#Made 9 books over December!

[quixoticquark]

I have literally 7 book projects sitting on my work bench and open on my laptop and somehow I have decision paralysis on all of them…

[stove-top96]

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree

Y Batfam x Gn Reader

Synopsis: With your family all in town, they decide it’s finally time to decorate the Christmas tree.

Featuring: platonic Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

2.1k words

Something I whipped up while I shoulda been studying for bio. All advice is appreciated!! Supposed to be a one-shot but I might make a part two who knows?

9 months, you’ve been here. Sure there have been other holidays like Easter, birthdays, and Halloween, you just “weren’t adjusted enough” to celebrate them with Bruce and his family. it still feels wrong to celebrate Christmas even if you’re “adjusted”. Years Before you haven’t really had anyone to celebrate it with, but you still had the choice to celebrate how you wanted. In all honesty you preferred being alone, away from Dicks clinginess and anger issues. Jason’s protectiveness was insufferable and you always get caught in the middle of his and Bruce’s fights. Tim’s stalking and creepiness is so unsettling. Damian’s intense stares and demand for your attention drive you crazy. Bruce’s overall presence is just way too intense for you to handle.

Sitting in your room, eyes fixed on the book you're reading. There’s a fast knock, and your door swings right after. “Everyone’s at the manor today, so we decided now’s the perfect time to decorate the tree” Dick’s voice filled with excitement. You never got a say in this decision, but then again when have you ever. “You sure it’s not kinda early?” You question, carefully with the wording so you won't get in trouble for having an “attitude” whatever that means. Looking up you can see his grin, he’s clearly excited and you're almost jealous. It'd probably be a lot easier if you felt like them. “It’s already December” he answers dismissing your objection, now there’s no way you’ll be able to get out of decorating this tree. “And when is everyone in the family all here together at the same time” you do see his point, much to your disdain. Jason could never tolerate being in the same room as Bruce, only showing up when he was on longer missions or to whisk you away for the night. Damian had started to take on longer missions as well, although they only took about a week. Dick and Tim had their own teams to run, taking up a good portion of their time. These facts really made you jealous, being stuck here because of their selfishness while they still get to see the world made you hate them even more. “I guess you have a point” you agree, following Dick down the long hallway.

Holding your hand he led you to the living room. You want to pull away, but he’d probably just get upset and cling to you even more this evening. Grinding your teeth you’ll just have to bare it until you get to the living room.

Clearly they’ve planned to do this for a while. boxes of decorations already clutter the big living room, Bruce is currently following Alfred’s instructions on how to set up the tree, Damian and Tim are digging through boxes, and Jason is untangling lights. It’s honestly a very uncharacteristic scene of your “family”. this is probably the closest thing to normal you’ll get tonight, might as well play along hoping no one will bother you too much tomorrow.

Dick makes his way over to some box, labelled ornaments. Still not letting go of your hand you try not to roll your eyes too hard, opting to help him sort through the box. “These all gonna fit?” You mumble to yourself absentmindedly as you unwrap the ornaments, and gently set them on the table. “We’ll make it work.” Jason pipes up, finishing the lights. He motions you over, you assume part of the reason is to help him the other part to get back at Dick for something. Why else would he have such a shit eating smirk? Dick sends Jason a quick scowl in retaliation. God, all your doing is helping him with the lights, it really isn’t that deep.

“Kay Bridie, all you gotta do is wrap them ‘round the back once I pass them to ya.” Bridie is his nickname you know he knows you hate. He's obviously trying to get a rise out of you. Why else would he talk to you like your five. Bruce sends him a warning look, telling him not to push it. You roll eyes and nod your head giving him a response is probably the worst thing you could do right now, it’ll just raise his ego and he’ll tease you for the rest of the evening. As you and Jason pass the lights back and forth, it never really occurred to you just how tall this tree was. Wincing at the thought of how long this will take to decorate, let alone spending it with these people. Like everything else you don't have a choice, so you keep passing the lights forward. “Sure you’ll be able to reach the top?” He knows the answer, once again he’s just trying to get a reaction. “We’ll see” you know you won’t be able to reach, but there’s a chance if you go on your tip toes and reach real hard. “I can always lift you if it’s too hard” Jason’s comment makes the family briefly pause what they are doing, Damian even shoots Jason a glare. Anything’s better than that. So you stand on your tippiest of toes and reach as hard as you can, and you’re actually able to make it to the top. Much to the families relief, if Jason got to carry you like that it’s likely he won't let the others live it down

Dick seems done with unwrapping the Ornaments. Truthfully you’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before, and all though you’d rather be anywhere but here there’s still that inner child who has always dreamed of decorating their own tree. “You gonna help me put them on babybird?” Dick asks, saying no will do more harm than good so you opt for a different excuse “What if I drop one though?” You ask, hoping he’ll take the bait, knowing he'd never fall for it. “We’ll just clean it up then, no big deal.” Like always he doesn’t fall for it, although you admit the excuse was kinda dumb. “If you say so” he has his grin from earlier, as he passes you the colourful ornaments. Looking closer at them it’s clear they’re expensive, rightfully so they’re beautiful with red and gold accents. As you look for the right spot to place them Dick comes up beside you, “don’t think to hard about it babybird, just put them on it’ll all come together” he can sense your growing anxiety and doesn’t want to spoil your mood so early, so he keeps his space and offers words of encouragement. You're thankful at least he somewhat knows when to back off “I don’t know, I’ve never done this before”, you step closer to the tree not really knowing where to put it, so you just place it next to Dick’s. Pride swells in Dick’s chest, “just like that” he encourages smiling to himself. Placing various ornaments on the whole tree you lost track of time, maybe because Dick was giving you some space to enjoy yourself for once. Whatever the case, as you decorated the tree your smile brightened the room, and was appreciated by everyone.

“Why don't you put the star on top this year?” Bruce’s voice calm and content, his lips slightly upwards, which is the closest you’ll ever get to a smile. “I won’t be able to reach the top though” you were barely able to reach with the lights no way you’ll be able to place the star on the very top. “Don’t worry about that” Bruce says, passing you the gold star. it’s beautiful with intricate carved designs, it’s a little heavy. You wonder if it’s made of gold or not? “What do you mea-“ before you can even finish your sentence you're hoisted up into the air by Bruce. You're a little mad he gave you no warning, but you're willing to let it go. Bruce probably won’t mention it again he’d probably just keep the memory for himself, he definitely would never tease you about it. As he holds you near the top of the tree, you secure the star on top. Smiling that bright smile as he brings you down, any earlier feelings of unease washing away as you let yourself get carried away with all the decorating.

“What candles should we light?” Tim approached you, holding three different candles in his arms. Grabbing the first one, dark green in colour it smelt like pine. “That one’s nice��� you note passing it back to him. The second a deep red smelled like peppermint and made you feel just a little nauseous. “I’m not into that one” passing it back to Tim who just sets it on the coffee table. Grabbing the last candle a light brown one, it smelt like a warm cozy cinnamon, you figure it’s the one that will make the room feel most welcoming. “I think we should light this one, what about you?” You ask, wanting to make sure he’d be okay with your choice. “I agree.” Tim says, not even bothering to smell the other candles. He leads you away from the tree and towards the mantle, the box still full of decorations beside it. Why is nothing done? What were they all doing while you and Dick were decorating the tree? “I kinda don’t have a vision for the mantle” Tim admits, you're pretty sure he’s lying and just wants this opportunity to be close with you. Although you're kinda getting into this whole decorating thing, it’s even starting to feel a little fun. So you're not as mad as you want to be. “Okay, I guess I can try”. Finding fake greenery, pinecones in the box, even some red ribbon. you're starting to get a vision of what you want to happen. Too tired to get up and do it yourself you start bossing Tim around. It's kinda fun, he’s good at following your instructions, always knowing how exactly you want the ribbon draped over the greenery and the exact spot you want the candle holders. Tim knows what he’s doing, he likes seeing you smile and hearing your voice even if that means you’re bossing him around, he’ll gladly follow any order you give him.

“We must hang up the family's stockings.” Damian states, motioning towards some sort of metal rack he put together. At least he did something. The rack is fixed with 7 hooks, they must have bought a new one to hold your additional stocking. “Sure” you smile “what box are they in” you ask, “that is the issue, someone did not label the box they put them in last year” he grumbles, shooting Dick a glare. You giggle “we’ll find them”. The family pauses for a beat, it had been months since they heard you laugh. Today truly is a day worth celebrating in their eyes. After about 15 minutes of searching you finally found them. “I found them!” You exclaim, and Damian turns around to sort through them with you. The stockings are actually kinda cute, red knitted socks with everyone’s names on them. Your stocking was the exact same. You wonder how far in advance they had yours made? As you and Damian hung the stockings starting with Alfred’s and working your way down, you didn’t expect yours to fit in so well when hung on the hooks but it didn’t bother you, it’d be more weird if yours was out of place.

“It actually looks kinda good” you hate to admit, but the warm lights radiating off the Christmas tree bring a nice ambiance to the room, the colorful ornaments adorned on every branch, and a sparkling star that rests on top. The Cinnamon scented Candles flicker on the mantel, draped with red ribbons and greenery. Each family member's stocking hanging in front of the fireplace waiting to be filled, the crackling fire really completes the look. Taking a step back to really appreciate the room you feel a sense of pride bubbling in your chest. “Why wouldn’t it, we’re the ones who’s decorated it” Damian states matter of factly, clearly also somewhat proud of his work. “I think this is the best it’s ever looked” Dick’s excitement still present from earlier. “You got a point,” Jason agrees, with a small smile on his face. “It’s been a while since I got to relax like this” Tim states, smiling soaking in the view. “Alfred informed me dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes, why don't we start to head over”. Oh god, you’re way too exhausted to deal with a family dinner.

[melancholicstation]

You heard my baby's back in town now! — controversially young!gf bobby kennedy one-shot

imagine... you are bobby kennedy's controversially young girlfriend who he met at a an oregon mall during his brother's campaign for president in 1959. fast forward a few months and you're finally taking the next step in your relationship: meeting the family.

taglist: @obsessedwithjohnjr @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @unmarlou @joansiesbeloved @jackiesgirl @acrowdedstreetin1944 @miumiumoods @yeuxdenina @its-esdras @jacobseresin @yspix7y @violetharmonsfavgf @vampyiricris @harajukub4rb1e @ironcowboycopnickel @valleyxdoll @angelitawings @monturi @starsprangledgirl

inspired by @unmarlou's age gap!bobby kennedy, go give this blog some ♥️ .

warnings: heavy mention of age-gap, multiple flashbacks, uses lyrics from Taco Truck x VB, use of terms of endearment, period typical sexism (not bobby)

words: 2,862

Most of the time you wouldn't say holding down a 9 to 5 at one of the biggest breakfast chains in middle America was an exciting career endeavour for a 22 year old woman but here you were. That was until you met him: your boyfriend of six months who'd shown himself to be a great lover and an even better giver, always draping you in the finest of mulberry silk and yellow diamond. You weren't shallow though, you would've loved him the same if all he had were the clothes on his back and that floppy hair of his.

However you wouldn't have to because he had the ultimate privilege or curse, many would go on to say, of being born into one of the richest families in America, and was the brother of the Democratic Party pick for president in 1960. Oh, and his name was Bobby Kennedy.

*Flashback to December 5th, 1959*

After working your job at Waffle house for about 2 weeks you knew it was hell, filled with grimy men hitting on you with their dirty pickup lines their dad probably taught them at age 15, that bitch of a co-worker, and a drab work attire that your boss, Susan, seemed to have affinity for catching any slight deviations of. Superficially it was mostly the outfit requirements that bothered you: I mean how were you ever supposed to leave this damned place if your own uniform made sure that no person, regardless of gender, would ever humanly find you attractive.

Despite this, you persevered and tried to work around it. If your boss told you to wear a plain blue top: you wore a lightly stripped blue button-up with featuring an embroidered, ruffled star motif on the chest. If your boss told you to wear heather grey bottoms: you wore an extremely short dark navy skort with built in shorts for the so called modesty striven for in the dress code. I mean for christ sakes this wasn't the White House now was it?

You often pared the dreary outfit with a pair of suede ballerina's in navy: a bit of an oxymoron where your mother was concerned due to the nearly perpetual state of wetness synonymous with Oregon lately. Adorning your neck with the one staple in your jewellery escapes: an antique scapular on black silk cord.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder defiantly: a bag so filled to the brim that it didn't look so much like a bag anymore and more like a rather large and rather worn sack. However you did attempt to beautify its exterior by applying randomised trinkets to it's complexion such as: a statement cross pendant held together with leather twine, a religious pocket book passed down from your grandmother on your Spanish side, and a stone rosary.

Departing from the trinkets adoring the handles of your bag, the once smooth leather of the bag was now covered in tiny hole marks from the pins of the buttons you so religiously adorned your bag with. Many—who were you kidding, all were of John F. Kennedy and his running mate Lyndon B. Johnson. Now you weren't so much of a fan of Johnson as you were of Kennedy but you were seldom able to find ones of Jack by himself. That's why the ones of jack stayed front and centre, with the ones of Johnson meandering in the background, wrapping around the sides of the leather.

It had been a couple hours of your shift before you granted yourself the masochistic reflex of checking the time: counting down the length of time until you were free.

Checking the clock you realise it had not in fact been hours, in reality it had only been an hour and three minutes. Boy time really just flies by when you're serving up cheesesteak melt has brown bowls at five-thirty in the morning: I mean seriously what kind of sicko does that?, and getting hit on by men who look like they could've been your father.

That was until you hear that disntict clink of the door chin: alerting you to a new customer. Exasperated with, well—life, you look up already annoyed. Annoyed until you meet the hilarious sight of a strange man crouched under a comically small umbrella, surrounding by some very self-important all dressed in suit and tie: a stark contrast to the typical male style expected of in Oregon.

Before you can catch a glimpse of the man he's herded into a booth far out of your range of sight. Despite being interested your attention is called for when a woman orders a hot coffee to-go. Y'know, it did always suck when you had to do your actual job and not just people watch for a living.

Out of nowhere two voices come within your earshot,

"No, Tim—I can do it myself. God damn it! You people treat me like a child, I can order my own food." a voice expressed that somehow towed that line between being intrinsically feminine and masculine at the same time.

The other voice begrudgingly backs off but continues,

"I know you're not a child Bob, but I'm trying to help you. Y'know that's kind of my job as advisor, to advise you on shit."

"Fine. You go do it, i'll wait over here like a dog." ,the voice says expressing a particular strain of annoyance you had yet to hear vocalised until that moment.

This man has an advisor? What the he—

"Hey-Uh, could I get a pecan waffle and a dark roast coffee."

Surprised for a moment, you compose yourself and reply "Sure, coming right up."

Shuffling into the back with the intention to tell the cook the order, and then maybe take a cheeky smoke from your bag in the meantime. Maybe.

After telling the cook, you find yourself b-lining for your bag. Getting to your bag, you start fiddling for a lighter that was until you hear a peculiar set of shuffling feet suspiciously close to you.

That's when you realise that you completely missed, on your mission for your bag, a real human man leaning his back against the bag rack.

"Oh-Mary and Joseph—you nearly gave me a heart attack."

The figure, and the face comes into your range of sight and your semi totally mortified. The president-to-be's brother had just seen you try to go for a smoke.

"Oh I'm sorry I just don't like the noises. Forks scraping on plates gives me the chills." the man chuckles.

In politeness you chuckle back, in order to get the elephant out of the room you say,

"Now you're Robert Kennedy aren't you?"

"In the flesh" he says with a quite sassy display of his hands, patting himself on the chest in an act to display his human quality.

"Well I have to say I'm enamoured by your brother's campaign, he's doing so wonderfully."

"Thank you, well I happen to think so too. But I'm a bit biased—y'know it's kind of in my job description. I pegged you for a jack supporter."

"How so?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe the pins on that bag of yours gave me a bit of a clue."

Mortified you look away that was, until, he redirects your head movements with his hand turning your chin back to his with the divine authority of a man much older than you. Though you're not repulsed by that fact, in all reality it's quite the opposite.

"Hey-Hey hey don't be embarrassed. I think it's awfully cute of you, though I wish you didn't have so many of that Johnson and maybe one of me." ,he says in a tone that carries the passion of a thousand un-spoken grievances, peeking your curiosity.

Lifting his hand off your chin, he lightly pets your hair: much like you assume he would do to perhaps a Boston terrier or a bengal kitten. With that same tenderness.

"I better let you get back to work. I'm sure you don't want some old man like me keeping you from your job"

Bashfully you smile, subtly shaking your head in retort. However he does raise a good point, such a good point in fact that it has you turning your heels back in the direction of the front counter. But not before turning your head slightly back—subtly saying goodbye with a smile and a slight wave of the fingertips, to which he mirrors with a sheepish, smug grin.

By the time your shift ends your exhausted and love sick over that man, whom you had only had in your presence for a bijou length of time but had been pondering about for hours.

Reaching for your bag before officially clocking out, you notice a new edition to your bag. A bright white and navy blue pin labelled 'Robert F. Kennedy for Vice President' surprised enough already, you're positively baffled to find a small engraving of a number etched into the backside of the pin.

What was on it, you may ask? Well, Robert F. Kennedy's phone number no less,

And that's how it started.

