#I know it's not very christmas themed but this was very vividly in my head so take it

[rattleteeth]

HI YES HELLO I KNOW I’M LATE BUT HERE YOU GO @littlestarfi! You wanted Putunia and Jerafina was your second pick, so have both!

@sfmsecretsanta

[kyunisixx]

champagne problems (part i)

a/n: back with another fic inspired by champagne problems by Taylor Swift. went circles with this one but it may possibly have a part 2.

themes: angst, heartbreak, and absolute heartbreak.

pairing: jimmy page x fem!reader

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers

You're not sure which is worse

She wasn't sure what drove her to act like she did tonight. Of course she was very much in love and head over heels. She can never fathom the idea of being with someone for the rest of her life other than him. The champagne she was sipping on earlier this evening left a lingering, bitter taste in her mouth, a pungent regret, and a sour truth.

Her ears are ringing and her chest felt like it was being compressed by a large boulder. Every breath she struggles to inhale seems to burn her throat, her eyes are clouded with tears. An experience she never thought she'd go through again, and this time, no comfort of Jimmy's embrace would calm her down. She then slumped back into a brick wall and slid down into the cold ground. 

As her breathing slowed down into a calmer pattern, she realized what she was feeling wasn't even a quarter close to what he must have been feeling at this moment. 

Jimmy, her darling Jimmy. That little boy who she met under a sycamore tree beside an old building during lunch hours. He stood up from the other side and dusted his perfectly ironed uniform and came over with his lunchbox in hand. He stopped in front of her and stretched his arm down to show the box into her view. 

"Take it. I don't like peanut butter. I'm not allergic, it's just disgusting" 

He had said in a clipped voice, but it didn't stop her mouth from morphing into a wide smile which exposed her missing tooth. "Hello, I'm new here. It's nice to meet you and I'm Y/N. How about you, what's your name?"

The stoic little boy ended up sitting beside her and she listened as he endlessly expressed his undying hate for peanut butter and how he pretends he does. His love for music and his dreams to study biological research.

He took her to a lake just a few minutes walk away from his home for the first time that weekend. "It's my safe place. I'd go here whenever I feel like I need an escape", he had said.

In his shoulder, was a bag carrying a large guitar. She watched him meander his bony but elegant fingers across the strings creating a beautiful sound which could almost lull her to sleep but his out-of-tune voice kept her laughter bubbling out. They had stayed seated on a blanket until dusk came around.

Her fingers wipe the lone tear which fell on a picture in her wallet. It was a faded photograph of them during their high school prom. Both older and he, a lot taller. What once was a little girl with a missing front tooth, now a young woman smiling at the lense of the camera. And what once was a shy and mysterious little boy, now shares the same smile and possesses the same glint of adoration in his eyes for the woman in front of him. Flowy and white was the dress she wore and a large suit with a funny-looking tie for his lanky form. She could vividly remember her hands shaking as he took her hand in his after she had asked him to leave early and avoid prom pageant schemes. He whisked her away under the same old sycamore tree and rested their expensively-clothed backs on the moist grass in silence. A few minutes, he sat up straight and with a stuttering voice, he confessed his love right there, reciting a long message in which she interrupted with a longing kiss.

He was there to watch her audition and rejected a few times for the football team until she was finally able to get in. She was amongst the crowd of people to watch him at his gigs and push him to work towards his passion and to create music.

His family loved her and her family adored him. As Emily Bronte said; whatever their souls are made of, his and hers are the same. 

So when he had her over to his parent's house for Christmas eve, she knew something was up. Everyone had a giddy smile as they seemed to knowingly stare at either her or Jimmy. And he, especially, appeared to be distracted and uneasy. Never in her years of knowing him had she seen him act like he does as he always was well-put together.

After dinner was served, glasses of champagne were being distributed as family members turned to each other to form in small groups of their own as they all waited for countdown.

"What do you want to get for Christmas?", Jimmy's sister cheekily asked, Y/N being unaware of its doubled meaning. She smiled fondly.

"I'm happy right where I am"

"I'd be damned if you weren't", his sister laughed heartily. 

They had chatted and shared half-drunken giggles for a few minutes until his sister broke free from the conversation when someone called her over. It was when the room got unmistakably quiet. She turned around to see Jimmy, standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Some eyes were focused on him and others were seeking her reaction. 

"You were the first one to listen to my hateful rant about peanut butter sandwiches, the first one to believe in what I can do and urged me to do what I desire. I cannot possibly express in any word the fondness I have felt the moment I have laid my eyes on you and your smile many years ago. An outcast like me, you were. But so unaware of the shine you possess and how you have everyone in every room in the palms of your tiny hands…"

It took her a few seconds to discern what was happening. As words spilled from his shaking lips, her ears weren't so responding anymore. So many thoughts were running all over her brain. He was about to propose marriage. She looked around to see looks of expectancy and hope in every family members and friends' eyes, the nervousness in Jimmy's voice and the distinct elephant in the room.

Jimmy and her were only young adults, her being 18 and him only a year older. Her heart pounded at the thought of being a burden and possibly hold Jimmy back from pursuing his dreams. Add the fact that she had goals of her own and even though the idea of growing old with Jimmy was all she wanted, she knew it was too soon. But her idea to explain her reason was impossible when there were so many people around, all expecting her to give one answer; Yes. The pressure was building up from her very core which pushed moist in her eyes and her knuckles to turn white from balling them into fists. Never in her lifetime did she think hurting Jimmy was the only resort to protect him. 

"...I am irrevocably in love with every fibre of your being and I want to spend my last, withering days with you, Y/N. Will you marry me?"

There was an impenetrable silence fogging the room. Her heart was pummeling against her ribcage as her breaths came in short puffs. Her mouth opened and closed again as she searched Jimmy's eyes for signs of hoax. His were desperately seeking hers for answers as his fingers gripped the emerald ring from where he was kneeling down on one knee.

"Jimmy… I", her voice croaked out dryly and swallowed. She locked her eyes on his green irises, ones she adored so much. Her lower lip trembled as she searched his face one more time. She was so desperate to say yes, but she knew she would regret it and would only end up hurting him more. Her hands reached down to cup his cheek, smiled sadly and in a small voice, she uttered, "I'm sorry, I can't".

Then she ran outside, leaving Jimmy, her Jimmy, to watch her leave and wallow in tears.

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready, so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

fogs on windshield glass (part ii)

⭐writings list⭐

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey (if you want to added in, let a sis know)

[badb1tchbokuto]

Alone, Together

Miya Atsumu x F! Reader

“Lame.” Typical.

“Self-righteous prick,” Okay that one hurt a little, but fine.

“Your game is weak.” Atsumu would like to think it wasn’t. It was just that he’d never really had to try. Whereas he focused all his efforts and love on the game of volleyball, he never really put in much effort on the dating game. Casual flings, short term relationships, one night stands - he was no stranger to all of this. He was attractive, successful, and had a steady career that allowed him to afford VIP tables in pretentious places like this. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be into that?

You apparently.

...In which Atsumu experiences his first existential crisis after you reject him at a club.

wc: 6k

tw: alcohol consumption, swearing, mild smut, slight angst, lots of fluff

(crossposted on Ao3)

Thursday, 10:00pm JST

Tokyo is alight and alive. The autumn sun is steadily dimming against a sea of ultramodern buildings and bright billboards that are beginning to light the city in incandescent neons. Crowds are meandering through the busy capital, with tourists slowly walking and stopping at every turn to take photos and gaze at their seemingly surreal surroundings, friends chatting vividly as they make their way to dinner, and employees ambling towards the crowded subway stations to line up and finally make their way home or just find some respite.

You, somehow, are a combination of all three.

Twenty four hours ago, you landed in Haneda from Charles de Gaulle. Jet lagged and bleary eyed, you stuttered your way through customs in your broken but passable Japanese, lost a suitcase that had most of your professional attire needed for the next day’s back to back meetings with investors, then had to be comforted by your driver as you explained the situation in distress all the way to your hotel in the business district of Minato.

You couldn’t help but feel unsettled and overwhelmed as it was after all, your first trip to Japan for professional matters. All your other times in the country had been spent with family, past lovers or on study abroad trips with best friends, but this time it was just you.

Adult you, in your first big girl work trip, in your dream field of fashion, in your dream city of Tokyo.

-

It has almost been twenty fours since you landed in the capital, and you’ve miraculously survived your first day. Barely. Admittedly you slept in a little too late after downing the entire complimentary bottle of Daiginjo from the hotel by yourself the night before, and this morning you spent over thirty minutes trying to transform your jet lagged mug with a “no make up make up” look only to end up still being asked by the sweet door people if you were heading to a special party. The upside is that the sake made you sleep like a baby, and smartly you paired your unexpectedly dramatic make-up with a killer outfit, resulting in you being recharged and sharp throughout the day, impressing your boss and potential investors alike.

Friday, 8:30pm JST

You had just emerged from your hotel to freshen up after a long day of work, now heading to dinner in Shibuya to meet with friends you’ve studied abroad with who were now living in Tokyo. Clad in a slinky Jacquemus silk dress and your favorite stilettos, you stand outside the grand entrance of the Tokyu Plaza, sending your girls a quick text to note that you got there a little earlier than expected, informing them that you’d be waiting at the restaurant’s rooftop bar instead.

The restaurant your friends chose was on the 17th floor of the building, a French fusion restaurant that turns into a nightclub after midnight and promises to have the best rooftop views of the Tokyo skyline. It seemed especially busy tonight, as there was already a line of young men and women eager to wait just to get into the club despite the area not opening hours from now.

Overhearing hushed snippets of conversations around you, it sounded like some celebrities were going to be there tonight. You brush it off, looking forward to having a moment to yourself to sip on an espresso martini, maybe even a few truffle sliders while waiting on your friends to arrive.

Busy thinking about whether you have time to eat one or three of the sliders before dinner, you absentmindedly made your way to the host at the front of the already buzzing line.

Halfway there, you feel a gentle but firm tap on your shoulder.

You turn, only to face a very toned and very broad chest dripping in two thin yellow gold snake chains layered over a printed silk button down, a piece from Gucci’s latest season. “Impressive.. ” you think to yourself as you lift your gaze as slowly and as nonchalantly as you can to see the man’s face, even though your eyes are probably already dilating in anticipation, because if the chest was already impressive and you were already having sinful thoughts about dragging your tongue on his chiseled pecs then moving down, well then...

“Yes?” You reply softly as your eyes roam upwards, starting with his strong jawline, to his warm, sugary brown gaze, up to his soft tousled blonde hair, and back down to his full lips, his canines and pink tongue slightly peeking out, adorned in a confident smirk that both turned you on and pissed you off.

“Fuck. I’d definitely let you ruin my life..or my pussy.” You couldn’t help but immediately think to yourself.

Without introducing himself, he slowly licks his lips, then cooly offers. “You headin’ up to Ce La Vi? My friends and I have a VIP table up there so you won’t have to wait until midnight to be let in. You can skip the line with me.”

“No thanks.” You curtly decline, irritated and offended that he assumed you needed his help to skip the line, let alone afford to enter the establishment for dinner.

You swerve past him, thinking that he’s another sleazy club promoter. Very attractive yes, but you’d like to think you were past making those types of mistakes at this age. Sexy guy leveraging his social status so that he can two pump chump you then ghost you until he needs pretty girls to fill up his club table? Hard pass.

Atsumu on the other hand, is confused.

That simple line never fails; it’s not aggressive but is still quite direct, and it wasn’t creepy. At least he didn’t think so. If anything, he thought he sounded nonchalant and cool.. Almost like Suna...right? Although he’d never let Suna know that he tries to emulate him when trying to pick up girls. Or that he thinks Suna is “nonchalant and cool.” God forbid he gets roasted on the group chat for yet another reason. Also, isn’t it always a great opportunity to skip the line at some overhyped dining club and get wined and dined by a handsome athlete like him? He’s never really had a problem using that line before, in fact his body count was proof of its success rate, so why did it not work on you?

You definitely seemed like you would be impressed by status and flash, considering you literally made his head turn because of your confident strides, wafting a luxuriously sexy scent. A melange of rose, vanilla, maybe the homemade marshmallows Samu makes in the winter... And definitely a tinge of the special perfume he was gifted by the Tom Ford team that he only reserves for special occasions. Something with tobacco and oud. Plus, he also definitely remembers shelling out 300,000¥ to buy the same Dior purse you had on for his ex-girlfriend last Christmas.

You saunter ahead of him, completely ignoring the screams and flash that followed. “Ah..So the celebrity has arrived.” You think to yourself. “They’ll probably be escorted to some special entrance anyway.”  

The doorman checks your name on the tablet and leads you to wait in front of an elevator. As you scroll through your phone, waiting for the elevators to take you up to the restaurant, you see him awkwardly standing behind you, rapidly typing away on his phone, very obviously trying to avoid your gaze.

Unlucky for both of you, you two were the only ones cleared by the front desk to go on the elevator.

The ride up to the 17th floor felt like an eternity, a palpable awkward silence marred by elevator music eerily like the Wii theme song dragged the seconds on.

Atsumu couldn’t wait to get out of the cramped space. He wanted so desperately to rush out and find Bokuto, Hinata, or honestly, he’d even practice his abysmal English with Adriah at this point just to get the hell away from you.

It wasn’t that Atsumu found you repulsive, quite the contrary actually. He found you so goddamned sexy, poised with a distinct self-assured stance that he only knew his former high school volleyball captain to have. You were magnetic, like an invisible force just happened to transfix Atsumu’s attention to you when he saw you standing at the plaza, leading him to follow you to the restaurant, thanking his lucky stars that he was also heading the same way since he most definitely kind of looked creepy staring at a lone woman in the middle of the street like that. 

The fact that you were immediately repelled by his kind suggestion to skip the line with him boggled him. Feeling claustrophobic in a roomy elevator decorated in mirrors that showed your reflection from all angles, he tries even more desperately to avoid looking at you, so he resorts to giving a play by play to his brother over text, only to get obliterated by Osamu.

“Lame.” Typical.

“Self-righteous prick,” Okay that one hurt a little, but fine.

“Your game is weak.” He’d like to think it wasn’t. It was just that he’d never really had to try. Whereas Atsumu focused all his efforts and love on the game of volleyball, he never really put in much effort on the dating game. Casual flings, short term relationships, one night stands - he was no stranger to all of this. He was attractive, successful, and had a steady career that allowed him to afford VIP tables in pretentious places like this. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be into that?

You apparently.

“Oh well, your loss.” He tries to reason with himself.

As soon as the doors open, Atsumu lets you pass like the gentleman he was raised to be. Okay, maybe he checks you out one last time, because damn that ass... and maybe he also tries to catch a whiff of your intoxicating perfume…  but no one had to know that.

He walks away to find his teammates inside the VIP dining area, wanting to just forget about you and move on with his night. You on the other hand, leisurely make your way to the open rooftop bar.

Shortly after, your friends Yuki and Kaori arrive, apologizing for their tardiness and promising a good time as they insist on going out clubbing with some of their friends from high school.

You hadn’t seen the sexy arrogant promoter or his “VIP” group throughout dinner. You forget about him or at least try to, happy to finally munch away on the anticipated dinner, reminisce about your wild college days and catch up with old friends.

Friday, 11:30pm JST

A couple of hours later, inhibitions loose from the free flow of alcohol offered at the restaurant mixed in with a bottle of champagne to celebrate your reunion, the three of you egg each other on to take shots at the bar before checking out the now bustling dance floor, surrounded by the VIP booths inside. Not a minute more after walking indoors do you hear a loud energetic voice holler, “YUKIPPE?!”

“Bokuto-san!!!” Yuki excitedly calls out, dragging you and Kaori over to greet a boisterous, incredibly buff man with two toned spiky hair. Behind him sitting on the plush rounded couches is a small group of young men who are all just as attractive and well-dressed, with an orange haired male capturing most of their attention, spinning an animated tale that had the table howling in raucous laughter.

The only one whose attention was away from the tanned male you heard is called Hinata is the promoter from downstairs, looking directly at you in shock.

“Oh fuck.”

Three buttons on his shirt were now unbuttoned, giving you a more intimate view of his chest. The same, broad, muscled chest you fantasized over earlier. His gaze is unrelenting, and you realize you had also been staring back at him when Kaori waves her hands in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Giiiiiirl? Hello?”

You revert your attention back to your group, acting as if you definitely weren’t just thinking about jumping on the blonde’s lap then and there, pulling him into a kiss, grinding on him as you unbutton his shirt and pants in a desperate, heated haze and then...

Kaori interrupts your thoughts with, “This is our friend from high school, Bokuto-san! His boyfriend Akaashi-kun will be joining us later.” Bokuto is beaming down at you with a megawatt smile and pulls you in a bear hug as you move to shake his hand.

Yuki introduces you as their friend from university that just moved to help launch a Japanese edition of a niche French fashion magazine. She adds, “Bokuto is the star ace of his volleyball team, and these are some of his teammates from the MSBY Black Jackals.”

At this, Bokuto bellows a “ HEY HEY HEY!” that garners the attention of his teammates and onlookers alike.

His teammates warmly welcome you and the girls to their table, as if you’re all old friends simply catching up. Comfortable, you engage Hinata and Meian in a lively conversation about your common experiences while traveling in Brazil. From your shared love of pao de queijo, debating where the best feijoada can be found in Rio, all the way to sharing the wild scenes you’ve all seen in Ipanema's legendary posto 8, banter flowing easily.

You were having a great time, happy to make new friends.

Atsumu had been stealthily watching you throughout the introductions. You acted as if it was the first time you’ve met him, then gracefully jumped into a discussion with his captain and newest teammate as if you were all best friends, when in fact for the last two weeks since Shoyo had joined the team, he’d nervously run to the bathroom every time Meian tried to talk to him for longer than five minutes. Now here he is, laughing with you and the captain about your shared culture shock in realizing how comfortable Brazilians were with skinship.

Atsumu met you less than three hours ago, but every little detail he picks up about you fascinates him more and more. There wasn’t a single thing about you that he didn’t like so far, leaving him intrigued, pining to get to know more. Except for one little big thing.. you flat out rejected him, so now he’s actively avoiding you out of respect for the boundaries you set initially.

Still, he was riveted. He wanted to get to know you one way or another, even if it was trying to casually listen in on your conversations with his teammates.

“What a creep.” Sakusa interrupts his thoughts, rolling his eyes at Atsumu.

Bokuto leans in and attempts to whisper in a hushed tone, in an octave that was definitely too loud to be a whisper, “She’s super cute Tsumtsum! Go for it!”

“Just talk to her, you’ve been staring at her the entire time. It’s starting to get weird.” Sakusa adds.

For arguably the first time in his adult life, Atsumu is insecure.

How does he approach you for the second time? He doesn’t even know what to talk to you about. Here you were, casually conversing about your world travels when he’d never even left Japan except for international matches. You, decked out in designer items he’d gifted different ex-girlfriends as apologies or appeasements for every time he prioritized volleyball over them. You, who were already chummy with his teammates even though it took him months to warm up to them. For fuck’s sake, sometimes his jokes still fall flat, but here you are cracking jokes and making even Omi chuckle. Who the hell are you? And how can Atsumu get to know you? Does he want to be like you or be inside you? How does he even get your attention without seeming like a desperate jerk? Why the fuck does he care what some random girl thinks of him?

He never really cared about what others thought of him outside of volleyball, but when he can’t rely on his one true love to speak for him, who is he and what does he have to offer?

Having an existential crisis at an ostentatious club at midnight was definitely not something Atsumu wanted to do. Yet here he is, feeling as dejected as the day he wore the Jackasuke costume and slipped in public for the whole world to see.

Swirling the melting ball of ice on his crystal glass filled with Yamazaki 18, he didn't notice that you had moved closer to him.

“They say whiskey is a depressant. Is that why you look so sad?” You joke, then gesture to his drink with a small smile.

Atsumu lifts his head to look at you, then freezes upon realizing your close proximity. He counters, “Really? What should I have for a good time then?”

“Me.” You cheekily reply and wink at him.

He grins at you, confidence steadily regaining at realizing that he might have a chance with you after all.

Saturday, 12:00am JST

Pouring a newly opened bottle of Ace of Spades on two champagne flutes laid out on the table, you make amends.

“Sorry for being so rude earlier. I get really defensive when I’m randomly approached by men, especially because I thought you were a promoter looking to get girls to join your table… I didn’t know I had mutual friends with some hotshot athlete.” You smile awkwardly.

He laughs and jokes back, but there is definitely some weight to his sentiment.

“Ah, but since Imma hotshot athlete, s’all good now right?”

You replace the whiskey glass in his hands with a champagne flute and shoot back. “Nah, I really thought you were trying to pimp me out to your flashy friends who bought tables from you, or worse, that you were just trying to get a quick fuck.”

Atsumu chokes on his own spit at your frank reply, and you giggle before lowering your voice so only he could hear.

You counter, “For the record, I would have been down for the latter, except you didn’t even introduce yourself. You should also know that I don’t ever need your help to get places.”

You smile innocently at him as if you didn’t just confirm that you were down to fuck if only he had played his cards right. His mind fogs, instantly imagining dragging you to the nearest bathroom to fuck you silly. He thinks about what it would feel like to sloppily kiss your full lips, moving his hands from your hair down to your neck and shoulders, feeling the curves of your body graciously skimming the silk fabric of your dress, only to unwrap you like a prized gift and worship you with his tongue.

You clear your throat, well aware that Atsumu’s most likely imagining fucking you given his glazed over eyes and parted lips.

With a blush, he tries to cover his reddening cheeks and neck by downing his drink. He bounces back with a, “Well then. The name’s Atsumu, 23 years old, professional volleyball player - the best damned setter the MSBY Black Jackals and the Japanese National Team has ever seen.”

Atsumu realizes then that he never really had to introduce himself. Not seriously anyway. Most people around him already knew who he was; his teammates, coaches, players within the league, aspiring volleyball players, fans of the game, fans of his.. even people around him who didn’t have interest in volleyball just generally knew of his reputation as one of Japan’s most talented athletes and eligible bachelors.

How does he tell you about himself without pulling out his phone to show you his current stats or videos of his top sets as proof that he really is as good as he says? Without looking like an ass? Even worse, what does he tell you about himself without volleyball being the main subject?

You smile, intrigued at how he suddenly seemed so sure of himself while talking about volleyball, emitting pride and passion as he describes his profession.

So you continue to ask him about the sport. Atsumu visibly relaxes, his love for the game evident as he discusses their most recent friendly match, the reason why their Osaka based team is in the capital just before some of them start training for the Olympics. The other boys jump in and out of the conversation, with Yuki and Kaori clarifying certain terms to you when they see you furrow your brows in confusion.

As the alcohol keeps flowing and the conversation moves to the upcoming Olympics, you and Atsumu have veered off the multiple group conversations and are transfixed on each other.

He asks you what you’re doing in Tokyo and how you ended up there, so you tell him you graduated from university recently, originally intending to become a Doctor but decided to pause and move to Paris upon graduation, wherein between random side hustles you somehow landed a job in editorial fashion. Thus landing you in Tokyo on an extended work trip.

Atsumu is bewildered at how you could switch careers so easily and still succeed, that you have multiple passions and follow them according to your whims.

He couldn’t imagine living a life like yours, volleyball being the only thing he’s actively pursued since realizing he had to make a living somehow. He wonders whether he chose volleyball as a career because it was the only thing he was good at and the only thing he could think of when his high school teacher asked him about his options for the future.

Deep down he knows that he loves the sport more than anything else, the driving force and principle behind his very essence. Still he can’t help but wonder, what if he chose do something else? What if he found a different passion to pursue? Would he have made a good doctor? Lawyer? Entrepreneur and chef like Samu? He shudders, lost for answers. He settles his raging thoughts by simply asking, “How could you switch careers so easily?”

You pause to think for a while, then casually respond.

“People are multi-faceted. I think there’s different versions to us as we navigate life. We fall in and out of love with different people, hobbies, places, food, aesthetics... There are just so many variables, so many moving parts as we get older.. Who’s to decide that we have to be tied to the same job or pursue the same passion for the rest of our lives?”

This confuses him even more, and he decides that despite you having the same self-assured aura that Kita-san has, you’re the complete opposite of him, different from everyone around him actually. Him, his brother, his friends, his exes, all of whom either have a clear direction or some semblance of goals and dreams for the future.

You on the other hand, are all risk. You boldly trek into the unknown, unafraid and ready to face the variables and twist them so that they fall to your favor. Atsumu supposes that in this way, he relates to you.

He replies, “Huh. Weird but I guess I kinda get it. It’s like when I’m on court observing opponents. I have to sniff out and adapt to whatever bullshit they’re on, tweak our plays and my settin’ style to make sure we crush them. Sorta like a gamble.”

“Exactly.” You confirm.

“Eh..but nothing feels better than winnin’. How do you even know if you’re winning when you don’t have set objectives?” Atsumu counters.

You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“I do! My objectives are just adjusted to my current surroundings. I’d say pondering over the inherent philosophical value of career choices in a rooftop bar in Tokyo with a sexy volleyball setter is winning.”

“Touché.”

He grins, aiming to pour more champagne to your flutes before realizing that you two polished off the bottle of Ace on the table and that your friends were all in various states of inebriation.

Yuki dancing with her boyfriend, Kaori grinding on Adriah, Bokuto and Hinata on the dance floor twerking on the older MSBY members to Reggaeton, Sakusa and Akaashi watching all of this in amused horror.

“Wanna dance?” Atsumu asks.

After topping your glasses with overpriced bottle service liquor, you move towards the dance floor at the center of the club, joining your friends.

You’re shocked at how well Atsumu can dance, easily gripping your hips and moving with you as you gyrate against him to 90s hip hop jams. Hinata finds you both and proceeds to dance on you, laughing as you twirl him and sandwich him between you and Atsumu.

After a couple more songs, you, Bokuto, and the girls end up dancing on top of a random table screaming the lyrics to the newest Megan Thee Stallion song.

Yuki somehow proceeds to wrangle you all back to your table to take shot after shot, fueling the night to go on.

Saturday, 3:00am JST

Your group stumbles out of the rooftop bar, with the married MSBY members calling it a night. Bokuto on the other hand, is already ordering an Uber Lux to take you all from Shibuya to an even more upscale club in Minato, on the other end of Tokyo for a good nightcap.

Atsumu holds your hand as you enter the club, the most he’s gotten to touch you since dancing with you earlier.

Your group downs more bottles of champagne and vodka, all dancing on each other at your table.

Emboldened by the alcohol in your system, you pop your ass a little more against Atsumu’s crotch, swaying more seductively to a random top forty hit. Feeling him hardening against his fitted trousers, you turn to face him, skimming your fingers on his chains and chest as you continue to dance. In turn he runs his hands up and down your sides, moving more liberally to each drop of the beat, grazing up the underside of your breasts and back down to cup the curve of your ass. His hands feel warm on your body, steadily stoking a growing fire in you.

You gaze up at Atsumu, tilting your head to lightly graze your lips against his neck, trailing upwards towards his ear, effectively sending shivers down his spine. You whisper, “Would you consider this winning, hotshot?” licking the shell of his ear, resulting in Atsumu groaning lowly as you move your head to look back at him.

With hazy eyes, Atsumu looks at you, then whispers, “Winning would be when I’ve made you come with my mouth so many times you’re beggin’ me to fuck you.. but until then pretty girl, this is pretty close.”

You pussy throbs as his lips brush against your skin with every whisper, but before you can even respond, Atsumu kisses you.

His soft lips press on yours, capturing your lower lip in a soft bite that elicits pleasure that starts in your belly then moves down south. His hands continue to move up and down your sides, now more possessive in grabbing your ass to bring you closer to him.

You teasingly lick his parted lips, prompting Atsumu to dance his tongue against yours.

Lost in open mouthed kisses that have you both desperately groping each other’s clothed bodies on the dance floor, you feel Atsumu brush his knuckle over your breasts, motions languid and repeating as your nipples arouse and become visible through your silk dress.

Your entire body is overheating. You moan against his mouth.

He whispers, “Wanna take this somewhere more private?” You nod immediately, then rush to tell your friends you’d catch up with them over brunch tomorrow.

Atsumu is waiting by the exit, but as soon as he sees you, he is so turned on he can’t help but sear you into another heated kiss, leaving you both weak and wanting.

Saturday, 4:30am JST

Miraculously, the nearest Uber is 25 minutes away and the cabs are far and few. Atsumu starts to dial a private car service, but then notices you wandering down the street.

“Oi!! Where you goin’?” He calls out.

You pout. “I’m hungry.”

Atsumu offers to order you room service at his hotel but you decline, taking his calloused but surprisingly moisturized hand as you skip down a tiny alley way towards a conbini.

Inside, you fill your basket to the brim with an assortment of junk food. Chips, instant ramen, sandwiches, daifuku mochi, fried chicken poppers, and every other snack you find with cute packaging before finally leading you to the end of an aisle, choosing between which types of onigiri to purchase.

Atsumu goes along with you, advising you which brands to get, which to avoid, even putting his favorites in the basket. Although he knows his trainer will punish him with brutal training sessions if he sees the shit he’s about to put on his body, he thinks it’s all worth it. He knows he’ll feel guilty come morning, spending hours at the gym to burn it all off, but right now he couldn’t care less. Not after seeing you starry eyed at how many options of onigiri there are, and how absolutely adorable you look when asking him about which snacks he thinks could fit in your purse to save for later.

Trying to impress you, Atsumu comments. “Y’know, I make a mean tuna onigiri.”

No he doesn’t. His brother does, but you don’t know that. Not yet at least.

“Oh yeah? Want to make me some one of these days?” You respond.

Securing a date with you before the night even ends? Hell yeah.

Atsumu thanks his lucky stars, confidently confirming. “Sure, how does tomorrow evening sound?”

