had a hard time keeping his mind on the task in front of him, rather than on the way her breasts moved with each breath she took.

               “I’ve been here before, for a picnic overlooking the water, but never went down into the cove,” Emma remarked.  “A local said the waters were too rough for swimming.”

               “He was likely one of the smugglers who use it and didn’t want a member of the royal family stumbling upon his ill-gotten goods,” Killian theorized.  “I need to speak with Captain Nemo.  He may know whether the blockades the Templars have would prevent us from reaching this place.”

               Killian hastily got dressed and while Emma did the same, he left her alone in his cabin so that he could speak with Joshua.  His quartermaster wasn’t thrilled at being woken and became even less happy to be told he was being left in charge because Killian needed to go to the palace.

               “This is a bad time to be away from your ship, Hook. The men are riled enough without you disappearing in the night,” Joshua warned.

               “I’ll be back as soon as I explain my idea to Captain Nemo,” Killian assured the other man.  

              He returned to his cabin and found Emma fully dressed and waiting.  They gathered the charts they would need and made their way off his ship.  Since it was still dark out, Killian grabbed one of the lanterns to light their path.

               When they reached the Nautilus, the young man on guard duty greeted them with a snappy salute.  The water lapped against the hull of the submarine with a comforting soft noise.

               “Aziz, will you tell Captain Nemo that Princess Emma and Captain Hook have an urgent matter they wish to speak with him about?” Emma asked him.  

               Aziz, who Killian guessed to be in his late teens, nodded and disappeared down a hatch.  He returned a few minutes later.  “Captain Nemo invites you to come aboard, your Highness. Captain,” he said with a small bow in Emma’s direction.  

               Once they were inside the vessel, Aziz guided them to a surprisingly well-appointed room.  Killian hadn’t expected the metal ship Nemo called home to be decorated in Arabian rugs and tapestries.  Captain Nemo was waiting for them behind a large, dark wood desk that would be at home in any royal palace.

               “I’m sorry if we woke you, Captain, but Hook had an idea that may help us liberate Misthaven,” Emma informed him, while Killian laid out the charts he had brought with him on one of the room’s tables. Since Nemo was fully dressed in his naval uniform, Killian suspected that he had yet to be to bed that night.

               “There is a smuggler’s cove north of Blanchard that may be an ideal place for a group of people to disembark and travel overland to the castle,” Killian told the other Captain.  “I doubt that Regina would know about it, so it’s possible the blockade won’t extend that far north.”

               Nemo studied the charts and Killian’s sketch in silence.  He then brought out his own charts and compared the two sets.

               “It’s a workable idea, Hook,” Nemo told them. “But what if the blockade does restrict our access to the cove?”

               “Can’t the Nautilus just sail under it?” Killian asked carefully. The question had been in the back of his mind since arriving in Arandelle and finding out that Captain Nemo was also in residence.

               To his disappointment, the submarine captain shook his head. “Not since some sorcerer developed a way to detect the movements of my ship underwater,” Nemo admitted.

               “Is there a way we could force our way past the blockade, if we had to?” Emma inquired.

               Nemo frowned.  “It depends on the type, the number, and the formation of the ships in the area we need to pass through,” he told her.  

               “Elsa has already offered any assistance she can give.  Perhaps the full might of Arandelle’s Navy will make a few of the Captains think twice about challenging a ship trying to break the blockade,” Emma suggested.  

               “Doubtful.  Templars aren’t prone to cowardice or betrayal and abandoning the blockade would be both,” Killian said with resignation.  “What if we used Arandelle’s Navy to make it look like we’re going to attack and try to break the blockade?  We could assemble somewhere in the south and allow ourselves to be spotted by their scouts.  They would summon other ships to that area in preparation for our attack and that would leave other spots in the blockade underdefended.”

              Nemo turned his head just enough for Killian to see the other Captain giving him a narrow stare.  Killian clenched his fist; was it in response to the confidence in which he had spoken about how the Templars would respond to such an action?