*End of flashback*

There were moments when you were faced with the awkward societal magnifying glass put on your relationship, and increased ten fold because of your scandalous age gap. I mean come on, it was only twelve years. It wasn't that bad. Though there were times you were reminded every now and then of the twelve year generational divide between you two, like in the instance of when he found that pesky little shoe-box underneath your bed.

*Start of flashback*

"Look at me"

"No I simply cannot bear it, Bobby!" you muffle out, the sound muddled due to your mousy blonde curls interference.

"C'mon, sweetie. It's nothing to be ashamed about, you're a grown young woman. I expected this from you, I'd be weirded out if you didn't partake in this sort of stuff. It's endearing, I promise." ,bobby teases, making a big show of his "promise" by dramatically holding out his arms in a prayer motion.

An action you find less than funny: ending with Bobby getting a pillow through straight towards his head, to which he dodges with ease.

What had caused this whole mess was that you'd tasked Bobby with the mission of finding that cotton camisole he'd so recklessly strewn across your bedroom in the throws of your shared passion. It was your belief that if he did it he should fix it.

However that adventure had led to bobby finding a particularly embarrassing set of erotic books hidden in a shoebox. Each with a more embarrassingly brazen title than it's former.

You had never seen him laugh so much than that day.

"Honey, I'm not laughing at you. It's just-y'know back in my day we never had this. We had to use our imagination, oh how times are changing. It's exciting really" he says adopting a semi sarcastic tone that borders on mocking.

His comments cause you to sulk even more, retreating into yourself perched at the foot of the bed, "Bobby don't be mad, I don't even read that stuff now! not with you. I was so in-experienced back then , I had no idea about anything."

"Oh baby, c'mere" he motions you to him, eventually gathering you up into a bundle and takes you into his lap.

Combing through your hair he explains "Baby of course I'm not made at you. How could I be? with such a pretty face like this. Y'know I'm glad you had those books, though I do like keeping you all to my self. And I certainly don't want to share you with any fictional man." he says in an order to lighten up the room, while dabbing slightly at your cheeks

"Don't cry pretty girl, I hate to see you cry, it hurts me, hurts me real bad. I know you don't wanna hurt me now do ya? Huh?"

Nodding, you compose yourself slightly and lay your head timidly on his chest: slightly hairy and stunk of an addictive sort of musk.

Your slightly moved when he moves his body trying to get something out of his pocket

"Princess, look what I found!"

And there it was your favourite cotton camisole, back in your possession. Sometimes you didn't know how he did it, he just did.

*End of flashback*

And that's how your relationship went for six months. Though it was hard to maintain a relationship being that he was in such a different life stage than you, and coupled with the fact that he was on a gruelling campaign trail with his brother. To be honest most days he would come and see you, you'd just lay in bed soaking up each other's presence. On the days you would venture outside as a couple you got more than a couple looks, and you had your fair share of unfavourable coverage in the media being that you were the controversially young girlfriend by the side of the man who's brother was on track to become president of the United States. But you both brush it off, you knew your truths.

You hadn't seen bobby in two whole weeks and you were beginning to get desperate. Though it wasn't like he was depriving you, he stuck to a strict schedule of calling you every day at seven in the evening: no matter rain or shine. Some times he would catch you eating a late dinner, for which he would scold you about adopting the tone he used in those senate meetings. And others where he would catch you in bed early, and one thing would lead to another. Thank god that you both had been smart enough to check for wiretapping, or else it would've made you two more of social piranhas than you already were...

And sure enough at seven pm, your phone rang off the hook,

"Hey baby, how are ya? Tell me all about what a sweet girl like you was doing all day? I wanna hear it all, leave no detail out." he says in a tone that reveals his true earnest nature that you've come to so cherish in your relationship.

So, you indulge him, "Honey, I got up so early, and then, I got into the shower"

He hums attentively down the line, encouraging you to tell him what you did next: to which you inform him that you took a nap mid-day, "I was just able to go back to sleep for a hour and a half. So that rocked, um, anyway."

"Did ya dream of anything special?" he says while shifting in his leather chaise seat: you assumed he was halted up in his hotel in some nameless city along the trail.

"I had this dream where, um, I don't know-" you trail off sharing some half-baked dream that you weren't sure you comprehend yourself. Apologising you ask about his day,

"Oh sweetie, don't apologise I asked, I wanted to know. I did want to talk about something with you though. Y'know how Jack is coming back to Oregon before the primary. Well, I thought what better a time to introduce you to my family. They'll just adore you baby, I promise just like I do."

Blushing and taken by surprise you bashfully reply, of course agreeing.

"That's great, you'll do amazing. Though, I do have to warn you about their line of questioning. They have a penchant for sort of quizzing girls that I take home about world events, it's like a sport to them-my parents I mean, my siblings will be just fine to handle. I just want you to be prepared."

"Okay, well what kind of events. Like events in your times?" you say sarcastically.

"Okay, Miss Attitude. I'm not from the 1890s, y'know we're only a decade apart. But I'll quiz you when I visit you in a couple days. I'll make it real easy for you, put in some recent events that you know: though you're a smart cookie you'll get it in no time baby."

"Bob, you're making me very nervous. They're not going to go too hard on me right?"

"Oh my sweet, you'll get used to them. They make a big fuss but they're relatively harmless, they'll see how happy you make me and that'll be the end of it. Promise."

After his assurances, you were left unbridled with happiness after you hung up the phone. I mean how hard could it be to charm a family like the Kennedys, they seemed nice enough? You charmed one of their sons so how troublesome could it really be? Jackie looked warm and open in the newspaper, Joan looked a delight and Jack well I'm sure you could bate your eye at him and he would be sufficiently pleased at your presence. Though that left out the parents, which were often the hardest of the bunch when fulfilling the daunting duty of meeting the family, you were sure it would be Bobby assured you so.

And why would he ever need to lie to you?

signing off: bang, bang xx

[vinylfoxbooks]

25 Days of Jegumas | Day 1 | Day 8 December 9 - Holiday Movies | @noblehouseofgay | wc: 697

Regulus sighs, watching his partner sit in front of the DVD player with three cases in hand, looking between the three of them contemplatively. He’s helping Harry finish the last of an assignment that he got for over the weekend, something about making Santa do something or into something else to help promote childhood creativity, and the boy is in his own little world with the crayon he’s scribbling away with. So Regulus is focusing on his partner, his gaze flicking to his phone occasionally to see if he has any updates about where his friends are.

Ever since James learned that Regulus didn’t grow up watching any movies, let alone Christmas movies since his parents hated the idea of joy, James has made it their mission to educate Regulus on his lack of knowledge. So every Christmas since they got together has entailed James sitting him down and watching at least two Crhistmas movies, and they watch Home Alone every year since James loves it. Harry has always enjoyed it as well, since they have a movie allowance for him every weekend. However Regulus can’t say that he’s thrilled -- he’s not a big fan of watching movies, he would much prefer reading books. 

And to either make it worse or better, Regulus was talking about how he was being forced to do this during his most recent dinner with Evan and Barty and they very excitedly declared that they wanted to join in. Regulus denied it at first, but then later mentioned it to James while they were getting ready for bed and James seemed thrilled about it and immediately told him to invite them over for the night. 

So here he us, watching his son play with his crayons and his partner putting together the optimal movie night -- as much as he doesn’t love these nights, he does love the effort that James goes through to make the night good for him and to make up the missing parts of his childhood -- waiting for his doom in the form of his annoying best friends and partner and Home Alone for the fifth year in a row. 

But soon there’s a loud knocking on his door and Barty screaming for Regulus to let him in. Regulus leaves Harry alone to open the door, being pulled into an enthusiastic hug that Regulus only partially wants to be happening. He forces himself out of Barty’s arms and slips away from them, “Come on in. Harry and I are at the kitchen table and James is setting up the movies in the living room.” He guides them into the house, and they both follow him into the kitchen. 

“Is that my little Haz?” Barty bellows, walking over to the kitchen table and leaning down onto it and turning his head to make eye contact with the boy. 

Harry looks up at the voice, lighting up, “Uncle Barry!” He swivels around until he can see Evan, “Uncle Ev!” 

Evan smiles at the boy, walking over and ruffling the younger’s hair, “Hey kid, how are you?” 

“Good! You like Santa?” 

Evan hums and leans over him to look at his drawing, grinning down at him, “It’s cute, are you excited for the movies tonight?” Harry nods dramatically, and Evan ruffles his hair again, “My man.”

Regulus rolls his eyes as James walks into the kitchen, “How about we put your Santa away and get ready for the movies?” Harry nods, making a noise of vague disgust when James walks over to the group and pulls Regulus in for a quick kiss. They laugh and say hello to the other two men and go to finish preparing for the movie night, pulling out some extra popcorn. Regulus leaves Harry in the trust of Barty and Evan -- chaotic motherfuckers and possibly bad influences as they are, they are incredibly good and loving with his son and it lights up Regulus’ heart -- so he can put the drawing in a safe place for the next week and goes to help James.

And when they’re all done with the prep work, the five migrate into the living room and James presses play on the movie.

Day 10

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Christmas Everyday

Summary: Yelena hates the cold, nothing good has happened to her when the temperatures dropped. When an assignment takes her to Boston, MA, and she stumbles into a cafe to escape the bitter weather, maybe the cold isn't as bad as she thought.

Warning: gun shot, gun shot injury, mention of HYDRA, Red Room and killing, blood, original character death, fluff and angst, cannon type violence, gay panic (lol)

Word count: 4.1k

Yelena hated the cold. It reminded her of Russian winters, fake Christmas’ in Ohio, and her time in New York when she was hired to kill Clint Barton. She wished she was someplace warmer, but work brought her to Boston. It was snowing lighting. Yelena walked down the busy sidewalk and maneuvered through the crowd. She had some time before her stakeout and wanted something warm to drink. Picking a random cafe, she opened the door and was surrounded by warmth. She almost moaned at the break from the cold.

The cafe wasn’t busy. A few tables were occupied by patrons working on their laptops or holding a book. She noticed there was a small library in the corner, but what made Yelena cringe was the Christmas decorations all over the place. There were decorations for the holidays that took place in December: Hanukkah, Kwanzaa. It was like something out of a Hallmark movie.

Sighing, she stepped up to the corner. “I’ll be right with you.” A voice called from the back. That was fine. She needed time to think and figure out what she wanted. “Hot chocolate and a banana muffin for Lindsay,” you put the two items down and wished the girl that came to collect them a ‘Happy Holiday.’ “Hi, sorry for the wait. Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” Yelena couldn’t help but stare at you, a red beanie on your head and dressed in black jeans and a flannel. It was 9 am, and the amount of energy you had was intimidating.

“Black coffee and a chocolate croissant,” she ordered. You didn’t bat an eye at her accent.

“A name for the order.”

“Kate,” the blonde answered without hesitation. Giving her real name with her target being so close would be stupid.

“Alright, Kate,” you smiled. “That will be $7.25,” Yelena handed you the exact change and slipped a few extra bills into the tip jar. “Your order will be right up.” You removed the croissant from the display case and put it in the oven. Next, you poured her coffee.

“Are you the only employee?” Yelena found herself asking. There was no line, so she figured it was okay to make light conversation. You shook your head.

“I usually work the most, but there are two others, but everyone called in sick,” you laughed. “So you are stuck with little old me,” you bagged the croissant and placed the two items. “One black coffee and chocolate croissant for Kate,” the blonde took her order. “Happy Holidays.”

“Same to you,” Yelena turned to leave the little shop, and when she opened the pastry bag, she saw the croissant she ordered and a small blueberry muffin. Yelena was amazed you put it in there without her noticing. Smiling, she took a bit and continued on her way.

*

She had no intention of returning to the cafe, but she did. Every day before she started her assignment, she would enter and be greeted with soft Christmas music and your warm smile. It was the same order: black coffee and a chocolate croissant. Every time you put something extra in the bag. Yelena never mentioned it, and neither did you. Where there wasn’t a line of customers, Yelena asked you questions about your life in the city, and in return, you asked your fair share. She told you she was in the town for business, which you joked and said sounded ‘sketchy.’

Yelena should have put an end to it. It was dangerous and stupid, but there was something about you and the small cafe that kept her wanting more.

*

The familiar smell soothed the ache in Yelena’s body as she opened the door to the cafe. It was quiet; only one other person was there, and he was reading a newspaper in the corner. You looked up from whipping the counter. “Missed you yesterday. I was worried my favorite customer skipped town and didn’t bother saying goodbye.” Yelena chuckled.

“I slept in,” she said, approaching the counter. What she did was drink too much to dig out the bullet out of her stomach and pass out. She slept into one. Your eyes flickered across her body and landed on her face.

“Are you okay?” You asked. Yelena nodded.

“I just feel like I got hit by a bus,” you chuckled and glanced at your coworker. Her name was Jennifer. On busier days, she cooked while you handed the counter.

“Jen, can you watch the counter for a second?” She agreed. Yelena watched you curiously as you rounded the corner and grabbed her hand.

“What-?” Yelena let herself be dragged to the back of the kitchen and into a cleaning closet. “What the fuck?” She asked as you pushed her down into a chair.

“Just shut up and listen,” you grabbed a first aid kit and knelt in front of her. Your warm hands pushed up her shirt. The stitches she did ripped. How the hell did she not notice? “That guy in the corner when you walked in,” you opened an alcohol pad and cleaned up around the wound. “He’s been here the past few days asking about you.” Fuck. She was being so stupid. A low hiss escaped her mouth when you pressed an alcohol pad. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “I haven’t told him much, but he’s been,” you paused. “Aggressive.” Yelena’s eyes narrowed.

“Has he hurt you?” You shook your head.

“No, but you need to leave. There is a back door,” a gunshot filled the quiet cafe, and you both stood up quickly. Yelena almost hit her head against yours. “You need to go now.”

“Come with me. It’s not safe,” she saw the hesitation pass through your eyes.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “I’ll stall him and see if they are okay up front.” Another gunshot. You opened the door to the closet. “Just go,” Yelena wanted to go in and take the man down, but with her condition, she would lose.

“Don’t die on me,” you chuckled. “I’ll come back,” Yelena promised. Promises were dangerous in her line of work. They were uncertain and unpredictable, and if broken, they left both parties in pain. You nodded, offering her a kind smile. It was almost like you didn’t believe her. Another shot rang out, causing Yelena to look away from you and run to the door. It led to a back alley, and the cold air caused goosebumps to form on her skin.

It was unlike her to run away from a fight. She was trained to face it head-on but ran from this one. When she was a reasonable distance away, she pulled out her phone and dialed 911. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“I like to report a robbery in progress.”

*

You steadied your heart rate and walked back to the front of the store with your hands raised. The man was standing in the middle of the room, the gun pointed at you when you appeared. “Well, look who finally joined the party.” His voice was laced with a Russian accent. Unlike the blonde you knew, it did not provide warmth, but a chill went down your spine. “Where is the blonde bitch?” You saw Jennifer standing in the corner, unharmed but terrified. A few more customers must have entered when you were helping the blonde; two of them were on the ground, not moving, with a pool of blood forming around them. “Answer me!”

“Gone,” you replied. “She went out the back.” He laughed, shaking his head. His laughter brought you back to a dark part of your past, and you focused on staying in the present.

“Why are you constantly getting in my way?”

“Why are you after her?” You questioned.

“Your girlfriend killed my boss,�� he answered. That was not surprising. Wait, did he call her my girlfriend, you thought?

“She’s not-” you stopped yourself. “Look, I called the cops. They’ll be here any second. You have enough time to leave before they show up.” He laughed again and began to pace, side to side. You saw a knife on the counter, and while the man was muttering to himself, you grabbed it and placed it in your pant pocket.

“Do you know who I work for?” You had no clue and honestly couldn’t care less. Since you were a kid, you learned that someone or a group had to be in power, and if the top dog was displaced, someone was ready to take over. It was exhausting, and you found it useless to evolve yourself in the ‘political’ undertakings of the city you now called home. Your silence annoyed him. “I’m going to kill you, then I’ll find that Black Widow and slice her open.” You chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

“I have a feeling she won’t be that easy to kill,” you answered, especially if she was a Black Widow. “And fun fact: I won’t be that easy either.”

You jumped over the counter, which separated you and him. He missed his first shot and landed the second in your stomach. The pain was nothing to you since you’d been shot before, and you wondered if this would be your last. You pulled the knife out of your pocket, used his hesitation to reload, and kicked the pistol out of his hand. Whoever this man worked for, you figured he was on the lower end of the organization because his hand-to-hand combat was shit. He was using this opportunity to prove himself.

It was easy to close the distance on him and stab the knife in his stomach. You pressed forward until his back was against the bookshelf, and blood began to pool in his mouth. Once he stopped struggling, you let his body fall to the ground. Besides your breathing and the distant sound of sirens, the cafe was silent. You stumbled backward; a pained groan left your lips as you put pressure on the gunshot wound. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” Jennifer said. Her footsteps rounded the corner, and she had a white towel in her hand. “That was insane!” She pressed the towel to your stomach. “Are you okay? God, of course you aren’t.” You chuckled.

“I’m okay,” you said. Jennifer rolled her eyes.

“You’re a badass,” she said. “I kind of figured that about you.” You leaned your head back on the wall. You killed someone. It was in self-defense, but you ended a life. You wanted out of this life, and of course, a blonde Black Widow would pull you back into it.