“Baby, our night hasn’t even ended and you’re booking me for tomorrow already. Are you trying to cuff me?”

“Yes. Then wife you.” But Atsumu holds his tongue for once.

Instead he winks at you, responding with a casual “Only if you want me to” with a wide, cheeky, canine bearing smile.

Laughing, you roll your eyes at him as he swoops in to carry your basket and insists on paying for your drunken munchies haul.

Saturday, 5:15am JST

Somehow you and Atsumu end up sitting on a park bench, sharing the food he bought from the conbini. Like two excitable school children on a field trip, you trade half bitten snacks with each other while talking about everything and nothing in between.

He tells you about his twin brother Osamu, who he insists is definitely uglier and the bummy version of him; how they did everything together up until Samu decided to open up his own restaurant and stay in their hometown of Hyogo instead of playing professional volleyball like him.

Atsumu tells you all about their childhood, from catching bugs to keep as pets and sneaking them to their room only to hear their ma screaming about it in the middle of the night, to how he always took from Samu’s secret snack stash, always denied doing so when confronted, but always paid him back with interest by secretly dropping a chunk of his monthly allowance on Samu’s piggy bank. The same one that Samu would later break open to help fund the opening of his restaurant. All the petty fights that turned into brawls, only to act like nothing happened despite being covered in scratches as soon as their tired mom walked through the door after a long day of work. He talks about his twin in such an easygoing manner, love overflowing in his voice and reminiscent of when he was speaking about volleyball, but this time there’s a twinge of wistfulness and melancholy to his tone.

“You miss him.” You softly conclude.

“That idiot? Nah.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you for blackmail.” You tease.

Atsumu concedes. “Okay maybe a little.”

Loose lipped from the alcohol still flowing in his veins, he continues.

“Samu and I have always been together. Startin’ at the womb for fuck’s sake, fightin’ each other over stupid shit, getting our asses kicked by our ma, sharin’ a room, spewing random thoughts to each other only the two of us would understand, goin’ to the same school, on the same volleyball teams, with the same friends, or rather him havin’ friends that ended up adoptin’ me to their group.”

He chuckles. “I think I took it all for granted, havin’ someone there always with me.. Even if he always got on my ass for the littlest things and it used to always piss me off. Deep down I knew he was always just lookin’ out for me, just didn’t know how ta’ show it. I mean, I didn’t either.”

He laughs because he knows he still doesn’t know how. “It’s almost been four years since I moved away from home and...”

He doesn’t finish the sentiment, but he doesn’t have to.

Atsumu is alone, and although he loves to brag to Osamu and their friends about the freedom having his own space brings, he knows he’s also so fucking lonely.

You finish his thought for him by empathizing. “I get it. I mean, kind of. I don’t have a twin so I can only imagine, but I’ve been living on my own for quite some time now, in between countries with parents who don’t support my career change and friends always in different places than where I am. It’s isolating. But hey, that’s why we put ourselves out there right? Why you acted like a sleazy promoter in front of the club and why I acted like a stone cold bitch earlier only to come at you? Our lame attempts at easing loneliness in hopes that one day, someone might finally understand... or just be there to try.”

You chuckle half-heartedly, nudging his shoulders to try and ease the somber tension.

He turns to look at you, smiling up at him, listening and just trying to understand. He can’t help himself. He pulls you into a sweet kiss that tastes of strawberry daifuku and expensive champagne.

Atsumu knows that you’ll never understand what it’s like to have a twin, to live a life away from them, to suddenly pursue a passion you thought was shared only to have to do it all on your own.. He thinks it’s amazing that you’re even listening to him rant about his nostalgia, even when he knows his thoughts seem incoherent, even when he currently doesn’t even know how to define himself.

In a dimly lit park in Azabu, you and Atsumu find solace in each other’s solitude.

He doesn’t know how he managed to basically word vomit to a stranger issues he finds too embarrassing to even mention to his brother, yet here he is. He doesn’t even know why barely two hours ago you were feeling each other up at a club, about to go back to his hotel room and drunkenly fuck, but now here you were at a park in the middle of a ritzy neighborhood in Tokyo, sharing snacks, stories and innocent kisses.

Talking to you, kissing you, hell even drunkenly shopping for food with you felt like second nature to him, as if you had been with him all along and this was just part of you two’s routine. Atsumu doesn’t know why though, since you couldn’t be more different from him.

You, who finds sparks of interest then bravely torches it aflame, letting it change your life as you go along. Then there’s him, lucky to have found his passion early on, pursuing it steadfastly since then, letting it consume and define him.

Perhaps it was the fact that you found each other incredibly attractive and you both were just looking for some sort of release, sexual or not.

Or honestly, maybe it’s the shared loneliness of being newly minted adults, trying to navigate life on your own without the familiar crutches only youth affords.

Whatever it is, Atsumu finds himself even more drawn to you.

“Being alone, if it’s together with you, isn’t so bad after all,” he thinks.

He watches you as you look up to observe the night sky rapidly fading to make room for the soft pastels of dawn, a soft smile painting your pretty lips. He doesn’t realize he mirrors your smile as soon as he sees it.

At 23, Atsumu doesn’t know the answers to a lot of things. He knows now that you don’t either, but he definitely knows then that he wants you to be there with him as you both figure it all out.

Saturday, 3:45pm JST

“I need a favor Samu. I need to make dinner to pair with onigiri. Oh wait, actually I also need to make onigiri. Tuna scallion.”

“You? Cookin? What?”

“It’s for this girl...”

“A girl agreed to let you cook for her? Is she sane? Conscious? Did you force her?”

“Fuck off!”

“Bet.”

Osamu hangs up.

Atsumu panics and calls him back immediately.

“Fuck I’m sorry!! I’m sorry! I… mighthavetoldherIcookwelltoimpressher.”

“Ah so you’re posin’ as me. I knew I was the superior twin.”

“You wish!! But please... I really like her. It’s the girl from yesterday.”

In all 23 years of being Atsumu’s brother, Osamu had never heard of Atsumu wanting to impress a girl by actually doing something for her. Buying them all the shit they could want, taking them out to eat wherever they want, sure. But actively taking time out of his day, time that could’ve been spent training, to do something for someone else, not even sure if the end result might pay off?

This was new.

Knowing Tsumu’s lack of patience and short attention span, the food will be barely edible. He knows Tsumu expects this to happen already; so he’s intrigued that his brother really insists on trying.

He’s always known Atsumu to be a gambler on court. Off court, he takes the safe routes. So for him to suddenly take a gamble like this, you must have been pretty damn special.

“Alright, scrub. I’ll send you the ingredients list. Facetime me when you’re back in the kitchen.”

- - -

- - -

Notes: The places noted in the story are based on real locations in Tokyo. See below if you’d like to imagine more vividly where you and Atsumu’s adventures took place. :)

Locations used:

1. Rooftop bar/restaurant - Ce la Vi, Shibuya

2. 3am club - 1Oak, Minato

3. Conbini - Lawson's (any one of them in Azabu)

4. Park - Mamiana Park, Azabu

[1rintooru]

When Life Gives You Lemons

Pairing: post-timeskip Bokuto Kotaro x fem! reader (its p gender neutral with a few exceptions)

Themes: fluff, fluff and more fluff

Word count: 2020 one-shot

Warnings: light swearing - that's it!

Summary: just you and bokuto remembering how you first met and started dating. And Bokuto being Bokuto 💖💫

“Do you remember our first date?”

You cocked an eyebrow at his question and shook your head incredulously, “Kou, how could I ever forget that?”

“I’ll never forget that face; you looked so beautiful.”

You smiled at the thought. You remembered that night so vividly as if it were only yesterday. All you wanted to do was dash in and out of the store to collect a few missing groceries. It had been pouring all day and within the short time you were outside, the rain had managed to soak through your paper bags, causing your groceries to rip through the softened paper. You were so upset that you ended up hastily tossing your individual groceries into the backseat of your car before getting in and speeding off.

“And I remember yours,” you chuckled, “that stupid, dumb face that looked right back at me.”

You had a hit a series of red lights – normally annoying you – but the downpour had gotten increasingly aggressive on your drive home. Your car felt like it was vibrating from the fat raindrops that hit the window and roof. You were mindlessly listening to the radio when a loud thump sounded from the hood of your car. Your eyes darted to the sound and you just barely caught a glimpse of white-gray hair and golden eyes staring at you like a deer in the headlights before quickly vanishing as the person rolled off the side. You shrieked and hopped out, mentally preparing yourself for the worst, only to see a young man lying on the road, illuminated by your blinding headlights.

“I really though I hit you…”

“Baby, you were at a red light. I had this all planned out,” Bokuto grinned smugly, then scratched his chin contemplatively. “Besides, how else was I supposed to catch up to you!”

He had plastic fruit net entangled in his fingers but you couldn’t quite make out what was within it. Once his eyes met yours his shocked expression was replaced with a confident boyish grin. He held up his bag, pointing it towards you.

“And then you had the nerve to say something as dumb as ‘Uh, you forgot your lemons!’”

“And you were all like, ‘Oh, you’re my hero! You’re so sweet. And handsome too!”

You rolled your eyes, trying – and failing – to stifle a giggle. “I did not say that!”

At the time, of course, you were beyond annoyed. You had barked a couple of insults and promptly snatched the lemons from him before you stomped back into your car. When you arrived home, you threw the fruit into the fridge before changing into a pair of dry clothes. You had managed to calm your nerves but the man from before never fully left your mind. The entire time you tore into him, a goofy smile was plastered on his face. Despite that, he was admittedly quite attractive. His wet hair stuck to the sides of his face, his drenched clothing clung to his body, contouring his muscular physique and he looked almost angelic with the headlights reflecting off his glistening skin.

He cleared his throat,” A couple of days went by, so I thought you didn’t even notice…”

And you almost didn’t. A few days passed and you ended up forgetting about the incident and the lemons altogether until one evening you stood in your kitchen wondering what to eat. You had raided your cabinets and scanned your pantry, but it wasn’t until you opened the fridge for a second time that you noticed the lemons from earlier, still safely contained in their netting. Suspicion began to bubble within you as you had started to realize something.

“I didn’t even buy lemons in the first place…” your voice trailed off.

In the commotion of that night, you didn’t even think twice about what you had snatched from the man. You were cold, wet, hungry and just had a lunatic jump in front of your non-moving vehicle; the last thing you were worried about were the intentions behind some fruit. You debated whether or not you should have simply thrown them away entirely, but you noticed something different about one of the lemons. You fished it out of the net and realized what you had seen earlier. You could just barely make out the digits that were scribbled in thick black marker – most likely written in a hurry – with his name underneath, followed by a crude smiley face.

Bokuto

Call me :)

You remembered how you rolled your eyes upon seeing that. ‘Who did he think he was?’ you thought. Despite your exasperation, something held you back from throwing away his eccentric proposal and to your own surprise, you ended up texting Bokuto that very night.

Your message finally reached him in the early hours of the morning. Bokuto instantly replied back the moment he saw his screen light up. In all of your retellings of the story, he always omitted just how anxious he’d become the past few days. You lived in his head rent free and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t evict you from his mind. Did his master plan really fail him? What if you didn’t even like lemons? Maybe he should’ve taken his shirt off instead. Better yet, he should’ve spiked your car with a volleyball to show off how athletic he was. He really would’ve loved to see you watch him during his matches. He pouted and let out a defeated sigh since he finally understood what it was like for Akaashi when he would overthink.

Your first message way terse and dry but it gave Bokuto enough serotonin for him to snap out of his slump. You ended up texting each other until someone caved and fell asleep, the rays of the rising sun already peeking through your blinds. Texting quickly turned to daily phone calls and that eventually escalated to the two of you constantly facetiming each other. At some point, without you fully realizing, Bokuto had turned into a quasi-roommate – always inviting himself in with the excuse that he didn’t know how to cook for himself. (You came to learn that this was very, very true).

You hadn’t even realized how lonely you’d felt before you met Bokuto, so you wholeheartedly enjoyed being able to see him all the time. However, what you didn’t enjoy was seeing him walk behind you through the monitor of one of your zoom meetings, with nothing but his boxers hanging loosely from his waist. You immediately sprung from your chair, shouting profanities and demanding he leave. The entire time he just smiled at you bashfully, shifting his weight uncomfortably and once you looked down, you finally understood why. You had forgotten that you only got dressed from the waist up – just a pair of barely-there panties prevented you from mooning your co-workers. Needless to say, your colleagues never let you forget you and Bokuto’s peepshow.

“It really was never a dull moment,” you smiled fondly, your mind flooding with memories of all the dates and silly adventures you shared together on a whim.

Bokuto hummed agreeingly, “So, when did you finally know?”

“Know what?”

“Well, you know… when did it feel like love for you?”

That was a good question – you hadn’t really put too much thought into it. A relationship with Bokuto was like having a tidal wave of love and affection hit you. All the time. At first, you tried to resist his efforts in order to protect yourself from getting hurt – turns out, he was the one who needed protecting. He had a knack of getting himself into trouble or diving head-first into something without realizing the risks or consequences. The time he dragged you to an annual food-fair on the boardwalk immediately popped to mind. He had begged you for months to take you there on a date. Once you finally gave in, his face lit up like a small child’s on Christmas and it stayed that way for the entire day while you both tried food from all the different food vendors. You’d both reached your limit but unlike you, Bokuto continued to scarf down food like there was no tomorrow – you suspected this was just another way for him to show off. The only reason he did stop was because the vendors had started to close their stalls and by that point, he had started to realize the error of his ways. The rosiness of his cheeks had paled as he hunched over clinging to his stomach, pain written clearly on his face. ‘I told you so’, you said, already digging through your purse for pain medication. He held up a hand, effectively stopping you, ‘Don’t worry babe, I’ll swim off the pain.’

Before you could even argue, he had already made a run for it, beelining towards the ocean. You chased after him, only catching up with him once you were both neck-deep in the water.  You tried to pull him out, but it ended up with you both playfighting instead. Every time you’d aggressively splash him, he would throw you into the air in retaliation and this went on until you were completely exhausted and he was complaining about the saltwater burning his eyes.

You remembered distinctly how your wet shoes squeaked as you walked along the boardwalk. You were glad the life had returned back to Bokuto’s cheeks, even though his hair was disarray and his eyes completely bloodshot. He had an arm twined around the small of your waist and despite his best efforts to hide it – you could feel him shiver underneath his drenched clothes. Someone once told you how your favorite things about your partner would eventually be the same things you come to resent them for. When you looked up at your boyfriend, you couldn’t have disagreed more. Every time you passed a streetlight his features would illuminate – reminiscent of how you saw him for the first time. You met each other through his idiotic plan and you’d be damned if you if you were ever going to miss out on these chaotic adventures together.

Your attention turned back to Bokuto, staring at you fondly through the monitor.

“I guess I just always knew,” you said with a coy smile.

“C’mon that’s not a real answer!” he whined, but even through the pixelated screen you can tell he was hiding a grin.

“Well, answer me this instead, Kou,” your voice quickly turned serious, “when will I get to see you again?”

Bokuto leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms before finally resting his hands behind his head.

“Not long. Besides, you’re lucky enough to see me on TV even when I’m not around,” he grinned mischievously and gave you a wink, making you roll your eyes, “Besides, I uh… I left you something before I left. I hid it behind our junk food stash, I think.”

You raised an eyebrow, but decided to go look without questioning him further. What you found hidden deeply in the nook of your pantry didn’t clear anything up and raised more questions instead.

“Lemonade?” you couldn’t contain your confusion as you held up the can to your camera.

“Read the label.”

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade :)

“I know it’s been tough for you baby, but we’re almost through it. Just a couple more weeks and I’ll be back home. I promise.”

You felt tears threaten to spill over as you read the label again. It was such simple gesture but it truly did encompass your relationship beautifully. Bokuto always had a thing for silly melodramas and goofy sentimentalities. Even after two years you still felt like you were a fresh couple – you never lost the feeling of butterflies in your stomach or the habit of rolling your eyes over his antics. You managed to collect yourself and you couldn’t help but smile when you looked back at him through the screen. He may have been an idiot, but he was your idiot.

“I love you Kou. Don’t keep me waiting.”

[lemonsandstrawberries]

An after Christmas Snack

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), MCU

summary: Christmas season had ended, but Steve is still finding some things to remind him of the past celebration and, oh boy, he intends to celebrate. 

length: 1 449

a/n: HEY, LOOK AT THAT, FIRST FIC IN 2020! And I think it is a very me kind of fic, buuut I am not gonna tell you what I mean exactly, I am sure you can figure it out while reading *wink wink*. you will get one hint though, this fic is inspired by this lovely post.  also, I still have a Christmas tree at my house so this fic is totally valid ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . as always, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

——————–

An after Christmas Snack

"Tony, I brought you a snack - what the - ?!"

Steve stopped, catching a shining object with the corner of his eyes and staring at it. Silver branches, blue and red ornaments. A Christmas tree. A Captain America themed Christmas tree Tony had proudly decorated and put on display in his workshop and he and Steve had a good laugh about it, while Steve had been secretly flattered.

Back in December. It was the end of January.

"Huh?" Tony turned around from his workbench, stopping the spinning hologram of his suits. Always upgrading, adding something to make his armor better and more efficient. "Oh, hi, baby. Is that for me?" Tony smiled, eyes lingering on a cheese grilled sandwich Steve was holding on a plate.

"Uh, yeah, but - why you didn't put the Christmas tree away yet?" Steve asked while Tony walked to him, taking the steaming hot sandwich in his hand and then tossing it to his other hand, just to blow on his fingers as the hot bread stung his fingertips. There was a reason people used plates.

"Duhno," Tony shrugged, biting into the sandwich, cheese strands stretching from his mouth. "Tho shoon."

"Too soon?" Steve laughed, watching his boyfriend getting his mouth dirty with ketchup. Tony shrugged again, grinning adorably. There was something really sweet about Tony's love for Christmas trees. Each December every corner of the Tower had a Christmas tree, no matter if it was a conference room, one of the gyms or private floors of the Avengers team. While on the main floors, they tried to limit the number of Christmas trees and keep them in the main rooms, Tony didn't have the same composure on his and Steve's floor. They had a full-size Christmas tree in the living room, bedroom, Tony's study, smaller one in the kitchen standing on the window sill, and even in the bathroom - the smallest one of them all, decorated with figures made out of soap. It was a very unusual place to put a Christmas tree in, but soon became Steve's favorite one and it was a pleasure to catch one of the apple-cinnamon scented soaps and use for his showers or baths shared with Tony. Gradually, Christmas trees were slowly disappearing from the Tower after 6th January, safely stored for another year, but somehow Tony managed to keep the one in his workshop.

"Do you plan to keep it till Valentine's Day?" Steve teased.

"Easter if it goes well," Tony answered and Steve wasn't sure if it was a joke or not, but he just shook his head fondly. There was a crash coming somewhere from the workshop and Tony whipped around with an irritated look on his face. "Dummy! I told you to watch out!"

Steve blinked, noticing another thing when Tony turned around and away from him. Something that he didn't notice earlier, hidden under layers of shirts and suit jackets or baggy Christmas sweaters, but becoming perfectly noticeable when Tony wore his undersuit compression shirt.

Seemed that Christmas trees were not the only thing that was left after the Christmas season. Steve remembered the moments that led to this one very vividly - the way Tony enthusiastically piled more mashed potatoes and roast beef on his plate, second helpings of sticky toffee pudding cake, and that their evening kisses tasted of hot chocolate and sugar cookies. Denying anyone food wasn't in Steve's nature and he had happily cooked with the rest of the team and they all spend many good days, eating and laughing and relaxing, and it was a pleasure to watch them all and especially Tony, his Tony who loved food, but had days when he was neglecting eating in favor of working. Steve had been just happy to see his boyfriend slow down and enjoy the season.

Steve couldn't turn his gaze away. He always had some sort of weakness for Tony's softer shape, not as angular and sharp as his own body, but rounder and more delicate with a round, bubble butt, curved hips and a belly that formed a soft slope and wasn't rock hard and didn't have to be. The compression shirt fitted snugly around Tony's shape, pronouncing the belly that became a bit rounder in the past weeks and little more sticking out and that coupled with the way how low Tony liked to wear his pants and how it left his whole tummy on display was making Steve's breath quicker. Yet, the worst (or best) was to come. When Tony turned away completely from him, scolding Dummy about something Steve didn't register, he saw Tony's silhouette and while the sight of his boyfriend's ass was gorgeous, as always, something new appeared. Little rolls above the belt on both sides of Tony's waist. Love handles.

That made Steve's mouth water. He wanted to haul Tony over his shoulder and carry him out to kiss and touch and admire.

And what exactly was stopping him?

Despite, Tony still going off on the increasingly sorry looking Dummy, Steve sneaked to his boyfriend and wrapped arms around him, pressing Tony's back into him.

"Stop being so tough on Dummy," Steve whispered into his boyfriend's ear, and Tony huffed, still irritated.

"Dummy, clean it!" Tony ended his rant, pointing his finger in the direction where his creation made a mess. They both observed as Dummy used his claw to grab a broom and swiped the floor from broken bits of something and Tony couldn't stay mad for long seeing his special bot's honest effort. "Good boy, Dummy," he praised and the bot perked up and resumed cleaning, looking a lot less sorry.

Steve ran his nose over Tony's ear delicately and inhaled. God, Tony didn't only look delicious but smelled delicious too.

"Whatcha doing?" Tony asked in a singing voice, twitching his head away from the tingling feeling on his ear. Encouraged by the playful tone, Steve brushed his fingers along Tony's sides, gently and light, testing the new curves.

"Steheve," Tony giggled, still open and enjoying the closeness, just twisting his hips a bit, causing the nicest friction between their bodies. Steve made some approving sound in his throat, liking what he was feeling, just a soft and warm and wonderful body. The material of the compression shirt was very thin and clung to Tony's torso like a second skin, and was smooth and allowed his fingers to glide down easily and feel every curve. Speaking of curves -

"HEY!" Tony jumped, a startled laugh escaping his throat when not knowing when the sweet contouring of his sides changed into firm burying of fingertips, right into his belly, just in the very center. "Dohahan't," Tony laughed, batting on the hands that tried to come back, this time deliberately teasing and tickling around his belly button. The shirt hugged his rounder tummy snugly and there was a small dent in the material, just where his belly button was, something Steve had noticed right away, making it a very easy target. "No no nohoho, come ohohn," Tony continued to laugh, successfully knocking Steve's stubborn hands away and managing to turn around. Still wrapped in an embrace of strong arms, Tony looked at his boyfriend with a playful smile, hoping that, despite the short distraction, it all was going in the direction he thought. It felt very nice, when Steve's hands firmly slid down his back, smoothly gliding on the slippery material, stopping above his butt, thumbs resting on the small pockets.

"You can go lower if you like," Tony encouraged in a low murmur.

Steve smiled hungrily, wondering if his hands were big enough to still cup each cheek. Tony's breath stopped when it turned out that yep, they still were. Nice and firm and round globes, sitting perfectly on each palm, carrying a nice weight. There was no other feeling like digging his fingers into the glorious thing that Tony's ass was, and Tony shivered, pressing closer into him. Steve made some very needy whimper that escaped without his consent, when Tony's softer belly pressed into his hard one, the contrast driving him crazy.

Tony was warm and eager and Steve wanted to make his boyfriend melt like he had melt butter for Christmas cookies Tony had so enthusiastically devoured.

The very dark, promising look in Steve's eyes was a good enough reason for Tony to put his all projects on hold.

"Dummy! You're on workshop duty!" Tony called, pushing his hips into Steve's and hooking one leg around his soldier's thigh. With a more predatory smile, Steve slid his arms below Tony's butt and carried him out of the workshop, having his own snack to enjoy.

[stories-mostly]

Stark's Bug

Tony Stark x son!reader

I saw endgame on the 24th and all in gonna say is it sure was a movie and my knees hurt afterwards. (Please don't put any spoilers in the replies thanks) This is the last chapter before Iron man 2.

Words: 2188

Warnings: none

Chapter 14

Christmas Eve rolled around and you were too excited to go to sleep. That and the fear of having a nightmare again is what kept you awake. You hadn't had a nightmare in a week and 3 days so you assumed that it might happen again soon.

Repeating the same motions with your Captain Magic figure above you while laying on your bed got boring quickly. And the thirst was calling. Begrudgingly you went out to get yourself water or something.

The house was quiet beside your bare feet making noise as they took another step. The floor was cold for your blanket warm feet so you walked on your toes to avoid the feeling and the weird noise as much as possible.

Walking past one of the clocks you noted dully that it was already 11.27pm. Way past your usual dream land time.

You walked into the kitchen not expecting anyone to be in it. You jumped when you saw a man standing in it before realizing that it was your father.

Sharply you breathed out the shock and moved past him to get you a glass.

"What're you doing awake?" He asked vividly remembering having tucked you in a few hours back. You seemed pretty tuckered out then.

"I'm thirsty."

He hummed seeming concentrated on the drink he was making in your blender. It looked disgusting.

"What's that?" You pointed at the blender with the dark green thick liquid in it.

"A little healthy snack." He grimaced "Wanna try?" Suddenly smirking. He looked exhausted.

You shook your head, downing your tap water in two gulps, placing the glass in the sink after.

Tony followed your example basically inhaling the thing. He didn't look happy after.

"How is it?"

"Could be better."

The two of you just stood there in silence for a second. Tony looked you once over.

"You can't sleep, right?"

You nodded hesitantly. He smiled at that.

"Get dressed in something warm." He told you immediately turning to walk out of the room.

Confused you did as told and stood in the middle of the living room wearing your winter coat, warm pants and some boots over your Pjs.

Your father carrying several things came, took your hand without a word and started leading you through the house. Up some stairs, all familiar so far. He leads you out onto the highest balcony looking over the rought waves.

"Come on." He said waving at you to follow him.

At the point where Balcony and roof met was where he stopped.

"We're gonna climb up here." He explained hoisting you onto the roof and following soon after.

Climbing onto the highest roof of the mansion all the lights in and around the house turned off at once.

Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the newfound darkness only to find an incredible view.

There were thousands of tiny specks of light in an array of colours decorating the sky.

"Whoa," was the only thing you could muster to get out of your mouth.

"Right?" Tony was spreading out a blanket and pillows on the roof.

You looked back and saw him holding out a big box wrapped in Captain Magic themed wrapping paper. The box was longer than it was tall. Or taller than it was wide depending on how you propped it up.

"This is for you." Tony said as you just stared at the gift.

"What is it?" You took it and sat down on the blankets ready to tear through the thin paper.

"A gift." He smirked and told you to open it.

You didn't have to be told twice. With little effort the paper fell from the box and revealed the picture of a telescope on the side.

"This is so cool!" You jumped up and engulfed your father in the biggest Bear hug your small body could muster.

"Happy birthday Jesus." He said chuckling a bit at his own joke.

Both of you started to assemble your new telescope. Tony had already taken it out of the box once to get rid of all the unnecessary byproducts of the packaging. He had assembled and taken it apart before as well. Just to get it standing as soon as possible.

Within a minute or two your star looking tool was standing proudly before you already pointing at the sky.

All fatigue was gone as soon as you got a glimpse of the moon through the device. There was so much more detail to the moon than you could've ever imagined.

Tony smiled softly as you continued to steer the tube to the next source of light.

"Dad! Come here look it's a planet!" You waved him over in excitement careful not to move the Telescope.

With a grunt he stood up and waddled over leaning down to observe what you'd found.

"Wow that's amazing, Bug. That must be super far away."

Satisfied with his answer you grabbed your telescope again and continued exploring the universe.

In about half an hour you had found so many cool sights that Tony couldn't keep track of all the wow's and "look at this" he heard. Each time getting back up and looking at the star you wanted to show him. You were so excited he couldn't help smiling with you.

But the half hour was enough for now. Fatigue finally catching up to you.

"Let's go to bed, Bug. You're tired." He said softly when you sat down beside him.

"No I'm not! I wanna look at the stars some more!" You protested loudly, laying down on the thick blankets and staring up at the sky to make your point.

With a chuckle your dad copied your movements, laying his head down on his arm using the other to point out various stars.

"Do you know any constellation?" He asked eyes on the sky.

"Only the small dipper and big dipper."

"And where are they?"

You shrugged.

"I guess we'll just have to make up our own then." The next 15 minutes were spend pointing out various star clusters and assigning them a name. Together you named 6 constellations: Hero, Mermaid, dog, lane, spot and circle. Not very fascinating but easy to find.

"You see that star in the middle of nowhere?" He pointed to his right breaking the silence. You followed his finger up to the sky finding the lonely star.

"That's the one I'm gonna go built my new house on."

You giggled.

"What?"

"You cant do that! Stars arent made of dirt! It's like the sun! You can't build a house there." You said reciting all the things you had read about the sun and the stars.

"You don't know that! You were never there."

"I can check with my Telescope! It's not a planet!"

"Oh yeah? Then how come we can see other planets as stars?"

"Because...." you thought about it. That's sort of true. It could just be a planet or sort of moon from far away.

"You can't build a house there." You mumbled defeated.

"I can, and I will. Just you see Bug, one morning I'll be gone and you'll look through that telescope and see me wandering around on that exact star enjoying my new house. All, by, my,-self." He teased poking your side with his free arm. You laughed.

Silence settled over the two of you like a comfortable blanket. Tony shifted a little placing both hands beneath his head. You put your head on his arm and continued looking up. The universe seemed so much bigger when you directly looked at it like this. Like a thousand fairy lights strung along on the colourful ceiling of a dark room. Or flicks of white paint as finishing pieces of an amazing painting.

With some sweet thoughts about the universe you drifted off content and warm on the thick blankets and your warm winter clothes.

Tony smiled at the scene. His little boy laying content beside him, scooting closer as the cold seeps through his clothes. He wanted to move, it was way too cold out here for sleeping. But he wasn't able to. Frozen in place by his latest thoughts.