              But the submariner didn’t pursue it. “And if the Templars decide to attack the fleet instead?” Nemo asked.

               Killian shrugged.  “No plan is without risks.”

               “We should present the idea to Elsa and the Admiral.  Since it is Arandelle’s navy that would be in danger, they should be the ones to determine whether the risk is worth it.  It may be the only way for the Jolly Roger and the Nautilus to reach the cove, if the blockade extends into the north,” Emma interjected.  

               Killian nodded in agreement, and was pleased to see Nemo do the same.  

               “Alright then.  I’ll speak with the two of them and present our idea.”

---

               After their meeting with Captain Nemo, Emma headed to the palace while Killian returned to his ship.   Emma slipped into her guest chambers to don a more formal gown, then joined the royal family for breakfast.  Afterwards, she requested a meeting with Admiral Morten and Elsa, where she laid out the plan which she, Killian, and Nemo had come up with.

               Emma had no sooner finished her explanation when Elsa nodded, laying her hands on the map on the table in front of them. “We will need to wait until the scouts return to determine whether this will even be necessary, but it couldn’t hurt to begin speaking with my other advisors in anticipation of such military action being necessary,” she said.

               Though Elsa held supreme power in her kingdom, she did regularly consult with her advisors, high-ranking nobles from throughout the kingdom, before making any major decisions. Committing part of the navy to what could be a risky undertaking without speaking with them would be, as Killian would say, bad form.  Additionally, she would need to convince her kingdom’s aristocrats that getting involved with the situation in Misthaven would be to Arandelle’s benefit.

               “Thank you, Elsa,” Emma said with gratitude.  She left her friend to ponder the political situation, and headed to her own room.

              She was stopped in the hall by Aziz, the sailor that had greeted her and Killian that morning before they had boarded the Nautilus. “Princess, Captain Nemo says I should tell you that the ship, the one you arrived on, has gone,” Aziz said as he gasped for breath.

               Emma’s heart stopped. Gone? She reached out and grasped Aziz’s wrist.  “What do you mean, gone?” she snapped.

               “She left the harbor fifteen minutes ago, your Highness."

              The Jolly Roger was gone?

               Emma didn’t stop to think that she still held the young man’s wrist; she simply used her magic to take them to the harbor. The young man stumbled forward, his face ghastly grey, and fell to his knees. He retched into the harbor.

              But Emma could barely spare him the attention. She stared in horror at the empty water whether her beloved Captain’s ship had been berthed.

               The Jolly Roger was, indeed, gone.  

               Panic seized her, and a flood of terrible thoughts rushed into Emma’s head, many the same as she had had a few nights previously.  But she shoved them out, gritting her teeth.

              Killian loved her! He wouldn’t leave without letting her know. Not unless he had a very, very good reason.

              Emma stood motionless in the middle of the dockside crowds, trying to think of what, exactly, those reasons would be when she spotted a familiar red cap bobbing amongst the other heads.  “Smee!” She called, and she rushed after him.

               The rotund man turned, looking confused. When he spotted her, he grinned, cheeks creasing with delight. “Lady Emma!”

               Emma reached his side and skidded to a halt. “What is going on?  Where is the Jolly Roger? Where is Killian?” she asked.

               Smee sobered.  “The crew wasn’t happy to find the Captain gone this morning so they voted for a change of leadership.”

               “A mutiny?”

               Smee shrugged. “It’s the way of it, on a pirate ship.  Few Captains manage to hold the position as long as Hook did.”

               Gritting her teeth, Emma kept herself from shouting. “Smee. Where is Killian?” she asked again, calmly.  

               “Follow me,” Smee told her with a tilt of his head.

               She followed and together the two of them wove their way through the crowds until they reached the end of the dock.  There was Killian, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling just above the water, watching the Jolly Roger sail off in the distance.

               “He sent me for this,” Smee said, holding up a bottle of rum.