*

A knock on your apartment door caused you to look up from the boiling pot. Since you were shot five days ago, you were still heavily restricted on movement. Hell, the cafe owners refused to let you go back to work until a doctor cleared you, which was for another two weeks. So you’ve kept to yourself in your apartment, surviving on grocery store delivery services and movies on TV. Another knock caused you to sigh and walk over to it, not bothering to put on a shirt. You’ve only worn loose tank tops and sweatpants. It was easy, simple, and required little movement. You glanced at the peephole and quickly opened the door when you saw the blonde. “Hi,” she smiled. You pulled her into your apartment and closed the door. “Well, buy me dinner before you drag me around like that,” she teased.

“I can’t believe you are still here,” you said. “Is it safe?” She sighed, took off her winter jacket, and hung it up on the hook. Instead of answering, she walked into your kitchen.

“What were you cooking?” She asked.

“Pasta, but it can wait,” the blonde gave you a pointed look.

“Sit,” she put her bag on the counter and washed her hands. “You got shot for me. The less I can do is cook dinner.” You had no energy to argue, so you grabbed your water bottle and the bottle of ibuprofen. The hospital prescribed you more potent pain medication, but those scared you. “To answer your question, yes, it is safe. The group that man was a part of won’t bother you or the cafe again.”

“Did you kill them?” You asked. The water began to boil, and she put the pasta in. “I don’t mind,” you said. It would be hypercritically if you did. “Just curious.” She turned to face you, leaning against the counter. Her green eyes scanned over you.

“You handled the situation at the cafe well,” you chuckled, scratching the bag off your head.

“Not well enough. I did get shot.” She smirked.

“Who are you?” She asked. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

“I feel like I should be asking you that very same question,” she chuckled, turned to grab her bag, and pulled out a file. The blonde threw it in front of you. With shaky hands, you opened it. It was everything HYDRA did to you and everything they forced you to do. You so desperately wanted to forget that part of your life, so when you escaped, you got a new identity and a mundane job as a barista. “You’re a Black Widow, right?” You wanted to confirm what that man told you. She nodded her head. “They would always tell us about you and compare your conditions to ours. They kept saying it could be worse.”

“I bet both were horrible,” she mumbled. You nodded. “I heard about you. HYDRA’s Shadows. They said you died.”

“It’s because I did,” she drained the pasta and placed it back in the pot with the sauce. “The Shadow died, and she was reborn as a cafe barista.” She put a bowl in front of you with a fork. “What’s your real name? Because I know it’s not Kate.”

“Yelena,” she answered. Honestly, you were surprised she gave it to you. “I’m sorry for involving you and your coworker. I should have realized they were following me.” You shrugged. It was unfortunate that two of your regulars were killed, but you knew the situation could have been worse. “You got out of this life,” she said. “I shouldn’t have dragged you back into it.”

“Why are you still in it?” Yelena looked around your apartment instead of answering.

“It looks like Christmas threw up in here,” she said. “I’m guessing you decorated the cafe.” You spun in the chair to look at your decorations.

“I love Christmas,” you told her, glancing over your shoulder. “I wish it could be Christmas every day.” She scuffed, and you turned back around. Yelena was stirring the pasta in the bowl. “How long are you going to stay?” She sighed, moving her shoulders up and down.

“Not sure.”

“Stay with me then,” her head snapped to look at you. “Look, you clearly don’t have any other pressing plans, and I did get shot for you; you kind of owe me.” She remained silent, but a smile crept to her lips. Celebrate the holidays with me.” The blonde huffed.

“I’d have to go get my dog.”

“I love dogs,” and you did. “We can go ice skating and watch Christmas movies.” You could convince her to walk away from the life she was living. Even when she smiled, she seemed sad.

“I like hot chocolate,” Yelena said. “We better drink it every night if I agree to this.” With a roll of your eyes, you held out your hand.

“You got yourself a deal, Yelena,” she smirked and took your hand. You were surprised at how soft her hand was against yours. Her skin was cold, and you enjoyed how her hand felt in yours.

*

Christmas Eve

“Are we wearing these?” Yelena asked, emerging from your bathroom in the plaid PJs you got for her, you, and Fanny. The American Akita ran over to her owner. “Awe, you look so cute,” the blonde cooed over her dog. It’s been over a week since Yelena came into your life, and you filled it with everything Christmas and holiday-themed. It didn’t take a genius to notice Yelena’s aversion to the Holiday, but you wanted to give her a Christmas she would remember. So you went ice skating, drank your weight in hot chocolate, baked cookies, and watched the cheesy Christmas movies. It was amazing. You forgot how enjoyable life could be when you had someone else to enjoy it.

“Hey, what about me? I’m the reason she looks cute,” the blonde straightened up to look at you.

“You get no compliments since you are why I’m in this,” you rolled your eyes.

“Just get your ass over here. Your hot chocolate is getting cold.” You heard her run over to sit down next to you. Fanny made her way to the dog bed you got for her. Yelena began to load up her hot chocolate with toppings- she had such a sweet tooth. It was disgusting sometimes. “For the record,” you said. “I think you look cute.” The blush that covered her cheeks was your favorite color on her. As Christmas approached, you weren’t hiding how you felt about the blonde. You openly flirted with her, doing anything to see her blush. Sometimes, she would give it back, come up with her flirty comment, and take you by surprise. Then you thought your friendship with her would take the next step, but she was the one to pull away. It was easy to fall for Yelena. She was witty, beautiful, and understood the horrors of your past. She looked at the world with such childlike wonder and curiosity that you couldn’t help but fall in love with her. You knew you had to be patient, but you feared that she would pack up and leave as soon as the holiday was over.

“What movie are we watching?” She asked, sipping on her hot drink.

“Home Alone,” you answered. It was your favorite movie, so you waited for Christmas Eve to show them to her. You turned the volume up and pressed play.

It wasn’t long into the movie when you noticed something was off with Yelena. Usually, she would be making comments about the plot or the characters. It made you laugh and added to the movies you already loved. Quiet Yelena was never good. She was so lost in her head. You paused the movie. She wasn’t fazed that it stopped. “Hey,” the sound of your voice snapped her out of it. “Where did you go just now?” She sighed and grabbed your hand. You learned early on that Yelena needed physical touch to be grounded. You woke her up from a nightmare, and you were startled when she grabbed onto you. She played with the bracelet on your wrist.

“You asked me a question that I didn’t answer. Do you remember what you asked me?” You had no idea. You asked the blonde many questions about her parents, Natasha, and her life. Some she answered while the others were answered with only silence. She smiled softly. “It was the night I came over and made pasta.” It clicked. She knew you remembered by the way your hand tensed up. “Ask me again.”

“Why are you still in it?” A life that was covered in red. Red was blood, violence, and anger. For the longest time, red was a color you avoided. The simplest of things would trigger a spiral for you. Instead of staring at a ketch bottle, it was a pool of blood from a bottle you used to smash against a man’s head. A no-name man you killed because he was in your way. But he had a name, a family that had to mourn and bury his body.

“Because I have no one to pull me out of it,” she turned to look at you. Her green eyes were glossy with tears. “This life is all I have, so what do I do if I leave?” You used your free hand to wipe a tear down her cheek.

“Let me pull you out of it,” you whispered and moved to sit before her. Her legs were crossed, and you undid them so they rested on either side of you. “And you live.” You answered. “You find out who you are without their claws in you. It takes time, and it’s messy, but I will help you. If you let me,” you raised the hand that she held onto and kissed her palm. There was a slight hitch in her throat. You placed her hand on her cheek, and a shiver went down your spine as her fingers drew shapes on your skin.

“I’ve dreamed of opening a dog rescue,” she said. “I like dogs.” You laughed. Your neighbor had a corgi puppy, no more than a year old. You offered to take the pup on walks now and again, and the blonde was in love with it.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” again, the blush covered her cheeks as she guided your face closer to hers. “You’ll have to leave Valentina,” you said against her lips.

“Will you help?”

“Always,” you said and connected your lips with hers. The kiss was slow. She tasted sweet from the hot chocolate decorated with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and sprinkles. The taste was so Yelena it made you sigh into the kiss and wrap your hand into her blonde hair. She pulled away first; your chest was heaving at the relation. You kissed her. You finally knew what it felt like to have your lips on hers.

“Shit,” she whispered. You laughed, head falling on her shoulder. You kissed the skin you could reach and felt her shiver against her. “Come on, we have a movie to watch.” There were other things you wanted to do besides watching a movie you’ve seen a thousand times, but you pulled away from her and sat back down. Surprisingly, she took the remote and cuddled up against you. You put your arm around her, pulled the blanket over the both of you and stole a kiss as the movie began to play. It was hard to pay attention when Yelena was so close to you. “Will you help me get away from her?” She softly asked. You hummed, moving your fingers through her blonde hair.

“Yeah, I will,” you said. “Don’t think about it right now,” you saw the stress in her body and rubbed her temples. “No stress on Christmas. It’s against the rules.” She chuckled, grabbing your hand and interlocking her fingers with yours.

“Merry Christmas, detka,”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” You knew very little about Valentina Allegra de Fontaine besides that she was the Director of the CIA with hundreds of contacts. It would be hard, borderline impossible, but you realized who would do anything for the Black Widow in your arms. Yelena turned to look up at you; you were already looking down at her.

“You are thinking hard, dorogoy; I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” you chuckled and tickled her sides. She laughed, and the sound was music to your ears. She sat up, swung her leg over you, and sat on your lap. Your eyes widened at the sudden action as your hands went to her hips. “Is this okay?” You nodded, unable to find your voice. The movie turned to white noise. “Tell me what’s wrong. I thought you said no stress on Christmas.” You smiled, and she ran her fingertips over the lines on your forehead. You sat up more, wrapped your arm around her waist, and rested your head on her shoulder.

“I’d do anything for you, Yelena Belova,” you whispered, kissing her cheek. “Anything to see you happy.” You felt her hands on your head, forcing you to look at her.

“Don’t lose yourself for me.”

“I already got shot for you; what’s another one?” You teased, but the blonde frowned. “I won’t,” you promised instead. She placed her hand over your heart.

“Tell me,” she said, looking at where her hand rested on your chest. “How did you keep your heart.” You hummed, not fully understanding her question. “You kept your heart good after everything they put you through. How?” You sighed and placed your hand on top of hers.

“I had to keep it good so I could give it to someone,” her mouth hung open.

“I’ll keep it safe for you.” She said, kissing your cheek and then your lips.

“And I’ll keep yours.”

[alovesreading]

'tis the damn season | Part 1

Summary: Christmas has been your favourite season since you met Ross MacDonald back in Year 9 when you had just moved to Wilmslow, coincidentally on the same road as him. He becomes your very best friend for the rest of high school, but when that ends, life happens and you just can't stop it. And life is certainly cruel to you and Ross. Every December is a reminder of it, somehow always bringing a chance to ruin things even more. After so many mistakes, how can you get back the times you've always cherished with the silly boy with the dimpled smile?

Word count: 16.5k

Warnings: a bit of ansgt. well more than just a bit. @imagine-that-100 and @kennedy-brooke have made it very clear to warn you that they cried (a lot) to this so here's your warning to read this at your own discretion. i promise I'll make it up to you in the next part lol

A/N: Last month I made a poll here to see which Ross fic everyone wanted to see next (since people were asking for more Ross and I had a few fics plotted out but didn't know which to write first) and this one won by a few votes. So here it is, a bit shit and a bit angsty but I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

Part 2

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Slowly but surely, Ross MacDonald had made his way into your heart all those years ago.

And it all could be traced back to Christmas day 2002, when an act of kindness set the tone for a friendship that had been silently brewing between the two of you.

You had moved to Wilmslow as soon as you finished Year 8 and the anticipation for the start of Year 9 in a new school had been dreadful.

Thankfully, moving in had kept you and your parents busy enough to hide away in your new house as you waited for the first day of school to arrive.

Your parents hadn’t even pushed you to go out and make friends throughout the horrendously hot weeks of August for they allowed you to settle in the new house—they knew how badly you coped with change, and they were at least being kind enough to leave you to your own devices before school started. You kept your days busy by burying your nose in the few books you’d managed to keep after convincing your mom not to donate the entirety of your bookshelves.

But far too soon, the first day of school loomed on you and the first week at Wilmslow high school had been atrocious.

You kept to yourself like you always did, however, this time, it was an exaggerated amount. But you just felt so out of place, you couldn’t help it.

You’d look up at the sky with a pained expression every time during lunch, when you would finish yet another chapter of a book you’d read over and over since you’d gotten it, asking why? Just why would your parents make you move to a new town, and start from scratch at a new school when you were halfway through high school?

By Year 9, everyone’s friend groups were settled, the last year of school when everyone felt carefree enough to enjoy every single day before having to choose and start working towards getting their GCSEs.

So you felt like a proper outsider, not really welcome, like a new organism trying to push their way into an established ecosystem. And you hated it so much. It only pushed you further into your shell, making you want to disappear and remain under the shadows as you walked through the hallways to get to class, recoiling into yourself when hearing the loud chatter and laughter going on around you, failing horrendously at even smiling when people would make eye contact with you.

You were at least glad that you could walk home to and from school. The few minutes of silence and peace were something you cherished a lot now; the thudding of your leather shoes against the pavement lulling your thoughts as you made your way to the building that you were starting to dread seeing on the daily.

The second week had brought a surprise when you were halfway through yet another read of ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ and a group of girls approached you. You’d flinched when one of them spoke up as they sat around you in a menacing circle.

“S’a bit of a sad read for such a lovely day, no?”

The girl had been kind enough to let out a genuine giggle by the end of her lighthearted words so you braved up enough to put your book down softly and offer her a half smile. You had managed to joke back, a reference to the book that the three girls thankfully caught and then, with an ease that soothed your soul, you found yourself making your first few friends by talking about the books you loved so much.

As the days went by and you found yourself surprised when having people to share lunch with and greet when you got to school, you were sure this was as far as you’d get to with your luck. And, in all honesty, you were grateful. You had never been one to have loads of friends, and even with the few you’d made throughout the years, you knew you weren’t lucky to form strong bonds like everyone else did at your age.

So when you were walking down the roads that lead you to school, the last thing that you were expecting was for the boy who startled your silent and peaceful walk to become your very best friend.

Ross had seen you around school a few times by the end of the first week and the talk about the mysterious new girl had been doing rounds enough for his curiosity to be piqued, when he saw you walking into the house down the road from his house at the start of the second week of the school year.

He had made an effort waking up at a reasonable time and leaving for school way earlier than he always did every morning then, to see if he could catch up with you.

There wasn’t really a plan, there was just his growing curiosity to know about the girl who lived on the opposite corner of the road, the one who walked a block ahead of him every morning and got to school a minute before him, being whisked away by three girls that you gave the honour to see your smile unlike the rest of the students who crossed you through the halls.

One morning in particular, when Ross had just been annoyed at himself for missing you every damn time he walked out of his house, he decided to rush his steps until he reached you. Stumbling the last few and successfully startling you when he managed to catch up to you about a few minutes before you’d get to school.

His mind went blank when you looked at him expectantly for a few seconds, nothing but the birds chirping around you and the sound of cars driving down the roads enveloped you as you waited for a reasoning behind his sudden appearance.

But Ross gave you nothing but a dimpled smile and offered his hand out for you to shake.

Your grip was firm and the smile that broke on your face was as sweet as the ones you gave your new friends.

He foolishly hoped that meant you were friends now, but just to be sure of it, he let you know his name.

“Ross,” he started a bit shaky, clearing his throat before adding, “MacDonald.”

The chortle you gave at his formality made a pinkish blush creep up from his neck to his cheeks.

The sight made you smile a bit harder.

“Y/N,” your voice made him melt. “Y/L/N. If the full legal name is really needed.”

He shook his head at himself, snorting out in laughter and dropping your hand softly. He clenched his fingers in a fist and then loosened it when his arm fell to his side. Even though the day was warm and he didn’t like it at all with the horrendously suffocating uniform they had to wear, he found himself not minding the warmth that holding your hand had brought.

Frowning at the thought, he fell silent just like you did and followed as you resumed your walk.

That was the first day you walked to school together.

Every morning after that, he ran to catch up to you and walk together to school. And little by little, your conversations elongated and you two shared more about yourselves to each other as the days went by.

“So who’s that girl then?” Matty asked one day after seeing you and Ross part ways at the entrance of the school.

Ross tensed at the line of questioning, especially at Matty’s tone and the way he wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“Just my neighbour,” he said almost dismissively. “We walk the same way to school so I bump into her sometimes.”

It wasn’t in bad nature though, he just wanted to keep the details of you that you kept hidden for everyone else to himself. It wasn’t selfish, Ross convinced himself, just giving you the chance to open up to Matty if you ever decided to do that.

But the curly headed boy knew well enough he hadn’t seen you before when he’d come over to the MacDonald’s residence, and he also knew very well that Ross walked into school with you daily. Sometimes my arse.

“Don’t remember seeing her around when I’ve come over to yours.”

Ross held back a huff but he freely let himself roll his eyes, “She’s just moved into the house on the other side of the road from mine.”

Matty hummed, smirking as he looked around until his gaze fell on you, “She’s fit.”

You were laughing with your friends, chatting excitedly as you sorted through your bag and pulled out a book.

Ross frowned at Matty’s comment but not because he disagreed, he actually wholeheartedly thought his friend was right, but because he didn’t like it coming from him.