Carefully he checked if his son was actually asleep. He was, the little guy was in deep sleep his mouth hanging open and little puffs of air escaping it in regular intervals.

It was probably Christmas day already.

With a sigh he laid his head back down and stared up at the seemingly endless sky.

So this was it, this had been his last Christmas eve and will be his last Christmas. If he doesn't find a cure that is.

Tony was still in denial about the whole thing. He doesn't fully believe it yet, but he knows it's there. Just months after almost getting killed, he's slowly dying. Slowly being poisoned by the very thing meant to keep him alive.

That wasn't the worst part about it though. The worst part was that his mind was constantly telling him that he'll be leaving behind his very reason for fighting on. This fragile little boy full of emotions that he readily expresses. Plagued by nightmares about horrible thing he didn't want to reveal. Who wants to be friends with the world. And who slept in his fathers bed every night for the first 4 years of his life. For over half his life.

He was only 7. And Tony blamed himself for all the shit y/n had to witness in the small amount of time he had spent on earth. Not even a decade old.

With a shuddered sigh he picked up his son and brought him inside, dropping him off in his bed and removing the boy's warm clothes.

He cleaned off the roof and wandered down into the lab. He hadn't checked everything yet. There was still hope that he could survive, he had to. If not for himself then for his son.

The only human being that truly relies on his survival.

Bonus because I needed something lighthearted

Nickolas J. Fury had had a long day. Recently his agents were fucking up more than usual and a good chunk were currently on Christmas leave. So many in fact that he had to go out and deal with a bunch of wannabe villains himself. And now he was walking into the shield headquarters to complete a bunch of paperwork. On early Christmas day.

With an annoyed sigh he entered his office and stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. There was a package on his desk. Brown and unsuspecting. He took in his surroundings. Nothing seemed suspicious.

Fury stepped out of his office to look for someone who could maybe tell him about it. But the halls were empty. It was late at night after all.

He sighed and carefully walked closer seeing something written on top.

It was his name and the buildings address. And there was a return address as well.

"What?" He asked himself quietly. Why would Stark of all people send him a package?

The package looked like it had actually been shipped so it probably was from him. And wasn't just a weird joke.

Fury took his knife and cut through the tape holding it shut. Opening itcwith suspicion.

His face just grew more confused as he found a poorly wrapped box inside, everything was covered in loose silver and gold glitter. He lifted out the gift and found the glitter bomb that was a handmade Christmas card underneath.

When he lifted it wafts of poorly secured glitter fell off the front.

He shook it twice to get as much of that stuff contained in the box as possible.

Fury had a hunch on who sent the gift by the shaky child drawing of a decorated tree on the front.

He decided to sit down and read the card. Wrong move, as soon as he opened the card a spoonful of loosened glitter fell straight into his lap and onto his dark clothing. Fury tried to push the glitter off his lap with his free hand but some still stuck.

A frustrated sigh left his mouth when he gave up and read the card.

Dear Mr. Direk Director Fury,

I want to wish you a good Christmas and a happy new year.

You don't know me a lot but I would like to be your friend because you look really cool so I got you a gift for Christmas. Because we are not friends yet I got you something I like and hope you like it too. I told Phil and he said it was a good gift.

I hope you like it.

Your new friend, full/n-Stark

Ps I like your eye patch

Fury found himself smiling at the message. It was sweet and came from a place of certain innocence. He could forgive the glitter attack. It wasn't intentional.

Carefully he removed the wrapping paper from the box and opened the top.

Inside were several things. He took out a drawing first. It was of him and y/n next to a Christmas tree with the words we are friends written beneath with an arrow pointing at the figures.

The second thing that immediately caught his eyes was a stuffed animal. A tiger with a cape and the typical comic book eye mask thingy. The tag said it was from a children's series. The tiger was named Stripes.

And last but not least was a small, real tiny keychain of a orange tabby also in superhero gear.

Fury wanted to full on laugh while also cursing Coulson internally.

A cat. Of course.

He was gonna have to thank the kid the next time he saw him.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @nicholasbich @tater-thottie @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark @emilaa2001 @kindahadeschild

[oldguy56-world]

Do You Hear What I Hear

We set up the Christmas tree yesterday. When I say 'we', my job was to fetch it then get out of the way while my wife decorated it. This system works very well for us. This inspired a Christmas type title for the blog. The actual blog has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas. Such is the way my mind works.

A few weeks back I wrote one called 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. (Look at me referencing past works. I am surprised I remember anything past yesterday) There was a small observation in that blog that I want to expand on.  I am not sure if my hearing is going, or people just mumble more, but I don't always hear correctly what is actually being said. This is also spilling over to my wife. The upside is that it has greatly enhanced how funny things are (or we think they are) based on what we believe we heard. Some may say it is because we are not paying attention, but I will lay the blame squarely on those speaking. When both of us are in the room, usually one of us will hear what is said correctly. Usually. The end result is we have had some great laughs about what we are convinced what was said.

It can't be age (no way) since this has been happening since I was young. I vividly recall watching hockey with Bob Cole announcing, and I was convinced he kept saying 'he farted in the corner'. I was amused and amazed as to how great his hearing was to pick up the noise from up in the gondola. It wasn't until much later that I realized what he was saying was ' he fired it in the corner'. Perhaps it was his Newfoundland accent, but then again he doesn't have one. maybe it was wishful thinking on my part.

The problem is not just mine. Have you ever asked Google, Siri, or Alexis something, only to scratch your head about what they answer? I asked how many people there were in the world, only to get a response that there are 17 shades of purple in the world. Who knew? Who cared?

Below are some examples of things we have heard, or thought we heard.

- We were in a restaurant and my wife ordered a pasta dish. Waiter asked if she wanted a 'Super salad' with that. Knowing my wife's love of veggies, I was not surprised when she said yes. Before I could order the waiter asked which one? Soup or Salad. We still laugh about this one.

- Watching the news the other day, I was positive the newscaster stated that this ultra-rich guy owned a personal Jew. I am thinking 'wow! That is so wrong, and what does he need one for.' I did a quick playback (wonders of tv these days) and it turns out he had a personal zoo. Completely different, and almost as wrong.

- Two days ago, my wife asked me to take my pants down. Being an obedient husband I did so immediately. Turns out she wanted me to take the plants down so she could water them. While it may have been wishful listening on my part, she was not thrilled. Neither were our guests.

- I was in a greasy spoon diner, and ordered a burger. (That will come as a shock to anyone who has been with me at a restaurant) I could have sworn he asked if I wanted flies with that. I didn't know that was optional in a place like that. I thought they just automatically hovered over the table.

- Did you know that the Queen is the longest shitting monarch in English history. Apparently that is not quite what was said.

- Finally, if you are working in a store and need to use the intercom, speak clearly. It always sounds like the adults in 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' (See how I tied this up with the Christmas theme I started with.)

I will not get into how many times professional broadcasters mispronounce words. I give them the benefit of the doubt until they repeat the mispronunciation.

There are many, many more, but I am getting tired. If you want to share some you have heard, please don't. Keep them to yourself, or share with your friends.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: If you half listen, and retain 20% of what you hear, you will get it right 10% of the time. That is math. If you never listen, you will get it wrong 100% of the time. That is stupidity, but will not disqualify you from running a country.

[gillzilla]

A Treatise on the aTROSity, Including How Hope Came to Me in the Form of The Lego Movie 2, Knives Out, and Little Women

I will start out by saying that I have never made a real, detailed post on Tumblr, mainly because social media kind of scares me. But the Reylo community's amazing kindness, strength, openness, and willingness to speak the truth in their writing over the last week and a half is honestly what has gotten me through the heartbreak and depression caused by the stabbing in the chest that was this movie. I am one of the people who loves Kylo/Ben Solo because I have mental health conditions and an abuse/trauma history within my family, which is also why the holidays are hard for me, so a big thanks to the people in charge of the story for TROS for making it even harder this year. After a week and a half of legitimate mourning for the butchering of the themes of Star Wars and of all the characters, but particularly the sequel trilogy characters, I am ready to add my two cents to all that has already been written about this movie.

First off, I have not been a Star Wars fan for my whole life. My parents tried to introduce me to the original trilogy as a kid by taking me to see A New Hope in the movie theater for the 20th anniversary screening in 1997. I fell asleep for most of it and was terrified by the trash compactor scene, so you could say the movie did not resonate with me. It actually wasn't until Phantom Menace came out that I started to get attached to Star Wars. So many older fans love to shit on that movie, and it certainly has many flaws, but a lot of us who were around the same age as Anakin when that movie came out and are now adults have started to speak up about how the movie was a gateway into Star Wars for us. Anakin gave me a window into the Star Wars universe that I could understand and relate to. I could relate to Anakin being a kind-hearted kid who wanted to help others and just wanted adults he could look up to, and I liked the podracing scenes. As with every single other sci-fi/fantasy hero's journey story that I loved as a kid, I empathized with and related to a male hero. Now, the wooden dialogue/acting/directing of Attack of the Clones and the tragic ending of Revenge of the Sith that left me so emotionally devastated that I vividly remember calling my friend to tell her I was so depressed I couldn't focus on studying for my eighth grade English final, kind of took me out of Star Wars again. There had been a spark there, but at that point I figured, eh, I guess it's not really for me after all.

I didn't rediscover Star Wars until the end of the first semester of my freshman year of college. This was a very difficult time in my life, as I was in what I would now consider to be a mental health crisis that unfortunately lasted for five years because I was too ashamed and uneducated about mental health to seek out help. I was very, very lonely during that time. It was close to finals week and I was sick, so as I sat in my dorm room I decided, why not pop in those DVDs of the original trilogy that I got at Costco last month. After watching them, I remember thinking, "Why have I not been watching these my whole life???" The original trilogy hooked me after that point and I started watching the movies every year around Christmas in commemoration of my rediscovery of them.

I was just as surprised as anyone when I found out that Disney bought Lucasfilm and that they were going to make a sequel trilogy. I had thought there would never be any more Star Wars, so I was overjoyed, though tentative, because I knew that though I loved Star Wars, it also had a tendency to make missteps that were somewhat endemic to sci-fi/fantasy hero's journey stories, such as poorly written dialogue, emphasis on ridiculous plot points that took away from the deeper overall themes, lack of diverse characters, and objectification/misogyny against female characters (I do not like watching Return of the Jedi because I hate, HATE the Jabba's palace stuff for what they did to Leia, honestly they gave Leia nothing interesting to do in that whole movie basically, but that's a whole nother essay).

So I went into The Force Awakens not really knowing what to expect. But oh my god, was I blown away. I am not lying when I say that I cried for at least an hour after the scene where Rey and Kylo are both reaching out for the legacy saber and it goes to Rey as the music swells, oh my god. I FINALLY realized what it meant to feel seen in the stories that I loved. My whole life I had been attached to and empathizing with male heroes, because they were pretty much the only heroes out there. To see Rey as this amazing female heroine who was not objectified and was a compelling character with an intriguing backstory that I related to as a child with a trauma history who often grew up feeling lonely, and to see that she was going to be the main Jedi in this new trilogy, I was overjoyed. It gave me hope. And then, on top of that, we got Adam Driver. Need I say any more. So many people have written about what an absolutely incredible actor Adam is, and I swear he is the only actor who could have pulled off the role of Kylo/Ben. The first time I saw TFA I didn't catch all the nuances of the character and his dynamic with Rey, but something about him really intrigued me (and made me want to watch everything Adam had ever been in). My love for TFA led me to start investing time in the online Star Wars fandom, which I never considered myself to be a part of previously, as the fandom had always reeked of being a "no girls allowed" type of zone. I found out about amazing, female-led podcasts that I started listening to every week and whose hosts I value just as much as my friends. I also started following the Reylo fandom on Tumblr. Learning more about the mythology behind the sequel trilogy, including how the creators were writing Rey's story as a heroine's journey and her and Kylo/Ben as dual protagonists, added so much to my understanding of what was going on in the storytelling and gave me the words to describe why I was connecting with these stories so much. I can honestly say that Star Wars and the Reylo fandom generally have been instrumental in helping me to get through the last four years, which have been a very difficult and isolating period in my life.

And now I'm up to TROS. As so many have said, the vast majority of it is a steaming pile of trash. People have done such an amazing job of breaking down why this story and how it treated its characters and retconned the beautiful story and themes that Rian gave us in TLJ was so painful for us. Many have pointed out that this movie is a result of catering to the most toxic portion of the Star Wars fandom, the "dudebros." Going further, I want to state that, whether consciously or not on the part of the cis, straight, white, male writers/director/CEO of Disney, this movie is a reassertion of masculinist ideologies. I want to clarify that when I talk about "masculinist" vs. feminist ideologies, I am talking about how our society and culture defines "masculine" vs. "feminine" ideas, traits, etc. Gender has nothing to with biological determinism and is socially and culturally constructed. Masculinist ideologies include beliefs such as extreme individualism, competition, "us vs. them" dichotomies, and power and value being defined based on hierarchy, which necessitates the use of violence to perpetuate the hierarchy. Feminist ideologies include valuing community and collaboration, connection and empathy, the idea that every person has inherent worth regardless of their productivity, actions, mistakes, class, race, sexuality, etc., respect for all people, and an abolishing of hierarchies. Masculinist ideologies are those of the white supremacist hetero-patriarchy, which, as we can see playing out in various ways all over the world, has been rearing its head in a very obvious and ugly fashion the past few years (though of course it has been around for wayyyyy longer than that).

Anyone who has been reading the fantastic analyses of TROS by those in the Reylo community can likely see how TLJ and even the story as it was set up in TFA were communicating feminist ideologies. One big example of this is Kylo Ren/Ben himself as a character. As so many have eloquently described, this is a complex character that commits atrocities, but is shown to be a victim of immense abuse and trauma that was failed by everyone in his family when he needed them most. This is a character that, had he been able to have the full and well-written redemption arc that he deserved, would have had an extremely moving story of how toxic masculinity and masculinist ideology is destroying boys and men by keeping them from being full people who can express all of their emotions, be vulnerable, and be open to love and connection. Reylo resonates so much with me not because it is about Rey supposedly doing all the work to change Kylo in some sort of toxic, co-dependent way, but because Rey and Kylo/Ben were always equals to each other. They both pushed each other to be better, more whole people. The wonderful work that folks have put into analyzing the mythology behind the feminine and masculine symbolism in TFA and TLJ (again, to clarify, "masculine" and "feminine" being culturally defined terms), and even the more obvious original goal of the sequel trilogy for the force to finally be balanced by Rey and Ben themselves becoming balanced between dark and light all relate to these gender issues. Balancing the dark and light sides of the force is also about balancing the "masculine" and "feminine" aspects within themselves.

This is a beautiful message that has so many real world implications. In our world, for lack of a better term, everything "feminine" is basically shat on. Patriarchy hates anything "feminine." This is how sexism plays out, but it also has to do with the ideologies that we believe in, down to our basic understandings of empathy and whether or not people have inherent value. The world would certainly be a better place if the "masculine" and "feminine" were better balanced, specifically if "feminine," and feminist, ideologies were more valued. This is what makes TROS feel like a stab directly in the heart. This was a trilogy that clearly did have feminist messages, regardless of DLF's bullshitting about Star Wars being "for everyone." Star Wars has always been progressive, the original trilogy is about rebels taking on fascists for god's sake. DLF's pandering to the most toxic part of the fandom for TROS is therefore representative of a much larger cultural, social, and political battle that is going on around the world right now. We are at a turning point for humanity in which we are starting to face the devastation that has occurred due to masculinist ideologies being the most highly regarded and utilized by those in power, but those in power are also trying to maintain their power by strongly reasserting those ideologies. So I would argue that this is not just about one movie that I and many other people didn't like. This movie is a small representation of a much larger battle that we're fighting.

Now, that reassertion of masculinist ideology that was the stabbing in the heart of watching TROS has made me super, duper depressed for the past week or so because, as others have pointed out, it communicated to me that no matter how hard we fight, the white supremacist hetero-patriarchy will reassert itself and win in the end. It even re-triggered the pain I've felt over the past few years since our current president came into office in the U.S. However, as I near the end of this long treatise I would like to share the stories that gave me hope over these past few days. I re-watched The Lego Movie 2 the other day, and that story gave me hope. The "bad guy" in that story is a literal embodiment of toxic masculinity/masculinist ideology, and it ends with the male hero realizing that he doesn't need to sacrifice his humanity and connections to other people to be a hero, or even just to be a man. How to Train Your Dragon 3 also told a story about a male hero/leader that rejects masculinist ideology. Additionally, I was given hope by Rian's amazing movie, Knives Out, which I went to see solely because people on Tumblr recommended it (thank you folks!). Rian had a clear theme and vision for this story that was about exposing and dissecting what I would call "toxic whiteness," and what it does to a family and those around them. And lastly, I saw Greta Gerwig's incredible adaptation of Little Women today, and that gave me hope because one of its main themes is about the struggle that (cis, heterosexual) women have in asserting themselves as full humans with talents, dreams and goals for their lives outside of being in romantic relationships, but also wanting to have romantic relationships at the same time. As has been said by so many, "STRONG" WOMEN CAN FALL IN LOVE AND HAVE ROMANTIC/SEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS. Feminism is about giving all people the chance to be fully human, and for heterosexual women that includes being able to have a relationship with a man and still be valued and respected for everything that we are outside of that relationship. The above mentioned stories, and others (She-Ra, Dragon Prince, AtLA & Legend of Korra, I'm sure there are others) give me hope that there are creators out there that are communicating feminist themes, even in big-budget movies that lots of people go to see. We need more of this. Tied to this is that THE HEROINE'S JOURNEY OF THE SEQUEL TRILOGY SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN/DIRECTED BY A WOMAN/WOMEN. Folks, we need the opportunities to tell our own stories. All of the diverse folks out there, if you are a creator, please keep on creating! We need you out there and we value all of the beautiful, integral work that you do!

So in sum, I'm not going to let what happened with TROS ruin my love of Star Wars or of the sequel trilogy. The story belongs to the fans now, and there are so many of us out there to care for it. You better be sure that I will never stop speaking up about how wronged we were by TROS, that is the hill I will die on. But I am not giving up hope and I hope that you will also join me in not giving up hope. As Poe stated so well in TLJ (with one minor adjustment), "We are the spark that will light the fire that will burn the [patriarchy] down." End of treatise.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Have you ever gone on the Spider-Man ride at Universal?

Have I ever gone on the Amazing Adventures of Spider-Man ride at Universal’s Islands of Adventure theme park in Florida?

That thing that I have a 2001 photo of near my bed and have had it there since 2001?

Er...only like 8 times!

Sit down and let me spin you a tale.

Long before there was a Spider-Man movie, long before I knew there was GOING to be one, I found out about the ride at like age 9-10.

It then became my life’s dream to go on that ride. And I do mean dream because I lived in England and my family at the time were living with my grandparents home as we slowly built our new house, a feat that took 2 years so we didn’t have the cash to spare on a big holiday like that.

One of the most crushing childhood memories I have is when there were vague discussions of a holiday to Florida with our closest family friends. But that fell through and I had to live with almost  getting to go on that ride. I eagerly scoured our family friends’ holiday photos for a mere glimpse of the Spider-Man ride but nothing!

Remember this was the late 1990s/early 2000s, there was no Youtube and your internet connection was a joke, even if I knew how to use it.

But by the Summer of 2001 we’d finished our new home and moved out. And we finally decided to go to Florida with our family friends...and two other groups of family friends for a two-week mega vacation hitting all the Disney and Universal parks and other tourist attractions (which for us included a bona fide American ‘mall’).

I enjoyed Disney’s MGM studios and Animal Kingdom, but I was waiting for the day we’d hit up Islands of Adventure. 

And then the day finally came and I was sure something was going to go wrong and get in my way.

First it was the lines to get into the park.

Then it was being confronted by some admittedly well meaning actors portraying Boris and Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle, trying to engage me in conversation when I just. Wanted. To. Get. To. Spider-Man!

And when I finally arrived at SUPER HERO ISLAND it seemed insane. For some reason in my child’s mind the idea of a theme park where every corner you looked and built into the street itself you’d see Disney characters, made sense.

But to see that for my heroes, the Marvel characters just didn’t seem real. Remember this was 2001, the Marvel Universe wasn’t as well known to the public (especially not in England). So whilst I  had of course learned about it from all the 90s Marvel cartoons, no one else I knew could instantly recognize like Doctor Doom.

But here I was seeing Jim Lee inspired art of him, Storm, the Hulk and a gigantic Bagley image of Spider-Man in front of THE Daily Bugle!

But alas...the Spider-Man line was immense. 

So we got a fast pass and arranged it to come back later and in the meantime I got to be traumatized by the Jurassic Park water drop ride. I was in the front seat age 10 with a T-rex approaching me and then...the ride stopped. Technical difficulties. In fact MOST rides that summer were having technical difficulties.

So we were stuck a T-rex looming over us. Unnoticed by me everyone else on the ride seemed to take a grip and bow their heads. I didn’t get why until it was too late and my eyes sharply turned from the T-rex to the like 60 foot high sheer drop as the ride came down with a splash.

Far less traumatic was getting a photo and autographs with the various superheroes and villains who showed up at Marvel’s Super Hero Island. Of course I got to meet the real Spider-Man...and my mother asked how Mary jane was.

His reply:

You’d have to ask Peter Parker about that

Fucking A.

Anyway, finally, finally, finally we got in the fast pass line for the ride. Which still wasn’t THAT fast but still we weren’t baking alive in the summer heat. And as a bonus I got to take in the surroundings of the Daily Bugle and the 1994 inspired animated shorts made for the ride explaining the whole story behind it (including my first ever look at Scream, a brand new symbiote I’d never even known about!).

Then we got to the ride. It was thrilling, the best feeling of my life. I was on an adventure with my hero Spider-Man! And we were all falling through the roof tops, spinning around and then...

We are sorry to inform you we are experiencing technical difficlties

The ride just stopped DEAD. 

In hindsight I suppose it was all too appropriate.

I wanted to experience what it was like to be Spider-Man and now I was going through some typical Parker luck!

A few minutes elapsed before we all yelled because a literal burst of flame exploded nearby us, the ride had started again.

It finished up and I don’t think I’d ever been happier in my life.

But I was about to be because due to the technical difficulties...we got to go again without lining up!

Whilst my family, friends and family friends in attendance enjoyed the ride well enough (except for my friend’s Dad, he’s always had chronic back pains) they all knew this day, this moment, was for me!

And it wasn’t quite over yet.

As we walked down the corridor towards the gift shop we saw...the Green Goblin!

It was a lifesized statue standing just besides the doorway to the gift shop, presumably set up so people could get photos with him.

Well, he was my favourite villain so I had to. I stood beside the statue and posed when...he came to life!

It was one of the actors who’d accompanied the heroes on their periodic arrivals to the Super Hero Island for photos and autographs.

Somehow this was less traumatic than the Jurassic Park ride. I asked for his autograph and he obliged, plunking his pumpkin bomb bean bag onto my head to free up his hands.

Fucking awesome.

And this didn’t even cover the gift shop itself.

I’d never seen so much Spider-Man STUFF in the same place at the same time. I got myself a Green Goblin action figure from the now defunct (but fondly remembered by Marvel Toy historians) Spider-Man Classics line of toys and picked up my very, very first trade paperback (before I even knew that’s what it was!)

Spider-Man’s greatest Villains

It was an eclectic collection of single issues (and one annual) spotlighting an individual villain. Doc Ock, Mysterio, Kingpin, Electro, Hobgoblin, Vulture and mah boys Carnage and Venom (drawn by McFarlane himself, in my first exposure to his work, it left a major impression!)

Being a child f the 1990s and specifically the 1994 cartoon (which was the most recent and influential adaptation at the time, merchandise for it abounding in the store) Venom and Carnage were among my absolute favourite...things in life basically.

I wasn’t alone because just about every Spider-Fan my age loved them too. Hence why getting toys based on them proved elusive for me. And Spider-Man’s bad ass super mega ultra cool black costume even moreso. I’d long resigned myself that getting that toy was just a pipe dream and I’d missed my window for it long ago...Less than 15 minutes after leaving the gift shop my Dad got me this:

There were at least two other stores around the area of the Spider-Man ride and one of them sold toys and other collectibles.

Not only did I fulfill another childhood dream of having a black costume Spider-Man, but the toy even came with a SYMBIOTE toy too! And it was super posable, unlike all my other toys, including my Spider-Man ones.

AND...it came with a reprint of ASM #252, the debut of the black costume itself by DeFalco and Frenz and starring Black Cat too. An all round awesome issue and one of the first classic Spider-Man stories I ever got to read.*

The other of the two nearby stores was what an older me would call a relatively modest LCS, as it wasn’t that big of a store and sold ONLY comics and trades.

But you have to understand, 10 year old me had NEVER been inside an LCS. The idea that so many comics could be in the same place and that a store JUST selling them could exist was akin to the Cave of Wonders from Aladdin, something that could only ever exist, not just in America (the land where Spider-Man and all those other characters I loved, were from) but specifically there on Super Hero Island.

The rest of the day was pretty fun. 

My friend somehow coerced her mother and mine to go on the Incredible Hulk roller coaster which I believe at the time was the tallest roller coaster in America, with this savage twist in the middle of it and a net to catch keys and other falling items.

We went on the Popeye ride, one of those rubber dingy rides that is supposed to splash you a lot and...I do not know if I’ve ever felt more wet in my life.

All in all it was a good day and I vividly remember being in one of the restaurants on the boulevard leading up to the theme park (a Three Supremes themed place for some reason, with wax statues of the band nearby our table) just pouring over my new toys, my new comics and my experience.

Best day of my life up until then!

Hell the ‘after party’ when we finally got back to England was awesome too. My beloved grandmother had bought me the latest issue of Astonishing Spider-Man that I wasn’t able to pick up whilst I was away. Who was the villain of the story? 

Carnage!...Also Silver Surfer was there and he was pretty cool too.

It wasn’t the last time I went on the ride though.

My family and family friends made it an annual tradition between about 2002-2008 to spend the Christmas holidays in America and every year up until 2006 we spent some time in Orlando, meaning I got to check out the Spider-Man ride at least once every year and pick up a new trade and a bona fide original American comic book (not a reprint!) off the stands.**

So to answer your question definitively, yes I have indeed gone on the Spider-Man ride at Universal. I’ve done so many times and the ride and location are incredibly special to me.

*When I say classic I mean anything from before like 1995 because the stories I’d been reading in my UK reprint magazine, Astonishing Spider-Man, were all from 1995-1998, except for when they specifically spotlighted an older comic and referred to it as a classic. To me a classic was anything with ‘older art’.

**This experience led to me getting one of my favourite stories ever, Revenge of the Green Goblin, the second JMS trade with the 9/11 issue and Aunt May and Peter’s conversation, and also Kraven’s Last Hunt and Spider-Man Torment.

I fondly remember reading KLH whilst walking between rides and shows in Islands of Adventure and Universal Studios, I even remember I was reading part 2 or 3 at like a Wild West show at the latter after dark and somehow this added to the atmosphere of the story.

Torment was a different experience. I’d seen the cover, I knew and loved McFarlane’s art and the story turned out to be a sequel to KLH to my delight. But I had a really bad stomach bug during that particular vacation and Torment helped me get through it. Half because it was a Spider-Man story I loved reading and half because the pain of my bug led me to relate to Peter’s pain in that story.

[fearlesslyenchantedinwonderland]

Taylor Swift - Fearless Album Song Ranking

For this album ranking, I decided to split the album up into tiers based on which songs I would put near one another to help decide where they line up. I wrote about the songs in reverse order (from what you will read it) and I help explain why I rank each song the way I do. (I don’t make as much sense on the higher ranked songs)

Tier 1: 

I hate when people have singles as their fav song, and it hasn’t always been this way, but these songs have tested time, I love when she performs them, the music videos bring back so many memories, and even just my own discovery of the song they are amazing.

Love Story

Ok, maybe I'm biased atm bc I haven’t stopped listening to Love Story recently because of the video of Shawn at her show. But… it’s so good. The more I like a song the more difficult it becomes to explain why. I’ve always loved the story of Romeo and Juliet. The instrumentation is beautiful. The music video. Ugh I can’t, everything about this song is great. Never stop believing in love, it might not be like the storybooks but that doesn’t mean portions can’t be, or maybe, maybe, it can be even better than you imagined?

Fearless

Ugh. This song is everything. This song is what I want in a first love, there are so many small things that I love about this song, the rain on the pavement, have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE petrichor? This song makes me think of a running on a spiral staircase in a long dress. Capture it. Remember it. Fearless.  Fearless and Speak Now were really important albums to me, in part because they motivated me to live that way.

You Belong With Me

The thing that’s funny about this album is I think it has some of the most memorable music videos, and yet at the same time, I am able to remember my own visuals (or at least some) of the album before the video came out. That’s the one downside of music videos is sometimes I think our minds can be flooded by an artists visuals and forget our own. This is such a fun song, the music video is amazing. Now I’m thinking of Taylor walking back to the stage from the B-stage during Speak Now Tour.

White Horse

I received this album as a Christmas present, per typical, after everyone opened their presents my family goes its separate ways and mulls over their gifts. I put this album and listened to this song on the stereo. I remember acting out each of these songs, but I can vividly remember portions of this song, being on the stairs (I still sort of do this when I’m listening to music - like I’ll make up a music video in my mind, or a dance routine, pretend I’m on stage)

Tier 2:

Breathe

This song is difficult to listen to, at one point I made the connection to the lyrics it feels like I just lost a friend, and I’ve never been the same. I’ve been through many ups and downs with these friends, these friends I also went through loving Taylor together, that slowly faded and I guess so did our friendship. Sometimes it feels like it's in flames even though one of them I haven’t talked to in a year. The tricky thing is that we're still family friends so it’s likely I’ll see them again and that’s rough. (I can’t continue, but I have come to the realization that it wasn’t just their fault, and I probably hurt them along the way, and I think that was important).(ugh now I’m finishing the song because sometimes I just wish there were answers, but like the song says wishing there was a clean break)

You’re Not Sorry

This song is a song to have a break down to. I know I have before. wow. Lol lyrically I didn’t think tier two had any similarities but wow they do and I don’t want to go any more in depth than I did in my description for breathe.