               Emma rolled her eyes.  Of course.

               She took the bottle and made her way toward her pirate.  Pulling at the rum cork, she sat herself next to him on the dock.  Bottle opened, she took a swig, then passed it over to him. The rum was of a far inferior quality than what she had become accustomed to and it brought tears to Emma’s eyes.

               Killian took a hearty swallow, and then coughed. With a glare, he brought the bottle up for inspection.

               “This is pig’s swill,” he declared, though he still took another large gulp.

               The two of them sat in silence until the Jolly Roger was a mere speck on the horizon, passing the bottle of rum between them.  When the top of the mast finally became indistinguishable from the far white waves, Killian heaved a large sigh.

               “For nearly two decades I’ve called that ship home. She was first called the Jewel of the Realm; Liam was her Captain, and I was his Lieutenant,” Killian said softly.  “After his death I took her for my own.  First as Captain Jones, scourge of the Templar Order, and then as Captain Hook.”          

               Killian said the last with a wave of his hook, and Emma had to reach out to steady him when the movement almost toppled him off the dock.  

               “I’m sorry, Killian. If it wasn’t for me, for this,” Emma waved her hand to indicate the two of them, “you would still have your ship.”

               Killian rubbed his hand across his face.  “I won’t deny that our relationship was a major factor in my crew’s discontent,” Killian admitted.  “A pirate has no loyalty to any crown.  So how could I be the Captain they needed if I carrying on with the Princess of Misthaven?”

               Emma bit her lip.  This was part of the reason it had taken her so long to confess her royal heritage.  

              Killian turned his head toward her and with a sad smile, continued, “I had already decided to going to give her up.”  As he spoke, he reached up with his hand and gently rubbed his thumb on Emma’s lip, teasing it from between her teeth.  “So don’t go blaming yourself.  My retirement from piracy has just come a bit earlier than planned.”  

              Emma stared at Killian in shock once his words registered.  “What?” she said dimly.

               Killian took another large swallow of rum before he answered her.  “I can’t court you as a pirate, love.  And since that is my intention, once this is all over, I need to stop being a pirate.”

               Tears filled Emma’s eyes. “I would never have asked you to give up your ship, not for me,” she said.

              She reached up and laid her hand on Killian’s face.  “I know,” he said with a smile. “But it’s beyond time that I step away from being Captain Hook, and return to being just Killian Jones.”

               Emma was speechless.  She’d known that their relationship was going to be difficult because of her royal status and his lawlessness, but she hadn’t expected him to be so willing to change his way of life just so he could better fit into hers. The tears in Emma’s eyes finally fell and she hastily wiped them away 

               Killian’s eyes widened in panic when he noticed her tears but Emma quickly pressed her lips against his to ensure that he knew she wasn’t upset with him.

               Their lips parted, and she looked into his eyes, swiping away her tears and smiling. “Captain Hook or Killian Jones, ship or no ship, I love you, astonishing man,” she told him firmly.

               Killian gave her a lopsided grin.

               “And I you, love.”

Chapter 15

AN: Sorry for the late posting!  I was apartment hunting in DE, where I’ll be moving in January, and was completely exhausted after the 5hrs of driving.  

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Twenty-third Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

First … Second … Third … Fourth … Fifth … Fifth Christmas, Part 2 … Sixth … Seventh … Eighth … Ninth … Tenth … Eleventh … Twelfth … Thirteenth ... Fourteenth ... Fifteenth ... Sixteenth ... Seventeenth ... Eighteenth ... Nineteenth ... Twentieth ... Twenty-first ... Twenty-second ... Twenty-third

Here’s the last one … 23 chapters later … no idea it woud turn into this … and am totally glad it did :)

Thanks everyody who reblogged, noted, commented and tagged … you are all gods in my world and I appreciate you from the bottom of my soul :)

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sitting quietly on the couch, fire crackling on the hearth, wind whistling in the eaves, Mulder put his head back, nestling in beside Scully’s as she read something or other with a pastel cover and a beach scene and a faceless woman wearing a floppy hat, “hey, Scully?”