“Maybe you should introduce us to the other,” Matty added with a cheeky grin when he saw the expression on Ross’ face. “Be a good mate and play cupid for me, MacDonald.”

Ross scoffed loudly at the forward suggestion from his friend. It was settled then, telling Matty you lived in the same road as him and that you’d just moved into town was enough for him to know.

He kept to himself what your favourite movie was, which album you’d last become obsessed with, the names of your friends back home who you didn’t talk to anymore now that you’d moved, how you had broken your arm at five years old in the playground and had put stickers all over your pink cast to show it off at school. Ross definitely wouldn’t tell him how that book had been lent to you by Danielle, one of your new friends, and how you’d stayed up until three in the morning reading it so you had spent half your trip up to school yawning and rubbing your eyes.

Yup. He would definitely keep it all to himself.

And so he did. He kept every bit of yourself that you shared with him to himself and himself only. And along with all those little facts about you, he also kept to himself the way he perked up every time he saw you slowly walking down the pavement, the warmth that spread through him when he saw you smile at him.

He would frown at himself in the mirror when he thought about it at home. He was thirteen years old, there were so many things much more important than thinking about how pretty you were or how your smile made him all gooey inside. He huffed every time, convincing himself he was just being objective and not developing a crush. He liked you as a friend and that was it. He had much more important matters than his feelings, which he definitely didn’t have.

But after the half term break, there was a change that made his stubborn thoughts falter.

He walked out of his house ready to see your figure already ahead of him, ready to power walk his way up to you.

But he saw no one but the trees and bushes lining the road and he deflated instantly.

He thought about walking up to your front door and knocking, asking if you’d gotten ill and you weren’t going to school. He pondered about what could’ve happened as he walked, eyes down as he went over the possibilities.

So he didn’t see you sitting on the step of your front door, waiting for him to walk by.

Taking in his distracted complexion, you decided to startle him right before he walked past your mum’s car.

A loud and slightly high pitched yell stumbled out of his mouth, and you somehow overpowered the sound with a loud fit of laughter that certainly felt like a nice apology for the scare.

You wouldn’t stop giggling about it as you walked to school, somehow managing to make him laugh along despite embarrassment tinting his cheeks red. Ross had never heard you laugh this much in his presence so he’d let you indulge in it, and when he did, you let yourself grow more comfortable around him.

He felt it from the way you’d now wait for him to walk by sitting on the step of your front door every morning, and how you’d greet him with a smile and an excited, “Hey!” He felt it from the way you’d lean into him as you walked, how you’d nudge his hip with yours when you’d tease him.

Just like you had done one day when you asked about the band.

“So he got promoted, huh?”

Your question had been thrown out into the chilly air of early November, suddenly and without context, so Ross looked at you confused and asked, “Who?”

His group of friends and yours didn’t really share much at all. Whilst you and your friends shared the growing love for books and films, you knew Ross was in a band with some of his friends and they were always messing about, playing video games or going to the skate park, if they were not recording themselves covering songs like the Ghostbusters theme song, which you’d seen on myspace, or just rehearsing in someone’s garage.

So you knew a little about the band from the few videos that went around the school, seeing them hidden away in the music room at school sometimes, or just the talk going around the halls. It was exactly the gossip which had brought the piece of information to your attention and you’d been curious about what had gotten Elliot, some lad who sang for their band, to quit in the middle of rehearsal and left that job open for his friend, who you knew played the drums, to take it.

“Your friend, the one with the curly hair and glasses? Used to be on the drums until a few days ago no? Or so the chatter going ‘round says.”

Recognition melted the frown away from his face, “Oh Matty? Yeah, yeah. We got George in the band now. T’was sorta logistically impossible to have Matty singing and on the drums at the same time. He had to do one thing at a time for it to properly work.”

You hummed, cocking your head as you took in the information. It made sense. “How’s that arrangement going on then?”

“Erm, well he likes being up on the front. The attention and all.” Ross joked a little, even though it was mostly true.

You snorted out in laughter, “Yeah I bet.”

He hummed as if asking for you to elaborate.

“He looks like he likes attention. Not a bad thing, just–” you stuttered as you tried to look for the words, settling for, “It’s funny to watch, s’all."

Ross snorted as he nodded, “It is.”

Already seeing Jodie, Sarah and Danielle waiting for you by the school entrance, you turned to look at him and offered him a cheeky grin to play, “Good luck with that then, MacDonald. Don’t let him steal your spotlight too much.”

It was things like that that you’d say that would stay with him for days in the forefront of his mind. Weeks swirling around his subconscious and keeping him up at night, nothing really came from thinking about them so much, only the need to spend more and more time with you but he had no clue how or when to even suggest that.

The need only grew stronger when the holiday break came around and Ross hadn’t seen you in five days. Sure, two of those were the weekend but he had only really endured going without seeing you on the weekends, reuniting with your voice and your smile and your laughter the following Monday.

So Ross had been thinking about how he could even come around to seeing you during the holidays. Especially since it was actually Christmas day.

He could knock on your door, easily, but then what would he do? Was he coming over just to say hello? What if one of your parents answered the door? What was he trying to do? What excuse could he have?

Turns out, he didn’t have to think of an excuse because as he walked back home from Matty’s, Ross found you grumpily walking back home too.

He called out your name in the distance and thankfully, you heard him enough to turn around to see him and stop in your tracks.

It wasn’t until he was next to you that he said, “Why the long face? It’s Christmas.”

You could hear the hint of playfulness in his voice, but the annoyance that filled you mixed with a bit of sadness so you couldn’t find it in yourself to play along.

Instead, you sighed and shoved your gloved hands back inside your coat’s pockets. Shivering, you replied, “I know. There’s always a Grinch though, no?”

He nudged your hip with his, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth as he joked, “Doubt you’ve just stolen all the village’s gifts.”

When you only gave him a soft chuckle that got lost in the sound of the wind, he turned serious and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath so you didn’t let it get to you again, you took a second before explaining, “Mum’s forgotten to buy the potatoes and sent me out on the impossible quest of finding some at a quarter past four on the 25th of December.”

Ross gave you a soft, understanding smile then. “Ah, so no potatoes acquired.”

“Not one,” you mumbled in despair, shivering again when a cold rush of wind blew the hoodie off your head.

He had to hold himself back from throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into him. All to help you get warm, of course. But he thought against it at the last second, instead thinking about what he could do to help.

“You know, me mum always buys way more than needed. It’s only us three so she definitely has some to spare.”

Horrified at the thought of taking from what should be his Christmas dinner, you quickly dismissed his suggestion. “No, Ross. It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

But Ross wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Kissing his teeth as he shook his head, he nudged your hip again, a cheeky grin on his face, “C’mon Y/N, today’s all about giving, is it not?”

Damn him and that dimpled smile that made it so easy for you to smile back. You hummed as you pressed your lips, trying not to beam at him too brightly but letting him win, “I guess it is.”

It was strange walking up the road and past your house. You had waited outside but still gasped under your breath at the glimpse of his house all decorated when he walked in through the door. When he closed the door behind him as his mum peeked her head out of the kitchen door, you sighed out in relief. Yes, he was your friend now but you were far too shy to go in and meet his parents only to take their potatoes.

Your cheeks and neck warmed with a flush that went all through your body when you thought about how he’d be telling his mum about the vegetables. God, how fucking embarrassing. You were cursing your mum’s forgetfulness in your mind when Ross walked back out, a bag of potatoes in hand.

You wanted earth to open up and swallow you whole.

But when that didn’t happen, you accepted the bag with a genuine smile and thanked Ross profusely. He said it was alright over and over but your mind was going over how you could repay it already.

An idea sparked in your head just as he was waving off yet another thank you that stumbled out of your lips, so with a sudden hurry, you wished him and his family a merry Christmas and walked back home.

A handful of hours later, you were back at his door. This time with your hands full, holding a tray of way too many Christmas cookies for three people.

“Special delivery?” You muttered softly, holding up the tray towards Ross as he peeled the door open further when seeing it was you.

He walked out, brave enough to face the bitter cold of the night without a proper coat. In just a beige knitted sweater, he rubbed his hands to warm them as he frowned, “What’s this?”

“Cookies, of course,” you replied with sarcasm dripping thick from your words. Ross glared at you, unimpressed by your answer and making you sigh, correcting yourself, “A thank you.”

“I told you it was alright.”

You knew he meant it but when you came back home, bag of potatoes in hand, your mum had gasped in surprise at you actually managing to get them. Not allowing her to get excited about being right about maybe the corner shop being open, you let your annoyance be known as you told her what had actually happened: you’d walked to the shops in the freezing cold for no reason because they were all closed like you very much knew they’d be, but Ross had been the one to give her the bag of vegetables. Just like you’d been thinking of doing already, your mum suggested making something extra to send over to Ross’ family as a thank you.

So here you were, with a double batch of sprinkled sugar cookies that you’d just taken out of the oven about twenty minutes before, standing in front of the MacDonald’s home, trying to get Ross to accept a humble—and quite tasty—offering as a thank you for his help.

“Well today’s about giving, isn’t it Ross?”

He couldn’t help but smile when hearing you use his very own words to push him into gracefully accepting the sweet treats. And so the only way to answer was by using your very own answer from earlier, “I guess it is.”

“Then take them, please.”

Truth be told, you had gotten to work on them quickly after going back home. It was a recipe you knew by heart so it wasn’t hard for you to make batch after batch. Your parents had been happily having some with hot chocolate whilst you’d come to deliver Ross the cookies you’d made for him and his family.

Ross smiled brightly, “Thank you, you’re a sweetheart.”

Your cheeks had warmed at the pet name, he’d never referred to you any other way than your name.

It was to be expected that the stupid smile on your face didn’t leave you until you went to sleep that night, and you’d been replaying him calling you that in your mind over and over.

You didn’t really see him after Christmas, not even on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s day, so you had to wait for the first day back at school to see him. To hear his voice, watch that infectious smile of his break on his face.

But on Monday, you waited for him far too long, sat on the step by your front door until it got late. You had walked to school alone, quickly and panicking as you tried not to be late but also worried about what could’ve happened with him.

Everything was alright though, Ross had just stupidly slept in until his mum startled him out of bed when he was already running late. He’d gotten dressed in record time, and basically ran to school and barely made it. There wasn’t any sense of relief overcoming him when he made it just in time, he was filled with dread after having missed your daily morning walk together, the one he’d been looking forward to since he’d gotten a taste of those cookies you made—he had basically hoarded them and left his parents only a handful to eat, they all had reached the conclusion that you’d done amazingly with the cookies and that it had been incredibly sweet of you to drop them off for them; so he really needed to tell you all that.

To his dismay, Ross didn’t see you at all throughout the day. So when the school day was over and everyone spilled out of the building, he rushed outside to catch you before you left for home.

In the distance, you heard him yell out your name and even your friends froze in their places beside you.

They smirked when you all turned around to see him clumsily breaking through the crowd to get to you, wiggles of their eyebrows and widening eyes letting you know that they were definitely curious about what was going on for your ‘walking-to-school buddy’, as they’d nicknamed him, to be so desperate to find you.

Waving them off and forcing them to say goodbye, you walked away from them and tilted your head slightly so Ross would follow you along as you started walking away from school.

The apology was imminent, you just didn’t know it would come this quickly, “M’so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t hear my alarm and slept in.” He took a deep breath when he got to your side and added, “Mum had to wake me up, fucking hell. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed this quickly in my life.”

You laughed at him, the way his eyes flashed with dread at the recount of his morning.

He continued explaining, for no reason other than feeling like you deserved the whole truth behind it, “We got fucking plastered on New Year’s at Matty’s. Fully had to take a few days to recover from that nightmare of a hangover, but I’m still feeling rough so I just kept sleeping.”

Another string of giggles fell from your lips, “Right.”

Despite still being very sure of wanting to keep Matty away from you, Ross couldn’t help but suggest, “You should come along next year. You’d enjoy yourself.” He had been thinking about how it could’ve been with you there the whole time—or at least until he blacked out—, wishing he had invited you over. So he did just that, but just in case, he added, “Plus the guys are funny, even though they can be really obnoxious.”

Amused, you looked at him with raised brows and a cheeky grin, “I think Adam should be exempt from that.”

You had met Adam at school, he had been kind enough to say hello one day in the halls knowing that you were one of Ross’ friends, and he’d been really sweet chatting to you from time to time when you bumped into him around school. He definitely was nothing like Matty or George, who you’d seen causing ruckus around the place a fair few times.

At the dig, Ross asked, “What about me?”

But you tried taunting him by ignoring his inquiry and saying, “I'll be counting down the next 365 days,” successfully accepting his invitation over to Matty’s for the welcome of the next year.

Frozen in his place, his mouth fell agape at your blatant dismissal of his words, and so you left him behind with a chuckle, continuing walking towards your house.

From behind you, you heard him ask again, a bit louder this time, “Oi! What about me?”

You just laughed, shaking your head and not turning to see him. He had run up to you and poked your side as payback, making you squeal in surprise.

Your laughter hadn’t stopped until you were almost halfway to your house and answering his question had been long forgotten.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The weeks that followed that first Christmas had seen you and Ross becoming proper friends and causing a domino effect on the mixing of your friend groups. Friendships bloomed easily when everyone started hanging out together thanks to you and Ross wanting to share more time together other than your walks to and from school.

It was an odd group of people, but you managed to bring out different sides of each other and it was pure laughter and joy every time.

Before you knew it, birthdays, half term breaks, weekends, Halloweens, and evenings after school were spent with you all together. Messing about, watching the guys rehearse in Matty’s garage, being front row in every gig they played, helping each other study for your GCSEs, coming over to watch films and sneaking out to the skatepark.

But when December came around and school had closed for Holiday break, you realised that it was that time of the year that would become your absolute favourite.

For Christmas 2003, you had made sure to make something for his family again. After Ross had told you how much his family had enjoyed the cookies you’d made, you wanted to surprise them with something again; even if this year you’d made sure your mum didn’t forget a single thing for your Christmas dinner so you weren’t asking for something back from the MacDonalds.

You had made a glorious batch of Yorkshire pudding that Ross and his parents enjoyed thoroughly with their gravy. You’d told your mum how surprised and grateful your neighbours had been for the treat, and you were secretly hoping Ross would come knocking on your door to tell you how they found your cooking but you had been the one surprised instead when Ross had come over on Boxing day morning with a delicious English trifle that his mum made as a thank you.

After having a healthy portion of dessert, you had basically dragged Ross upstairs to show him the presents you had gotten that year, and he had enjoyed every second with a silly grin on his face.

He hadn’t missed a beat to invite you over to his house so he could show you what he had gotten that year. But you hadn’t been allowed to leave before your mum could take a few pictures of you and Ross with the brand new Polaroid camera your dad had spoiled her with that year.

Her obsession with hanging mistletoe had ended up with Ross kissing your cheek for a picture after your mum had cheekily pointed out you were standing right below it.

You had felt the burning imprint of his lips on the skin of your cheek for hours as you were thrown on his bed admiring the beauty of his new bass, hearing him tune the instrument and practise the songs he knew how to play so well with what he had been obnoxiously referring to as his new ‘baby’.

That afternoon you had gone to Matty’s house, the rest of your friend group arrived shortly after you and Ross, and soon enough you started exchanging the gifts you’d gotten each other. The presents weren’t big or something too special, you all had to make due with your pocket money, but it had brought you so much happiness to see everyone’s reactions to what the other’s had gotten for them.

The days in between Boxing day and New Year’s Eve had been spent with either you over at Ross’ house or him over at yours.

By then, it wasn’t odd to spend time at each other’s houses, watching films and eating chips or helping each other with homework and studying. But the cold December had assured that every time you fell asleep as you watched a film in your room or his, you’d wake up cuddling tightly to keep warm.

It was a drastic change to wake up with your limbs tangled together instead of your heads resting on the other’s shoulder like it had happened before. So the first time it had happened, the two of you had jumped away from the other like you’d just been shocked by electricity. The truth was that a buzz had gone through your body to every single one of your nerve endings and you both had felt it, it was obvious in the foolish grins that you tried to hide as you apologised to each other.

But it was tempting to get lost in the feeling, and it proved impossible for you to have the heart to stop it from happening when you woke up resting on Ross’ chest, his arms around your waist to keep you in place and your legs tangled together.

You had blinked awake and seen the situation in which you were stuck in, and despite knowing it would be best to peel yourself away from him as your heartbeat grew louder in your ears, you just couldn’t do it.

Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to fall back asleep and leave the decision for Ross to make. Yet, he had felt you stir in his hold and it only took him a few seconds to wake up.

He groaned lowly and you felt your face heat up at the sound rumbling through his chest under your cheek. This was definitely not helping you ignore the way his presence had started making you fluster and get giddy every time, not helping the need to spend all of your time with him; definitely not helping your thoughts from going to a conversation with your friends who were willing to bet that you had a crush on Ross.

Softly you apologised and went to push yourself away from him, but Ross held you tighter and shook his head, half lidded eyes that fought against his sleepy haze on you with determination.

“Don’t. You’re so cosy.”

It was clearer than ever that you couldn’t say no to him and it made you curse at yourself in your mind.

By the time New Year’s Eve came, you and Ross had made it a habit to cuddle whenever either of you was at the other’s house, and with the cuddles came the need to have the other close at all times.

Therefore, you were glued to each other for the entirety of Matty’s house party. Even when one of you ran to the bathroom to be sick—yes, one if not the both of you, would definitely be shit faced before midnight—, the other was there to help.