Tier 3:

Fifteen

Ahhh fifteen. I love the storytelling in this song. This song has been through a lot. This song was one of the first songs I heard before it was on the internet, oh the days when she had unreleased songs that she would play. This song came out at a time where I got to live listening to this on my first day of high school, the day I turned fifteen, and to hear it in concert when I was fifteen. "Dancing around the room when the night ends” what a beautiful lyric. lol still waiting for that first kiss tho 7 years later.

Change

At one point I this was my favorite song off of the album. Oh, and did I love singing the hallelujahs at the end. I was so proud of Taylor for this being an Olympic song.

Forever & Always

I mean… if you aren’t thinking of Joe when you are listening to this song you are doing it wrong. It was iconic, at the same time I wonder if she regrets outing him. But I’m glad that out of all her exes it was him, he took it like a sport, I mean yes he has a song too, but I think they would both be over that at this point. Also, this song was clearly written out of rage and in her later albums we see how much she cared about him. I never thought about this before but I wonder if Joe was her first love, I know she was with people in high school, but (Lol when you contradict this with her feeling invisible in her first album I always find it funny, because in my last review I mentioned that I never really felt alone or like an outsider but I’ve never even been asked out). I love the visuals that come to mind when I think of this song. Additionally, I think of the red chairs and better than revenge.

Hey Stephen

Hey Stephen used to be one of my top songs off of this album. It makes me think of her jumping on the bed like in the booklet… It’s a really sweet song. But sonically, it doesn’t stand out like it use to. If I had a crush I would probably be eating up this song.

Tier 4:

 I feel like with every album there are similar sounding songs found in the meat of the album that tends to get forgotten over time…for fearless it’s these next two songs. I like both of these songs but sometimes I forget about them. One thing that I love about these songs is they are the ones that you could scream, yell and cry to. It brings an additional dimension besides a fairytale that may or may not come true and the ramifications of that.

The Way I Loved You

This song is ranked higher because socially it gives more of a punch. I like the dimension of who he appears to be versus what is actually happening behind the scenes when it’s just the two of them. But also her liking the turbulence of the relationship because there was intensity maybe there was fighting but there was also a passion. Now it clean cut and they’re going through the ropes but it’s not what she loves about him.

Tell Me Why

I received Fearless as a Christmas gift the year it came out and I always remember having this song stuck in my head during the car ride home from my grandmas, but because it was a cd (and if I had an iPod at that time I probs couldn’t transfer the songs till I got home) I couldn’t listen to it. I was stating some of the lyrics to my mom and I remember her being surprised by the intensity of the song. I also really like the visuals in the album booklet for this song. That was one thing I always loved about her albums.

The Best Day

This has always been my least favorite song on the album, you’ll find a theme of my lower ranked songs because I feel like they have this same style to them. This song is important though, it is very sweet, very personal. It gives us as fans an insight into Taylor’s life, but more importantly, it’s Taylor giving her heart and her thanks to her Mom.

————

I didn't include deluxe songs in this ranking because they came out months later and I view them as a separate entity. I don’t listen to them as often since they’re not connected with my original album but I think all of the songs would rank in the second tier.

Ranking 

1. Love Story

2. Fearless

3. You Belong With Me

4. White Horse

5. Breathe

6. You’re Not Sorry

7. Fifteen 

8. Change

9. Forever and Always

10. Hey Stephen

11.The Way I Loved You

12. Tell Me Why

13. The Best Day

Album Ranking Masterlist 

[platinumshawnn]

be home, be here | Collins

Summary: Collins’ returns home from service for the first time in while and meets the little one who calls him a hero even when he feels like anything but. (1944)

A/N: I don’t know, a little Christmas themed Collins angst?? The end was a little rushed and it got super long, like way longer than I expected but this will hold over until everything else is posted. 

Word count: 5,090

musical inspiration: They Sang Silent Night by Fiona Bevan

@ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff

She always heard the whispers whenever she went into town, leaned over the grocery stand and eyeing tomatoes; her son’s hand in hers and voice soft, airlike and sweet, suiting to her heart like shaped face with its delicate features and her fragile looking stature. It was hard not to miss her, go unaware of the hushed whispers that followed her in the market, eyes watching her float along with a little chubby cheeked four year old with blue eyes and blonde hair that made him an uncanny spitting image of his father. Everyone knew and talked, she knew and remained quiet -- she knew of the disapproving looks she got whenever they were out together because you would have to be blind not to notice them.

It was an obvious thing by the fact that there was no ring on her left hand and in such a small community, it didn’t take long for the news to get out.

An unwed 18 year old, pregnant with the bastard of an RAF soldier, deployed for duty and hopelessly waiting around for a man that may not return -- or that of a man that might return and not wed her, it seemed foolish of her. It had been a hard decision for her but with his persuasion, she had kept the child and beared the burden of voices it came with, the looks it earned, there was no way to avoid any of it. Through letters she had told him over and over how it was worth it, to look at their son’s face as he slept -- the circumstances of his conception and his birth, born during the Blitz in an underground air raid shelter just two blocks away from her family home. She told him how wonderful he was and how he was the only piece she needed of him to promise that one day things would be different; things would be better.

She had sent Collins a photo of his son, as a way to provide him hope and a reason to come home, to fight even when he was most exhausted and doubted himself and the cause of what he was fighting for. She didn’t know what it was, maybe a lover’s thing, but she could feel his hope dwindling and pain in the written words of his letters -- he struggled and wanted nothing more than to come home as soon as possible but this war was long and it had felt like there was still an eternity left ahead of him. It was long for both of them, but most of all, for him and her heart ached for him. This wasn’t the life they had ever planned or wanted, but by whatever higher power, it was the one they were given and it was a difficult one.

It was difficult explaining to their son, Jack, that his father couldn’t just come home when he chose; trying to explain to him what was going on, ‘why those scary horns keep making that loud noise’, ‘why we have to go into that stuffy dark place every night’. Her own mother usually handled those things and it overtime became harder to explain why grandma and grandpa didn’t visit anymore. He was barely four and there was no easy way to explain war to a child.

She didn’t know when it had started, but it had turned into almost a game for him that she went along with, because monsters didn’t exist outside of his closet or under his bed just yet; soldiers were nothing more than little plastic men he always carried in his pocket wherever they went and fighting bad guys from planes was only a game he played by himself at home; running up and down hallways with his arms stretched out wide and pretend guns formed by his little hands -- it made her tense and hold her breath whenever he imitated that awful buzzing sound that left her with a sense of dread that made her bones ache. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t tell Collins about it.

Stories about what his father was doing were nothing more than that. Bedtime stories of a fictional man he was probably sure didn’t exist -- Collins always at least mentioned something in every one of his letters that she could turn into a bedtime story, a piece of his father every night before bed, and the wonder in his wide blue eyes was a sight that made her own heart swell. No words or amount of letters could ever describe it to Collins as pure and heartwarming as it was to see how amazed he was by stories of this man he’d only ever met once as a young infant. Even if to Collins it wasn’t as exciting, it was the one thing that got her through the long nights and days of living on constant edge. Seeing his fascination towards his father unknowingly and how he admired this heroic figure. In Jack’s eyes, Collins was some sort of superhero.

Jack shivered against her as a particularly chilly winter breeze blew, his chubby cheeks pink despite being snuggly wrapped underneath a red scarf that had been his father’s as he crunched after his mother; one mitted hand in hers. There were still a few wandering residents that exchanged soft greetings with friendly smiles and mumbles of Merry Christmases  as they passed with their bags in hand from last minute shopping the night before, Christmas’ Eve, while the pair had decided to make a quick run to a local shop to pick up the cookies that Jack had insisted for weeks upon weeks to put out for Santa, a still childish, excited gleam in his eyes that his mother admired -- that even during these past five years that had been awful, he remained unshaken and positive, pure and kind, flashing that dimpled smile and waving at others as they passed one another in the narrow aisles of the market. Much like his father, he was a people pleaser.

“Mama.” He whined, sniffling. “‘S cold.” Jack pointed out again, blue eyes peering out beneath all his snow gear to look up at his mother who looked down and over at him, a sweet smile being given in return.

“I know, my love, we’re almost home though.” She softly reassured, pausing to crouch so that she could kiss his gloved fingers; earning a little giggle in response. She stood upright and nodded, the two continuing their journey, admiring the lights of Christmas trees in windows and along the houses, all red and white and green lights wherever they looked and a positive feeling in the air -- a feeling that was felt even stronger as they passed Sayer Street, remaining debris still around if you really looked after a rather quick clean up. It was now a car park but there was still...this feeling....it stopped her, her son saying nothing as he stood there and allowed her to eye the sight; vividly able to remember the night it became nothing but rubble and fire. Jack had his head down and had been playing with one of the army men he insisted on taking everywhere, too entranced to even question what his mother was stopped for and thinking about, too young to understand. He had hardly been more than a pink screaming baby at the time, most of his first few months spent in air raid shelters in the area -- how many close calls they avoided was astounding.

“Are we going to grandma’s?” He suddenly asked, looking up at her with curious, confused eyes as he sniffled and licked his upper lip; watching as she hesitated, gulping as she had to force him a smile.

“No, my dear. I just saw something…” She replied. She had seen something. More than enough -- both tragic and awful and heart warming and inspiring; having watched this city both fall apart and rebuild up from the rubble.

Cecile was outside her home when they finally arrived, her own two boys running around her and throwing snow as they let out shrieks of laughter and squeals when the snow seeped into the little cracks where their jackets didn’t cover and protect, cold and wet as it trickled on to their skin. She easily caught her youngest as he slipped by his arm, letting out a quiet scold before her attention turned to Grace who approached with a still very distracted Jack. The two exchanged tired smiles, greeting one another with soft mumbles as Grace touched her son’s back to gain his attention, bending to lean close to his ear and point towards the playing others. “Why don’t you go play with Tommy and James? Show them your new army men, maybe.” She encouraged with a kiss to his temple before reluctantly nodding and running forward with a shout of their names.

The two women watched their children from a few feet away, Grace setting her bags down as she followed her son with her eyes, taking her gloves off to give some breathing air; sweaty and hot from being confined for hours in the meantime. “Did you get anything yesterday?” Grace asked quietly, glancing over to her friend who looked over at her.

“No.” She answered in response, her relief seeping into her words. “But Marie did, poor girl. Charles was killed a few days ago on a routine run. Some Luftwaffe’s came out of nowhere, was just him and that young boy.”

Grace nodded slowly, “Eddie, he’s from the other side of town. Baker’s boy.” The two would probably be in the paper the following day.

In turn, the other woman nodded also with a quiet sigh of ‘yeah’, the two falling into a long pause of silence as if out of respect. These conversations were normal between the two, at least mentioned twice a week. Cecile had lived next door to Grace for three years since she and Jack had moved onto their quiet little street in February of ‘41  after her family home had taken a direct hit while she was locked in a bunker a few blocks away, forcing her to move. She was a thin blonde who was a few inches shorter than Grace herself; with a pointy nose and thin lips and wide blue eyes, married to a burly looking soldier who towered over her named Tom who was also astoundingly gentle with their boys. Little James was only two when they first moved, teetering a few weeks of his third birthday, and had been sick with pneumonia when Grace had first met them; her own little one strapped to her chest and only a few months old yet. Although she had a number of years on her, the two had instantly been bonded by their servicing lovers that, on the other hand, were a little stiff in each other’s presence.

That had been the last time Jack had been home.

Despite whispers about Grace and her situation, Cecile had stayed by her side and the two relied one another rather heavily the past few years. In fact, Grace liked to think of her as almost family like by this point.

“What about you?” Cecile asked, looking at her again, this time with a look more of concern. “Has there been any updates on Collins? His condition?”

Grace shook her head, lips pursing and looking down at her gloves. “No, there hasn’t been anything recently.” She said, remaining quiet and avoiding her gaze that she knew was pitiful, inhaling deeply and looking up to where her son waddled around in the high snow, the three boys imitating guns and planes and yelling orders at one another.

“Does he know?” Cecile pressed in reference to little Jack.

“No. He doesn’t even know he actually exists, I don’t think.” Grace admitted, sighing as Cecile frowned in confusion. “He thinks he’s just some made up man in bedtime stories and nothing more. Maybe it’s best though, in case...” She drifted off, clearing her throat.

It was a reluctant suggestion, but Cecile had spoken up finally again after a minute, “Grace, if he has been...if he’s in a camp-.”

“I know.”

“-the chances…”

“Cecile.” She stiffly said, interrupting her and sending her silent with a warning look. Suddenly overcome by guilt, she sighed, her features visibly softening. “I know.”

The two didn’t linger around too much longer, deciding it was getting late and to part ways, calling their children each to go inside; earning some whines in complaint as they rolled out of the snow and complied, Grace smiling as the two boys huffed when they were given a warning scold before bidding goodnight politely as ordered. Jack practically clung on to her as he mumbled a quiet goodbye himself, evidently tired and ready for bed as they made their way up their stairs and into the quiet home; the furniture and all kept minimal as they didn’t own too much.

She helped Jack out of his coat and other outdoor clothing before taking off her own and ushering up to bed, close behind. He changed and was in under his covers when she returned from changing into her own nightwear, hair finally let down from it done up, stiff style and in loose tendrils down her back as she pulled his blanket up over him and tucked it just beneath his chin.

“Mama?” He piped up as she adjusted the blanket. Grace hummed. “How did you and papa meet?” He continued on, eyes watching her as she moved back to sit in the seat next to his bed.

“If I tell you, that’s your story for the night, deal?” She softly said, smiling a little. The little boy eagerly nodded.

“Your father used to come to grandpa’s shop all the time.” She began, digging through her mind for the images of the memory. “He was a tall skinny lad who clearly wasn’t from around here but he insisted grandpa made the best tarts and was more than willing to take the train every week just for them. And he did. He came around more when he began training to be in the army and he would come in, everyday, and I was working the cash. He’d come in with this big smile and would always greet me with the usual, ‘hi there, miss, you look beautiful today, as per usual.’”

Jack let out a quiet murmur of ‘yuck’, giggling. “What got me was his smile and how kind to everyone he was. Much like you, actually.” She explained, tapping her son’s nose with her index finger. “One day, he comes in, and he asks me to go out with him that night. I’m surprised but I say yes. He took me to see a movie and we just talked and laughed...he was quite charming really and I fell in love with him instantly. Grandma and grandpa thought he was a little too old for me but I was too in love already to want anybody else. Soon enough, you happened and your father left before you were born to go fight some bad men. I bet you he’s out there right now actually...flying and protecting us right now.” She dwindled, using one hand to float around as if imitating a plane.

“Has he ever met me? Does he know what I look like?” Jack asked. “You say I look just like him a lot.”

Grace laughed softly, “Yes. When you were very, very little.” She answered. “You look just like him and it’s one of the very reasons I love you so much, it’s why you’re so special.”

“Is he gonna come home one day, mama?”

This question stopped her, her eyes observing the way he looked at her with hopeful eyes, eagerly awaiting her reply; snuggly tucked into his bed and sinking further down into his pillow. She had no idea how to answer, not wanting to promise something she couldn’t -- a promise she wasn’t sure she could ever keep because the chance was very well there, that his father wouldn’t return. And yet, looking into those eyes, she couldn’t will the words to leave her mouth as she brushed a hand through his hair; her boy who was waiting for his father to return home from war. She sighed. “I don’t know, my love.” She finally honestly said in a quiet voice.

“I hope he does.” He said, optimistic and bringing a smile to his mother’s face.

Grace let out a soft laugh from her nose and leaned over as she stood, “I do too. Now to bed you go, Santa will be on his way and you can’t be awake when he arrives.” She murmured and kissed his forehead. “He doesn’t give toys to kids who stay up late, trying to see him.” She warned, her tone light and more playful as she raised her eyebrows and began to retreat when he spoke again.

The blankets could be heard rustling as he shifted, “I don’t want toys though!” He whined.

The brunette stopped at his door, hand over the light switch to his room as she turned to look at him, her head resting against the doorframe. “Then what do you want most, my love?”

“I want papa to come home, safe, for Christmas.” He quietly said, turning over and leaning to grab something from under his bed that she immediately realized was a paper; a drawing to be exact, his messy writing scrawled across the bottom of the page and signed off by himself. “Can you put this out for Santa with his cookies? I want to make sure he gets my letter.”

She hesitated but eventually returned and collected the fragile paper before giving him one last loving peck to his forehead with a mumble of ‘of course’, before she whisked out of the room; his light being turned off and door shut as she stood in the hallway between their rooms, her eyes casting down onto the drawing of a little yellow haired boy smiling and holding the hand of another yellow haired man who was much bigger, one obviously representing himself and the other Collins. Aside of the drawing his letter had gotten her, choked up and having to stifle the cry clawing up the back of her throat as she stood at the top of the stairs.

Dear Santa,

It’s me again, Jack Collins.

This is very late so I hope you get this in time. I asked you for new army men and a plane this year but I wanted to ask if I could change my presents and ask for something else. I don’t want to ask for too much but I was wondering if you could bring my dad home to me and mum soon. I know she misses him and I miss him too.

She said he’s been gone for almost four years and he misses us just as much and wants to come home. I hope that’s not too big to ask. I hear mum crying about him some nights so I know she’s scared and misses him even if she doesn’t say it. Miss Cecile told me she just wants the war to be over soon and that it’s very hard on everybody not knowing if he’s okay. It’s okay if you can’t bring him home though, but please watch over him and make sure he’s okay for us. Give him this drawing maybe too if you can and let him know I love him.

Thank you. Merry Christmas

-Jack Finlay Collins

December 22 1944

Grace did eventually put it by the plate of cookies she put out in her son’s favour, munching on them to make it look touched and real, leaving crumbs and at least half a cookie and a quarter glass of milk behind before she sat on the couch with that thin piece of paper; crying and praying to God, to whoever it was out there, for the sake of her son -- at least to try. But it felt unheard and ignored, like she was wasting her breath, as she had for these last four years, yearning for the return of a familiar pilot who she could only vividly remember by the picture on her bedside table that she made sure to take with her whenever they evacuated into shelters, carrying it in her coat each time. She had ran back inside once before moving, very pregnant and wobbling inside despite her mother's protests and demands to leave it behind; holding her very swollen belly and having to steady on the stair railing before she darted into the living room for the framed picture of Collins’ smiling face.

Their house took some blast damage that night.

Although she had every detail of him memorized and stored in her brain, she felt attached, like if she ever lost it or didn’t see it regularly, she’d forget him  -- she felt as though the memories of his voice were deteriorating and it wouldn’t be anytime soon, not while she was alive, that she ever allowed herself to forget what he looked like.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, in tears and praying over the crying over the rosemary that had once been her mothers and begging some higher power. She just knew that she was woken by Jack crawling onto the couch, snuggling against her with his face close to hers -- so  close that his nose bumped hers and his heavy breathing ruffled her hair with each exhale as she forced her swollen eyes open to look at him, meeting expectant eyes.

“Good morning, mum.” He chirped, voice soft. “It’s Christmas.”

It physically hurt her throat to speak, but she mustered her words and laughed softly. “Yes, it is.” She tiredly said, watching as he slipped from the couch to stand and run towards the tree where a few gifts were now tucked under, sliding onto his knees and looking back at her expectantly as she yawned and slowly woke enough to clamber to her feet and join him. Grace wrapped herself tight in the thin robe she had fallen asleep in, letting out a dramatic ‘brrr’ as she slowly knelt beside her son who reached straight  for his stocking.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” She murmured, his own return mumbled as he fished through the little toys and trinkets and small surprises that filled the stocking; her eyes carefully watching him and how his eyes lit up with such fascination at every little thing. He tore through his gifts rapidly, letting out a shriek of excitement when he unwrapped and unveiled a new plane that he had eyed for months, his mother laughing quietly and witnessing a moment where his excitement dwindled, and she knew exactly why. Exactly where his mind went. But he said nothing and picked himself back up, soaring with excitement over his new toys as she then lead him back upstairs to dress for the day, putting together a quick breakfast for them.

The morning was rushed, behind schedule as she pulled his hat on on their way out the door, just on their way to church as he hobbled down the stairs, his mother behind him as she fixed her own coat. She took one of his hands in hers as they began to make their way down the street, being halted by the sound of honking coming up behind them, determined and persistent to gain attention -- and they succeeded. Grace pulled Jack to a stop and turned to watch just as somebody clambered from the vehicle a good ten feet away, the door slamming shut as a few goodbyes and happy holiday’s were bid, her son burying into her side.

“Did I miss breakfast?” The familiar voice shouted, jogging to approach Grace as she wrapped one arm around her shivering son, frowning as the figure was currently buried in a thick jacket to shield from the harsh blizzarding squalls of snow that blew; the only distinctive feature being those eyes. Those eyes…

“Collins?” She quietly whispered.

“Are we off to church already?” He asked, acting oblivious but as he nudged a scarf away from his face, she could see him grinning as he stopped just a few feet away and set his bag down, arms stretching out. “Come here.” He softly added, his playful tone gone and voice now thick with emotion as he stood there, waiting.

“Oh!” She said after a minute of hesitation, hardly able to believe her eyes as she hurried forward, her son close behind as she flung herself towards the blonde who pulled his hat off, blonde hairy messy and being dampened by snowflakes that caught in the locks. He had lifted her from her feet as he wrapped his arms around her midsection, hers around his neck and rocking there for a few moments, a sob of joy leaving her mouth. “Oh thank God, thank you God.” She cried, burying against him as she shushed her softly, lips near her ear.

“I’m okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” He quietly murmured.

“No, you-.” She stuttered, sniffling and consumed by a million emotions at once as he set her down, his hands on her face. “You were...the camps, I thought...I have the letter inside!” She brokenly shrieked, earning a small smile and laugh.

“You underestimate me. I’m not a fool, Miss Brown.” He stated, playfully and soft. “A group of other lads came up with this plan, didn’t go as planned at first but…”

“But, I thought you were…” she stuttered.

He shook his head, eyes glancing over her shoulder. “Another time, darling.” He softly insisted, obvious that it wasn’t a conversation he was too eager, exhausted eyes sympathetic and pleading for it to be dropped. “Who’s this little one?” He asked, playing oblivious as he began to circle his lover to near the little boy who had his hands in his pockets and fidgeting around. Jack sniffled.

“I’m Jack.” He replied shyly, watching carefully as Collins knelt in front of him. “Jack Finlay Collins.”

“You are not.” Collins said, feigning disbelief and letting out a low whistle. “You can’t be the Jack, no. Last time I saw him, he was nothing more than a lil’ baby.  Only the size of my forearm here he was. You’re way too big to be him.”

Their son made a face and shook his head, “No, I’m Jack. I’m just big now.” He argued, looking at his mother, “My name is Jack Collins, right? I’m Jack!”

Collins snorted and looked back at Grace who nodded. “That’s little Jack, I promise you.” She agreed.

The older blonde looked at the little one and laughed, “Huh, I suppose you are. You do look a little like him…” He pondered, shifting his position with a wince and grunt so he was knelt on his right knee. “Well, Jack, my name is Collins.” He stated, holding a hand out to his son whose eyes went wide.

“Like Collins from mum’s bedtime stories?” He asked, looking to his mother for an answer.

“I...suppose so,” Collins answered, glancing back with a raise of one blonde eyebrow, a quizzical look being cast over at the brunette who remained quiet. “That would be me.”

Jack shook his hand shyly after Collins nodded towards his hand with a dimpled smile, chuckling. “Do you really fly planes and fight bad guys?”

Collins nodded. “Sure do.” He answered, releasing Jack’s little hand from his own. “Hey, what else has mum here told you about me?”

“Just that you fight in those planes that sometimes go over us and she’s told me stories about you and your best friend, Evans, getting into trouble.” He explained, looking carefully at Collins who seemed to be lost in thought at the mention of his former partner. “Mum has a picture of you in her room, I’ve seen it before.”

Collins softly laughed, the sound forced as he reached into his pocket. “Have you now?” He asked, earning  a nod. “I have a picture of you too, wanna see?” Again, another eager nod. The picture was carefully taken out, a little worn around the edges but Grace knew the picture immediately; a shot of Collins carefully holding Jack in his arms when he was a tiny six week old, eyes loving and adoring as he held his son for the first time.

“When was this taken?” Jack asked as he closed the gap between them to lean over in order to see the picture.

“About three years ago, if I remember exactly.” Collins answered without a pause, smiling as he looked at the picture. “I’ve got another one in my bag but it’s what got me through every day, out there. Seeing you. Knowing you were here and safe, taking care of your mum for me. Brave one you are.” He said, nudging his son who licked his upper lip again and shyly looked away.

“Do you remember me?” Collins asked as Grace came up  behind them, a hand resting on Jack’s back as he stayed quiet and shook his head. “Do you know who I am?” He asked, his boy reluctantly shaking his head again, “I’m your pa’, silly. You look just like me, how didn’t you notice that and realize?” He teased, brushing his son’s cheek as Jack looked up at his mom who only smiled.

“You’re my pa?” He asked, warily. Collins simply nodded as reply, his son’s words of sheer excitement as he jumped, looking up at his mother, “My letter worked! I asked Santa to bring papa home safe and it worked!” It was then that he flung forward and nearly knocked his dad over, arms wrapping around him as much they could, his father startled at first but then letting out a breathless laugh as he looked up at Grace. They exchanged small smiles, Collins wrapping his arms around his son and pressing a kiss to the side of his head as he sighed, content -- relieved even as he shut his eyes and breathed deeply, relieved to be home, and see that those tiring four years had some good out come. That there was still some good even if he had felt as though he hadn’t deserved as much, he had this -- love and happiness. And though there were some thing’s still unfixed and broken, although things were not the same, this was enough.

[gray-autumn-sky]

Meant to Be Yours: Holiday Traditions, Old and New

Robin and Regina prepare for their first Christmas after the curse breaks.

For @evilqueens who requested an awkward family dinner with the Charmings. For @stick-to-the-lasagna-lady who suggested “Regina the Sexy Reindeer.” For @glindalovesshoes who requested an early Christmas present for Henry, a naughty Christmas present for Regina and burned Christmas cookies. And for the anons whor requested the lines, “I trusted you,” “I don’t want to know what I’d be liked without you” coupled with “You’re the best part of me,” and a personal favorite, “How about we put the gun down and talk about this?” paired with, “I will not hesitate to murder you.”

Based on Meant to Be Yours, an AU in which Regina breaks the curse to give Henry the life and family he deserves.

Robin looks up as John chuckles and nudges his arm. “Looks like someone left his underwear on the floor again,” he says, as they both watch Regina trudge forward through the snow with squared shoulders and a clenched jaw, looking like she’s ready for a fight. “She looks like she’s ready to hurl a fireball at someone.”

He rolls his eyes and hands John the bow he’d been attempting to tie, and a grin curls onto his lips. “Customized gift wrap was your idea anyway,” he says, laughing as John’s smile fades and he looks down at a mess of ribbon that already started to unravel. “Marco also ordered two fishing poles to go with that order. Have fun wrapping those.”

“But you said you’d help until we opened. We’ve still got twenty minutes!”

Robin shrugs as he moves to unlock the door. “I’ve got an angry fiance to deal with, unless you just want to let her burn down the store.”

A smirk stretches over his lips as John’s eyes roll, and he mutters something that’s not completely audible beneath his breath--and nonetheless, Robin laughs and he’s glad for the distraction, even if it comes in the form of an angry Regina before he’s had a full cup of coffee.

She bristles as he lets her into the store, then closes and locks the door behind her. It’s unusual that she’d be there that early. Normally when she dropped by the store it was around lunch time and she usually had sandwiches from Granny’s with her--and when she didn’t have sandwiches, she had the boys and was either dropping them off or picking them up. But today, it was barely eight in the morning. The boys were at school and when they’d parted ways less than an hour ago that morning, she hadn’t said anything about stopping by--and she’d been in a perfectly fine mood.

He grins and stuffs his hands into his pockets, shivering as he turns to face her. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Her eyes widen a bit. “Mary Margaret Blanchard,” she tells him flatly. “Mary Margaret Blanchard happened.”

“Ah…”

“I thought the two of you were on good terms now?” John calls from behind the counter as he examines the bow Robin had been working on. “Well, for the last few months or so.”

“We are,” Regina replies curtly as her eyes shift between John and Robin. “On most days.”

“And something tells me today isn’t one of those days,” Robin says, chuckling softly as he steps forward, his hand guiding her into the store. “Come on, let’s go talk about it.”

He leads her back to his office and closes the door, and he lets out a little laugh as she pulls off her gloves and throws them down onto the desk. “She stopped by my office this morning to talk about Christmas Eve dinner, and--”

His brow furrows. “You knew she was going to. It’s been on your calendar for weeks.”

“I know that, but what I didn’t know we’d signed up for more than dinner.”

Robin blinks. “Oh, I thought--”

“Yeah. Me too.” Sighing loudly as she reaches into her purse. “This is for you.”

His brows arch. “Oh, and this is…”

“Your secret santa assignment.”

“My what?”

“Secret Santa,” she repeats. “We all have one.” Robin takes the envelope. “Apparently, she’s invited half the town to this thing and--”

“I got Marco,” Robin says as a grin pulls onto his lips. “And according to this card, he likes craft beer. That’s easy enough.”

She nods and her jaw tightens. “Everyone filled out a card.”

“I… don’t remember filling anything out.”