Patiently, she put her finger in her book to hold her spot, “yeah?”

“I want to decorate the hell out of this place.”

She couldn’t fight the smile that burst forth, “only you would use hell to describe Christmas.”

“Come on. I think Maggie would like us to do it up right, our first Christmas back together and in her house to boot. We can intermingle her stuff and our stuff and I can go buy stuff for the front yard and porch.” Having sank his teeth into the idea, it was now exploding in his head, visions of inflatable things and blinking lights and evergreen garland, pointsettas and pinecones and cinnamon-smelling potpourri boiling on the stove, “I mean, it’ll be the stuff of Christmas dreams!”

“Okay, you had me with your overuse of the word ‘stuff’ but then you rolled out the emphatic Christmas dreams ending and moved it right on into over-saccharined insanity.”

Shifting sideways, he pulled his leg up, the ever present Flab jumping on his lap while Dagoo looked on, comfy from his blanket near the heat of the fireplace, “look, even Flab appreciates my saccharine enthusiasm. Look at her. She’d dying to have you say yes because she wants her own Grinch costume and Dagoo needs a Rudolph nose.”

“I think Dagoo wants you to be quiet so he can keep napping.”

He saw the moment he won and grinning, “we should go shopping.”

“Yes, we should.” Will’s voice drifted down the stairs where he’d been listening rapturously, with both mind and ear, feeling his father’s win and his mother’s amusement. Coming down further and poking his head past the wall, “right now. The Uncles will love it when they come over for Christmas.”

“That’s right, Scully. We’re gonna have like 20 people here for two days. We owe it to them to make this completely Maggie Christmas worthy.”

Not about to deny Will or Mulder a damn thing ever in life, Scully stood up, holding her hand out to pull him with her then gesturing towards the fire, “put that out so we don’t burn the house down and we’ll go buy out the Christmas sections of everywhere.”

Will hooted, racing back upstairs for a sweatshirt, Mulder gave her a big, wet kiss on the cheek and did as told while Scully just giggled in happy glee.

&&&&&&&&&&&

When the Gunmen had shown up with Will on that bridge, the world didn’t end but began anew, saving Mulder, getting everyone back to the hospital, aiming a homemade and completely genius EMP handheld device at the hovering ship, sending it and its government fuckers as Frohike called them, away for long enough to get the gang safely away in the boat parked just below the bridge.

She’d saved the world but more importantly, she’d saved Mulder with the help of Will’s blood and her ability to completely compartmentalize the fact that her friends were alive and had been hiding her son from her for the past 16 years. Science kicked in, she brought human beings back from the brink of extinction and when it was all over, she screamed at the Gunmen for three minutes apiece then broke down, crying with her equally emotional son in her arms.

Eventually, over the course of the following three days, while the world was vaccinated, her and Mulder learned the story of the past decade and a half of the Gunmen and Will in abstentia. In the silence that hung around them when Frohike finished, Scully breathed out the largest sigh of relief in her entire, God-damned life and looked at her boy, “will you come home with me and be our son again … if you can ever forgive me?”

More crying ensued and an hour or three later, Will moved into the Unremarkable guest room, which was neither a guest room nor unremarkable anymore, given it had proudly been a resting spot for Maggie and would now be the home of her grandson. Within a few weeks, an agreement was floated between the six of them, Scully, Mulder and William moving into Maggie’s home while the Gunmen took over the farmhouse, the basement perfect for computer equipment, enough room for the three of them and the solitude to which they’d become accustom.

They came over three times a week for dinner to see their nephew.

&&&&&&&&&&

Shopping had never been so much fun. Both Mulder and Will had carts, racing down aisles in the local Wal-mart, doing their best not to steer into rows and nearly failing with regularity and hilarity combined. They called back and forth over tall things because, as Mulder put it, Scully was a short thing and needed to be kept track of. They debated icicle lights or fat LEDs for the front porch. They held up garish stockings and neon pink garland and giggled in unison at the metallic orange Christmas tree on display.