When the countdown happened, you would laugh at the crowd of drunk teenagers trying to properly sync up to the clock. And when midnight struck, you’d all go around the room to clumsily hug everyone and wish them a happy new year.

And, of course, when you would wake up after knocking out on one of the settees, you’d be cuddling Ross tightly into you like you had grown used to doing in the past couple of days.

When the holiday season of 2004 came around, everything you had done the year before had become a tradition. From making something for the other’s family to spending the lazy morning of Boxing day together, walking over to Matty’s house side by side with the gifts for your friends in hand, spending the days leading up to New Year’s Eve together and then going over to the Healy’s residence to get pissed as you welcomed the new year.

You found yourself wishing for every year to be the same.

Your heart swelled in your chest when December 2005 loomed around the corner, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled when your traditions continued just the same during Holiday break.

Another recipe was made as you tried to impress the MacDonalds, another picture of kisses on cheeks was added to the collection, another handful of presents bought for your friends, another show and tell of your gifts thrown for Ross, many more movies watched as you nuzzled in his neck, another countdown shouted with your best of friends, another hangover cured with Ross’ help.

But everything was slightly different this time around, for 2006 meant that this would be your last Holiday season at home before you were off to university. And though you were definitely coming back home to celebrate the Holidays every year, it was different enough to make it a proper last celebration.

That meant Ross and his parents coming over for Christmas dinner at your house.

“Wish we had done this sooner,” you tell Ross as you cut pieces of the sticky toffee pudding you made earlier today.

He hums beside you, sliding a plate closer to you so you could place the first piece down, “Me too.”

It’s hard not to be nostalgic already when you’re all chatting and laughing together, your chest feels heavy as you long for a memory in the making, one that you know you will cherish forever, even if you don’t have to because you’re sure you won’t ever have to spend the Christmas holidays without Ross—you’re determined to never let that happen.

Everyone sitting around the table showers you in compliments for the delicious dessert you’ve made, Ross’ mum asking for the recipe while everyone else asks for seconds.

“Can I get a double serving, sweetheart? You know, since I’m your favourite person here.”

You roll your eyes at him, but Ross knows far too well that you can’t say no to him. Not when he calls you that.

He could admit that sometimes he uses the pet name selfishly, but most of the time is just to see how you squirm under his gaze, completely unable to keep your cool.

Ross thinks you’re so fucking cute.

He has been for a while. And that crush he knew he had on you, only grew stronger and deeper the more days he spent in your presence.

Matty had said once that Ross was in love with you and the bassist had never been more grateful that his best mate had at least waited until you were out of hearing distance for him to point that out.

But that comment swirled in the back of Ross’ head ever since it had fallen from Matty’s lips and it echoed loudly in his mind when you were near him, and it got horrendously louder when you were cuddling or hugging him.

Just like you are right now as you pose for your mum’s camera.

That Polaroid which had been the reason for your growing collection of pictures with you and Ross as the main focus of the frame. From your birthday pictures to pictures your mum had sneakily taken when the two of you fell asleep on the settee, pictures of you in your fancy dresses before you were off to a house party for Halloween and all of your Christmas pictures throughout the years.

Your arms are wrapped around Ross’ waist, one of his hands over your hands as if to keep you there and his other arm over your shoulder. The smiles are wide on your faces for the first picture but you know what’s happening next. Like clockwork, Ross is pressing his lips on your cheek for the yearly kiss picture you take under the mistletoe that hangs above you.

Mockingly, really.

Because Ross has long gotten tired of kissing your cheek, he wants to kiss you properly under the mistletoe and has been wanting to since the second time your mum made the two of you pose for pictures under the hanging arrangement of little branches. He remembered the twinkling lights around your house reflecting on your pretty eyes and he was gone; his lips itched to press on yours but he had held back, only because your mum was always right there.

But this time the obnoxious whirring of the empty camera alerts you all that the film has run out and your mum excuses herself to make a dash upstairs and get a new pack, warning you to stay right there for her.

You loosen up your embrace and let your arms fall limply on your sides to give Ross his space until your mum is back but he frowns as he looks at you and scorns, “Where are you going?”

It isn’t like you are leaving though, you’re staying right beside him but letting him free for a minute or two because you know how annoying your mum can get about pictures and how, despite his lack of comment on it, he only just tolerates it.

“She’s gonna take a while. We’ll pose again when she’s back.”

He huffs under his breath because he really didn’t want you to stop hugging him. But he takes the moment to look up the stairs as the noise of your mum making a clutter in her room as she looks for her film bounces down the halls and reaches the two of you. A loud ‘for fucks sake’ is heard from upstairs and your best friend hears you snort beside him.

Just when he was about to look back at you, Ross catches a glimpse of the neatly hung arrangement of mistletoe and, now really aware of the fact that your mum is out of sight and both your dads are heavily engrossed in conversation far away from where you stand, he knows this is the moment he’s been wishing for.

The feeling of his hands coming up to your face surprises you, but what’s more surprising is seeing him slowly leaning into you and you do nothing to stop it.

How could you stop it? When it’s something you’ve been thinking about obsessively for months now. The feelings that he brought you only heightened with time and you didn’t do anything about it other than keep it to yourself and sigh endlessly as you thought about him every day when you were alone in your room, writing everything down on your battered old diary.

Ross pauses when your noses brush, your breaths mixing with him this close to you and he’s about to ask when you just nod, almost missable if his forehead wasn’t pressed against yours and the movement causes his own head to move.

That was all he needed to close the distance and your heart explodes in your chest when his lips press against yours and his stubble itches your face as he starts to move his mouth on yours.

It’s quick because your mum’s footsteps coming quickly down the hall startle the two of you away from each other, but the kiss is enough to assure you two that the crushes you had on each other are much more than that.

And your mum captures the foolish smiles on your faces when that notion becomes apparent to you and Ross. This time, a kiss falls on Ross’ cheeks and your mum coos loudly at the dimpled loopy smile that breaks on his face.

You don’t say anything, because you really don’t know what can be said, and Ross doesn’t either, so you go on about the rest of the night like nothing’s happened. But the ache in your cheeks from how much you two are grinning dares to say otherwise.

Neither of you says a thing when the night’s wrapped up and you say goodbye. Ross really has to hold back from stealing another kiss from your lips when he hugs you goodbye, the attentive gaze of your and his parents posing a burden for his growing need to do that again.

But even the next morning, he’s wary of trying his luck again and, since you’re expecting him to make the first move again, you stop yourself from getting your hopes up and put it down to him just getting excited about standing under the mistletoe. After all, it is the rules of that tradition. So yes, you’re blaming it all on the mistletoe and you hope that singular word is enough of a bandaid on the little crack of your heart.

Yet, the heartache that the rest of Boxing day brings is a different and much stronger one when you and your friends are all splayed around Matty’s living room with sad smiles on your faces after having exchanged presents.

“It’s okay. We’re all coming back every Christmas and it’ll never change,” says Danielle, hoping that saying it aloud makes it become real.

The weight of the fact that half of you will be leaving town in September and it will all change, because growing up has been something none of you could avoid and life moves on, and unfortunately you have to move on too.

It’s somehow harder knowing that it’s you moving away. Matty had managed to convince the guys’ parents that the band was going to be a thing, something huge in no time, and therefore getting Adam and Ross to stay in Wilmslow—George was still dealing with his GCSEs, but even he wasn’t planning on doing his A Levels and going off to uni.

The thought of leaving everyone else behind, once again, makes you shake from anxiety when you think too much about it.

Losing all these people is enough of a nightmare to make your eyes well up with tears, ones you struggle to keep from spilling down your cheeks when everyone promises to be back every Christmas, speaking out what their plans will be for when the time comes.

Ross throws his arm around your shoulders when he hears you sniffle, hugging you into his side. That’s enough for you to start crying and in a matter of seconds everyone is suffocating you in a group hug.

It’s settled then that everyone is gonna make the most out of the rest of the week and your annual New Year’s Eve house party will be one to remember, to part with the best memories and only make the following years even better.

And you do just that.

Instead of spending the days leading up to New Year’s Eve with Ross, the rest of your friend group sticks together and you all spend the days in different houses, watching movies, messing about, playing video games. A few afternoons you all escape to the skatepark and hide away to smoke or drink, enjoying the last bits of the togetherness that you have a bad feeling will be broken despite the promises.

When the 31st of December approaches, and you walk into Matty’s house with Ross behind you, you gasp seeing the scene set up for the night.

There’s much more alcohol than needed for how many of you there will be, rolled spliffs on the coffee table ready for anyone to smoke, an unnecessary amount of snacks that you know will do absolutely no help to help you from getting pissed quickly.

You’re grateful you ate enough to survive a few hours of drinking before blacking out, if it even gets to that point. Unfortunately, George can’t say the same because by the time everyone has arrived at Matty’s, he’s already stumbling around the place with those silly giggles of his stumbling out at absolutely everything around him.

Everyone else followed, knocking back drink after drink and smoking to their heart’s content until there’s nothing but loud laughter and yelling, and the place is trashed by careless teenage behaviour.

It’s wild to say the least, everyone is on the verge of losing memory of the night with every shot and puff they take, the drinking games do not help in the slightest and George has been picked up from having passed out on the bushes twice already.

No one really is sober enough to care about the countdown. Matty and George being the menacing duo they are when intoxicated are entertaining everyone inside with the shit they spout, everyone’s eyes are on them like they’re the most captivating clowns anyone has ever seen, getting loud laughs from everyone.

But despite the amount you and Ross have drank, you’ve got enough grasp on your logic to walk out and close the door behind you, ready to watch the fireworks go off as everyone greets the new year.

Ross lights up a cigarette beside you and takes a long drag with an ease that makes you roll your eyes. You’ve always struggled when smoking with them, trying to take a drag of a spliff always ended with you erupting in a horrendous fit of coughs that end up hurting your chest, you were a bit better with cigarettes, only that meant you coughed a little less and you could take multiple drags of it instead of just the one.

He still offers you it, knowing that since you’re drunk you are most likely to crave a puff or two. Your fingers pluck it out of his accompanied with a soft, “Thanks.” that he smiles at.

As expected, you cough when the smoke hits the back of your throat but you don’t give it back, you hold your breath to stop yourself from coughing and try again. This time it burns way less so you can let the smoke go down until you can relish in the feeling and then let it out upwards.

Ross is staring at you with glistening eyes, fighting a grin that wants to break on his face just from seeing you like this. He finds even the most mundane things you do so incredibly endearing, it’s tragic how much of a hold you have on him and he just can’t stop it nor does he want to.

Yet, the real tragedy is that he doesn’t know exactly what to do. He knows what he wants to do: kiss you and cuddle you, hold your hand in school, have you close to him all the time; but he has no idea how to make that happen.

And time is ticking now, your imminent goodbye looming on him like a dark cloud in the horizon and he can’t help but think it might be stupid to risk your friendship selfishly when it’s soon that you’ll be gone.

But when everyone inside starts counting down in a horribly loud and drunk choir, Ross is brought out of his head. There you stand in front of him, fingers holding out the cigarette for him to take, a smirk on your face as you wiggle the stick for him to take, and there’s only one thing that Ross is thinking.

After that taste on Christmas day, he can’t just let this opportunity go. Not when it’s set so perfectly for him to make the move.

Ten, nine, eight…

He steps right in front of you, plucking the cigarette out of your hand and tossing it to the ground before wrapping an arm around your waist, his right hand coming to cup your face.

Seven, six, five, four…

Your breath leaves you in a gasp, your mouth hanging open as he starts leaning in. Your gazes stuck on the other, pupils dilating as the moment you’ve been both thinking about for days seems to happen all over again.

Three, two, one…

His lips are on yours before everyone can even finish saying one, their loud “Happy New Years!” doesn’t even startle you out of it. The noise only makes his fingers dig harsher on your face and his mouth grows more intent on yours, tongue licking your bottom lip and with a breathy whimper, you welcome him by parting your mouth.

Your lungs burn after what feels like minutes, but you can’t be sure it isn’t your brain stretching time out like a string of melted candy. The only thing you can do is curse yourself for ruining your lungs' capacity by having a brief smoke; if you’d only known Ross would be stealing your breath with a kiss, you would have declined.

You pull back with a gasp, trying to take as much oxygen into your lungs, chest heaving with your ragged breaths.

Yet Ross is composed as he lets his eyes flutter close and presses his forehead against yours. Your heavy exhales hit his parted mouth, your noses brush, and you feel your heartbeats in your ears.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he talks and your body betrays you when you dip forward to join your mouths again.

It’s barely a kiss, more of a string of pecks that you manage to drop on his parted lips as you try puckering your lips in between trying to catch your breath.

Ross giggles breathily.

You stop, pulling back and looking into his eyes, “Happy New Year, Ross.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It was foolish of you to expect that university would be an easier change than moving towns in the middle of high school, yet you had held out hope that this time things would be easier; with your age and the aspirations you had, you expected all that to fuel you into fighting your struggles when change happened, but how wrong you were.

A miraculous day was one when you wouldn’t cry, staring at your phone as you tried to decide whether or not it would be a good idea to bug your parents once again, or if it was time to come clean to your friends back home about how you actually were feeling.

You never really made a decision. You felt guilty enough keeping this from your friends but you didn’t want to burden them with your stupid issues that all were rooted in your lack of ability to adapt to new places. Your parents were really the only ones who half knew how you were coping, but even then it was a very tame account of what you were really going through.

That is why you’re incredibly giddy now on the coach back home. You don’t even care about it being crowded and feeling way too observed by eyes you’ve never met, neither do you care about the smells around you nor the loud snoring coming from behind you.

All you can think of is how excited you are to be home during your favourite time of the year, to see your friends, to hug Ross so tightly you are sure it will rid you of all of your troubles.

You really wanted to see Ross.

It wasn’t like you never spoke on the phone but with your inability to cope with change, there were only a few evenings throughout the week when you weren’t sobbing your eyes out enough to deal with your academic responsibilities and then make calls back home.

So it was needless to say that you’ve been counting down the days until holiday break, and you just couldn’t wait to get to that road you had met Ross and run down to knock on his door and crush him in a hug.

Your knee bounces up and down as you think about all the things that have been going on back at home, how the world back there has kept spinning around without you and it makes your anxiety creep up your spine.

With a shake of your head, you force yourself to stop.

It’s okay. Everyone will be glad to see you and it’s gonna be as if you’d never left. It’ll be alright.

When your dad picks you up from the Manchester airport station, your smile breaks on your face. It has been so long since you’ve genuinely smiled that your cheeks start hurting shortly into your drive. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your fingers fiddle with the sleeves of your jumper, and your words tangle on the tip of your tongue as you try to chat with your dad.

You can’t wait to get home and feel some sense of normalcy, that familiarity you’ve been longing the very second you went away.

But, despite the warm welcome the familiar walls of your fully decorated house gives you, when Ross comes over, there’s a shift around you that makes you frown.

The unrelenting knocks on the front door have you dashing downstairs, and when you open it, your eyes widen and a gasp slips past your lips when seeing Ross standing in front of you, “Oh my god, hi!”

He envelopes you in a hug that makes a knot tie in your throat, and the sound of his voice would have pushed a sob out of you if it wasn’t for a correction that hit you like a gut punch, “Missed you so much swee– Y/N/N.”

The both of you tense in each other’s hold, impossible not to have missed the awkward correction. Your brows furrow as you look over his shoulder, not wanting to look at his face just yet because your confusion is clear on your face, but you try your best to sound unnerved when you reciprocate, “Yeah. Missed you too.”

A half smile is what you offer him when you pull back, and when he gives you a grin of his, you just want to scream seeing the dimples on his cheek after so long.

Yet, you can’t let yourself enjoy his presence fully when he walks into your house and he greets your parents, because all that you’re thinking about is why on Earth he could’ve stopped himself from calling you a pet name he’s used for you for years.

Your chest hurts already, thinking about a loss that you have no idea the reasoning behind. Little did you know, you would be mourning more losses with the days to come.

In the kitchen, your parents, Ross and yourself are all chatting and catching up over cups of hot chocolate. There’s laughter and smiles, loads of news about what’s been going on in Wilmslow while you’ve been gone, many more stories of the lads and another name the band had acquired.

Soon enough, your mum and dad leave to finish wrapping presents and leave you and Ross to catch up alone.

He’s helping you make cookies, the same ones you had made 5 years ago to thank him for the potatoes. And you can’t help but smile at the memories the two of you have made over the years during the Christmas season, heat creeping up your neck when remembering what had happened merely one year ago.

But you can’t relish too much on the ghostly feeling of his lips on yours because suddenly, he clears his throat and shyly starts talking about something he has been hiding from you for a bit.

“I, erm, met this girl in uni,” he trails off with a soft voice that makes you freeze in your spot. “She’s teaching history, like I do. She’s much smarter than I am, though.”

Ross laughs, that dimpled smile breaking on his now flushed face. All you can do to hide your surprise is chuckle along, breathy and not at all genuine.

And it seems like he takes your giggles as a seal of approval for he lets every thought about this mysterious girl out.

Her name is Katie and she’s the same age as you and Ross. They met the first day of classes when Ross was so confused about where he had been told to go, his inability to take his eyes off the papers in his hand had caused him to crash into her and, after gathering each other’s things which had fallen everywhere on the hall, they chatted enough to know they were both lost on their first day as teachers and they had been inseparable since then.