She nods again. “Remember that dinner we didn’t go to last week. Then one we--”

A grin pulls onto his lips. “I vividly remember. We dropped the boys off and had the whole house to ourselves.”

Regina’s eyes roll. “Well, Mary Margaret had the boys fill out our cards.”

“That was thoughtful,” he says, dropping his card down onto his desk. “Who did you--” He stops and a grin curls onto his lips. “Oh,” he murmurs as a little laugh escapes him. “You got Mary Margaret, didn’t you?”

Regina groans and nods. “And she wants something sentimental and homemade.”

“That’s… cute.”

Her jaw tighten again. “Isn’t it?” Robin laughs. “There’s also an dress code for dinner.”

“A dress code?” She nods and a grin twists onto his lip--he’s enjoying this far more than he should be and there’s a part of him that feels a little guilty teasing her when she’s this annoyed. “So, is it safe to assume I shouldn’t wear my Rudolph boxers and Roland’s fuzzy red and green antlers?”

“Oh, no… that would actually be acceptable,” Regina replies. “Our clothes have to be Christmas themed.” Her eyes sink closed and she draws in a breath. “Robin, she wants to go carolling.” He can’t help but laugh as he leans back against the edge of his desk and reaches for her hand, tugging her toward him. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go over there and have a pot-luck dinner and exchange presents and go out caroling when half the damn town is going to be at her dinner, anway. What are we going to do? Sing to a bunch of empty buildings?”

Robin laughs and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’ll be fine.”

“I have to make her something.” A little grin twists onto her lips. “The last time I made her something it was a poi--”

“No,” he cuts in. “You’re not poisoning an apple.”

She blinks up at him. “It’d be sentimental.”

“No.”

“But--”

“No,” he cuts in, shaking his head.

“What else am I supposed to do? Make her a scrapbook of all the times I tried to kill her?” She asks, wide-eyed. “Robin, we don’t exactly have the sort of history you’d want to get sentimental about.” She sighs and her shoulders slump forward. “Is it too late to back out?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“They won’t miss us. David and Mary Margaret have Emma around for a few more days, and--”

“Regina. We told--”

“Remember last year?” She says, ignoring him. “Remember how perfect it was?”

“I do remember, and it was perfect.”

“We ordered Chinese food and watched movies and--”

“And had incredible sex.” He nods and laughs a little. “Of course I remember.”

She grins. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just… do it all over?”

“You want to do exactly the same thing we did last year?”

“Don’t you?” She asks, her eyes widening. “Robin, that was such a wonderful night.”

“I’m not saying that it wasn’t,” he says, unable to stop himself from remembering her padding across his kitchen, barefoot and wearing only his thermal. “But after almost thirty years of doing exactly the same thing, it’s nice to have… a variety.”

Her smile fades and she takes a breath. “We still have presents to wrap and the turkey isn’t thawed, and--”

Robin shakes his head, and chuckles softly at her obvious attempt to get out of dinner with the Charmings. “And we still have two days to wrap presents and the turkey doesn’t need either of us to thaw.” He circles his arms around her waist and sighs. “Not to mention, I think you want to go… even though you’re doing a very good job trying to convince yourself that you don’t.”

Regina’s jaw tightens and her eyes narrow. “I hate when you do that.”

His head tips to the side. “Do what?”

“Stay calm and logical and… reason with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, leaning in and pecking her lips. “So, how about we both take short days, then we’ll meet at Granny’s for lunch, do a little more Christmas shopping--the craft store, included--and then pick up the boys from school.”

Her lip catches between her teeth and she sucks in a breath. “You’re sure you don’t want to stay in on Christmas Eve?” She asks, once more trying to convince him. “Just you and me and--”

“And half the town,” he says, his voice rising over hers as she pouts. “It’ll be fun.” He shrugs. “And if it’s not, it’s only a few hours and we’ll know for next year.”

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, but she shifts on her feet and looks away as her eyes press closed--and then, she nods. “Fine. You’re right. We should go.” Her eyes shift back to his and she bites down on her bottom lip. “Which means I am back to square one on the homemade, sentimental gift.” Robin shrugs and he pulls her to him, letting his hands slide over her hips--and a little grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “You used to date her. What do you think she’d want.”

His eyes roll. “It was one date, years ago, and we were fixed up, at that.”

“Yeah, yeah… that’s what you always say.”

“Because that’s all there is to say.” He sighs. “How about you go walk through some of the shops and--”

“It has to be homemade.”

“You can get ideas.”

Her eyes narrow. “Maybe.”

“And maybe we could meet for lunch?” He asks, his grin brightening. “Burgers at Granny’s, then a little shopping? I saw this little book light the other day that I thought we could put in Henry’s stocking. They only had the unicorn pattern left, but the guy at the store said they’d be getting more in today, so I want to check that out.”

Regina’s eyes soften and a smile pulls onto her lips. “You… want to get Henry something?”

Robin laughs. “It’s not completely uncharacteristic, is it? I mean, we’ve both gotten both boys tons of presents for--”

“No, no,” she cuts in. “It’s not uncharacteristic. I just… it’s sweet that you think of him and…” She stops and shakes her head. “It doesn’t get old, that’s all. Everytime, it… it warms my heart.”

“Well, he’s going to be my step-son in just a couple of months. Of course, I think of him. I love him.”

“I know you do.”

“So, what do you think?” He asks, squeezing her a little closer. “Lunch then shopping? And I can help you figure out Mary Margaret’s gift.”

Her eyes narrow in consideration  as she presses her palm to his chest. “Or we could shop a little, then have lunch, then shop some more.” Her eyes widen a little as she smiles. “Come on. Play hookie with me.”

“This is a really busy time of year for the shop,” he says as his fingers press into her hips. “I want to, but--” He sighs. Arguing with her over something like this will get him nowhere--and in the end, he’s just going to let her win because when it comes down to working or spending a day with her, it’s not much of a contest. “It wouldn’t really be fair to John to have to manage this place all by himself.”

Regina’s lips part to protest--likely to tell him that he was already planning on taking off the afternoon and it's only just a couple of hours difference--but John’s voice beats her to it. “You know, I’m pretty sure I can handle the two customers we have in the store, and its two days before Christmas. We’re out of almost everything anyway and most of the customers we have coming in today will just be picking up gifts they’ve already purchased.” He grins as he looks between them. “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he says as he steps into the doorway. “You left the door open and I need more ribbon.”

Robin rolls his eyes as John reaches for the ribbon and waves it at him--and then, when he looks back to Regina, there a little smirk stretched across her lips. “Fine,” Robin sighs as Regina leans up onto the tips of her toes to peck his lips. “You win.”

_____

They spend the morning wandering through the department store, picking up a few last-minute gifts for Henry and Roland. They find a pack of Superman socks for Roland and a new Captain America hat for Henry; they pick out a few stocking stuffers--card games and packs of gum and rub-on tattoos--and Robin talks her into buying matching green-and-red flannel pajamas, not just for the boys, but for them, too. Then, somehow, by the time lunch rolls around, they’re each walking out of the department store carrying two overflowing bags.

They load the bags into the backseat of Regina’s car and drive back toward Main Street.

“You disappeared for awhile there,” Regina says, narrowing her eyes as they slide into one of the booths at Granny’s. “Where’d you go?”

Robin shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When I was paying for the pajamas, I turned around and you were gone.”

“Oh,” he murmurs as he focuses down on the menu. “I went to the bathroom.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I did,” he says, sounding a little coy. “Maybe you didn't hear me.”

Again her eyes narrow and it looks like he’s resisting the urge to smirk--and though she wants to press further and figure out just where he went and why he didn’t tell her about it, she also wants to eat. And her hunger wins out.

“I’ve been thinking about these burgers ever since you mentioned them this morning.”

“Me too,” he says, laughing a little as he folds the menu closed. “I think I woke up craving one.”

Ruby takes their order and within a few minutes, their burgers set in front of them and a plate of fries between them--and Robin’s mysterious disappearance at the department store is all but forgotten as they plan out the rest of their day.

After lunch, Regina pops into a few of the little stores along Main Street while Robin checks in on John--and when they meet again in front of Granny’s, Regina has another bag and still no gift for Mary Margaret.

They end up in the craft store and both are a little lost as they wander up and down the aisles as Regina scrolls through the Pinterest app she never opens on her phone. Finally, when she turns down an aisle of miniatures, a smile draws onto her lips as she finds a tiny little apple tree that looks a bit like the one she had planted in the garden at Leopold’s castle.

She pulls it off the peg, and looks at it, rubbing her fingers over one of the tiny apples--and then, the beginnings of an idea that just might work sparks. She looks up to find that Robin is, once again, nowhere to be found and shrugs her shoulders, then turns her attention to the Pinterest app. She selects a few other miniatures--making a point of keeping the mini apple tree--and then heads to another aisle, choosing a mason jar and iridescent glitter. It takes a little longer to find glycerine and a little wooden candle holder to create a base for the jar, but eventually she finds them; and them, on the way to the check out, she tosses some white paint, a hot glue gun and some glue sticks into her cart. And then, waiting by the checkout with a triple-bagged package, she finds Robin.

“What’s in the bag?” She asks, attempting to peer down into it. “You went to a lot of trouble to make sure no one could see into that bag.”

Robin shrugs. “One of the things inside is a little heavy, so they gave it a little extra support, that’s all.”

Her brow furrows. “That sounds like an excuse.”

“It’s not,” he says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as he takes her bag. “What did you end up getting to make for Mary Margaret.”

She takes a breath and forces a smile. “I’m making her a snow globe… or at least that’s what I’m going to try to make her.” She rolls her eyes and reaches into the bag and pulls out a little chipmunk encased in plastic. “She used to take to little woodland creatures.” Robin laughs and her eyes roll. “It was annoying.”

“But also sort of cute.”

“I guess…” She shrugs and a grin pulls onto her lips. “Are you sure you can’t tell me what’s in that bag?”

“Gift wrap and… some other things.”

Her brow arches. “Gift wrap was too heavy?”

“Did I say it was heavy?” He asks, chuckling softly as she nods. “Oh, then… yes. I got a few spools of ribbon and it… really weighed down the bag.” Her eyes narrow with curiosity and shrugs as they start their way down the street again. “So, I was thinking,” he begins, looking up at the signs about the stores. “We should get the boys some candy for their stockings.”

“Didn’t we do that already?”

“Probably,” Robin says easily, chuckling again as he pulls open the door. “But we didn’t get candy from here.” Regina steps in and looks around at the dispensers filled with brightly colored candies, and a grin pulls onto her lips. This is one of the newer stores in Storybrooke, one that was started by one of the dwarves--whose Storybrooke name always escapes her and whenever she addresses him as Happy, she feels the oddest twinge of guilt --after the curse broke. “We can never bring the boys here,” she murmurs in a low voice as she looks to Robin. “They’d never make it out.”

He laughs. “You think we’d find them curled up in the corner passed out in a sugar coma?”

She nods as he looks to him. “With Sour Patch Kids and Starbursts clenched in their fists.”

“Mayor Mills!” Happy calls out as he comes out of the back room, carrying two large bags of lemon drops and chocolate-covered malt balls. “I’m so glad you’ve finally made it in.”

“Oh, I meant to, but--”

“You’ve been busy, I’m sure.”

She grins and nods as she runs her hand over the chrome counter and looks at the glass jars filled with colorful gumdrops. “It… looks like something out of a story book.”

“That’s what I was going for,” he tells her--in a stereotypically happy voice. “Can I help you two find something for Henry and Roland? I’m sure we have--”

“Oh, I’m sure, too,” Robin says, cutting in with a soft chuckle as he pulls two boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Jelly Beans from the shelf and holds them up for Regina to see. “They’d go nuts in here.”

“I hear that a lot.”

“I think we’ll just have a look ar--”

“Your boys are into Harry Potter?”

“Obsessed.”

“Then, I have something to show you!” Happy comes around the corner and takes them both by the hard, and Regina’s eyes widen as he brows arch and she looks to Robin, who only laughs. “If they like Harry Potter, they’ll definitely like--”

“Oh my god,” Regina breathes out, her jaw dropping as she looks at the little section of the store that’s Harry Potter-themed. “This is…”

“Intense,” Robin decides as he picks up a Gryffindor spatula. “But I think Henry needs this.”

Regina nods. “Get Roland a Hufflepuff one, too.”

Robin nods and plucks another spatula from the bucket--and then, sees the matching spoons and aprons, and without hesitation, he grabs one of each in Gryffindor and another in Hufflepuff. “Can I interest you in a Ravenclaw apron?”

She turns and grins. “Only if you get an apron, too.”

“Henry and I can twin,” Robin tells her, choosing a Ravenclaw one for her and a Gryffindor one for himself--and her heart warms at the image of the two of them, in their matching aprons. “We can wrap this stuff up with--”

“Hagrid’s hut?” Happy suggests, pulling a box down from a shelf and handing it to Robin. “What Harry Potter fan could resist a gingerbread version of Hagrid’s hut?”

Regina sighs and nods, as Robin tucks the box underneath his arm and she turns her head to read the recipe on the side of the box. “Well, we have everything to make the dough and--”

“Everything comes in the box,” Happy explains. “But most people are buying extra frostings and candies to decorate the hut.”

Again Regina sighs and before she can even nod, Robin’s already at one of the dispensers, filling a bag with tiny Snow Caps--and a half an hour later, they’re leaving the store with two full bags of candy, and only the Bertie Botts Jelly Beans for the boys’ stockings.

On the way to the elementary school, they stop by Granny’s again and buy two gift cards for milk shakes, and Robin suggests filling two bags with quarters so the boys can play the jukebox. Regina agrees and they stop by the bank, getting a couple of rolls of quarters, and then they stock up on little bags of trail mixes and chips and popcorn for the boys to take to school for snack time--and they’re fully aware that none of the snacks will last past New Years, let alone until the boys go back to school.

Finally, they stand outside the elementary school--and a grin edges onto her lips as she watches Henry and Roland emerge from the school.

Henry takes Roland’s hand and helps him down the icy front steps, and then they break out into a trot as they spot her and Robin standing near the fenced in playground.

“We had a party!” Roland announces. “And our teacher brought us cupcakes.”

Robin laughs. “Is that why your lips are all green?”

Roland nods as Regina folds her arm around Henry and pulls him to her. “My mouth’s green, too,” Roland tells them, sticking out his tongue as she and Robin laugh. “Or it was.”

“It still is,” Regina tells him, laughing softly as she shakes her head. “Cupcakes aside, did you have fun?”

Roland nods. “But the cupcakes were the best part.”

“My teacher didn’t get us cupcakes,” Henry says. “Mother Superior isn’t nearly as fun as the other teachers.” His brow arches as he looks up at Regina. “Her gift to us was we got to play Holiday bingo instead of doing math today.”

“Well, that’s… something,” Robin says, laughing slightly as he shakes his head.

Regina’s eyes narrow as she looks down at Henry. “You do know that she’s not really Mother Superior. She’s not actually a nun, she’s--”

“The Head Fairy,” Henry cuts in, nodding as he looks up at her. “Same thing.”

“I always thought fairies would be more fun than nuns,” Robin muses as he looks between them. “I mean, with the magic and funny little outfits, and all.”

“Not this fairy,” Regina sighs. “There’s a reason she ended up being a strict nun who thrived on killing any sort of fun anyone wanted to have in the curse.”

Henry blinks. “We had to solve math problems to figure out if what squares she was calling. That’s not fun.”

“Oh… I just thought that was part of her cursed personality.”

“No, it was… strangely fitting.” A grin twists onto her lips. “Making her a nun for nearly thirty years was her the punishment the curse put upon her.”

A snicker escapes Robin as his brow aches. “Ah, the thing that… sets nuns apart.”

“Exactly.”

“It took for-ev-er,” Henry complains, completely unfazed by the innuendo.

Robin laughs. “Did you at least get to use colorful bingo dabbers?”

“She said that was too messy,” Henry says, shrugging his shoulders. “But we got to use our colored pencils.”

“That’s…” Robin stops. “Well, you’re done for a couple of weeks.”

Henry nods. “She liked the candle, though.”

“I told you she’d like a white unscented candle,” Robin says as they round the corner back to Main Street.

“She said it was her favorite scent.”

“Yep,” Robin says, chuckling to himself. “She’s really is a fun one.”

“Yeah,” Henry sighs. “Real fun.”

Regina laughs as she hugs Henry closer as they walk toward her car--and Robin when Robin leans in, pressing a kiss to her hair just before they reach the car, she feels her heart flutter, and it’s hard to believe that she started the day feeling tense and annoyed.

______

Robin’s brow furrows as he looks down at the recipe card.

“It’s easier than it sounds,” Regina tells him as she comes up behind him, pressing her hand into his back. “Just crack the egg into the rice and… swish it around.”

“Swish it around?” He asks, turning his head to look at her from over his shoulder. “Is that the culinary term?”

“No,” she says, grinning. “But it’s the one I’d use with the boys.”

“Are you telling me I have the culinary abilities of a six and nine year old?”

“No,” she says, giggling softly. “They’re much braver.”

His brow crinkles and he pouts a little. “Why do we have to have fried rice, anyway? What’s wrong with just steamed white rice with the beef chop suey?”

Regina leans up onto her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. “It was Roland’s night to choose and this is what he chose.”

“And you can’t just… magic it together?”

Her eyes roll and a grin edges onto her lips. “It’s more fun to watch you struggle.”

“Thanks…”

She kisses him again and the dumps a bowl of spouts into the chop suey before turning her attention to the boys who are carefully rolling egg rolls at the counter.

“Regina’s right, dad,” Roland calls. “This is fun.”

“It’s out of my culinary wheelhouse,” Robin says. “I was good at fishsticks and mac and cheese, and…  spaghetti. I can make some really great spaghetti and meatballs.”

“He does make good meatballs,” Henry says, looking up from his egg roll. “I like that they have cheese in the middle.”

Robin smiles and Henry grins at him. “You like anything with cheese in it,” Regina laughs as she helps Roland tuck in the edges of the egg roll.

“Thanks for trying, Henry,” Robin says, laughing as he winks at the older boy. “It’s nice to know someone’s on my team.”

“It’s not that I’m not on your team,” Regina says as she looks to him. “I just think it’s fun to try new things.”

“Yeah! Me too,” Roland says with an exaggerated nod. “Like fried rice!”

“Yeah,” Regina says, offering Robin a wink. “Like fried rice.”

“It does smell good,” Henry says, attempting to peer past Robin.

Robin’s brow furrows and he chuckles softly to himself. “Traitor.”

“I was trying to compliment you,” Henry says. “But… I don’t think the egg is supposed to look like that.”

“It’s not,” Regina says, chuckling softly as she reaches around him and scoops a fork into the rice, making sure to take a little of the egg with her. “But it still tastes good.”

“And that’s all that matters,” Henry says, shrugging his shoulders. “I think the egg rolls are done.”

“Okay,” Regina says, taking a breath. “Can you two line some paper towel on the counter?”

Both boys nod and hop off their stools as Regina comes up beside him, knocking her hip against his and winking as she drops the egg rolls into the boiling oil. Robin continues to stir the rice and slides an arm loosely around her her waist as they wait for the egg rolls to cook. He loves this part of the day--and though it’s a nightly routine, cooking dinner with her and the boys never gets old.

When the egg rolls are done, Regina lays them out on the paper towel and the boys pat them dry as he scoops the fried rice and chop suey into separate bowls. The boys set the table and he and Regina pour the drinks and carry in the food. The boys both chatter on about Christmas, mostly--and Henry is a good sport, playing into the Santa Claus myth for Roland’s benefit, reminding the younger boy that bed time will be earlier than usual and they won’t get to ask for extra chapters.

Finally, when dinner is done, the table is cleared and the boys help with the dishes--and for the first time that school year, there’s no homework to be done.

When the kitchen is cleaned, Regina suggests a movie--but a coy little grin edges onto Roland’s lips and he suggests instead they bake cookies for Santa. Henry’s quick to jump on the bandwagon, and before either he and Regina can agree--or disagree--Henry has a recipe card for sugar cookies on the counter and is getting out the ingredients. Regina laughs as she she lifts Roland onto a stool at the counter and she instructs Henry to preheat the oven.

It’s not long before the dough is rolled out and he’s adding food coloring to the icing, and the boys are laughing and singing Christmas songs as they press cookie cutters into the dough, making stars and snowmen and Christmas trees.

The first batch goes into the oven and the boys work on a second--and when Henry turns  to reach for a handful of flour to sprinkle onto the more onto the counter, his elbow hits the snowman cookie cutter pushing it off the edge of the counter.

Instinctively, Robin bends to grab it--and his fingers loop through the cutter’s center, just before it touches the floor.

“Nice catch,” Regina laughs as Robin hands it back to Henry with a triumphant little grin.

“Thanks, dad,” Henry says, barely paying attention as he presses the cutter into the dough--and then slowly, he looks up, realizing what he’s said. “I mean…” Henry’s voice trails off and his cheeks flush as he shifts uncomfortably and looks back down to the dough. “Sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize,” Robin’s quick to say as he looks momentarily to Regina, who smiles gently as he eyes widen a little and she nods before he turns his attention back to Henry. “It’s okay.”

“I… I don’t know why I called you that,” he murmurs sheepishly as he looks up. “I’ve never called anyone that before.”

“Maybe because Roland calls me that?”

Robin holds his breath for a moment, watching the way Henry chews at his lip and fidgets uncomfortably--and he’s not sure how to respond. Of course, he doesn't mind that Henry called him dad--since he and Regina started dating, Henry had felt more and more like his son, and they’d reached a point where he didn’t feel any differently about Henry than he did about Roland. In a lot of ways, Henry calling him dad felt natural and fitting--and admittedly, he’d wanted to start a conversation with Regina about formally adopting her son once they were married, but he wasn’t quite sure where to begin or whether or not, he’d be overstepping.

“That’s because you are my dad,” Roland says, unncessarily. “What else would I call you?”

“Roland, that’s… not very helpful,” Robin says with a sigh as he looks to his son, watching as he peels a christmas tree cookie up from the counter and sets it down on the baking sheet.

“I’ve never had a dad,” Henry says, looking up at him. “You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to one.”

Robin looks up and his eyes meet Regina’s, finding them teary. “Henry,” he says, feeling a little choked up as he looks back to him and leans his elbows onto the counter so they’re at eye-level. “If you think of me as your dad, that’s okay.” He grins. “In fact, I’d be honored to be your dad.”

“You would?”

“Of course I would.”

“Really?” He asks, almost shyly. “You would?”

“Absolutely,” Robin says as his smile widens. “You’re an amazing, kid, Henry---and, I love you.”

A lopsided grin tugs up at the corner of his mouth. “You do?”

“I do,” he says easily. “In fact--”

“Uh… what’s that smell?” Roland asks, interrupting as his eyes widen.

Robin blinks and looks up as Henry’s eyes widen a little as Regina looks to the oven--and suddenly, they all remember the cookies in the oven. Regina pulls the oven door open and Robin hands her a set of oven mitts before picking Roland up and pulling him out of the way--and Henry giggles when Regina sets the tray of burned sugar cookies down on the counter.

“We can’t leave those cookies for Santa,” Roland says, looking between them all.

“Well, it’s a good thing you two were making a second batch, anyway,” Robin says, looking to Henry as he shoves a spatula underneath one of the cookies, lifting it and giggling at it’s burned bottom.

“We’ll set the time on the next batch,” Regina says assuringly. “That way Santa’s cookies won’t burn.”

“But we can still decorate these,” Henry says as a grin pulls onto his lips. “If we eat them with ice cream, I bet we won’t even be able to tell they’re burned.”

“You just want an excuse to eat ice cream,” Regina says, laughing as she takes the second, unbaked tray of cookies and slides them into the oven--and intentionally showing Roland that she’s setting the timer.

Robin swallows hard watching as Henry reaches for the red icing and paints it across one of the stars, giggling as it pools in the center--and it's obvious that for him, the moment has passed. Roland joins him and the counter and reaches for one of the burned snowman cookies--and Robin feels his chest tightening as he watches them. Regina steps up beside him and stretches an arm around his back, smiling up at him as she lays her head against his chest, watching as the boys decorate the cookies.

It strange, he realizes, that he spent the last twenty-some years doing the exact same things year after year, but as he watches his boys decorating the cookies, it’s hard to remember anything before the last year, anything before Regina and Henry came into his and Roland’s lives--and it’s almost as if those twenty-some-odd years happened only to bring him to this very moment.

_____

She draws in a breath as she plugs in the glue gun and looks at the items laid out on the counter. There’s a little chipmunk and a couple of birds, a rabbit and a racoon, and a little girl in a pink dress with long brown hair that’s curled into ringlets--and of course the little apple tree.

Opening up the app, she reads through the instructions and Robin chuckles softly.

“You know, it might be more effective to actually… start gluing things down.”

Blinking she looks up. “I just… want to make sure I know what I’m doing.”

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her cheek as her eyes narrow. “Aw, you care.”

“I don’t want to have to go back to that hellish place, that’s all.”

Robin grins. “I think you care more than you say.”

“I don’t,” she says, her voice curt as she tears the packaging off the apple tree. “I just want this done and to not have to do it again.”

“Because you care.”

“No.”

“Regina, why can’t you just--”

“I will not hesitate to murder you,” she says, as she turns and points the glue gun at him.

Robin brow arches and he reaches for the gun. “Okay, so… how about we put the gun down and talk about this? Hm?” Her eyes roll as he pulls the gun away from her and sets it down. “It’s just a Christmas gift.”

She nods and presses her eyes closed. “It’s not though and I’m really worried this is going to be… a complete disaster and another disappointment.”

She looks away from him and focuses on her phone as her jaw tightens--it’s hard to put into words why she wants this gift to work out. In the last few months she and Snow--or Mary Margaret, as she still wanted to be called--had forged the beginnings of a friendship. She wasn’t deluded enough to think that it wasn’t mostly about Henry--as odd as it seemed that her once step-daughter’s grandson would be the little boy she adopted--but she didn't want their entire relationship to be centered around her son.

She’d always felt guilty about what happened between them all those years ago--and she hadn’t handled her guilt well.

Deep down, she’d always known what happened in the stable that fateful night wasn’t Snow’s fault, but admitting the alternative had been too difficult--and though she knew that the unhappiness she felt in the years she spent at Leopold’s wasn’t at all Snow’s fault, she’s needed someone to blame, and again, blaming snow was just easier.

Somewhere along the way she’d lost sight of that though and somewhere along the way getting revenge on someone was good enough.

In the past few months, she’d done what she could to make amends, but always it felt like it fell short, and what Mary Margaret really wanted was something she couldn’t give because at the end of the day, she couldn’t regret a single thing--not one terrible thing she’d done--because if she hadn’t done those things, Henry wouldn’t exist and a world without Henry wasn’t a place she was interested in.

And that had become increasingly apparent since Emma Swan had come to town.

“Regina…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says in a small voice as she looks up at him. “I just want to make my snow globe.”

He sighs and hands her the glue gun and a little grin edges onto her lips. “Don’t use the glycerine,” he says as he presses a kiss to her cheek. “It’d clump after a couple of shakes.”

Her head tips to the side and her eyes widen. “And how do you know that?”

“Google,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “More specifically Molly Moo’s Blog.”

“Molly Moo?” Her eyes widen and her face scrunches up judgmentally. “Really?”

He nods and a snicker escapes her. “What? I didn’t name the blog.”

She can’t help but laugh as he stuff his hands into his pockets. “So… what else did Molly Moo’s Blog say about making mason jar snow globes?”

He grins and again, takes the hot glue gun away slowly. “That… this doesn’t work. You need water-resistant glue. Otherwise the little miniature chipmunks are going to be swimming.”

“Perfect,” she says, sighing as her head falls back. “That’s just perfect.”

“It is, and it just so happens we have some.” Her brow furrows and before she can ask, he trots around to the opposite side of the counter and opens up the junk drawer. “Remember Henry’s coral reef project?”

“How could I forget?” She asks with a sigh. “It’s why we now have three betta fish, who refuse to die, named Larry, Moe and Curly.”

“Well,” he says as he fishes through the door and holds up a small silver tube of glue. “This is what we used to keep it all together.”

“Water resistant glue,” she says with a nod. “Of course.”

He tosses it to her and she catches it, setting it down beside the miniature chipmunk. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the counter, and she can feel him watching as she opens up the other packages.

“So, tell me about these little creatures.”

She blinks and looks up. “You want to know about the birds Mary Margaret used to talk to?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” she says slowly as she uncaps the glue. “I told you she talked to them?”

“You did.”

“Well, she did it for years.”

“Years?” He asks as his brow arches. “She talked to birds for years? Wasn’t she, like… ten when you and her father married?”

“There were squirrels, too, but they were less receptive,” she tells him as a grin stretches over her lips. “And, it’s not like there were other kids around for her to play with. Whenever we’d go out--”

“You were there?”

She picks up the little rabbit and dots glue along the bottom as she looks up at him. “I was a glorified babysitter, remember?”

“Ahh… right.”

She presses the rabbit down to the bottom of the jar’s lid and then reaches for the little girl. “She named them all and would… talk about them like they were people, and…” She laughs. “I don’t know how she did it, but after awhile, they got used to her and they’d… come up and greet her.”

“Like pets.”

“Just just like pets,” she says, nodding. “She was… good with them and she’d bring them little treats and she tried to teach them tricks and--” She laughs a little as she presses the girl down to the lid and reaches for a bird. “There was this fat little cardinal that used to come and eat seeds out of her palm… and she’d whistle and he’d whistle back.” She bites down on her lip as she glues a little red bird to the girl’s shoulder and looks up at Robin. “It took her a year to learn to whistle. She’d just… blow and spit and…” She sighs and a grin twists onto his lip. “I wanted to throw myself into the lake.”

“You… took her to the lake?”