They ended up spending nearly all of Scully’s paycheck and she couldn’t have cared in the slightest.

Once back in the car, they stopped for Frosties, eating them while shivering their way home before finally pulling in the driveway and unloading Scully’s filled to the brim SUV. In typical teenage boy fashion, Will informed them that since he was out of school for Christmas break and had absolutely no reason to get up early in the morning, he would like to start the decorating now.

Mulder couldn’t think of one reason to argue and Scully gave them an approving smile, “why don’t you two start and I’ll go make the hot chocolate.”

&&&&&&&&&

It took until the next evening to finish, sleep finally taking the three of them down around two a.m. and lasting until noon. By that night, however, the only thing left were the Christmas trees, standing bare on either side of the fireplace, Maggie’s on the left and theirs on the right. William sat between them, boxes of ornament surrounding his crossed legs, lids off, treasures waiting patiently to be hung. “So, Scullly, would it be better to mix all the ornaments or would you like to keep them separate? Maggie’s on Maggie’s and ours on ours?”

She couldn’t give him a definite answer through the tears suddenly streaming down her cheeks.

Mulder’s heart cracked and with his own eyes damp, he pulled her into a hug, “I think we should mix ‘em all up. I have a feeling Maggie’d like it that way; she’d know that we’re really back together for good this time because, I mean, nothing says steadfast togetherness like mixing the mother-in-law’s holiday decorations in with our own.”

Scully laughed against his shirt, wiggling one arm from her hold on him to ruffle through their son’s hair, “what do you think, Will? Mix or separate?”

“Already mixing, mom, so the question is moot.” He had his own small box on his lap from which he was pulling homemade things, a popsicle-sticky, glittery, shiny, gluey, messy, intricate, woven, carved assortment of historically significant baubles he’d made with the Gunmen over the years. He lay them out on the rug, “we should keep taking one from each pile, nine ornaments each, put them on one tree then do the same for the other. We’ll have an even distribution that way or at least as even as we’ll be able to get given I don’t know your ornament count but we’ll make do.” The silence that hung above him made him look up to see his father shaking his head in befuddlement and his mother about to burst into laughter, “what?”

Mulder nudged Scully with his elbow, “he is totally your kid.”

Pointing to one of Will’s ornaments, “he made a green sequin alien head. He’s both of ours.”

Will held the alien head up to Mulder, “I sure am.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

It took most of the evening to hang 78 years worth of bulbs and memories, backstories being told for most, Will curious and open, questioning, commenting, loving the fact that he had a history, that he had a family with a history, that he was a part of that history. It was only when they’d finished that Scully suddenly realized, “if these are the things you made with your Uncles, what are they putting up on their Christmas tree?”

Will grinned, “I was confined to a building with them for 15 years, I made so many things that they’ll never miss what I took and besides, they wanted to give me more to bring home but I knew they wanted to keep a lot of it so believe me when I say, these aren’t even the tip of the iceberg … but I need to crash now so g’night and I’ll see you in the morning.” Giving both of them the long hugs they all needed all the time lately, he disappeared upstairs, leaving his parents to their standing and hugging and enjoying and occasional quick kissing.

Before anything got out of hand, Mulder pulled away from her, “I’ve got a gift for you.”

Because after several decades she was sure she knew what it was, she sat down, ready and waiting, grin on and hand out. Seeing her once he came back in the room, he chuckled, “no more surprising you is there?”

“Nope.” Waving her fingers in a hand it to me motion, “gimme.”

Laughing louder now, he sat down beside her, “it’s actually a two-fold gift. Here’s number one.” Opening the plain box, she found, resting quietly on the bed of cotton, the quarter necklace she had found in her mother’s possessions at the hospital, chain gone, Christmas hook attached. Before she could utter more than a small, confused, “Mul-,” he stopped her with a hand to the knee, “I know what that quarter is.”