She has a brilliant memory and is an amazing teacher. Everyone adores her and Ross is still surprised she chooses to hang out with him most of the time. She’s pretty, gorgeous even from what you can see on her myspace page Ross shows you. She loves LCD Soundsystem and The Streets so she’s basically perfect. Added to the fact that she plays the guitar, and of course is quite good at skateboarding.

The bitter feeling rising up your throat burns a hole in your chest, like acid burning through your skin and bones.

“Can we change topics? Please?” You snap out, smacking your hands on the kitchen counter. “Not in the mood to hear about how perfect this girl is. I’m sure I’ll see how fucking wonderful she is when I have to meet her.”

A loud sigh follows your sudden outburst, and then silence falls. Each second hurts, the silence is far too loud and then dread falls on you, a heavy weight on your shoulders that makes you slump forward.

“Right,” he says to pierce through the agonising silence.

You want to disappear right then and there. It’s unfair of you to shut him up like that when you’ve been gone for months and you barely have had the time to chat properly on the phone. It’s unfair of you to not listen to him talk about a topic that clearly has him excited, someone who has him foolishly smiling and rambling.

But maybe it is that. That you are back after the most horrible months you’ve been through and all he can talk about is this gorgeous perfect girl that claims his every thought.

You’re annoyed she’s pushed you away to a corner of his mind. Annoyed that whilst you were crying your eyes out every fucking day, he’s been getting closer to this girl.

It’s odd because it isn’t like Ross hadn’t had girlfriends before. You have witnessed him with girlfriends since you met him.

But there was an end to that and it was when you first kissed on Christmas day a year ago. Ever since that day, your dynamic had shifted and you had been perhaps flirting a bit more, but it never went further than that. But he also didn’t get a girlfriend after that and maybe, despite having to leave for university, you had held out hope that it would stay that way.

How foolish of you.

Cookies are finished and put on the oven in deafening silence, a very awkward one that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You can breathe again when he leaves as soon as your parents come back downstairs with more presents to place under the tree. He says something about going back home to get ready and making sure his parents don’t come over late before he closes the door behind himself.

Suddenly, the prospect of having Christmas dinner with the MacDonald family is suffocating and you want to be able to hide in your room and avoid it entirely, but you can’t.

Not when Ross’ mum and dad envelope you in the tightest hugs and tell you how much they’ve missed having you around. You have to bite your tongue not to start crying, especially when you see Ross standing behind them over their shoulders with a forced smile that reminds you how badly you had fucked up earlier.

You’re incredibly grateful for the fact that your parents take over the conversation aspect of dinner, because Ross barely looks at you or speaks to you all throughout it. It only saddens you more, a bit of anger brewing inside you too.

It’s too tense to enjoy, too awkward to even feel a hint of the warmth Christmas day often brings you.

When dinner is over and your mum tells the both of you it’s time for your annual Christmas pictures, it becomes even more awkward—as if that was possible.

His arm falls over your shoulder like dead weight, his fingers don’t even hold you in place. So when you wrap your arm around his waist, you barely make an effort to hold him close to you. Your smiles are forced on your faces, no dimples biting at his cheeks, your lips almost look pressed together instead of showing a toothy grin to the camera like you’ve always done before.

Your mum sighs but takes a picture anyway. She has no idea why you two are acting this way but she doesn’t care, she just wants a cute picture. “Oh c’mon kids, where’s the kiss?”

A roll of your eyes is what your mum sees, and she’s about to scold you when you say in a forced amused tone, “Think we’re a bit too old for mistletoe kisses now, no?”

Silence again. Second after second of quietness that only makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

It’s ironic how much heavier it feels when Ross lifts his arm off your shoulders and lets it fall limply on his side at the same time as he agrees, “We are.”

You take your arm off his waist instantly. You’re left standing awkwardly beside the other and despite your mum’s confusion, which is clear in her frown, she presses the shutter and the picture is taken and begins printing in a blink of an eye.

As soon as the whirring of the printing polaroid stops, you regret ever letting those words out of your mouth.

Because not only do you get a hasty hug from Ross when he and his parents leave your house, the next morning is accentuated by the lack of his presence.

No more ‘sweetheart’. No more pictures of kisses on cheeks under the mistletoe. No lazy Boxing day morning.

And, apparently, no walking to Matty’s together either.

You’ve been waiting for his call all day. First, to see if he was coming over to show each other your presents like you always do, but no call came through. And now, you’re three hours into waiting for him to call you and tell you to walk out so you can go to Matty’s together for the gift exchange.

No call comes and since you’ve been ready to go for a while and you don’t want to be late, you just rush downstairs and leave.

Walking down the roads you’ve missed so much, alone, is another wave of pain that you didn’t know you could feel just by the absence of someone. No one has ever meant this much to you before that the lack of their presence chips away at your heart, piece by piece.

When you get to the Healy residence, you get crushing hugs from everyone that’s already there. Except from Ross, of course, because he’s already there, splayed on a loveseat and he barely makes the effort to hug you hello.

As the inevitable catching up happens all over again, since you’re still waiting for the rest of your friend group to arrive, you have to hide the truth and put on a fake smile when talking about how university is going. But it’s hard when you have no new friends, and you’re struggling through most of your classes thanks to how homesick you feel.

Change is a nightmare to you and you’re reminded of how much things are changing at a quick pace when an hour goes by and no one else shows up.

Seems like no matter how vocal about the promise of always coming back Danielle had been, she and Sarah weren’t coming at all. Jodie shares a sad smile with you and puts away the gift bags from them, leaving only the ones for everyone who’s currently there.

The warmth you have been craving since you got there finally washes over you when everyone opens up their gifts. Laughter, cooing and many thank yous go around the living room, it gives you the hope that maybe it’s not been all ruined.

You’re looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party until George asks Ross if he’s asked Katie about it and the way Ross blushes is enough for everyone but you and Jodie to start a ruckus, teasing and making jokes about the girl and Ross.

“Yes, she’s coming over on the 31st…” Ross sighs, rubbing his flushed face to hide how flustered he’s gotten. But then he drops his hand and looks around the place, brows shooting up and eyes widening like he’s giving a warning, “You lot better play nice.”

However, it’s the way his eyes grow stern when they fall on you that you know he means it seriously when it comes to you.

So you take it seriously.

You know you’ve been the one to put this tension between you and it’s in your hands to right your wrongs, so you want to take this opportunity to apologise for your irrationality on the previous days.

You’ve mentally prepared, gone over what Ross told you the day you got home and recognised how great of a person Katie sounded like. It actually makes you smile when thinking she’s been such a good help for him to adjust to his new teaching gig, how she and Ross have gone through the novelty of it together; and convincing yourself that despite the horrendous feeling that clouds your insides, she’s been a good addition to Ross’ life.

But it doesn’t matter that you’ve reached those conclusions and that you’re actually gotten yourself excited enough to meet her, because when you get to Matty’s with two bottles of vodka and a pack of Ross’ favourite beer—an apology gift if you will—, Ross fully avoids you.

He gives you a tight lip smile and a nod of his head as a hello, he turns to Katie and says, “Katie, this is Y/N.”

You’re left trying to awkwardly act like the fact that Ross has left you with your arms open and awaiting a hug hasn’t hurt you, and you really try your best to push the ugly feeling aside when you smile at her and offer your hand out for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Katie. I’ve heard loads about you.”

She blushes and lets out the cutest giggle, and of course it’s that which finally makes Ross smile.

“Oh, really? That’s erm, good to hear.” She finally grabs your hand after giving Ross a side look to which he smirks. You really have to fight the scowl that wants to take over your face when she shakes your hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

He snakes an arm around her waist and you take that as a sign to get yourself away from the situation. Before you can say something you’ll regret even more, or even pick a fight with Ross for his indifference.

The need to call him out for it grows as the night continues, for he doesn’t even look at you. He keeps a straight face when you speak, doesn’t even look at you when you clearly throw a comment or ask a question to him, he doesn’t speak to you at all. And everyone fucking notices, the looks they keep sending your way are enough to know that they know something is wrong.

But you can’t explain, not right then at least. So you keep to yourself, pouring yourself drink after drink, and you start being petty and mirror his behaviour: you laugh louder to annoy him, messing about with George and Matty obnoxiously, ignoring any comment or joke he could make to the rest of the group.

You walk past the line of tipsy and start getting drunker and drunker when midnight gets closer. The memory of how it had been the previous year makes you glare at him. He has her almost sitting on his lap as she delicately takes sip after sip of her cup, and it enrages you that he’s drinking the beer you bought him when he hasn’t even thanked you for it!

How is it that you were kissing him a year ago and now you’re watching him being all lovey dovey with a girl he has just met?

It’s an understatement to say you’re fucking pissed by midnight. George has been laughing at your clumsiness for a while now, but he has joined you when you started drinking the vodka straight from the bottle instead of mixing it with fizzy lemonade like you had been all night.

When the countdown starts, you set the almost empty vodka bottle on the coffee table and start screaming along.

Matty is beside you and he grabs your shoulders and shakes you in excitement, making you laugh loudly, but you let yourself fall back so you’re resting over his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder, counting down right in your ear.

It is the second everyone yells, “Happy New Year!” that you act before your brain can process and, suddenly, you’re kissing Matty.

He gasps when your lips meet and you lick into his mouth, but the curly haired brunette doesn’t pull back, instead he cups your face and tilts your head to put you in an angle where he can kiss you comfortably and he even moans into your mouth when your fingers tangle in his curls and pull on them.

The surprise of what’s happening is enough to make everyone gasp instead of wishing each other a happy new year, and soon whistles and ruckus drowns the room. Everyone but Ross participates in the disturbance. The bassist is biting his tongue as he sees you basically eating Matty’s face. His fingers tighten around Katie’s waist and she turns around to see him when she feels the change in his hold.

Ross forces a smile and Katie gasps, “I didn’t know they were a thing!”

“Me neither,” he manages out through his teeth.

It doesn’t matter that he’s doing a poor job at hiding what’s going through his head because Katie is more interested in seeing what happens next with you and Matty.

The feeling of tears rolling down your cheeks and tasting the saltiness in the kiss, makes Matty pull back. He hears you whine and you pucker up your lips to continue the kiss but Matty pulls back, clutching your face a bit tighter so you can open your eyes and look at him while he whispers, “Do you wanna leave Y/N/N?”

Matty knows you far better than you think and he knows that this kiss has no other meaning behind it other than the fact that you’re too drunk and he’s quite sure he knows why you have been so reckless with your drinking tonight. And, despite being drunk himself, he has to try and get a hold of his bearings and help you out.

You nod, embarrassed when another tear rolls down your cheek. When he wipes it with his thumb before anyone can see it, you whisper back, “Can we go up to your room? Can’t be here anymore.”

His curls bounce on his head when he nods and you’re grateful he holds you by your waist when you stand up and walk upstairs to his room.

“Y’alright?” Matty asks when he closes the door behind the two of you.

You wait until he sets you on the edge of his bed to answer, “No.”

He knows it’s all because of Ross, not only because of his behaviour tonight, but maybe because you felt some type of way for his best mate and now you were stuck in this situation. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not– Don’t apologise. This is just me being fucking stupid, expecting everything to be the same when I came back home.” The despair is clear in your voice and he kneels in front of you when you let your head hang for the tears can’t be stopped anymore. You shake your head as you think about all that you have felt for months and how, after tonight, the feelings that have flooded your system are just the same, “But I’m so sad, Matty. I’m so lonely.”

It breaks his heart to hear you like this, when your shoulders shake as you silently sob, he squeezes your thighs to make you look into his eyes when he says, “You’ve got us. Always.”

Another shake of your head breaks his heart, your words not helping at all when you say, “Not back there. I wish I did.”

Matty knows it is not the moment to ask about it, but he will ask how you truly are doing in London afterwards. For now, he brushes your hair behind your ears and asks, “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please?” Your voice breaks when you add, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

He quickly stands on his feet and crushes you in a hug, “I’m right here, darling. I’ve got you.”

Matty stays with you for a while, and Ross sees red when another ten minutes go by and neither of you come back downstairs. He grabs Katie’s hand and convinces her to leave, and the girl of course accepts because despite really having enjoyed herself, she would rather have Ross all to herself.

Ross stomps his way back home with Katie in hand. He’s fucking fuming at both you and Matty, because of course you would act all childishly when finding out he has met a girl and has been taling to her, and use one of his best mates to get back at him.

He shakes his head and huffs angrily, deciding right then and there that he’s done with your behaviour. And he ignores the feeling that burns his insides at the thought of you and Matty together on a night like this. He chooses to focus on Katie, sweet Katie who’s giggling and sharing her favourite things about tonight.

Stopping in the middle of the road, he wraps an arm around Katie’s waist and presses her flush against his chest, brings a hand up to her face and kisses her passionately.

He shuts his eyes tightly and tries his best not to compare this kiss to the one you had shared a year ago, willing himself to have Katie be all he thinks about from now on.

Even when you come knocking on his door two days later.

A soft smile is on your face when he opens the door and you greet him with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sounds and looks wary, like he’s trying not to say too much either with his words or his facial expressions.

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers as you let him know, “Erm… I’m going back.”

He frowns, “Already?”

You know it’s odd, it’s the middle of the week and classes don’t start again until Monday so there’s no reason for you to leave in such a hurry, but you just can’t stay here when everything is like this. You had wanted to come back home to spend your time with him, not ruining your friendship in the worst possible way and now, all you wanted to do was run away before you could get yet another chance to fuck things up even more.

“Yeah. Gotta go back.”

“Did you have fun?” Ross asks with a tone in his voice that makes you freeze in your spot.

It feels like it’s a trick question but you can’t really think about why. Mainly because you can’t remember much about the party other than how awful Ross had acted with you, but you don’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he had been the reason for the way you had drank.

So you try to smile even brighter now, nodding as you reply, “I did. It was really fun.” It hadn’t really, because not only had you been feeling so awful because of him, you had woken up with the worst fucking hangover of your life. Matty had been lovely and helped you until you felt well enough for him to take you back home, but you were still feeling the effects of such a horrible night.

You made a joke of it, very nonchalantly adding, “Still feeling a little rough but it’s alright.”

But since you have no clue of what Ross thinks happened, your words make his stomach churn and he scoffs humourlessly, “Right. Well, I’ll see you next year then.”

The way he says it makes you feel like instead of saying goodbye like you had come over with the intention of doing, he’s pushing you away with a halfhearted farewell to just get it over with.

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to cry, and with a small voice you agree, “Yes. You will.”

“Good,” Ross says, though he isn’t sure if he means it or not.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Katie and Ross had gotten together officially on Valentine’s day of 2008, or so you saw back then when she posted it on Facebook—after Matty had begged you to make yourself a profile on the new social media page, the lads had sent you friend requests and along with them came Katie and a bunch of people from school you had barely ever spoken to.

The biggest change since you left Wilmslow at the very start of the year has been that you barely ever speak to Ross, either through the phone or through messages on Facebook. You had called him on his birthday to congratulate him and so he had done the same when yours approached.

Matty has been the one to take his place, even if it has been in a way different way than what Ross ever was to you. You’re still so incredibly grateful for Matty, he’s the one to help you on your worst days and is a great person to vent to when you couldn’t keep everything to yourself any longer.

With someone there to be entirely transparent to, hearing you and helping you through your struggles, university got the tiniest bit easier.

And though it still wasn’t the greatest thing ever, you were scared of leaving your dorm to take a coach back home for the holidays with how everything had turned out the year before.

So you’re more anxious than excited when you sit by the window and open a book you’ve brought to keep you distracted from your thoughts on the long drive up to Manchester.

It’s futile, for you have to read each paragraph twice and you barely have gotten halfway through the book with how distracted you’ve gotten by your own mind throughout the ride home. Any other day, six hours would be enough for you to finish a three hundred and something pages long book, but not today.

Your dad greets you with the biggest hug at the airport station and once you get inside his car, it feels real enough that you can’t stay still. Not even when you get home and go upstairs to your room after hugging your mum hello.

You’re pacing around your room, sitting on the edge of your bed for a handful of seconds only to spring back up and start pacing again. A vicious cycle that continues for far longer than you would like to admit, until the loud knocking on your front door startles you out of your trance and poses a good excuse to do something.

“I got it!” You yell out to your mum who’s making hot chocolate in the kitchen, and you hum when she thanks you.

When you open the door, Ross greets you with a loud, “Hi!” and a toothy smile that you haven’t seen in ages.

Through the shock, you manage to say, “Oh hi!”

And you become even more shocked when he goes straight to the point, “Heard you’d finally arrived so I thought I’d come by and ask you if you wanted to come over later? You know, to catch up, maybe watch a film and have some hot chocolate…”

“Oh? Yeah, sure. That sounds good,” you somehow manage, but you’re sure your wide eyes and your parted mouth is enough for him to know you’re surprised.

“Brilliant,” he smiles easily and asks just to be sure, “Around six?”

You nod, swallowing hard before answering, “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

In all honesty, you thought he hated you. With everything that happened a year ago, most of it all being your own fault, you expected to not see him until Boxing day at Matty’s when you were due to exchange gifts, but here he is inviting you over to have a day to yourselves like you used to back in the day.