“In the summer,” she nods. “I liked walking through the woods and I liked being by the water. It was nice to get away for a little bit.”

“If I remember correctly, that’s… an awfully long way.”

“There wasn’t much else to do,” she says, shrugging. “And it was the only way I was allowed off of the estate grounds. So, we… went a lot.”

She watches as his grin softens. “Something tells me that Snow wasn’t just talking to birds and squirrels…”

“And chipmunks.”

“And according to that thing, rabbits.”

Regina blinks. “She was annoyingly inclusive.”

“Did she happen to include a certainly surly yet gorgeous step-mother in those little chats?”

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything as she pushes back a memory of her and an eleven year old Snow sitting on a rock by the water, talking about how Snow feared she’d grow up to be a disappointment to her father--and Regina empathized, confiding her own fears of becoming a disappointment to her own parents.

“No,” she lies as she looks down at the jar. “She didn’t and I didn’t want to.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs as he leans across the counter and reaches for the bag--and before she can stop him, he pulls out another little figurine of a brown haired woman in a blue dress and holds it up. “And who is this supposed to be?”

Her jaw tightens as his brow arches. “Me,” she says, her voice low and barely audible. “That’s… supposed to be me.”

She sighs and looks away as his grin brightens, and he pushes himself up from the counter, quickly rounding it. “You do care,” he tells her as he presses a kiss to her cheek. “And glue some of that glitter to the bottom of the lid so it looks like there’s snow on the ground.”

She can’t help but grin as she looks back to him and nods. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

“I’m going to go check on the boys.”

“Okay…”

“She’s going to love that, you know.”

Regina nods--she does know, she can’t help but feel guilty about it, wishing there was some way for her to change the past without ruining the future.

______

The first official day of Christmas break begins by bundling up the boys and taking them to breakfast at Granny’s--which is the only thing that stops them from wasting the morning away snuggled in bed beneath their blankets. They all eat pancakes and Granny tops the boys’ with extra whipped cream, then Robin takes them into the store while Regina goes into her office to close out the year.

To make up for his absence the day before, he lets John take the boys out to the little yard beside the shop to play. He helps them to build a snowman--and then, once the snowman is built, all three launch an attack tossing snowballs at him until he falls. Robin can’t help but laugh out when Henry and Roland turn their attack on John and he falls back dramatically in the snow, hooking an arm around each of them and pulling them downing into a bank of snow.

When they come in, they’re red-cheeked and their noses are running from the cold, and Robin makes a pot of hot chocolate for them before settling them in his office with an Indiana Jones movie.

“You should bring them in more often,” John says, pouring a mug of hot chocolate for himself. “I like having them here.”

“You like having playmates.”

A grin twists onto John’s lips. “It’s not like you’re willing to have snowball fights with me.”

Robin’s eyes roll. “You need more friends.”

“I have Mulan.”

“And Mulan has Ruby.”

“I like Ruby. We have game nights all of the time.”

Plucking an empty much from the rack behind the counter, Robin fills it--and then, adds a little rum. “That’s… not exactly what I meant.”

“I have Wil, too,” John says, a bit defensively. “When he’s not completely sloshed, he’s a lot of fun.”

Robin nods, “And what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Oh…”

“Regina won’t care if you come over for dinner on Christmas Day, and I’m sure no one would oppose you coming by the Charmings on Christmas Eve.” He shrugs. “Ruby and Mulan will be there.”

“I… have plans,” John says as he takes a long sip of hot chocolate.

“You’re not sitting at The Rabbit Hole with Will spending the day getting drunk.”

“No, that’s… not what I have planned for the holidays.”

Robin’s brow arches. “Well, I’ve just named off all of your friends.”

John nods. “You did.”

“So, if you’re not spending the holidays with the Charmings or Will, and you’re turning down my invitation, then…” He shakes his head. “Mulan and Ruby are spending Christmas Day with Mary Margaret and David.” His eyes narrow as John looks away and again takes a too-long sip of his hot chocolate. “Granny’s will be closed…”

“I wasn’t planning on going there.”

Robin blinks. “Then… who the hell are you spending Christmas with?”

“My girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, clearing his throat. “Your what?”

“My girlfriend.”

Robin’s eyes widen. “And when did you get a girlfriend? And why is this the first time I’m hearing of her?”

“It’s… still new.”

“Bring her over!” Robin’s quick to say. “Regina and I--”

“No,” John interjects, smiling awkwardly. “I… don’t think that would be a good idea. Regina doesn’t much like her and… and I don’t think you do either.” Again, Robin’s eyes widen and his head tips to the side. “I’ve been… seeing… Blue.”

“Blue…”

“Yeah. You know. The Blue Fairy.”

Robin swallows hard. “You’re dating Mother Superior?”

“She’s not actually a nun,” John says, chuckling softly. “Trust me on that one.” Robin’s face scrunches--he doesn’t want to think about it. “We’re… spending the holidays together. I’m making her dinner for Christmas Eve and then we’re going to spend Christmas Day lounging around watching holiday movies and--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

John grins. “Your cabin is awfully cozy. It’s the perfect place to--”

“I’m so glad you’re renting my cabin,” Robin sighs. “But you know, I’m… happy for you,” he says, his tone changing to one that’s more sincere. “Besides, who am I to judge? I fell in love with the Evil Queen… who turned out to be an adorably surly--”

A grin twists onto John’s lips. “And you don’t have have to finish that sentence.”

“Fair enough,” Robin says, reaching out and clanking his mug against John’s. “But if you change your mind and want to stop by, I promise Regina will play nice.”

“You think?”

A grin twists onto his lips. “Wine does wonders for her mood.”

John laughs and nods--and the conversations halts when a customer comes in, searching for a last minute gift. Somehow, John manages to sell the man a tent and a barbeque and a bunch of little things that make camping easier, and by the end of it, the boys’ movie is done and Regina’s coming into the shop to pick them up for lunch.

He grins when she holds up a bag of take-out and the four of them retreat into the office to eat. She had club sandwiches for the boys and a rueben for him and he teases her for choosing a chicken caesar salad for herself--and almost as soon as lunch starts, it’s over and the boys are ready to go.

He stays at the shop until closing, and when he comes into the house, Regina’s in the living room, curled up on a chair with a book. He joins her for awhile, sitting on the arm of her chair with his arm around the back of it, listening as she tells him about her afternoon with Henry and Roland. She tells him about how she took them sledding and then to the library, and while Roland listened to the Story of the Day being read, Henry curled up in one of the oversized chairs and started reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea--and of course, that meant that he had to check it out and restart the book as soon as they got home, so that Roland could enjoy the story, too.

Robin makes a joke about how he foresees sea monsters and Captain Nemo taking over their lives in the not so distant future--and with a sigh, Regina agrees, informing him that all through dinner both boys had all sorts of questions about submarines and whether or not there were really sea monsters way down at the bottom of the ocean, whether or not those sea monsters were good or bad, and how pirates might later factor in.

“Pirates, eh?”

Regina nods. “I have a feeling Peter Pan is going to be their next big thing.”

“Yeah?”

Regina nods. “Once they’ve exhausted everything and anything about sea monsters, that is.” Robin laughs and sighs and Regina folds her book closed. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good,” she says, pulling herself up and out of the chair as she takes his hand. “We made fish tacos and spanish rice… and a huge salad. I made you up a plate.”

“That sounds amazing,” he says as a smile stretches over his lips as she leads him back to the kitchen.

He settles on a stool. “Where are the boys?”

“Sleeping.”

“Already? It’s only nine-thirty.”

She laughs. “Roland thought maybe he and Henry should practice going to be early… you know, since Santa is coming tomorrow and might pass over them if they’re not asleep.”

“And Henry played along?”

Regina nods as she slides the plate into the microwave. “I think he was tired. They got up early and then played in the snow with John, then went sledding and then when they got home from the library, they went out and played in the snow again.”

“He’s a good sport,” Robin says, nodding. “He’s a great big brother.”

Regina nods and leans against the counter. “He really is.”

For a few minutes, silence falls between them--and he feels his own tiredness taking over. The microwave sounds and Regina gets out the plate, and they start an easy conversations about Christmas. She tells him that while the boys were outside playing, she stuffed their stocking and finished wrapping the last of their gifts. He makes a joke asking how the turkey-thawing is coming along and she rolls her eyes as she tells him that it should be ready by Christmas morning. When he’s done eating, she clears his plate and puts it in the dishwasher, then takes his hand, leading him around the house to make sure the doors are locked and the lights are turned off--and then, they go upstairs.

He waits until the shower turns on before going to the closet and pulling out a gift he’d bought for her the other day when they were at the department store, and he smiled to himself, laughing as he held up a sheer green gauzy bra and panty set--and as he wondered, as he pictured her in it, who the gift was really for.

He pulls out a few sheets of wrapping paper--and again laughs at how ill-fitting the paper is for the gift--but nonetheless, sets the lingerie into the box, and wraps it in the paper adorned with cartoon reindeer, wearing little hats and glasses, holding presents and candy canes, and sipping cocoa in silly pajamas.

The shower turns off as he reaches for the ribbon and measures it out against the box--and he grins, knowing he’ll have at least fifteen more minutes to finish wrapping the box and put everything away while Regina dries her hair. But then, just as he’s tying the ribbon, he realizes that he doesn't hear the dryer--and then, the door opens. His eyes widen as he scrambles to scoop up the wrapping and he tosses the box into the closet, quickly pulling the door closed.

“I’m too tired to dry my hair, so I guess it’ll just be a curly mess for--” Regina’s voice stops as she looks a him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re holding ribbon.”

He shrugs. “Oh, I was just… wrapping something that I picked up for the boys.”

“All their presents are wrapped and up in the attic.”

“This was something I picked up… today.”

Her eyes narrow. “You didn’t mention that.”

“I forgot about it.”

“You forgot about the last-minute gift you went out of your way to get them today.” Robin shrugs--it’s not completely inconceivable for that to be true. “So, what did you get them?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Her brow arches. “Even for me.”

He laughs--and it’s more than obvious she doesn’t believe him. “Especially for you,” he says, changing gears.

“So, it’s… for me and the boys?”

“I wouldn't say that.”

She brightens a little. “So, this for me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Can I have it now?”

“No.”

Her bottom lip pouts out and he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll give you one of yours.”

“While that is very tempting,” he says, as he tosses the ribbon down on the chaise longue by the window. “It’s far too late for you to enjoy it.”

She blinks. “It’s barely ten-thirty.”

“And you’re tired.”

“Am I?”

He laughs again and shakes his head. “Well, I certainly am.”

“And… this gift is something you and I will enjoy… together?’

He grins and takes few steps toward her, pulling her to him. “I certainly hope so.”

Leaning up onto the tips of her toes, she pecks his lips. “Fine. I guess I can wait until we both can enjoy… whatever it is.”

They get into bed and as soon as his head his the pillow, he sighs contently--and then, rolls onto his side to face her. “You know, there’s… actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve just been thinking about it for awhile and…” He sighs. “I didn't really know if it was my place or…”

Regina rolls onto her side to face him, and tucks her hand against her cheek. “You sound serious.”

“I am.”

“Okay, you have my attention.”

He nods, and takes a breath. “Well, it’s about what happened last night… with Henry calling me dad.”

“Ah…”

“I… don’t really see much of a difference between being Henry’s step-dad or his dad. To me, it’s the same thing, and in a few months, we’ll be married, so I’m not sure if it’s… a moot point or…” He sighs and takes a breath, oddly struggling with his words. “I think I should start over.”

“No,” she murmurs softly as a little grin edges onto her lips. “I’m following.”

“I love him. I love him as much as I love Roland, and while I don’t think titles matter in the least… I think they matter to Henry.”

Regina nods. “I think they do, too.”

“Remember last Christmas, and how he kept saying he’d always wanted a real family and--” He stops. “I want to give him that picture-perfect TV show family he grew up wanting.”

“You have given him that, and yesterday, when he said that he’d never called anyone ‘dad,’ he was…”

“I know…”

“But I want to make it official,” he says, holding his breath as his eyes meet hers. “If… that’s okay with you.”

Regina nods. “It’s perfectly fine with me. I know that you love him and… and since he came to Storybrooke, you’ve been a dad to him, even if you didn’t have that title, even if you and I weren’t even together yet.” Her little grin brightens. “And I love how much you love him.”

“I do love him.”

Regina draws in a breath, and suddenly, something in her expression changes--something he can’t quite read. “Maybe when we get married, we could… all make it official.”

“All…”

“I’m not trying to replace Marian, but--”

“You wouldn’t be replacing her,” he’s quick to say. “Roland doesn’t remember her and he loves you so, so much, Regina.”

“And I love him.”

“So, then… we’ll talk to a lawyer after the holidays and…”

“Yeah,” Regina nods, smiling as tears fill her eyes. “And then in March, it should be finalized.”

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her forehead and then to her lips. “That is going to be such a good day.”

She nods as she cuddles into him. “The best.”

______

On the morning of Christmas Eve, she decides to bake apple pies--and despite Robin’s gentle suggestion that perhaps giving David and Mary Margaret an apple pie for the holidays isn’t the best of ideas, she wraps one up to bring to the Charmings nonetheless.

She spends the rest of her day trying to convince herself that Christmas with the Charmings isn't a colossal mistake--and it works right up until Mary Margaret opens the door, proudly donning a Tree Rex sweater that she says she just couldn’t pass up when she saw it hanging in a store window.

Regina’s eyes widen as she focuses on the dinosaur tangled in Christmas lights with a star atop his head. “No,” she murmurs, dragging her eyes up to meet Mary Margaret’s a tight smile stretches across her face. “I’m sure you couldn’t.”

Mary Margaret steps aside to let them in and Robin leans in murmuring a low be nice into her ear as they pass.

She hands David the pie and he makes a quip that she chooses to ignore about it being an apple pie, and she sets Mary Margaret’s gift onto the table with the others--as as she turns, she realizes she’s lost Robin to August and the boys are both busy examining the ornaments on the Charming’s tree.

Standing there alone, she folds her arms over her chest and looks around the room--aside from Robin’s conversation with August, there’s not really one she can just jump into and she’s well aware that the majority of the people in the room only tolerate her.

Though most people in town didn’t want to tie her up and burn her at the stake like she’d initially feared and though most have accepted her as their mayor, they don’t have much of an interest in sitting down for dinner and making small talk--and their tolerance, she suspected, had much more to do with Mary Margaret’s and Robin’s endorsements than it did with her.

“Hey.”

Regina looks up and watches as Ruby and Mulan walk toward her, offering them a little smile as Ruby extends a beer. She takes it and murmurs her thanks--and though she’s not much of a beer drinker, she’s glad to have someone to talk to.

“So, we were hoping you could settle something for us,” Mulan says as a grin tugs onto her lips and she looks to Ruby. “We can’t come to an agreement.”

Regina nods and takes a quick sip of the beer, grinning as she looks between them.

Ruby has been one of the few people in town who hasn’t kept her at an arm’s length, and since the curse broke, she was one of the few Storybrooke residents who insisted others should give Regina a chance to redeem herself. And, of course, like Mary Margaret, Ruby was a hero that most believed in. Mulan was generally harder to read, but that was mostly because she was something like a little sister to Robin--and though she wasn’t completely thrilled with the notion of Robin hooking up with the Evil Queen, he was happy and that was what mattered most.

“We were wondering what your take is on the whole Little John-Blue Fairy thing,” Mulan says. “Personally, I think it’s batshit, but bleeding heart over here,” she says, nodding her head in Ruby’s direction, “thinks it’s sweet.”

Regina blinks. “John and… Blue?” Her eyes shift between them. “That’s… a thing?”

“You don’t know?”

“Robin didn’t tell you?”

Ruby shifts as she looks to Mulan. “It’s possible Robin doesn’t even know.”

Mulan shrugs and then looks to Regina. “John is always seeking Robin’s approval. I doubt he’d willingly admit to him that she’s been shaking up with Shady.”

A grin tugs on to Regina’s lips. “Shady?”

“The Blue Fairy is totally shady,” Mulan says as her voice drops. “I don’t care what anyone says.”

Regina takes another sip of her the beer. “So… John and Blue, huh?”

Ruby nods. “It’s new.”

“And I don’t like it,” Mulan adds before taking a long sip on her beer. “And I don’t like her.”

“Well, I’m not the best judge of character, but--”

“You never liked her,” Mulan cuts in. “And you like Robin and you’re raising a great kid, so I’d say you are a good judge of character… and since you’re a good judge of character, I think you’re on my side with this.”

Regina shifts and tries to hide the awkward little grin as she looks to Ruby. “She makes a good point.”

Ruby sighs and rolls her eyes. “That’s what my grandmother said, too.”

Mulan’s brows arch as she slowly looks to Ruby. “Even Granny agrees? And you’re still arguing this? That’s me, Regina and your grandmother.” Regina bites down on her lip as she catches Robin’s gaze and he seems pleasantly surprised to see her casually chatting with Mulan--and that makes her smile. “Just give up and admit you’re wrong about Blue.”

It’s not long after that that Mary Margaret announces that dinner is ready and they all take a seat around the awkwardly long table at the center of the room. There’s both turkey and ham and what seems like a hundred different side dishes, and at the end of the meal, Regina can’t help but notice that her apple pie has gone untouched. With an overly dramatic sigh, she cuts herself a piece--and she can’t help but smile when Roland comes up behind her, tugging on her sweater as he lifts his plate and asks for a big slice.

She laughs and nods, cutting a larger-than-acceptable piece for him and the she takes his hand and leads him over to the couch, pulling him into her lap.

“I don’t know why no one’s eating your pie,” he tells her. “It’s really good.”

“Well, I guess there’s just more for us, then.”

Roland’s eyes widen. “That means I can have another slice?”

Regina laughs and presses a kiss to his mess curls. “How about you finish that one first.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” he says, stabbing a fork into an apple slice. “And I’m good at challenges,”

“I think my stubborness is rubbing off on you.”

Roland shrugs and cuts his fork into the crust. “Maybe.”

Regina laughs and they finish their pie, and before Roland can even ask for another slice, Mary Margaret announces that it’s time to exchange presents. A knot forms in her stomach as she lifts Roland off of her lap and sets him down on the couch,  awkwardly moving toward the presents and plucking hers from the pile.

For a second, she stands, rooted in place, watching as people awkwardly approach one another and extend their gifts--and she can’t help but notice the too-wide grin that edges onto Mary Margaret’s lips as she waits for her gift.

“I… think you already know this,” Regina says as slowly walks toward Mary Margaret. “But I was your secret santa.” Awkwardly, she holds out the bag. “Merry Christmas… Snow.”

A grin tugs up at the corner of Mary Margaret’s lips as she takes the bag--and her eyes widen. “Regina,” she murmurs as she pulls the snowglobe out of the bag. “This is beautiful.” She grins and gives it a little shake. “Is that… you and me?”

“It… is,” Regina says, swallowing hard as she shifts a bit uncomfortably on her feet. “I was… thinking of those little walks we used to take when your father would go away and--”

“I love this, Regina,” Mary Margaret cuts in, looking at her with tears glistening in her eyes--and then, she pushes herself forward, folding her arms around her. “Thank you.”

Regina tenses and slowly, her arms fold around Mary Margaret--and lightly, she pats her on the back. She looks up and watches as Robin bites down on his lip in an effort not to snicker and when she tries to pull back, Mary Margaret hugs her tighter before finally letting go.

“So, you really made this?”

“I did,” Regina nods. “Well, Robin helped a little… but yeah… I made it.”

A grin twists onto Mary Margaret’s lips. “I’ll treasure it always.”

“I’m sure.”

“And… I had your name for secret santa,” Mary Margaret announces as she holds up a bag. “It’s funny that we both ended up with each other’s names.”

“Yeah,” Regina murmurs. “So funny.”

“Here!”

Regina holds her breath as she takes the gift bag, swallowing hard as she pushes her fingers through the paper. “Is this… a book?” She asks, looking up at Mary Margaret. “I know Henry filled out my card, but--”

“He said you’d want baking stuff and more recipe cards, and somehow, those things felt like they might actually be for him.”

Regina grins. “Well, we do like cooking together….but… yeah, I think that would have been something Henry would have enjoyed because it would have increased the chances of him getting to eat cookies or a cake or… an apple pie.”

A grin tugs up at the corner of Mary Margaret’s mouth. “Roland said it’s to die for.” Regina’s eyes sink shut and she grimmaces. “I… might have to try a piece if it’s that good.”

“I… do make very good apple pie and I promise, there’s no poison in it.” She takes a breath and smiles. “Robin said I wasn’t allowed to do that.”

“That’s good to know,” Mary Margaret says as a giggle rises into her voice. “Now, open your present! I’m really excited for you to see it.”

“Alright,” Regina breathes out as she lifts the book from the bag. She swallows hard as she looks down at the brown leather book with gold leaf lettering that reads Storybrooke Through the Years, and then her eyes shift up to Mary Margaret. “What… is this?”

“Open it.” Again, she holds her breath as she opens to the first page, and pasted onto the page is a newspaper article about the first Miner’s Day Celebration, and a photograph of herself with very questionable haircut. “I went through the town archives and… your curse had a little flaw.”

“Did it?”

Mary Margaret nods. “The newspaper had microfilm of all of the newspapers throughout the years, so… I compiled a book of all the amazing things you did for this town and the people who live here.” Reaching out, Mary Margaret turns to the back of the book and fans out the blank pages. “And I left room for all the wonderful things you’re going to do for this town.”

She feels her breath catch in her chest and, in spite of herself, she feels her eyes filling with tears. “Mary Margaret, this is…” She looks up and bats her hand over her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe that you… made this for me.”

Mary Margaret smiles. “I know things have been tough for you since the curse broke. People haven’t always been fair to you and they expect the worst, but you’ve earned this second chance.”

“Oh… that’s…” Her voice halts and she surprises even herself when she steps forward and wraps her arms around Mary Margaret. “Thank you.”

Mary Margaret slowly pulls back and smiles--and before things can get too sentimental for her comfort, Henry comes bounding toward them with Roland on his heels.

“Mom! Look! Isn’t this cool?” Regina turns to face Henry. “Look what Emma got me!”

“And me!” Roland echos as he holds up a gift bag.

Regina grins as Emma mouths a silent thank you as Henry pulls out a Captain America action figure with a little helicopter attached to his back. “He flies!”

“And so does my Superman!”

“Oh, wow,” Regina murmurs, turning her attention to the boys and quickly offering Emma a wink. “That’s so cool.”

“Can we go out in the hall and play with them?” Henry asks, looking up at her with wide, expectant eyes that she can never say no to. She nods and they both hug her and run out into the hall--and she grins as Robin excuses himself from a conversation with David and Marco and follows them.

“I really appreciate the list,” Emma says. “I… had no idea what to get him.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I’m sure he’d have loved anything that you gave him.”

“I don’t know,” Emma cuts in. “It’s nice to be able to give him something that he actually wanted.”

Regina nods. “I know the feeling.”

Emma takes a breath and shoves her hands into her pockets. “I was… wondering if you could do me one more favor though?”

“Oh?”

“I’m only here until New Years and… I was wondering if you’d let me take Henry to lunch.” She shrugs. “My mom--as weird as it is to call her that--said he loves going to that little diner down the street.”

“Granny’s,” Regina says with a nod. “And I’m sure he’d liked that.”

“Thanks.” Regina nods as Emma shifts awkwardly on her feet. “He’s really lucky to have you as his mom, and… I’m grateful to you for…”

“You don’t have to thank me for loving my son.”

“Right…”

“So, I’ll send you a text about lunch, then?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling a bit awkwardly as she shifts on her feet. “Are you… sure it’s not too weird?”

“No,” Regina says, her honesty surprising even her. “It’s really nice that Henry has such a big family after not having one for so long, and… I’m glad that you’re a part of that family.”

“I’m glad that I get to be a part of it, too.” She pauses or a minute and takes a breath as Mary Margaret lifts her glass and looks for something to clank against it, obviously about to make some sort of announcement. “And to show my gratitude, I’m going to let you know that now is probably a good time to duck out. She’s about to announce that everyone is going caroling.”

“As in…”

“Yep. We’re bundling up and walking around town, singing Christmas songs in front of people’s houses.”

A tight grin pulls onto Regina’s lips and she laughs a little. “I am most certainly not the caroling type, so I’m going to say my goodbyes before she makes her announcement.”

“Good call,” Emma says with a decisive nod as Regina steps around her.

She offers a quick thanks to Mary Margaret and David for having them, and tells them that Roland is tired and they have to go. Mary Margaret hugs her again, and this time, she doesn’t tense--and with a wink, she tells her that she’ll leave the apple pie for them to enjoy later on.

She grabs her coat and Robin’s, and then the boys’, and joins them in the hall--and she smiles as Henry laughs out as he uses his remote control to make his Captain America dip down and then fly back up, and then, as expect, Roland does the same with his Superman.

“Hey you,” Robin murmurs as he stretches his arm around her shoulders. “Ready to go already?”

“Yeah,” she breathes out. “Apparently, the next thing on Mary Margaret’s agenda is carolling and--”

“We’re not doing that,” Robin says, cutting in and shaking his head. “There’s no way we’re doing that.”

“No, we’re not,” Regina says, laughing soft. “But I’m really glad you made me come here tonight and didn’t let me back out.” She rubs her hand over his back and grins up at him. “But I have to say, I’m a little surprised you left me alone in there.”

“I trusted you. I don’t have any reason not to trust you.” Robin grins and presses a kiss to her temple. “But I will say that I’m glad you didn’t poison anything or set the tree on fire or--”

Regina laughs and rolls her eyes. “Well, I did leave my pie and it does have a secret ingredient in it.” Robin’s eyes widen a little and she laughs out, swatting her hand against his chest. “Which is lemon juice.

“Oh…” He says, laughing as his arm tighten around her and he presses a kiss to her hair. “I knew that.”

_____

An hour after they get home, the boys are tucked in and asleep.

Robin opens bottle of wine as Regina waves her hand, and in seconds, the presents are neatly arranged underneath the tree. He grins as Regina tosses a fire ball into the hearth and then tugs him down on the couch beside her.

“I like when you cheat and use magic,” he says, shifting his arm around her. “And I love when the boys are in bed and sleeping by nine.”

“Two nights in a row…”

“Think we can come up with a way to make this happen every night?”

At that, she laughs. “I highly doubt it.”

He grins and takes a sip of the wine, holding it in mouth as he closes his eyes--and for a moment, he just enjoys the silence. “This is nice, though,” he tells her, “To finally have a a few minutes to ourselves.”

“It is.”

“Are you tired? We could go up…”

“Not yet,” she says, taking a quick sip of her own wine. “I’m surprisingly awake, given how busy today was.”

He nods. “Mary Margaret seemed to like her snow globe.”

“She did,” Regina says, a hint of a smile edging onto her lips. “I’m glad it all came together.”

“And your gift was… equally sentimental.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, looking up at him. “I feel guilty for complaining when--”

“You didn’t want to disappoint her,” he says easily, dropping a kiss atop her head. “That’s understandable.”

“I just wish that our history wasn’t so--” Her voice halts and she takes a long sip of the wine. “Well, you know what our history is.”

“I do, and there’s no use in worrying about it. All you can do is… do better now. You can’t change the past.”

“I know…”

He rubs his hand over her arm. “She knows you’re trying…”

“I know,” she murmurs softly. “Did you see what she gave me?”

“It looked like Henry’s story book…”

“It was a scrapbook,” she says. “A scrapbook of… all the things I did as mayor during the curse… she said it was proof that I deserved the second chance I’ve been given.”

“You do deserve it.”

“Maybe.”

“Regina…”

She sighs and looks up at him, smiling gently. “It was a nice reminder.”

“I agree,” he murmurs as he looks to the tree, absently running his fingers up and down her arm. “And I think it was a reminder you needed.”

“She’s annoying like that,” Regina sighs. “Always doing the right thing at the right time.”

His eyes roll as he chuckles softly. “So annoying…” She nudges him and he laughs again, this time pressing a kiss to her hair. “You know, since the boys have already gone to bed, I think it’d be fun to give you one of your gifts early.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, pulling herself up and looking to the tree. “I suppose there wouldn’t be any harm in us choosing one gift for each other.”

His grin turns coy as he takes a long sip of the wine. “Well, there’s actually one very specific gift, and…” He chuckles softly as she looks to him and his grin turns coy. “It’s a gift that’s as much for me as it is for you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s upstairs.”

A smile edges onto her lips. “The one you were wrapping when I was in the shower.”

“That would be it.”

“And, you don’t want to… save it for tomorrow morning.”

“Uh, no,” he’s quick to say. “I think that would lead to some… uncomfortable conversations.”

Her eyes narrow and she giggles softly, and then she downs the rest of her wine and grabs his hand, pulling him up from the chair and leading him up the stairs to their bedroom. He laughs softly as he goes to the closet and pulls out the box covered in pajama-clad reindeer.

“Nice gift wrap,” she says a grin tugs onto her lips. “Did… you buy this specially for this gift?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he sighs. “And it’s incredibly ill-fitting.” Her brow arches. “But we were at the craft store and it was crowded and I didn't have time to browse, so I grabbed the first pack I saw and it came with the bow and--”

“I think the reindeer are cute.” He grins as she slips her finger beneath the edge of the taped down paper. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to pick one of the smaller things I got you, so you can unwrap one, too?”

“Positive,” he says easily as a chuckle rises into his voice. “Besides, I’ll have something to… unwrap soon enough.”

Her brow arches and she tears off the paper, and he holds his breath as he watches her lift the lid from the box and push away the tissue paper--and he hopes that she’ll like it.

“Lingerie,” she murmurs, looking up at him and shrugging her brows. “How shocking after that unwrapping comment.”  He rolls his eyes as she lifts the green lacy bra from the box and her fingers hook under around the thin green satin straps. “It’s pretty.”

“You think so?”