She’d been wondering since the moment she found it, in the items envelope at her mother’s bedside, “how?”

“I gave it to her. Well, actually, she gave it to me. Back then, it was just a quarter from her purse but she gave it to me the night I met her, the night you were abducted by Barry. I was standing there, lost and confused and angry and scared out of my mind and I had to go do something, anything, just … find you. She’d watched me throw my cellphone at the wall at one point, frustrated as hell that no one was doing anything immediately, all talking and thinking instead of finding. Once I’d decided I needed to do something myself, she stopped me and gave me a quarter and told me to call her if I heard anything, regardless of time or information.” Stopping for a deep breath, he continued in a whisper, “I didn’t find anything out to call and tell her but I kept the quarter in my pocket anyway, holding it and hoping I’d need to use it soon. Eventually I got … we got you back but I kept the quarter anyways. I saw it as kind of my good luck charm at that point but then Maggie yelled at me and put me in my place for running with you so I had the quarter made into a necklace and I gave it back to her, telling her she’d never need a quarter to call me because we’d never be that far away again.”

Scully had been turning it over and over in her fingers, holding, spinning, twirling absently while she listened. When Mulder fell silent, she looked up at him, confusion still evident, “why didn’t you tell me when I found it or years ago, really?”

“Don’t be mad but it was a Maggie and me thing. It was ours. Our link. Our … connection to each other that was just ours. I never really had anything like that with my mother and …” now going sheepish on her, ducking his head, “I didn’t want to share it in case we went our separate ways. I didn’t want you to think of anything of your mom’s with a bad taste. I guess I figured a mystery was better than anger.”

Completely appreciating the logic, she first kissed his cheek, then kissed the quarter, dangling it in front of them, smiling through her ever-present tears, “I love it and the story and regardless of what may happen in the future, I’ve always loved you and always will so you don’t have to worry about that. I do however, wonder why you’re telling me now.”

“Because that was my last secret from you forever. I wanted everything out there when you got your second gift.” Reaching under the couch, he slid out a larger box, perfect size for a round bulb, “Merry Christmas part two.”

With that quizzical eyebrow he so very much loved to the ends of the Earth, he watched her open the box to a clear ornament, a piece of parchment paper rolled inside it, a handful of iridescent confetti heaped underneath it. Carefully unscrewing the sphere, she withdrew the paper, unrolling it carefully, reading intently then shaking her head in wonder, reading a second time just to be sure.

Once she looked up at him, eyes filled with twinkling amazement, he tossed the confetti in the air, covering them both, “so, will you be there?”

Her affirmative answer came in the form of her climbing eagerly onto his lap, straddling him, hugging him tightly as she whispered her, “I could never be anywhere else,” as she clutched her wedding invitation in her hand, the date printed as December 26, the time 2pm, the place being their front room.

“Gonna change your name? Let me make an honest Mulder out of you?”

As she kissed him once more behind the ear before shifting sideways, sliding down next to him, legs still akimbo around his thighs, “I was thinking more about Fox Scully. What do you say?”

Before he could answer, Will’s voice called down to them, in that uncanny way he had with timing, “I’m best man, right?”

Scully buried her head in his neck while he called back up to his son, “of course but you may have to battle it out with Frohike.”

“Naw, we’ll just tell him he’s Gunmen of Honor. He can be on mom’s side.”

“G’night, Will.”

“Night, Mom.”

Turning her attention back to her finally, very near future husband, “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Mulder.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Scully.”

[thecxmmissioner]

Shipping Meme

ANSWER THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR MUSE SO PEOPLE KNOW HOW SHIPPING WORKS ON YOUR BLOG. REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

TAGGED BY: @kyouminaine TAGGING: @tragicxscarlet @exsiliumductoris @kunselxknows @rcnoschopper @sanguinepeccatorum @lockedfighter @finalhxaven @calculatedfear @adventhero @silverxskies @execoterrorist @directorlazard @ablackwing @akamure and everyone I follow tbh [insert blogroll here] 

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?:

Reeve X Midgar ❤︎❤︎ tru luv. tragic ending.