There’s a spark of hope that brings tears to your eyes. Maybe you haven’t lost him just yet and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Your parents see the change in your demeanour when you come into the kitchen with the brightest smile and let them know you’ll be going to Ross’ house around six to hang out. They truly couldn’t be happier because they had always loved the friendship the two of you shared, and your mum had been highly suspicious about your lack of Ross talk ever since last Christmas.

But you had cheered way too early for when you knock on Ross’ door and he lets you in, you’re met with a smiling Katie in the middle of the living room waving you over.

The shock leaves you frozen in your spot and Ross watches as Katie’s smile falters when she asks if you’re alright. Ross doesn’t even have to see your face to see how tense you are and the tone in your voice when you say, “Yes! I’m fine. Sorry. It’s so good to see you again.” is enough for him to know this is gonna cost you some effort.

You take one of the settees while Katie takes her place on the loveseat across from you and Ross is off to the kitchen to bring the mugs of hot chocolate he had promised.

When he’s back, you and Katie are exchanging some lighthearted small talk. He hands you a mug and hopes that with his presence there, he can help you and Katie to get to know each other better. After all, he still considered you one of his best friends and Katie had now been his girlfriend for ten months, so it’s well overdue to have you and Katie properly getting along.

But it seems like that isn’t happening any time soon. You’re trying your best not to be awkward, to be nice and find interest in everything she’s saying but Ross knows you so well, anger starts boiling his blood when he sees how much you’re forcing it all.

It doesn’t sit well with him how you can’t even hack simple conversation with his girlfriend, and despite a voice inside his head pointing out that you really are trying, he can’t help but become more and more infuriated by the lack of sincerity of your words and behaviour.

The last nail in the coffin is when you cut short one of Katie’s stories about one of her and Ross’ dates and say that you’re sorry but you need to head back home. And, even when Katie points out it’s just a quarter to ten, you hold your ground and continue saying you really needed to go.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Ross says once he’s shut the door behind him as he walks you out.

You turn around to see him rubbing his face in exhaustion, “Excuse me?”

He groans, exasperated, “Can you just, for once, not be a bitch to her?”

Your mouth opens agape at his choice of words and you struggle to find your words, “What? How am I–”

“You are! You know damn well you are!” He interrupts with fury, “I thought it had just been bad last year ‘cause it was your first time coming back home for the holidays and it was a bit of an intrusion to have her join our friend group, but now? There’s no excuse for how fucking fake you’re being to her.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens and closes as you try to find what to say, “Ross, I–”

It isn’t good enough for him and he interrupts, “No, I don’t wanna hear it.”

He can see the tears welling up your eyes and he has to stop himself from rolling his, “You either treat her like a decent human being or–,” he trails off as he thinks. It is then that he looks at you sternly and spits out with venom laced through his words, “Or maybe, you know what? You should just leave. Go back to London.”

Words could never describe that pain that ripples through your body when he says that, you can barely say with a broken voice, “If that’s what you want.”

And not even the fact that you’re about to sob stops him from being so harsh on you. He nods, “I do. It’s for the best of everyone here that you just go.”

“Okay,” you whisper before turning on your heels and walking quickly down the road, rushing to go into your house.

Your mum and dad see the desperation with which you open the door and slam it shut behind you, and they barely catch the tears running down your cheeks when you run upstairs and lock yourself in your room.

Toeing off your shoes, you walk up to your window and shut the curtains, to then turn off your lights and in utter darkness, you shed yourself of your clothes and put on your pyjamas before hiding yourself under your sheets and starting to sob.

Your chest hurts with every cry that you try to smother by pressing your face into your pillow, and it is right then that you know you won’t be able to stay for long. You will unfortunately give Ross the pleasure of listening to his words and go back to London, but not before actually having Christmas dinner with your family and giving everyone their Christmas gifts on Boxing day. You would endure only two more days and then you would be gone. Spending New Years alone in your dorm didn’t sound as depressing as spending it here where you didn’t feel welcome anymore, not with Ross right there.

Before Christmas dinner, your mum sends you over with a big gingerbread cake for the MacDonalds; since they aren’t coming over for dinner that year, as Katie was spending it with Ross and his parents, the tradition of sending over treats has come alive again.

You’re so grateful that it is his mum to open the door, not feeling strong enough to see his face again. But it’s extremely hard for you not to let your tears spill down the corners of your eyes when she invites you inside to share the treat with everyone. You politely decline and instead make her laugh when you have her promise to let you know how she finds the cake.

Throughout the whole of Christmas dinner with your parents, your mind is gone somewhere else. You barely touch your food and can’t really keep track of the conversation they try to lure you into. After dinner is over and you’ve put the dirty dishes on the dishwasher, you manage to focus enough to appreciate the gifts your parents got for you and to relish in the reactions to the gifts you got them.

Unfortunately, as you go on Facebook to wish Matty, George and Adam a merry Christmas, you catch a glimpse of a picture Ross has uploaded only a few hours ago, and it’s needless to say that your heart breaks in a billion pieces and you sob yourself to sleep like a fool.

How could you not when he’s posted a picture of Katie and him kissing under the mistletoe, reminding you of a tradition that’s now long gone, along with your friendship it seems.

And when you wake up and spend the entire morning of Boxing day alone, falling in and out of sleep, you’re reminded of yet another tradition you used to share that is far gone and adds to your heartache.

Your anguish makes you lose track of time and your appetite, and apparently your rationality as well because you spend hours making a pros and cons list in your mind about showing up to Matty’s before you realise you should just go and give everyone the presents you had already spent your money on. You’re leaving anyway and it would be far better if you just didn’t have all those gifts to look back to and remind you just how everything has turned out this year.

Plus, you had made a promise to keep coming back to see them every year and, after Sarah and Danielle had broken that promise the very first chance it had been time to prove it, you didn’t want to follow their steps.

However, since you’ve wasted all day trying to make that decision, you’re definitely late to the gift exchange.

By the time you get there, you look like an utter mess from how quickly you had gotten ready and how fast you had walked over there, but everyone greets you with sweet smiles and warm hugs.

Everyone but Ross. Yet again. Even Katie envelopes you in a tight hug that you reciprocate, but Ross merely pats your back when you swing an arm around his shoulder to hug him.

You sigh and try brushing it off as you sit beside Matty, who wastes no time to hug you into him and ask if you were alright. Nodding, you assure him wordlessly you were but your eyes say you’re going to talk to him about it later and he nods in understanding.

“Are we gonna start now, then, or what?” Ross says grumpily. He had been the one annoyed at your impunctuality, pushing everyone to just get on with it and not wait for you anymore.

No one will tell you this because it just wouldn’t help at all.

Everyone in the room can see that things between you and Ross are somehow worse than last year, even Katie can tell and it confuses her a lot, because all had been fine when you had come over on Christmas Eve and the three of you had spent the evening together.

Katie doesn’t even know if she should ask. In all honesty, she doesn’t know how to even ask or if she should ask you or Ross or both.

But she puts the matter to the side when you all start exchanging gifts—knowing that Katie was joining this year, everyone has gotten her gifts as well so the girl truly feels like a part of the group—and it is a nice distraction from the clear tension in the room when everyone gets to open their presents.

When Ross thanks you last for what you’ve gotten him with the meekest tone, you have to really force a smile to say, “You’re welcome.” But everyone can see just how much of an effort it is for you to sound nonchalant about it.

Matty is about to snap out at Ross for being an absolute twat when you stand up after gathering all of your gift bags and announce, “Well, I unfortunately gotta go now boys.”

George frowns, “What? Why?”

“It’s barely eight, Y/N,” Adam reminds you softly.

The shake of your head confuses them more and so do your words, “I mean go back to London. I can’t stay longer this year.”

Matty is the one who’s more vocal about his confusion, his words clearly a brutal inquiry as to your reasoning since he knows how much you’d rather be anywhere else but in uni, “Why? Where are you spending New Years? In your dorm?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” you trail off when you can’t really find something to say. Your eyes shift to look at Ross, the reason for your early goodbye, and the second your eyes lock on his, he averts his gaze like he has nothing to do with this. You sigh and excuse, “Something came up, and I really gotta go.”

No one buys it, but they still hug you the tightest they can before bidding you farewell.

“Hope you have the best time on New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year you lot!” You call out as you walk to the front door, “Love yous!”

Alone and in a silence that sickens you, you walk back home.

When you get there, you can’t stop the tears that slide down your cheeks when you tell your parents you’re going back early and you don’t even let your dad offer himself to drive you to the station for you swear you’ve got a ride and it’s all fine.

They want to ask what’s wrong but they don’t when they see the fact that you don’t want to talk about it written on your face. So they leave you to go upstairs and into your room to pack your things up as you silently cry over how poorly it has all gone.

This is the second year you feel like Ross is slipping away from your grasp, and it has you desperate but the only person you have to blame is yourself, for feeling that stupid ownership over him when he isn’t yours, when he has never been yours.

You should be mature enough to keep his friendship, not ruin it because you’re jealous and you feel alone. You should be happy he’s found someone to appreciate him for who he is, to give him the love he deserves when you are gone.

The feeling of disappointment in yourself haunts you as you walk down the stairs and hug your parents goodbye. And that feeling slaps you in the face like the cold winds of December, when you open the door and walk out to Ross waiting there.

He doesn’t say anything though, not when you gasp at his presence, not when you walk up to him and stand right beside him as you wait for the taxi you had phoned to pick you up.

You’re there staring ahead, wishing he was as selfish and horrible as yourself, wishing he would just beg you to stay and say he’d leave his girlfriend behind so you could take her place.

But Ross isn’t selfish nor a bad person like you are. He just stands there in silence and lets his presence be company and goodbye enough for you to settle before you’re gone again.

He offers you a cigarette that you take gracefully, and he lights it up for you without needing to hear you ask for it. The two of you stand there, side by side, smoking together in utter silence.

Your taxi gets there shortly after and he silently watches you put your case in the boot of the car before you throw the cigarette onto the pavement and stomp on it. You open the back door and take one last look at him before getting inside the vehicle.

Not a wave nor a goodbye, much less a hug. Nothing but silence is what he offers as you go.

It isn’t until you get further and further away, disappearing in the distance and becoming smaller as you drive away in the back of that taxi that his gaze drops to the pavement to watch the bud of the cigarette crushed, and it is then that Ross realises he hadn’t heard you cough, not even once, and he frowns to himself.

He really doesn’t know you anymore and he can’t help but wonder if that is for the better. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: Part 2 is coming to you in exactly a week so don't yell at me just yet please!!! I promise I'll make it up to you. Let me know what you thought and what you hope happens next! It seems a bit cruel to wish you a merry Christmas after this but I really do hope yous all have a lovely Christmas! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @abiiors @everythinggetsfuzzy103 @on-administrative-leave @ughgoaway @harryssiren @2kwreck @obses-sedd @scarlett-grace-2 @taylorswiftsrep-blog @solitariodecartas @cherryofmydesire @momentum2023 @soggynoodles02 (i wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged or not so send me a message if you wanna be off the taglist for this story)

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 9 — Christmas Ambiance

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 900

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, very mild Angst — no warnings.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

During the holiday season, Christmas songs held a deep significance, not only for you and Bucky but for people all around the globe. Without iconic songs such as “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” “Mistletoe,” “Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree,” “Feliz Navidad,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” and “Last Christmas,” the festive spirit would be boring and bleak, making the season dull and joyless.

You and Bucky refrained from listening to any songs before December 1st. But, the preparation for your annual Christmas playlist started weeks in advance. All the iconic songs made the list, as well as spicing it up with new releases.

On November 30th, a few minutes before midnight, you and Bucky found yourselves nestled on the sofa, each engrossed in a book. Your eyes occasionally darted to the clock, anticipation building for the stroke of midnight, signaling the start of the holiday month.

With your phone synced to the Bluetooth speakers, playlist queued up, and finger hovering over the play button, the moment arrived. The clock chimed midnight, and you pressed play.

The opening jingle of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” resonated throughout the living room, and, unable to resist, you started singing along, your voice blending with hers.

“Come on, Bucky! It’s time,” you urged, pointing at him to join.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas.”

“There is just one thing I need.”

Bucky closed his book, meeting your gaze with a smile that spoke of his affection. As the song continued, he joined the serenade.

“Make my wish come true.”

“All I want for Christmas is you.”

Bucky cupped your face, pressing his lips to yours, firm and determined, sealing the song's sentiment with a kiss.

“It’s true, doll. All I want for Christmas is you. Only you.”

Cliche yet heartwarming, his words elicited a giggle from you as you exchanged kisses.

You and he danced and spun across the living room as the song continued, singing your hearts out to the classic tune. In between verses, Bucky took the opportunity to steal affectionate kisses and tender touches, adding a touch of passion to your laughter and joy, making the experience memorable.

Throughout December, Christmas songs became the soundtrack of your days. During car rides, you would sing your voices hoarse with upbeat Christmas tunes. In comparison, playful days had you and Bucky twirling and laughing to the classic songs in your living room.

Amidst the joyful chaos, your favorite times were the quiet evenings of Christmas ambiance, when the two of you engaged in a slow dance guided by the timeless melodies of Bucky’s beloved 1940s Christmas songs.

Bucky placed the cherished 40s classics onto the turntable. The classic holiday tune, “White Christmas” by Irving Berlin, began to play, casting a warm, sepia-toned ambiance across the living room. The aged melody conveyed nostalgia that enveloped the dimly lit space. As the needle delicately traced the record’s grooves, a soft hiss accompanied the music, adding to its charm.

“Dance with me, doll,” Bucky invited with a boyish smile. Pulling you into his arms, he planted a tender kiss on your forehead. You hummed in contentment as you placed a hand in his and the other on his shoulder. Bucky’s free hand found its place on the small of your back, drawing you into a gentle yet firm embrace.

“I would love nothing more,” you giggled, allowing him to lead.

Your bodies melded together seamlessly, like two pieces of a perfect puzzle. Your head found a comfortable spot on his chest, near his heart, while his chin rested atop your head, creating a cocoon of protection and closeness. The dance was slow and deliberate, synchronizing with the tempo of the music. His movements were smooth and practiced—a testimony to his bygone era.

Bucky’s focus extended beyond the dance itself; it lingered on you. Amidst the nostalgic atmosphere, he showered you with whispers of sweet nothings, tender kisses on your forehead, and soft touches on your back—deepening the dance and connection.

As you and he immerse yourselves in the music and each other, your thoughts wander to a younger Bucky—charismatic and a true ladies’ man in the 1940s. A hint of jealousy flickered as you envisioned him gracefully dancing and wooing women with his youthful charm. However, these moments were part of the tapestry of his life, contributing to the person he is today. So you embraced those memories with a bittersweet taste, understanding and cherishing them.

Meeting Bucky’s gaze, it’s as if he could read the currents of your thoughts. His smile radiates warmth, his eyes reflecting adoration—a silent reassurance and affirmation that your love is unique, different from anything that came before.

“You’re everything to me, doll. You’re it. You know that,” he murmured, gently pinching your chin and caressing your lips with his. “You’re the love of my life. My one true love.”

“I know, Bucky. I love you—past, present, and future. All your stories, all your scars, you. You’re my one.”

Bucky’s charm shines through as he gracefully twirls you around, eliciting a cheerful giggle as you spin in his embrace.

As the song comes to an end, Bucky delicately dips you, sealing the intimate moment with a passionate kiss. With a smile, he brings you upright, cradling you in his arms, the steady beat of his heart syncing with your own.

You continue to dance the night away, celebrating your journey and cherishing your shared and personal scars and stories. The ambiance of Christmas songs envelops your home, creating a backdrop for your celebration.

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[hethuisxdashausxhouseofxanubis]

4 Years HHAtranslated

It's 15 April 2024, which means HHAtranslated turns 4 years old today 🫶🏼🥹

When I thought of starting this account pre-covid, I never expected it would turn into this. During lockdown, I had so much time and the nostalgia and my love for Anubis helped me through so much over the years.

So many accounts on Instagram, Tumblr and Twitter talk about this universe and it makes me so happy!

As there are four series and this is the fourth anniversary, I'd like to express my gratitude for each show.

Het Huis Anubis:

* HHA raised me as a kid and helped me through my struggles as a teen and now in my twenties

* Seeing the cast IRL in December was a dream come true and I still can't believe it happened 🥹

* I can't wait to see the EMDV vodcast of Anjali and Iris! They're teasing the date of the first episode online atm. I can't wait to unravel new truths 🤩

The Five of the Magical Sword:

* Such an overhated and underrated show in Belgium and the Netherlands, that I was scared to sub it. I'm glad I did, because international fans took Sterre, Pim, Marcel, Raphael and Anastacia into their hearts and didn't let them go 🫶🏼

* I also learned to appreciate the show a lot more

* I hope they've a reunion too

House of Anubis:

* HHA and HOA fans often butt heads and it's not necessary at all!

* Both shows are absolutely amazing

* HOA took the key elements of HHA and made it their own and I adore what they did with it. Some characters might have a different arc, but it makes them their own person and I love discovering the differences

* I need to rewatch the masterpiece that's season 3!

Das Haus Anubis:

* For some reason, DHA makes me hella nostalgic while I only discovered it in 2019

* The same sets and scripts make for fun comparisons and while DHA is a lower budget show, it's so much fun

* I love to watch DHA episode/day wise and I've rewatched it like that already often

* The cast is so involved still and it makes me very happy!