“I do,” she nods, biting down on her lip as she moves her hand into one of the cups of the bra. “It’s… very sheer.”

“I know,” he grins. “And when I saw it on the mannequin, I couldn’t stop thinking of you in it and--”

“Ah, so that’s where you disappeared to,” she says as a smile stretches across her lips and she picks up the matching green lace panties. “They’re soft.” He nods, watching as her fingers rub against the fabric. “Usually, you’re not really… interested in lingerie.” She laughs gently as she lets her hand slip into the backside of the panties, and again, there seems to be more skin showing than lace. “Something about not understanding the point, if it was only going to end up on the floor.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “And I don’t know what it was about that particular set but--”

She smiles. “Do you want to… see me in it? See if I live up to the fantasy?”

He feels his cheeks warm a bit and he nods. “I am sure it will.”

“You’re… not too tired?”

“No,” he’s quick to say. “And, you know… for the sake of tradition…”

She laughs out. “So, it’s our Christmas Eve tradition to have sex.”

“I mean, it could be…”

His heart flutters as she holds up the bra once more and again, she shrugs her eyebrows at him. “Well, then, I’ll be back in a few minutes, so you can… unwrap me.”

She disappears into the bathroom--and he can’t help but think of how unromantic his request was. But then, their first time hadn’t begun all that romantically either. There simply hadn’t been much else to do. He leans back against the pillows and smiles, remembering that night a year before--remembering how nervous he was and how reassuring she was. He’d been so worried about not pleasing her--worried that she’d be disappointed and there would be no going back.

And though they’d been together countless times since then, he still found himself thinking about that first night, and how perfect it was.

He swallows hard as the bathroom door opens--and his eyes linger up her, taking in the lacy lingerie that leaves very little to the imagination, and exceeds every expectation that he had, and then as his eyes trail up, he finds himself pressing his lips together and stifling the urge to laugh.

“What? The antlers?” She asks, pointing up to her head. “You weren’t expecting the antlers?”

“No,” he laughs. “But I have to say… I like them.”

“I figured with that wrapping paper…” She reaches up and bats her hand against one of the antlers and the little bells on it jingle--and again, he can’t help but laugh. “And they were just in the bathroom, so I thought they might be a part of the… get-up.”

“No,” he murmurs as he swallows another laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you certainly are a sexy little reindeer.” Her eyes close and her face scrunches her nose--and then, when her eyes open, he holds out a hand to her.

He sits up, but she pushes him back--pressing her palms against his chest as she climbs on top of him, straddling his lap. He swallows hard as her fingers press against the fabric, rubbing back and forth as her eyes meet his--and then, she leans in, cupping his face in her hands as she kisses him softly.

His hands fold around her, rubbing over the thing layer of lace covering her ass--and he sucks in a breath as her hands fall away from his face and slowly begin twisting around the buttons on the front of his shirt.

He swallows as she tugs the shirt from his pants and she pulls away as she opens the shirt, pressing her palms to his bare chest and smiling suggestively. He continues rubbing his hands over her ass, kneading gently at the soft lacy fabric that covers her--and he lets out a shallow breath when she leans in and presses her lips to his chest, suck hard at his skin.

Her lips slide lower and lower and her fingers fumble with his belt--and she grins up at him coyly as she slowly pulls down the zipper of his pants, and readjusts herself between his legs.

He lifts his hips and she tugs his pants down over his hips--and she lowers her head to kiss the skin just above the elastic band of his boxer-briefs, the bells on her antlers jingle and they both laugh out.

“They’re kind of a mood-killer, aren’t they,” she murmurs, pulling away from him and sitting back on her legs folded beneath her. “They keep…ringing at inopportune times.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs as he swallows his laugh. “They’re kind of fun.”

Her brow arches. “Oh… I didn’t know you were… into that.”

Robin’s eyes roll and he shakes his head. “I’m into you, silly antlers or not.”

She laughs and bites down on her bottom lip as she reaches out, cupping his cock through his underwear--and he sucks in a breath at that first contact. She squeezes gently as she presses her palm to him and then, she leans forward and again, places a kiss just about the waistband.

Her fingers slip into the underwear and close around the band, slowly tugging them down. She grins up at him as his cock springs forward, already hardening with anticipation--and she lets out a little giggle as the bells again jingle as she drags her tongue up the length of his shaft.

Her fingers fold around him as she kisses the tip--and again, the bells jingle, but somehow the sound is much more faint. He lets out a low moan and sucks in a breath as her lips slide down and her fingers twist and slide--and as the bells jingle, he feels a puff of air and light vibrations from her throat as she giggles softly, and he nearly comes right then.

She continues sucking and licking--and oh, god giggling--and he feels his breath growing increasingly ragged. His eyes open and she’s looking up at him as she her fingers knead at his balls and her tongue swirls just beneath the head of his cock--and then, she pulls away.

He swallows hard as as she sits up, straddling his legs. She pushes her shoulders back and grins, then gives her head a little shake, making the antlers jingle as she rubs her hands over his hips.

“This is fun.”

“It is,” he agrees in a husky voice as his eyes linger up her body, letting them linger longer than necessary over the thin gauzy lace covering her breasts. “A lot of fun.”

His hands slide up over her ass and her kneads gently at her skin, grinning when her back arches--and then, she falls forward, capturing his lips in hers. The kiss is wet and sloppy--and he can’t help but laugh as the antlers jingle.

“Should I take them off?”

“No,” he murmurs. “I kind of like them.”

She pulls back and arches a brow. “So, you are into that?”

“Like I said,” he says as a sly little grin edges onto his lips as he grabs harder at her ass. “I’m into you… no matter what you’re wearing.”

“Yeah?”

“You could be Mrs. Claus--white wig and all--and you’d still be irresistible to me.”

“Ooh,” she growls playfully. “All that red satin from head to toe, maybe… a broach at my throat.”

“I think I’m partial to green lace… and jingle bell antlers,” he murmurs as he pushes his hand up her stomach, smiling at her as his fingers slip against the lace bra. “But yeah, red satin might be fun.”

“Next year,” she says, laughing out as he pushes her back onto the bed. “We need to be quiet…”

“You’re the one making all the noise.” She takes a breath and he grins as she licks her lips. “That said, I’m fairly certain that--for tonight, at least--we could drive a train through the house and no one would wake up.”

She grins. “Suggesting the boys have a slumber party in Roland’s room was a great idea.”

He grins back and winks as his fingers slip between her legs and curl around the little stip of lace covering her--and she laughs out when he gives it a little tug and the bells on the antlers jingle. “I might have had an ulterior motive.”

“Hm, I hadn’t noticed.”

His eyes roll and his flingers slip between her lips. “You’re so wet.”

She looks up at him and bites harder at her lip. “I know,” she murmurs. “It’s… all that talk of Mrs. Claus.”

“Ah, so you have a thing for Mrs. Claus.”

“Well, you have a thing for reindeer.”

At that, he laughs--and one of his fingers dips inside of her, slowly curling and uncurling as his eyes stay fixed on hers. “No, just… one very specific reindeer.”

“Mmm, that feels nice,” she murmurs--gasping when he slips in another finger, letting it slide and curl, just like the first. “Faster,” she says, her voice not much more than a muffled whimper. “Please…”

Happily he obliges and his fingers pump faster as his thumb presses down on her clit, circling around it. A grin pulls onto his lips--he enjoys making her squirm like this, and he enjoys the contrast of the warmth inside of her with the coolness of the air when he pulls his fingers away. He likes the way the lace gently scratches his hand as his slides over her smooth skin--and he loves the way she whimpers and writhes.

She presses back her head and arches her back, and he knows that’s she’s close--so, he teases her a bit, and pulls away his hand. Her eyes open and she pouts, and when she lifts her head those damn antlers jingle--and he can’t help but laugh. She’s adorable.

“You’re not done,” she tells him.

“No,” he agrees, tugging off the lace panties and casting them aside, “Not even close.”

His cock is throbbing and begging for attention as he leans in and sucks gently at her clit--and when her back arches his hand slips under her, slowly lifting her and forcing his lips up to her stomach.

He looks at her as she settles herself, comfortably and to his dismay with his cock between them. She pulls herself up and down, slowly as she kisses him, rubbing her body against his cock--and every now and then, he’s aware of those jingling antlers, and he every time, he finds himself chuckling softly against her mouth.

Regina’s arms link around his neck and she presses herself closer and kisses him harder--and he shudders a bit as his cock bumps up against her clit and she moans into his mouth. Again, she pushes herself closer, this time pulling herself up onto her knees. He sigh contently as the tip of his cock slips easily into her, and the lace of her bra and the firmness of her nippes rub against his chest, and again--god help him--the antlers jingle.

He holds her hips as she starts to ride him, slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace--and when she breaks the kiss, she looks at him and lets out a shaky breath, before a coy little grin edges onto her lips. She feels so damn good--and it’s not long before her movements become a bit more hurried. His balls tighten and his cock twitches--and she moans as her head falls forward, her forehead resting against his as he comes.

Pushing her back against the pillows, he thrusts slowly, riding out the orgasm--and then, when he’s finished, he slips out of her and quickly trails kisses down her throat and stomach, until his tongue is sliding between her legs, licking and sucking until she’s coming.

Swallowing hard, he pulls back and lays down beside her--and a silly little grin edges onto her lips. “That was fun.”

“It was,” he agrees.

“I’m… sticky.”

He laughs, reaching out and pushing his hand up over the lacy bra, cupping her breast and rolling her nipple between his fingers and the lace. “We could… fix that quite easily.”

“In a few minutes,” she breathes out, swallowing hard. “I need to… catch my breath.”

“Mm, okay,” he murmurs, rolling onto his side as his lips find her neck and his fingers continue to roll her nipples. “We have all night.”

“Tomorrow morning is going to come very quickly.”

“That’s nothing a strong pot of coffee can’t fix.”

She laughs just before reaching out and tilting his chin up--and as their eyes meet, she rolls closer and catches his lips between hers.

They lay like that for awhile--kissing and tangled in each others arms, and he can’t help but think how different this is than the previous year. They were so much more comfortable and at ease, and though at the time it’d been hard to think that he could love her any more than he did then, he was so much more in love with her now.

Regina pulls back and shakes her head as she sits up. “Unfortunately,” she murmurs as she reaches up to the antlers atop her head. “I don’t think these would fare well in the shower.”

“Probably not,” he says, taking them from her and tossing them aside--and they both laugh as the bells on the antlers jingle one last time.

She pulls him up of the bed and reaches behind herself, unclasping the bra and letting it fall to the floor. He stares at her for a moment, taking her in--and he can’t help but think as beautiful as she looked in that green lacy lingerie, he very much preferred her without it.

Regina gives his hand a little tug and grins coyly as she leads him to the bathroom--and as she reaches behind herself to turn on the shower, her hand forms around his cock, getting him ready for round two.

______

As expected, the boys wake up early--and even though Henry no longer believes in Santa Claus, it doesn't seem to make Christmas any less magical for him. Every time he opens a present, he looks to Robin and Regina--looking to his parents--and he grins brightly, offering them a silent thank you as Roland gushes about how good Santa was to them that Christmas.

By seven in the morning, the presents are almost entirely opened--and the boys are thumbing through a book of Sunday Morning Comics. Regina’s cuddled up in Robin’s lap on the armchair, and a fire is burning at the hearth. His hand rubs absently over her back as they watch the boys opening their presents--and she’s not sure she’s ever felt so content and at ease.

Her heart warms as Henry points to a word and Roland’s brow creases, and gently, Henry helps him sound it out. For the past year and a half she’s been so focused on giving Henry the family he always wanted and deserved--and somehow, it managed to escape her that she was also doing the same for herself.

And it’d also escaped her--somehow, and almost unbelievably--that she’d achieved it.

Since the curse broke she was so focused on the town--focused on everyone else’s wants and needs, trying to make up for the nearly thirty years they’d lost--that she hadn’t much focused on the beautiful thing happening right in front of her.

Robin presses a kiss to her hair and she sips her coffee, and it occurs to her that there’s nothing she can do about the past, that only the future mattered. It’s something Robin had told her time and time again, and while she’d nodded and said she understood, she hadn’t quite internalized it. She’d been too focused on everything she’d done wrong, all the terrible things she couldn’t change--but now, for some reason as she watched Henry and Roland reading together--it seemed so obvious.

They’d all come so far.

And maybe, it really had all been worth it.

“Hey,” Robin’s voice calls softly, bringing her back into the moment. “You two do know there are still a few gifts over there, tucked behind the tree.”

Both boys’ eyes widen. “Santa was so nice this year,” Roland says as he crawls toward the pile of gifts and looks to Henry. “It’s Harry Potter paper!”

“Cool!” Henry exclaims as he folds the comic book shut. “You can open the first one.”

Roland grins, and slowly tucks his finger underneath the wrapping as he looks around the room, brimming with excitement--and then his brow furrows. “It’s… an apron.”

“It’s a Hufflepuff apron,” Henry tells him as he rips into his own present. “And mine’s a Gryffindor one!” Henry looks up, his eyes widening as he looks to Robin and Regina. “They match the ones you guys got!”

“They do…”

“And I’m willing to bet they go with the rest of that stuff.”

“Santa’s really thoughtful,” Roland says seriously, looking between them all. “He wrapped all the presents that go together in the same paper so we know what to open with what.”

Robin laughs. “I… think Mrs. Claus might have had something to do with that, actually.” Regina grins and tips her head back to look at him, and he leans in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I think you guys should open up the big one next.”

Henry and Roland both nod, and together, they pull the paper off the Hagrid’s Hut Gingerbread House.

“Can we make this today?” Henry asks, his eyes widening expectantly.

“Yeah! Can we have gingerbread for breakfast?”

Regina laughs. “We can make it, but you two are eating a real breakfast first.”

“Can our real breakfast be gingerbread?” Roland asks, pressing his hands together. “Please?”

“How about some scrambled eggs and toast.”

Roland considers for a moment and then nods. “Can we have bacon, too?”

Regina laughs and nods--and the boys open the last few presents, and Robin’s quick to remind them that the candy is meant to go on the gingerbread house.

After everything’s opened, Robin takes the boys into the kitchen--and they sword fight with their Harry Potter spatulas as they go, earning a long sigh from Robin as he shakes his head. She waits until they’re out of the room and takes a breath, and then, waving her hand she cheats and uses magic to clean up the mess of wrapping paper, ribbons and torn apart packaging.

She joins them in the kitchen, standing there for a moment and watching as Henry start to make the gingerbread dough while Robin stands at the stove monitoring as Roland scrambles the eggs--and her breath catches.

“Are you okay?” Robin asks, turning toward her as her eyes fill with tears and suddenly, she feels a surge of emotion. “You look--”

“I’m fine,” she insists. “I just… I just love that we have this.”

“Me too,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to her cheek. “I love this, too.”

“I… I don’t want to think about what I’d be like without you… well… you and the boys,” she says, swallowing hard as she blinks away her tears. “You guys are the best part of me.”

“Well,” he murmurs softly, pressing another kiss to her cheek as Henry looks up from the counter and grins a bit awkwardly. ‘You’ll never have to find out.”

He offers her a wink and she joins Henry, draping her arm around his shoulders and dropping a kiss to his hair as Robin rejoins Roland at the stove.

It’s not long before breakfast is done and the boys are carefully using the cookie cutters to make the walls to Hagrid’s Hut--and Robin is stealing the occasional gum drop and peppermint.

Finally, it’s time to put the gingerbread into the oven and Henry does so carefully with Roland watching--and Regina turns to start mixing the icing that will eventually hold together the walls of Hagrid’s Hut, she bursts out laughing when she finds Robin perched on a stool wearing another pair of antlers and a spot of the red frosting on his nose.

The boys both turn to look at them, rolling their eyes as Robin pulls Regina to him, kissing her as the boys roll their eyes and turn back to the oven, watching impatiently as the gingerbread bakes.

[ladyherenya]

Books read in February

I continued on with three series I started in January, and read a few sequels to books/series I started last year. One book was co-written by an author I discovered in January, and the remaining three were by new-to-me authors. Yet again, nearly everything was fantasy and science-fiction. Clearly I was not being very adventurous...

(Longer reviews and ratings are on LibraryThing. And also my Dreamwidth blog.)

The Tethered Mage by Melissa Caruso:  Lady Amalia Cornaro is walking around incognito when she’s enlisted to tether a rogue fire-mage threatening to burn the city. I kept expecting this to be more consistently gripping. Amalia’s under a lot of pressure, trying to juggle conflicting loyalties, her choices constrained and scrutinised, yet she approaches things with an amount of calm confidence. It’s quite believable, given her strong sense of identity and relationship with her mother, but undercuts the urgency somewhat. Otherwise, this has memorable characters, satisfyingly-complex political intrigue and rich worldbuilding. I’m interested in seeing what happens next.

Discworld - City Watch books by Terry Pratchett:

Feet of Clay (narrated by Nigel Planer): The Watch investigate a couple of murders and the attempted-poisoning of Lord Vetinari.  Meanwhile, something’s going on with the golems. I’m impressed that people plotting to replace Vetinari with a king has been a recurring theme without becoming repetitive. But I really like how Pratchett writes detective/mystery stories - that’s partly why I’m finding these books so engaging. I also liked how the characters’ respective prejudices were challenged. A downside I often experience with audiobooks is that I can’t remember, or else easily look up, my favourite passages afterwards. This time I’ve had no trouble remembering.

Jingo (narrated by Nigel Planer): The first book to actually take the Watch beyond the city of Ankh-Morpork. An island rises from the sea and Ankh-Morpork prepares to go to war over it… with some difficulty, given a lack of army. I was somewhat less entertained by the middle section, which is not so much an investigation as a sea adventure -- I don’t think I laughed quite so often nor was as gripped by the story. However, all the bits with Vimes were great, and I was satisfied and delighted by the way the everything eventually twisted together.

Penric’s Fox, a novella in the World of the Five Gods by Lois McMaster Bujold (narrated by Grover Gardner): Set soon after Penric and the Shaman. It’s a self-contained story, so jumping from the later books back to this one works. Penric and his friends investigate the murder of a temple sorceress; Pen and Des are most concerned with finding the sorceress’ demon. I enjoyed this a lot, especially seeing Pen interact with another sorcerer and with the princess-archdivine. Some of their conversations hit unexpectedly serious and emotional notes.  I was hoping that further instalments would be set after the later books, but now I’m confident that whatever stories Bujold chooses to tell next will be interesting.

Shadowsong by S. Jae-Jones: The sequel to Wintersong is about things starting with the letter M: “Madness, mania, melancholy. Music, magic, memories.” I like the prose, setting and characters, and he way Liesl’s siblings and music are so important to her. I like that the story takes her struggles seriously and affirms that, even though she can be difficult and moody, she’s still loved. But I was not a fan of the way the plot unfolded. Some stories meander satisfyingly, but I just found it frustrating here. I’m disappointed... yet at the same time glad I made an effort to finish it?

Saga by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples:

Volume Three: I enjoyed this volume, with its themes about families. I liked the moments of rich characterisation, and the picture-book quality of the narration. There were dramatic twists too, and funny moments, and lovely moments, and heartbreaking ones (AHHH, STOP HURTING CHARACTERS I LIKE), and the sort of weirdness I know to expect. I’m still super invested in the characters - and still super worried something really awful will happen that will just ruin everything. I know I’ve come to the wrong story if I want everyone to be okay, but I just want everyone to be okay, okay?

Volume Four: This feels like the start of a second season. Alana, Marko and their daughter, now a toddler, are still in hiding but otherwise things are comparatively calm. Hazel’s narration ominously makes it clear that this stability is about to unravel. I don’t think what happens is objectively worse than anything in the previous volumes, but I found this volume more disquieting and less enjoyable. Were there fewer heart-warming and fewer funny moments, to balance out the everything else? Or is it just that my sense of dread, as I waited for everything to go wrong, colouring things?

The Books of the Raksura by Martha Wells:

Stories of the Raksura, volume one: This contains a couple of novellas and a couple of short stories. The longest, The Fallen World, is about Moon after The Siren Depths, and is exactly what I expect from Raksura stories: Moon is (understandably) emotional, Stone is supportive; they explore a place which is mysterious and vividly imaginative, and solve problems with teamwork. I love it. The other three stories are all prequels. I wasn’t expecting to like The Tale of Indigo and Cloud story so much. Cerise is level-headed and understanding, and it’s fascinating to get an insider’s view of a normal reigning queen and her court.

Stories of the Raksura, volume two:  This collection of stories veers more towards mysteries of a strange world than courtly intrigue. The Dead City is a prequel. Moon is not in a great place. From the subsequent books, I know that things do get better for him -- but not just yet -- which gives this story a rather melancholy vibe. The Dark Earth Below is set after The Siren Depths. Moon is anxiously anticipating a momentous - positive - development and investigates an issue concerning their neighbours.. I enjoyed the glimpses into life for the court. Also notable: one of the short stories, “Mimesis”, is from Jade’s perspective!

Weave a Circle Round by Kari Maaren: Freddy wants to fly under the radar but one of her weird neighbours is in all her classes. This reminded me of Diana Wynne Jones -- a similar blend of eccentric characters, magical shenanigans, mythology, commentary on storytelling, with a relatable portrayal of growing up and of difficult family dynamics. Yet it has its own style and its own narrative priorities, like thoughtful, matter-of-fact inclusion of disabilities, and exploring what it means to be “chosen” in this sort of fantasy. I was impressed with the way it has an epic scope yet remains tightly focused. Every detail counts. I loved it.

The Snow Sister by Emma Carroll (narrated by Victoria Fox): A short historical children’s novel. Pearl’s father receives news that he is a beneficiary of his brother’s will, and her mother sends her out to buy the ingredients for Christmas puddings. This shopping trip doesn’t go as expected.I borrowed this because I needed another audiobook and I like the narrator. It’s a sweet story, a touch heavier-handed in its message than I’d prefer, but it took off in directions I hadn’t predicted and kept my interest.

Binti: The Night Masquerade by Nnedi Okorafor: Sequel to Binti and Binti: Home. This took me by surprise in terms of what happened and how strongly I felt about it. Binti tries to save her family and avert a war. She also reaches an understanding of her identity. She hasn’t followed the path expected of a Himba girl; she’s left home and changed physically as well as personally; she has a bond to a Meduse and has learnt about her heritage from her father’s family. I liked how it pulled together the threads running through the trilogy and that, although it’s a story involving conflict and loss, there’s acceptance and joy.

Illuminae by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff: An intense young-adult science-fiction thriller, told through messages, memos, interview transcriptions, reports describing surveillance footage, diagrams and other documents. It’s the most surprising and creative epistolary novel I’ve read. A remote mining outpost is attacked by a rival cooperation, and the spaceships of evacuees are pursued -- and they have other problems onboard. Two recently-broken-up teenagers work together to uncover secrets the ships’ captains are hiding. Their story is tense, occasionally funny, sometimes sad, with unexpected twists. I wondered if it would become too dark, but it didn’t. I was really impressed with the way everything fitted together.

A Little Taste of Poison by R.J. Anderson: Sequel to A Pocket Full of Murder. Isaveth is offered a scholarship to attend Tarreton College. She’s excited about studying magic but worried about fitting in, especially if her  classmates discover she’s a poor Moshite whose father was recently and infamously accused of murder. I enjoyed this, at first in a gentle sort of way and then -- as the stakes are raised -- with a greater sense of urgency. It continues the story from the first book while allowing Isaveth to explore new territory: magic school, and new friendships. I particularly liked how the story handled relationships between female characters.

[wozman23]

Ode to Elf

Today, Netflix released a new miniseries, The Holiday Movies That Made Us, which features 45 minutes of insight into the creation and making of Elf. It’s worth the watch for any Elf fan. I made plans today to watch it, and immediately chased it with the full length film. I’ve always been a ginormous Elf fan! I think it is debatably Will Ferrell’s best film - rivaled possibly by Step Brothers, and with a few others close on its heels. But I’ll even one up that statement by saying it is easily the greatest Christmas movie, as well as one of the greatest movies of all time. (My Top 3 are probably The Jerk, Billy Madison, and Elf.)

The mini-documentary is the perfect supplement, really putting a bow on what makes Elf so great. I encourage everyone to go watch it, but I'll be bringing up just a few of the things discussed in it, and elsewhere, for the sake of further proving that Elf is a classic.

As is seen in many Hollywood cases, there was some trepidation going in. The screenplay was written ten years prior in 1993, with Jim Carrey in mind. At one point, there were talks to feature Chris Farley, but writer, David Berenbaum, did not like that direction, citing it would have been a very different movie. And as much as I love Farley, and wish he were still around making movies, I agree. Both he and Jim would probably have been great playing their own version of the character in their own unique way, but, while I may be biased since Will Ferrell is my favorite comedic actor, I think the role ultimately found the perfect Buddy with Will. He just hits perfectly on playing the sweet, naive, innocent yet clueless fish-out-of-water. It’s also what makes Step Brothers so good. Even many of his other characters, like Ron Burgundy, have a little bit of that DNA dipped into contrastingly more vain, reckless, foolish personality traits. I think there’s no greater type of comedic hero than the innocently stupid comedic hero. It’s pretty apparent from my Top 3, as well as my love for similar archetypes like Will Forte’s MacGruber, Joe Dirt, or Conan himself.

Now I’ve been on the Ferrell Train since the mid-90s, growing up on that generation of SNL and Night at the Roxbury. In college, not long before Elf, I went to a screener for Old School, which was one of Will’s early big screen breakout performances. Yet apparently, in the process of getting Elf greenlit in the early 2000s, prior to Old School, there weren’t many executives willing to take a shot on a movie where Will played the lead. What a bunch of cottonheaded ninnymuggins!

But those involved stuck to their guns, and they eventually convinced someone to hand them 30 million dollars to make the film. From there, an incredible string of smart decisions were made as talent was brought on board.

Writer, David Berenbaum, and his team of relative unknowns at the time had some key qualities that they wanted Elf to have. David took a lot of inspiration from the Rankin/Bass stop motion classic, Rudolph - which if you know much about me, you know how much I love it as well, being a misfit and all. (I wrote about it here six years ago.) Yet I never really realized just how much Rudolph inspired it, so it was a joy to see the documentary explain just how much of Rudolph permeates Elf’s story, themes, presentation, costumes, and set design.

When director Jon Favreau signed on, he shared some input that really cemented him as the perfect director. He too wanted to double down on the Rankin/Bass homage. He also wanted it to be a nice family Christmas movie, one that you could share with your kids, as well as a timeless Christmas classic. Check, check, and check! Mission accomplished!

There were some other interesting facts I didn’t know as well. The casting feels perfect. However, the original casting choice for Walter, Buddy’s dad, was for Garry Shandling. With great respect to Garry Shandling, I think their back up, James Caan was a much better fit. Caan really brings home the qualities of a cold, isolated businessman that a likeable Garry would have had to really sell. You need that non-comedic straight character for that role. Ed Asner plays a perfect Santa, as we’ve seen multiple times. And Bob Newheart is a terrific Papa Elf. Plus, this brilliant pairing of Will and Mary Steenburgen was just a hint of what was to come via Step Brothers and The Last Man on Earth. There are a lot of great supporting actors as well, like the writing duo of Andy Richter and Kyle Gass, and the secretary, Amy Sedaris. And last but not least, Zooey Deschanel. She’s been my muse for years now, but Elf was the moment I fell in love with her. Her character was pitched as everything under the sun, but finding a singer just complements everything so well. The one thing that’s always seemed weird to me is the shower scene. What kind of department store has a full locker room with a shower?! But when logistics is your only complaint about a movie, you know it must be good. One other interesting casting tidbit involves Jovie’s boss, played by comedian Faizon Love. He was a last minute add. They thought they had Wanda Sykes onboard, so much so that they already had the Wanda name tag for the costume. Faizon stuck with it, donning the name tag, so the character remains Wanda. I don’t know that I ever noticed that.

Early in production, the decision was made to avoid using CGI. Effects with actors were all achieved via some trickery with perspective. And the stop motion characters duties were handled by The Chiodo Brothers, who I oddly just learned about a few months back when I stumbled upon the 1988 cult classic, Killer Klowns from Outer Space, tucked deep in my Netflix recommendations. (If you enjoy campy horror films, I highly recommend it.) Growing up on the works of Jim Henson, I’ve always appreciated the use of analog means over digital options. Choosing that route for Elf paid off immediately, and will go a long way at allowing the film to maintain that timeless quality. As with any movie, there were conflicts. When the movie was originally screened, execs thought it would be smart to cut the final heartwarming singing scene and just end with Santa flying away - once again adding to a tremendous pile of dumb ideas that the suits have had over the years when it comes to controlling creative projects. The team was a bit taken aback by it, but apparently with Will Ferrell’s recent box office success with Old School, there were thoughts of cutting the film differently, favoring a style similar to Will’s Frank the Tank character instead of the lovably innocent Buddy. Cooler heads eventually prevailed when they realized that would be impossible given the footage, and we got the film as it stands today, as intended.

I vividly remember anticipating the movie. It’s probably one of my most anticipated films of all time. It felt like every week there was a new preview, a new cut chocked full of new jokes and gags. After what seemed like a dozen of them, I was growing a bit concerned that there would be nothing new left to see when the film found its way to theaters. Then release time came, I paraded myself off to the theater, and I was dumbfounded by just how much comedy was packed into that 90 minutes. The quantity and quality of the humor is impressive. Every scene feels important, and was iterated on for maximum humor. Will’s improvisation constantly enhances scenes. Like many of Ferrell’s movies, it’s an insanely quotable movie, but it’s not all just written jokes and physical comedy. There are some great silent parts, like just capturing Buddy’s reactions. And one of my favorite moments can easily be missed, when Buddy is caught on the evening news, traipsing through Central Park. It’s staged exactly like Patterson–Gimlin Bigfoot footage, with a similar gait, a peek over the shoulder, and somewhat blurry camera footage.