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?

I’ve answered this question before in a previous incarnation of this meme and it was rather lengthy so I'm going to link to it here. :]

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?:

If Reeve knew the person as a child, it’s inappropriate ( to him ). If we’re talking about someone older than him, then that’s up to the older person’s comfort level.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?:

I’m a selective RPer anyhow, but Reeve is the selective one when it comes to shipping. He has his vices and weaknesses just like anyone but he’s got a lot going on in his life and he doesn’t trust easily, so he tends to minimize really personal involvement. Whether or not he would engage in...less personally involved affairs is up for debate, but I’m not really into writing one night stands, so it’s a moot point as far as RP and shipping are involved because if that happened it would only ever be behind the scenes anyway, and probably with nameless NPCs and no one would know about it. He’s very discreet and keeps his personal life private.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NSFW?:

That’s up to my followers, isn’t it? xD; I tend to assume anything that would earn an R rating on TV is something my followers would want tagged or cut, but I’m just guessing. (Or, another litmus: Would I get arrested for writing it with a minor? Then probably NSFW.) My followers can always ask me if I’ve guessed incorrectly about what to tag/censor and they want some additional tagging and/or censorship. Sexual content doesn’t bother me and I always browse alone so I don’t mind what other people do or do not tag.

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?:

Right now the only active ship I have on this blog is with @tragicxscarlet​.

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:

I’m open to things developing entirely IC or things being discussed between muns first, but the chemistry has to be there between the muses no matter how much the muns like the idea in theory. Still, it can never hurt to be like “yo, I’m super into this idea, are you into this idea?” because maybe your enthusiasm will get me into the idea! Actually, this could probably be said for any RP plot and not necessarily just shipping. :] More likely than not, if you’re really passionate about an idea you’d like to play with my muse ( ship or otherwise ), then your enthusiasm about it is probably going to make it a really good plot!

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?:

I’m not sure I understand this question. If I have a ship/ships going on, then I’d like to write with my ship partner(s) as often as I like to write with anyone else. ( Or probably a bit more, tbh! )

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?:  

Yes! But only one ship per character.

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

I’m ship more-or-less, although if a ship really captivates me, I can become quite obsessed with it. I’m not particularly ship-hungry, though. The appetite must be whet, the flames kindled, etc.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?:

Pfft, there are lots of lovely ships in this fandom. ❤︎

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:

It would be great to get our muses talking and a feel for their dynamic first, but if you’re SO excited about the idea of a ship that you just can't wait to talk to me about it, hey, I’m not going to stop you. :] Ultimately it’s going to be determined by chemistry anyhow, but there’s no reason why we can’t plan the circumstances surrounding our RP. Or if you’re not into discussing it OOC and just want to let it play out entirely IC, that’s cool too. I’m pretty easygoing and willing to accommodate different play styles.

But I think the #1 way to get me into a ship would be to gush at me about all the things that excite you about the ship, and you’ll probably get me really excited about the ship too. :]

#2 is to make sure the “Reeve” you have in mind actually somewhat resembles my muse and isn’t a fandom/doujinshi idea of Reeve Tuesti that is actually nothing like my muse whatsoever. ‘Cause uh...there’s a lot of Reeve out there that has nothing in common with my Reeve except a name and a goatee, which I’m sure is a statement that anyone who has ever played a canon character can relate to. ( ...Well, except maybe for the goatee. xD ) And if your shipping dreams hinge on my muse being someone he’s not, that won’t work.

#3 idk we come up with some ideas that make the ship really interesting and something we both want to write.

#4 keyboard smashing of feels.

#5 prepare to adopt me. I am now a permanent fixture on your tumblr.