Little details like that are precisely the things that make Elf the classic is set out to be. It feels like it was written for a misfit like me, catering to my loves for Bigfoot, Rudolph, and a lovably naive comedic hero. It’s funny and silly, yet heartwarming and endearing. And its a film I’d happily sit down and watch with any kid from one to ninety-two, regardless of whether it’s the month of December, or some time in early April. P.S. There have been talks about a sequel. James Caan recently conjectured that it never happened because Ferrell and Favreau “didn’t get along very well.” Those two are both far more successful these days, and could easily back the project if they wanted to. But as much as I love Elf, sometimes things are just too good to risk repeating with lackluster results. Look no further than the last franchise I wrote about, Ghostbusters. An Elf 2 would probably easily make a profit, regardless of quality. It could even be a good movie. But there’s probably a greater chance that it wouldn’t hold a candle to the original. The story is perfect, and contains itself well. There’s no need for a continuation. It’s really hard to top something when the bar was set so stratospherically high the first time. And attempting to do so could easily diminish the efforts of the original, sabotaging everything Berenbaum, Favreau, and the team achieved. Elf is the Rudolph of this generation: a timeless classic with a tremendous amount of heart. Let’s just appreciate it for that, and leave it as it is, for everyone to enjoy with everyone they enjoy.

[myaekingheart]

Kakashi motherfucking Hatake is invading all of my dreams with a fervor, jfc. 

Night of 12/27/19: 

I was off somewhere, likely outside in a place looking very reminiscent of the scene of the Fourth Great Shinobi War, taking cosplay pictures with Suki Cosplay--my favorite Kakashi cosplayer. I’m pretty sure I was in cosplay as my OC Rei, likely in the jonin uniform she wears during the war. The pictures we were taking were super self-indulgent and shippy, and at one point either him or someone else suggested something along the lines of taking some photos with the vibe/tone of “pregnancy photos”? Like those pretty, posted maternity pics people do or some shit, but in the context of this war (which would make some sense since the current plan has Rei pregnant during the course of the war but still). I think it’s also importnat to note that this was dream I was in the middle of when I woke up at 5am yesterday morning and proceeded to have a three hour breakdown because my cats shattered the Ichiraku Ramen bowl my boyfriend got me for Christmas. 

By the time I had calmed down, I was feeling really sick from lack of sleep and my chronic illness was starting to flare, I felt kind of like I was going to puke and my stomach and back were getting really crampy. Going back to sleep was extremely difficult. The dream I had after the fact was especially strange.

There was something about a checklist about being in a relationship with Kakashi, like I guess what all that would entail maybe like a boyfriend scenario imagine post or something. I was with Suki Cosplay again but this time, he was in my house, and it was like a montage of going through this checklist. At one point Elsa from Frozen was there I guess as a representative of a “girlfriend” for Kakashi which really made zero fucking sense and even kind of pissed me off. And then the scene changed and my boyfriend was Kakashi. I was lying on the kitchen floor huddled up in a big, fluffy blanket watching Youtube videos on the TV, just overall very sad burrito. My boyfriend came over dressed as Kakashi, but not just any Kakashi—he was in Suki Cosplay’s 2019 Santa Kakashi, but with like no pants on. So he came over and sat behind me cross-legged, his body pressed against mine as if he was trying to tell me he was in the mood or something. And then for some reason there were a bunch of hazy vignettes afterward about the two of us doing light cleaning around the house?

Night of 12/28/19:

I don’t know if it’s just because these were last night or what but I remember these A LOT more vividly than I do the previous night’s dreams. These two were kind of related, but also kind of not.

The first portion was that me and a bunch of Naruto characters were piling onto a city bus in Japan on our way to the Naruto theme park they recently opened in Hyogo Prefecture. At first, I remember Kakashi and I sitting next to each other in a pair of seats by a window, one of the first rows that face forward rather than to the side. For some reason, I was not only pregnant but apparently in labor and I was just leaning forward with my forehead pressed against the railing in front of the seats trying to breathe. Kakashi was sitting next to me rubbing my lower back and looking kind of impatient about getting to a hospital. I think either Hinata or Sakura were sitting in the seat in front of us, one of the ones that face to the side. But then all of that faded and I was suddenly perfectly fine, sitting by myself in one of the front-most seats—one of those ones right in front of the platform where people can put their bags and stuff, that are a bit higher than the rest of the seats. In my experience, these spots are often taken by other bus drivers on their way back to the station either at the beginning or end of a shift (I just ride public transportation A LOT and I also know that not all public buses have these, I think it’s the newer ones that do). Everyone else on the bus was carrying on, like I think Naruto and Sai were running around arguing or something. It was all super hectic/chaotic and in that moment I felt super out of place. And then we pulled up to the theme park and everyone freaked out and rejoiced and rushed off the bus.

And then the second half of the dream snaps back to the weird pregnancy shit. Suddenly I was with Kakashi and in labor again, but this time instead of on the bus, we were walking into the lobby of the hospital. I remember he followed me up to the check-in desk and I awkwardly stated my name and business and the receptionist handed us this MASSIVE stack of paperwork on a clipboard. Kakashi took it and thanked her and then we went and sat down in the waiting area. He took the responsibility of filling out all of the questions for me while I sat there leaning forward just trying to calm the fuck down and breathe. He was asking me the questions on the forms, and a lot of them were really weird and unnecessary but I don’t remember exactly what they were and in the dream, was far too in pain to really care. At one point, I remember reaching out and squeezing his hand hard and he just looked at me and then stood up muttering something about “This is ridiculous, we need a doctor now” and then guided me back to the check-in desk with clipboard in hand. Then the scene kind of shifted to us getting taken back to a room, and he was right by my side the whole time like holding my hand as they wheeled me back, and then I’m pretty sure there were some very hazy vignettes of like being in the hospital room? Like I remember squeezing his hand, I remember breathing heavily, I remember this look of alert concern on his face, I remember him like holding my thigh while I pushed or something? It was all really specific but hazy and kind of weird, but then again I can’t say I’m totally surprised because these sorts of things have been running through my head relatively frequently these days just because I’ve been thinking a lot about when Rei and Kakashi have their children in the fanfic as well as the fact that it feels like literally everyone I know in real life is getting pregnant these days and it’s….lowkey dizzying. But this is fine, this is just perfectly fine lmfao

[coreytravelogue]

Vancouver, BC - August 1, 2020

Here we are in August already in a summer that came later here in Vancouver but no less hot and stuffy. I am sitting in a sweat box writing this because I feel like today is as good of a day as any to post something on my travelogue though I am doing anything but.

August has always been a transition month for me for most of my life. As a kid August was often the month me and my parents went on a vacation on whether it was to Disneyland, Newfoundland, Florida, Ottawa or British Columbia. August always meant the end fo summer for me or the end of freedom which meant school was coming soon which often happened during the last day of the month. Fiscal year for businesses end around March, end of the year for most normally is at the end of December but for me year ends always feel like they are at the end of August. Last year I left for Europe at the end of August, 2 years ago I left for Australia, 6 years ago I left for Europe of the first time, 14 years ago I graduated fro Vancouver Film School but it was 15 years ago that I left my hometown of Fort McMurray for to move to Vancouver. It’s this that I wish to talk about today.

The 15th anniversary is on the 8th I believe but I feel as thought today is as good of a day as any to talk about it. Moving away from home is something I am sure most people remember as though it was yesterday, for me it does feel like 15 years, maybe sooner but still a long time ago simply because so much has changed for from that time to now. I am pretty sure I have talked about all of this before but t his si my blog and this blog is more for me than for anyone else.

In terms of moving away from home one could say I was probably late in that regard. I graduated from high school in 2002. During that time I was still undecided as to what I wanted to do with my life. Part of me still wanted to be a pro wrestler but that dream was getting dangerously close to dying as my love for film and video editing was growing. I knew high school life was not over for me though. I graduated easily but not with grades that could get me anywhere, anywhere that I wanted to go anyway. I wanted to go to Nait or Sait to study film there but my English grades were not good enough. So I decided to upgrade my English marks as well as some sciences while I worked.

It makes the most sense to stay at home, so much that it wasn’t even a question really. Fort Mmcurray was very expensive to live. At this point it was all about saving money and preparing for where I was going to go, wherever that would be. By 2003 I improved my English marks and tried applying to Nait and Sait again but my marks were still not good enough for them. I worked at McMurray TV at this time and while I liked working for them the hours were inconsistent and the pay was practically minimum wage. I knew I wouldn’t be able to save enough money to leave working there so in the summer of 2003 I took a second job at the Safeway Gas Bar.

By this time I was losing friends left right and center, they were either moving away, moving on or we would having falling outs with each other. 2003 was a year where I lost most of my friends by the end of it and 2004 wasn’t that much better. In fact 2004 come to think of it was a pretty shitty year for me though the music was great. By this point I was ready and willing to have a fist fight with one of my childhood friends over losing a computer game. I was also burning the candle at both ends for the most part. If I wasn’t working at the gas station dealing with angry Albertans who only wanted to blame me for high gas prices and for whatever shit was bothering them in their lives I was working for peanuts at McMurray TV but at least there I could work my ass off but not have to deal with assholes while listening to my music and what not. I usually did not have days off and if I did they were spent working on AMVs, watching movies or playing video games.

While I have come to at times regret moving to Vancouver the more I think about how I was back in even 2004 I needed to leave Fort McMurray, if I didn’t I probably would have had a nervous breakdown or do something that would have involved me getting fired because I would have inevitably got in a fight with a customer over their bullshit and my lack of being able to take it. With no friends and no love in my life or anyone really AMVs were the only place I could pour myself into, it was my therapy but by the end of 2004 it wasn’t enough. My Alberta anger was getting so bad that I would break my PS2 controller because of how angry I would get at losing to a computer.

I also decided to try one more time at upgrading my English in 2004 and while I improved it Sait and Nait raised the required again making it impossible for me to be accepted again. I came to realize I didn’t have good enough marks to get into a academic film school, a school that cares more about grades that is.

2005 began and at this point it was not uncommon for me to be crying myself to sleep hating myself, everyone and everything. I was begging to any imaginary god that would listen to bring back the only friend I felt I had left which was RJ. Call it a coincidence but the night I wished it I got a call from him telling me he was moving back to Fort Mac for awhile and was looking for a place to stay. Without asking my parents I said yes. From January to May he stayed with us rent free, thankfully my parents never opposed it. In fact I think they were thankful for it. I tried my best to keep my demons from my parents but they knew I had issues, they knew I was having a hard time. They just didn’t know how to help me which would be a common theme for most of my life if not all of my life. My mood went from angry and miserable to calm and happyish.

From January to May of 2005 would be the happiest times of my young life at that point, living with my best friend whom I could hang out with every night provided me with comfort and company I hadn’t had in years. It was not without its red flags, I came to find out my friend had a drinking problem that I would inherit years later. The more I think about it it must not have been that fun for him living at my house. He was a year older than me was back living in a city he hated working at McDonald’s sleeping on his friend’s sofa bed. His plan was always to save up money again and leave and that he did in May, we would not really speak to each other a little over a year. Not because we didn’t want to but....maybe I will get to that later.

I will probably remember the day he left for as long as I live, I can’t remember the exact day in May but I remember it vividly. It was a morning shift, Rj and a Adam who was also one of my friends though not quite as much of one came in to fuel up and leave. Adam came in to say good bye and fuel up while Rj didn’t come to say goodbye. It hurt but it was also a busy day so I had no time to really dwell on it. By the time I got home I was tired. I sat down on my computer chair and noticed that for the first time in months the basement was quiet. For the past five months I got so used to looking to the right of me and noticing RJ either playing video games, sleeping in or just doing something in general. Now there was no one there but a couch finally folded up in place and a empty space where he used to be. I never felt more lonely than I did at that moment at least at that part of my life.

It was then I realized that I needed to leave Fort McMurray or the city was surely going to kill me, not to long after even the smallest things was starting to piss me off again. I decided that I needed to go somewhere that could teach me film. If I could not do it in Alberta maybe British Columbia would be the ticket.

I had been to British Columbia more than a few times in my life but most of the times that I did we all in the early 90s and they were all in the Vernon/Kelowna so my experience in BC was limited and even then outdated.

However there were two options for film schools in Vancouver at that time; Simon Fraser University and Vancouver Film School. After being burned by Nait and Sait so many times I gave up on the thought of a academic film school. VFS was a private school that only really cared if you could pay for it more than how good your marks were. My parents saved a nest egg for me since I was a child for school which they used for this.

I can’t help but feel bad for using that next egg for this as you can tell by now I never got anywhere in my film career, I never even really had one thoug not for the lack of making an attempt. Me and my dad went to a seminar they put up in Edmonton which impressed both of us and made us confident that I could get a good education there. Boy were were hoodwinked.

Look I have spent way too much time harbouring bad vibes for what would happen from August of 2005 to August 2006 but the more I think of it with 15 years of hindsight behind me I set myself up for failure before I even arrived for my first day of film school.

The day I left Fort Mac is another day I remember vividly at least the the part of leaving. I said goodbye to our dogs Kelly and a Prince feeling I would see them during Christmas, we went to the Gas Bar where I worked for the last two years to fuel up and said goodbye to a girl I had a crush on but felt that she was so far out of my league it wasn’t worth trying. I would never forget how nice she used to be to me when I worked there, at that time of my life she was one of the few women around me that did treat me like I was a monster or some creep. When I came back for Christmas I passed by her for the final time and she invited me out to eat and I never went with her. That would be the first of many regrets I would have in the next 10 years involving women.

So we drove to Calgary and spent a night there then headed straight to Salmon Arm where my cousin Pam was to be married. I hadn’t seen Pam since the early 90s so seeing her married felt surreal. However not even 3 hours passing the border we get a call from one of my uncles who’s as taking care of Prince to tell my dad that he lost him and that he was gone.

For as angry and miserable as I was I should say I did have one friend who was always there for me during those dark points and that was my dog Prince. Prince was like the brother I never had, the one person I could cry my eyes to and not feel judged and shamed for doing it in front of. The more I think about it dogs have seen me cry and break down fairly often. I loved Prince, I told my dad that my uncle could not be relied upon to take care of him and this confirmed it. I remember finding out about this and crying all the way to Salmon Arm. From that point and for the next two years I would hate my dad’s guts for not listening to me and I made it known any time I could as any Scorpio would to twist the knife on him and remind him of his fuck up and how much I hated him for it, he knew it and from that point one he never let any family member take care of our dogs while we were gone ever again however it didn’t matter to me because Prince was my dog and I haven’t had a dog of my own ever since. First day in BC and already experienced my first traumatic event, it would not be the last.

My year in film school could only be compared to my own version of going to my own Vietnam War, it was that traumatic for me it would dictate and basically fuck up residuals for the next 9 years ruining my relationships friends, mainly and women possibly interested women all along the way.

I am not going to go into much detail of that year because it was only one year in 15 that I have lived here and I no longer want that part of my life define me but to ignore it would be omitting a important part of my life no matter how bad it was.

I remember the day I arrived Vancouver again.....vividly. I have been through big cities many times as a kid and as a teenager but it was always on vacation. Vancouver was the first city I feel I truly experienced as an adult for the most part on my own. We drove in and in my dad’s tradition of being in big cities we got lost but this time it wasn’t entirely his fault it was a easy mistake to make. We finally made it o the house I would spend the first four years of my life in. You couldn’t have asked for a better place to stay to tell you the truth. It had a amazing view of Playland (right across the highway from it actually), the rent was affordable for the most part. Well it would be very affordable for today’s Vancouver but this was before the city became too expensive to live in. My landlord was a cool guy who never had a problem with me butt hen I can’t imagine I ever really gave him a problem. I was always quiet, paid my rent on time and never caused any serious trouble. The only knock would be that I would use his drum kit whenever I knew he and everyone in the house was gone which wasn’t often.

Once we dropped everything off we drove to downtown via Hasting Street and that is when we saw something that disturbed us, a place I would basically call cracktown, located on the easy side of downtown Vancouver which sadly in the last 15 years has never really changed. I heard of this area before and was warned about it, when I was still in high school I was shown a documentary about drug abuse on the downtown east side which was enough to scare anyone into not wanting to get like that but seeing it up close was unsettling. We stayed at a hotel for the weekend as I did orientation at VFS and me and my mom would explore a good. Portion of downtown Vancouver. An exercise that was good for me because I would be spending a great deal of time in downtown Vancouver for at least half of my time here.

I was hoping Vancouver would be a new start for me, a new beginning where I would make new friends, finally find a girlfriend, lose my virginity and begin a career either as a film maker or at least a video editor. None of that really happened.

Thus is where I feel like I should talk about how I set myself up for failure but this is all in hindsight. The more I think of it now this was all bound to happen and maybe needed to happen for me to grow into who I am not though no perfect much more of a man and emotionally stable than I was then because for all intensive purposes I was emotionally unstable, I was ticking time bomb ready and looking for someone to explode on.

I loved a extremely sheltered life up to this point, I never had to worry about rent, making my own food though I knew how to, I never knew how to talk to girls let alone socialize. In school I always just kept to myself and did my work as hard as I could and hoped for the best. I was never educated in living life away from my parents. Now here I was in a city I knew nothing about, completely alone and without much of a financial safety net (though I knew my parents would come and save if I called but I never did) and desperately lonely.

I never had a girlfriend before, to tell you the truth my plan was never to go after girls in school my plan was as it should have bee. Get an education and get into making movies but I found myself falling in love with a girl named Katherine. My obsession with her basically destroyed any chance I had at making a decent chance at making something of film school because I spent most if not all of it obsessed with her and trying to “win her over”. I can tell. You many traumatic stories but I feel more like a piece of shit about them where as if I spoke of this prior to Europe I would still try to swing it in a way that it was her who hurt me and not myself but at the end of the day I made my life a living hell and I pinned my future happiness on someone who didn’t ask to be put on a pedestal, who didn’t deserve the grief and stress I put on her, someone who really did want to be my friend but me reeking of such a concentrated dose of toxic masculinity and white male privilege would refuse to see her as a friend and only as a possible love interest.

When I look back on that year I could have been so much more productive than I was, that being said I wasn’t very skilled or I should say I don’t think my set of skills would have been appreciated. I feel fact I should have never have went to VFS but then that is hindsight. How would I have known.

It could be so easy for me to say I wish I had stayed in Fort Mac an extra year till I found out about YouTube and learned film making there.then I would have money to o make my own film and the means to do it there but again I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown in Fort McMurray I doubt I would have lasted another year. The fact that when I moved to a Vancouver and happening lay messed up my own life in a Vancouver basically solidifies that my emotional nosedive was inevitable and bound to happen.

If I could have went back in time to talk to 20 year old me I probably would have told him to instead travel but tot ell you the truth 20 year old me had no interest in travel at that time so I doubt a trip to Europe would have been fruitful for him, maybe to Japan but who knows.

August 2005 to August 2006 was a nightmare year for me where I would cling to any kind of hope to keep my alive and it just seemed like everything just wasn’t working out no matter how hard I tried. It was from this year that I also started drinking more and got into hockey. Before this time I had no interest in drinking I mean I did drink and get drunk no and then but if I got drunk it was e other once a month to once every 3 months. As for hockey I could care less about hockey unless I was playing it on the computer.

I got into being a Oilers fan basically out of a bet I made for myself. I remembered being at a bar with Kat and two other strangers. I was depressed as fuck hoping she could save me from it but she couldn’t and I can’t blame her. I feel like shit for forcing her to be responsible for my salvation but I remember her bringing up hockey. She was a always fan, another guy a Habs fan, the other I can’t remember who but another Canadian team. She asked me what team I cheered for. I said the Oilers only because it was the only team I had any sort of care for but to say I was a fan would be seriously stretching it. She said who knows maybe my team will win the Stanley Cup. It was there that I said to myself the chances of them winning the cup was the same chances of getting her to love someone like me. Coincidentally enough that was the year of the Oilers last great cup run so.....yeah all a desperate and emotionally unstable person needed to continue to peruse a woman who only wanted me be my friend. Let’s just say the aftermath of the Oilers losing to the Hurricanes is very comparable to what inevitably happened to me and Kat. A trauma that would stick with me for the next 9 years and come close to killing me on more than one occasion.

So I graduated, I spent that entire fall applying to work any film set I could at the time figuring it would be so easy because for that year I was at film school film sets would basically park guys in front of our door all the time poaching many of us to come and work for a night or two but by the time we graduated the Canadian dollar was going up and the film industry was starting to dry up in Vancouver. I applied everywhere I could but I never got a call from anyone. I had one chance at working on a film set but it was on a “date” or what I thought was a date. I remember walking past the set and seeing the guys I went tos chocolate with there and the looks on their faces was enough o convince me it wasn’t worth going the route they did. One of them had such a look of disappointment on his face the look of “I just spent 30 K just to watch wires.”

I would try to look for work still but I never got anywhere with it, I would say only a quarter of our class got somewhere in their film careers maybe more but definitely not more than half, if anything only a third.

I only have myself to blame for the failure of film career I never had. I wanted to make my own film and decided that I would just save up money in order to do it but by the time I saved up enough money to where I could have probably done it the love and desire of making a movie is 2014 was more or less gone.

When it was obvious that I could not find film work I worked at HMV for two Christmas’s and I started working at Petcetera and the Old Spaghetti Factory at the beginning of 2007. I again was burning the candle at both ends, desperate to make a buck to make my movie all while I was still clinically depressed and woefully lonely. I only had one friend who was Tyler who was the first person I truly me in Vancouver and is someone who is still my friend to this day though we rarely hang out anymore. If I did not have him in my life to at least just be there I would have probably been dead by now and that is the truth.

2007 was another very rough year in my life. I was working two jobs a day working basically over 60 hours a week from February to August (again), I lost the other dog that was apart of a good portion of my life in Kelly and I was continuing to basically fail finding a girlfriend dogging women who only wanted to me and giving up too soon one women who could have went out with me. I quit both of my jobs in order to work on my short film only to find out that all the money I spent would have been a drop in the bucket and that I needed more money that what I had, 3 times more. Plus everyone I asked to help me either said no or just never returned my calls. Within one month I went back to work at the pet store, worked HMV for another Christmas only to quit the pet store at the end of the year and not be hired by back by the other. It was also by the end of the 2007 that I made my first true suicide attempt, an attempt that I am already starting to feel the effects of now.

I know what you are thinking, my god Corey why didn’t you just leave Vancouver if all it was doing was making you miserable and why are you tell me such a sad fucking sorry, surely there is a happy ending to all this? Very good questions.

Why did I not leave Vancouver? Well the question then is the same as it is now. Where the fuck should I go? You have to understand BC was and still is biggest city for film in Canada. I could have went to Ontario but that would cost money that I didn’t entirely have and I wasn’t entirely sold on leaving. I didn’t want to go back to Alberta because I felt like if I went back it would have been admitting failure also the film industry was and is barely there. Then much like now the only jobs in Alberta are either in the oil industry or to serve the oil industry. I could have decided to just work abroad and you know what they would have and should have been a good idea. I would have been more open to this idea by this time but again I didn’t have that much money and the travel bug had no bite me yet.

Is there a happy ending to all this? Well I am alive now aren’t I and I seem to at least have my head on straight despite how much I enjoy referring tot he past. Well I guess I am one of those people who feels to rule the future you must conquer your past, I feel as though I conquered it for the most part it only took all my 20s to do it.

With that being said my life would start to slightly look up. Thanks to Tyler I was able to get a job at Electrionic Arts in 2008 a job that would provide me with financial stability for the next 6 years. It was not without its own forms of stress but for all intensive purposes I can’t really say much bad about EA; though they paid me peanuts I got good dental and health benefits, I was able to take December’s off to be with my parents, save money like crazy (though I lived on peanut butter and crackers for most of it in order to do so) I had more stability. I just stayed there for too long and that is more on me than them.

In 2009 I had to leave my place of residence because my landlord was ready to start a family and was tired of having room mates though honestly up to this point is as pretty lucky in the room mate department. I moved a few blocks up the road and lived with a older lady and a German man who would not stop bragging about German beer. I was a cider guy at this point and had no interest in beer in general much less German beer (yet).

By this time my alcohol consumption had steady increased to where it is sort of today where I would basically get drunke very weekend but from 2008-11 was probably the most calm time of my life. I had become friends with the landlord and we would have movie nights every Friday enjoying pizza, cider and art movies. I was still failing in my love life at this time but it wasn’t so bad at this time as I was all about writing, watching movies and saving money. I was still reeking of toxic white male priviledge and my land lord tried to get me out of it as she was worried about me however she had her own stresses in her life which led her to move out of the house. By early 2011 I either had the choice of becoming the land lord where the only tenants was a ex convinct and the other was a asshole who always tried to take advance of previous landlord by dodging rent whenever he could. I had enough stress in my life and decided to get my own appartment for the first time in my life near Metrotown.

2011-13 I lived alone for the first time and while it was painfully lonely and horrifically expensive I enjoyed the privacy. Since I no longer had someone to hang out with on Friday nights, online dating was a failure and nothing was changing I decided to go out every Friday night and try to change my luck. While I have many stories to tell long story short I failed all of the time. I also decided to try and upgrade my high school diploma again focusing on sciences. It was around this time that I had beer that I liked for the very first time. It was Okanagan Spring’s Summer Wiezen. I started having it in my head to maybe be a brewmaster. I didn’t care about beer that much but the industry was starting to boom and I was starting to like what was coming out of it but I was still a cider guy for the most part.

In 2011 was when I also made my second suicide attempt and failed. It was embarrassing and slightly eye opening, I didn’t learn much from it but I was starting o learn that things needed to change because the third suicide attempt may be the last one.

Living even in a studio apartment was way too expensive for myself and I decided to move into where I live right now in 2013. It was dirt cheap and run down but it provided me a perfect back drop to save a considerable amount of money o make my film or do something.

At around age 23 I made a promised to myself that I had to accomplish something before I turned 30. At age 28 in 2013 it was looming but I was nowhere closer to doing anything or accomplishing anything that I set out to do.

RJ was turning 30 and like his 25th I went to see him and be there for him though he never was there for me for the last 10 years. Our friendship slowly dissolved after this due to me pursuing his girlfriend because at that point I was still desperate and I felt that our friendship was too one sided and he didn’t care about me so why should I with him. This wound up being another thing that inevitably blew in my face but at least I gain a friend out of it whom is still my friend to this day despite all of the drama.

2014 came and I was now 29 still with nothing to show for it. Lonely and no where closer to beating my demons as I had tried every form of therapy I could. After a trip to Seattle a few years back I became more interested in traveling now than I once was. It was either make a film or travel to Europe and I decided on the later. You know the story of that already.

I think at this point we. Have nearly come full circle as from 2014 and on I have documented my life here. Europe was extremely impactful to me in was that you know yet can’t fathom but I needed time for it to sink in with me. By the time I came back I felt rejuvenated and thought I could get on a saddle now only to fall flat on my ass more than a few times before 2014 ended. I had turned 30 and now I was unemployed, still loveless and much more poorer but at least I had done something no other from my family had done before as of yet.

It was would be in February of 2015 when I had my last true breakdown where the light finally came on. From August 2015 to August 2017 I went back to o school, prior to then I finally met a girl who actually loves me and by the time I graduated I already had a job that was paying twice the amount of was being paid at EA.

In 2018 and 2019 I was travel more than I had for most of my 20s and more happier than I had ever been all things considering.

Now here in 2020 I guess I am at another cross roads. While my living quarters has allowed me to save a considerable amount of money it is not a place I should live in anymore, it is a nearly toxic environment with a shit head room mate who was her before me. The city itself is too expensive to live in and I can’t afford to live in it. I am now sort of being forced out unless I want to make sacrificed in my life to stay her, sacrifices I do not think are worth it.

At this point I have very few if any friends, all the friends I have made have either moved away or moved on (sound familiar). Living here now causes a lot of needless stress. The problem is where the hell do I go from here?

It is funny though for much of the 15 years I have lived here I have hated Vancouver and the Albertan in me tried to find anyway he could to place blame on this city any way I could for all the problems in my life even though at the end of the day I was the harbinger of my own sadness all along. Now at the 15 year mark I actually love being in Vancouver. Is it perfect? Fuck no it is expensive, drives and cyclists are idiots, it barely snows and when it does this city refuses to handle it.

That being said the weather is very mild, people are not angry here or look to take their anger out on you here, the politics lean to the left here the most and the beer is the best in Canada for the most part. Maybe it is Stockholm Syndrome maybe it isn’t but I am used to being here and I can’t entirely see myself being anywhere else right now. For awhile I thought Alberta was a option now that I have career to build but with its politics and the province’s penchant to fuck itself up I am wary of going back there. So where else do I go?

I was born and raised in Alberta but I basically was a baby, child and teen in Fort McMurray, I grew up there. However it was in Vancouver where I became the man I am today. Before I came here I hated myself beyond measure, now while I have have money of self hatred I don’t hate myself entirely anymore. I see someone who was deeply flawed and caused harm to other but mainly to himself in his pursuit of his own truths that never made any sense but I also see someone who learned from his fuck ups and no longer allows them to define him. It is part of the portrait that is me but it is not all of me and. I refuse to let the next 15 years be defined by it either. I will still make mistakes and have many regrets, I can only hope at age 50 I will be a better man then than I am at 35.

In the next couple of weeks I will talk about Australia and Europe. I ain’t ravelling this year due to COVID obviously. It makes me feel so lucky that I got to go to those places to which talking about it feel is the closest I can get to actually being there again anyway.

Anyways this has been the last 15 years in my life. There are many stories that I have not told but that would be a novel’s worth of stories and I feel I have probably tired you out by now I know I am. So here is to the next 15 years wherever I may be at that point. Shazbot nanu nanu.