The future of HHAtranslated:

* Once I find an editing programme again, I'd love to sub the S100 Singalong Anubis concert, BTS of HHA/The Five and the discography

* I'd love to sub Das Haus Anubis someday🫶🏼

Now:

My main project for 2024 is the 9 Het Huis Anubis novels, based on the TV series and the movies.

The books are in third person, but follow Nienke's pov, throughout her stay at Anubis House. Some scenes are way more graphic than in the series, like Nienke and Noa's kidnapping.

The romance is also more present and we get new scenes which make Nienke's decisions more logical, like how she ended up in Anubis house with the grail mid-season 2.

I'm starting of with book 1: The Secret Club of the Old Willow

I'll try to upload frequently. I've less time as I work fulltime and live with my boyfriend, compared to university and living at my parents' years ago. A new blogpost will be created on my website, with links to the chapters, published in a Google Drive doc.

English isn't my first language so there will be mistakes. However, I hope to do the books justice like I hope I did the show.

Teasers to the books and chapter 1 will be posted soon. Stay tuned ❤️

[acourtofthought]

I like your blog a lot for a long time. You have lots of great theories and There’s one theory of yours that i struggle with though and it’s that Elucien will come first because they’ve suffered more than the others. It’s not that I don’t believe Elucien can’t be next I think there is a very good chance, but this specific reason that they deserve it first is what gets me

Hasn’t Azriel been waiting for a mate or some answer from the Mother for 500+ years? (Not saying this is right but it’s the info given to us). Hasn’t Gwyn been in a library for 2 years looking for courage to go outside? Is Sjmass really going to writing the next two couples in order of who’s been more wronged? If that’s the case Helion and Lady Autumn’s story should’ve been resolved long ago. I think is purely a stan/shipper feeling to think a couples book should come first because other characters need to repent to faves before they get their happiness

For me, it's a little more involved than that.

First off, Az being hung up on Mor for 500 years and someone thinking he should get a book next for that reason is not a strong enough argument in my opinion. If he were to end up with Mor than sure, maybe that would make a bit more sense but she is not his endgame person therefore their past should not really influence his love story with Gwyn. As of November-ish in SF, we saw Az expressing jealousy over Mor when Helion asked after her whereabouts. As of December in SF, we have Az not able to admit to Rhys that he's no longer in love with Mor though he was having extremely sexual thoughts of Elain.

In my opinion, no, I don't think it's a great setup for Az to end up with his mate 9 or so months after that (because that's a realistic time-frame we're looking at here, Koschei and Beron aren't just sitting around waiting for Az's love life to happen before they carry out their schemes which will most likely be dealt with in an Elucien book. The state of Spring can't continue on the way it is for another 9 months while Az gets a girl. If he does, Az will not have spent even a single year not having been fixated / obsessed on a female for nearly the entirety of his life. I think it would actually be very healthy for Az to learn a little bit of who he is outside of his fixation on a female.

Also, Az claiming Elain can't handle the Trove, rejecting her and saying Lucien will never be good enough in one book then he goes on to get his HEA in the very next book while they continue struggling? That's rewarding his temper tantrum (again, in my opinion).

The LoA and Helion are most likely not getting a POV anytime soon so bringing them into the debate doesn't make a lot of sense to me at this point. If anything Mor probably even deserves her HEA before the others (especially Az) because she's the one who has struggled to come out to her family. She's the one who has felt scared of Az's behavior at times. She's the one who feels she has to hide things from Az otherwise he pouts and she has to feel bad about his feelings.

Why should Az, who honestly is not behaving well to most of the others (trying to undermine Feyre's word as High Lady, mouthing off to Rhys, being jealous of Lucien who is their ally, trying to hold Elain back from doing more, pouting about Mor, be the one to get his HEA after how he's acted towards all of them? Shouldn't he spend some time reflecting on how he's made them feel before he's ready to be the guy Gwyn deserves? He is surrounded by love of his friends and family yet he behaves as if he has nobody. I think his first lesson is to be grateful for what he has without wanting romance. Because that's the thing. He's tied up his self worth in whether or not he has someone and that will make his ending up with Gwyn be more about him finally thinking he can tell himself he's worthy rather than it being about a sincere love for Gwyn for the right reasons. But because love isn't going to actually cure him, their foundation will not be a strong one, his personal issues will not have been dealt with. Az wanting love from a relationship is a crutch. "if I got this I'd feel better".

And yes, Gwyn has been wanting to come out of the library but the thing with that is whenever she's ready to do so, she has a very strong support system already in place. She has Nesta, Emerie, even Cassian and Az. Gwyn has people who have supported her, pushed her to do more, believed in her. We already had the chance to here her story in her own words.

Compare that to Elain? Elain does not have that and she's the only possible FMC who we've never heard tell her story. Even Emerie got to tell her story. Elain is surrounded by people who don't think she's capable of much, who never once encouraged her to train her powers, who we have never heard how she truly feels about her fathers death or having stabbed the king or her mating bond. Elain does not have a found family so her spending another 9 months without the same support system the others have? Lucien spending another 9 months without a real home?

It's clear neither is in the court they belong so yes, I do think it would be more fair for them to not be pushed aside for another 9 months. Where Lucien is actually struggling with the affects of an unaccepted mating bond versus Az who is just pissy about not having one but is not going mad (which in canon can happen to mated males) from his instincts the way Lucien might be. Also, Lucien is not treated extremely well by the IC. He's tolerated, at times they get along but even in SF we see evidence of dismissive behavior. As of HOFAS Az has an even stronger friendship with Nesta, Cassian and Rhys are his brothers. Who does Lucien have? Who have we seen on page that he shares a real connection with? He said Vassa and Jurian are his friends but have we ever seen either of them actually ask Lucien about how he feels, what he wants? Cassian tried to strike up a conversation with Az about children, that's someone who is showing an interest in Az. All anyone asks Lucien about is Koschei or Spring or Beron and when he did try to tell Feyre about Vassa and Jurian, she made fun of him.

Also, to your point about Gwyn's trauma taking place two years ago, it did but it was only introduced to the reader on page in SF. We weren't able to read about what happened to her in real time. It's sort of like Lucien watching Jesminda be murdered. It was an absolutely horrific thing that happened to him but we didn't suffer with his character as it happened. That's not to say it makes his trauma (or hers) less valid but when we actually read about Elain and Nesta's kidnapping / being bound and gagged / forced into the Cauldron in book 2, where we read about their terror as it played out and Nesta had a chance to process the trauma on page in her own book and Elain confirmed she still has that trauma yet nobody is talking to her about it? Would it not be a logical conclusion that she also deserves a chance to have a voice since she was waiting for one ever since book 2? Where we witnessed even more trauma for her on page in book 3? Where she suffered another rejection in book 4 and had her own sister pushing her away for an entire year?

Even if Gwyn and Az don't find love right away they both have a place where they truly belong with unconditional love from their friends and neither Elain or Lucien have that. It's not even about deserving romance, it's them deserving a chance to find a home and I'm not sure why they should have to wait for Az to get a mate before they get that.

And in terms of plot, the pressing issues that affected their entire lands were the peace treaty, Beron, Koschei and Spring. From a plot perspective those things do seem more urgent and are tied into Elucien.

Sarah also said her initial plans for the spin-offs have not really changed from that first pitch (while drafting ACOWAR and finishing up edits for ACOMAF), where she knew who the first two would be about but was unsure of the third. At that time Gwyn's character did not yet exist so I don't think it's completely out of the realm of possibility to believe the characters with a confirmed / strongly hinted at mating bonds at that time were getting those first two spin-offs.

I do appreciate your comments and I'm sorry this particular stance is upsetting to you. It's really just my opinion though, no more valid than anyone else's.

[xxscarletxrosexx]

Addressing Watermarks on Official Merch Scans -- A Post Made to EDUCATE

I never thought this would need to be addressed, but I think to ignore this would do me injustice as someone who works in education. This message, at its core, is to educate, not attack anyone in particular.

I used to think how silly it was that people used watermarks on pictures and art, but after spending decades in multiple fandom groups, I learned that people are simply too lazy to find the source and credit accordingly and/or want the glory/validation that comes from claiming that particular art/picture as theirs.

I've had a picture stolen once, too. It was a picture of a mannequin that reminded me of Slender Man. I posted it on a public social media app just for laughs, and somehow, that picture ended up becoming a small meme. It WASN'T a huge meme, but it made its way to a niche of Slender Man memes. I haven't received credit for that picture and probably never will. The reason is that this picture was taken over a decade ago, so finding the source would be difficult for me to scroll through the app. Furthermore, I can't show proof that I have the original picture since it was from an old phone that I no longer owned. I had the picture backed up on an external hard drive, but it was deleted when the memory got wiped when I was dealing with a virus. Ultimately, I'm not here to air out my grievance for this picture, but I take it as a lesson to myself that I should be careful next time if I want to post a picture on the internet.

This now brings me to the present-day issue: why did I watermark my scans?

As you read from my previous experience, it's because people DON'T credit or share the source.

I am very much aware that this particular design of the Forgers is very rare to come by. The official art was posted by the official website, but it was never addressed again (I know because I am dying to have acrylic stands of this design). As of today, I tried to look for this specific design and the following images showed up when I spent the past 10 minutes scrolling:

If you were to click the link for the merch (middle image), you would find that the website is unavailable. So, yes, to find this design on a merch was INCREDIBLY lucky on my part. Now, I wasn't expecting to find this at Waku Waku Park, nor was it my mission to find this specific art during the duration of my trip. It just so happened to be at the shop. To my knowledge, other official SxF merch--other than the Waku Waku Park merch--supposedly changes. I compared my experience with two SxF moots who went in December (Ikebukuro/Tokyo location) and 1 week (Osaka location) before me, and they both don't recall finding this design during their visits to Waku Waku Park (I mean, justified because it's been ages ago). As a result, this makes this merch all the more difficult to find.

Technically, I wasn't allowed to take pictures of the merchandise when I was at the shop. I was approached by a store clerk after I had already completed taking pictures of every merch available at the shop. She was limited in her English but crossed her index fingers and told me: "Pictures prohibited." I have not, nor do I plan to, share merch pictures, hence why I edited to the clear file folders to show proof that I was there.

The reason why I am so hell-bent on having my watermark on MY PICTURES and MY SCANS is because of the amount of time, effort, and money I invested into getting it.

Just to give you guys an idea of how expensive it was:

$1,500 was spent on a 9-day round-trip ticket to Japan.

$180 was lost to an overnight night bus from Tokyo to Osaka that I didn't end up riding due to rushing and booking the wrong date. I was not allowed to cancel or refund.

$100 was spent on an airplane ticket from Tokyo to Osaka.

$90 was spent on a shinkansen (bullet train) from Kyoto to Tokyo (we took a fast metro ride from Osaka to Kyoto).

$100 was spent on a last-minute B&B in Osaka.

$50 was spent on Waku Waku Park tickets that came with merchandise (I paid for my friend's ticket as well as my own).

$12 (est.) was spent on purchasing this clear file folder.

Over $350 was spent on purchasing merch from Waku Waku Park alone.

$60 was invested in purchasing a scanner just to scan a high-quality image of this clear file for my friend, and anyone else who'd appreciate seeing this product.

To share how much time and effort it took to get to purchasing this:

My friend and I weren't able to book events for the trip despite purchasing our tickets 2 months in advance. Our jobs and schedules prevented us from meeting up and planning out places where we'd like to visit. As a result, many of our planned trips were booked days before we went, such was the case with Waku Waku Park. We literally bought the tickets the night before.

The flight, night bus, and shinkansen tickets from Tokyo to Osaka and from Kyoto to Tokyo were purchased the day before we bought the tickets, which was during our bus ride trip to Mount Fuji.

When purchasing tickets for Waku Waku Park, my SxF moots recommended I purchase online or at Lawson--I did the latter. For whatever reason, I just couldn't purchase the tickets online, so I went to Lawson and found a machine that sells general tickets to the public. I recall this experience being so frustrating because they did have an English translation option for the homepage ONLY. Once I clicked the platform that sold Waku Waku Park tickets, all text went back to Japanese. I couldn't read it, so I had to contact my SxF moot (who was fortunately still in Japan and went through this experience like me AND could read and speak in Japanese) explain to me what I was looking at. I also used Google Lens to help make sense of whatever I was reading. I probably spent over 10 minutes trying to figure that shit out until the shop clerk finally came over to see if he can help me complete the form and check out my purchase (poor kid didn't know English but we somehow managed).

When my friend and I arrived in Osaka, we had forgotten to book a B&B since we knew that there was a high likelihood that we'd stay overnight. I purchased a 1-day Osaka trip pass, assuming that we'd be able to go to every place offered on the list, but nope, my friend crashed after Waku Waku Park. As a result of booking so early in the morning, we were fortunate to have found a B&B that was ready by 1 PM (?) maybe 3 PM (?). I can't remember other than the fact that when I requested if we could come early, they told me we couldn't come until check-in time. So, we went to ATC Gallery (Waku Waku Park) with our luggages (fortunately, they were light but it was a nuisance to have carried it around). We were also fortunate that ATC Gallery, when arriving to the building via metro station, had a locker that could fit our luggage--so thank goodness we didn't have to carry it during the exhibit.

We learned that once you exit the exhibit--which means you exit the merch shop--you are NOT allowed to come back in. Even, when your companion was still inside, you couldn't go back in. My friend left the merch shop since there were no places for her to sit and wait for me. So she stepped out of the shop. Apparently, there are gates with workers preventing people from re-entering. And so, when I experienced problems with my card, I called my friend to have her lend me her credit card. That's when we experienced that problem. The officer was kind enough to allow my friend to hand me her card so that I could pay for my haul of merch. But imagine, if we both left the shop to go to a store to withdraw money? There was no Lawson store nearby so we'd have to take the metro and find one, buy a ticket, return to the venue, go through the exhibit AGAIN (I probably would have to repeat playing the minigames, collecting stamps, and having my photo taken out of courtesy rather than rushing through the exhibit), and then finally arrive at the merch shop. But considering the time we entered the park around 1:30 PM and spent 2 hours in the park, I believe that it would have ended with a very tight schedule (the park closes at 6:00 PM) and a very unhappy companion.

In conclusion, removing my watermarks means you (the watermark remover) discredit me and disrespect all of my time, effort, and money I invested just to get a high-quality scan of this clear file just for you to enjoy looking at and most likely saving it to your collection of SxF images. You are also a THIEF for not only stealing my scanned image and re-uploading my scan with a horrible cut and my watermarks removed with AI, but also for the fact that you DID NOT pay for a round-trip ticket to Japan, you DID NOT pay for your own ticket to Waku Waku Park, you DID NOT purchase this clear file yourself, and you DID NOT spend money on a scanner to get this high-quality image to post on the internet.

I know that this is MY SCANNED image of the official art because I can see ghost texts of my watermark between Loid and Yor and near Anya's finger and Bond's forehead. I can see the residual cut off of the weird light-blue scan found near Loid's head. The most obvious is that the red leaf between Yor and Loid was horribly "removed" by AI (dear, I use AI to edit out people from my photos, it doesn't take a trained and perfectionist eye to notice something looks fucked up).

Below is an example of me using AI, and this is not how it should look without people. There was a clear pathway behind the people but AI decided to cover it with grass. Keep in mind that to arrive to THIS AI edit, it took me over an hour to repeat the removal process since AI's edit is RANDOM every time. I am an extreme perfectionist, so I tend to waste hours on end to find AI edits that look convincing (I'm not gonna bother putting a watermark on this because my face is there).

Furthermore, as far as I'm aware (at this current time), I know that my scan is the only one that has resurfaced this image. The official merch image of this design is quite difficult to find and reference. I would've sourced it by now if I had already found it, but I've spent 6 hours writing this entire post as is and still couldn't find it.

The person who shared the removal of my watermark on Twitter/X was unaware of the importance for watermarking scans and had been cooperative by taking down her original post. I have provided a post to my scans on Twitter/X here, and a link to the original source found on my Ko-Fi shop. I currently have no beef with her, nor am I attacking her with this post. What she had presented to me was an opportunity to educate.

If you're looking for official merch that do not have watermarks slashed across their products, then your best bet is to find them from official merch websites and/or official merch images. Obviously, they want you to purchase their products. Second, they have the legal rights and trademark (TM) to flex that they own it, so I highly doubt anyone would go out of their way to edit an official work and claim it as their image.

My experience alone confirms that had I not put a watermark on my scan, I would have definitely gotten this scan stolen. As far as I'm aware, my scan is the ONLY ONE (at this current moment) that pops up in Google searches. It pops up via Tumblr from @yumeka-sxf Spy x Family miscellaneous collab scans - part 3 post.

I'm so grateful to have received advice from @yumeka-sxf because she encouraged me to protect my scans having experienced multiple thefts from her oldest scanned images in the past.

TLDR; Don't remove people's watermarks on scanned pictures (especially if they're put on official merch). We have the right to post watermarks on our pictures/scans because we spent ungodly time and effort to find them, spent money to purchase them, scanned/took high-quality pictures of them, and kindly shared our collection(s) FOR FREE for people to enjoy, share the experience, and/or inspire them to purchase one themselves. Unfortunately, the decision to put watermarks over purchased merch is because there are people who are willing to do whatever it takes to edit out credit and watermarks found in corners or in open spaces to claim ownership of the image. I have also seen merchants' product pictures being stolen by other sellers who just happen to have the same product (yes, I'm calling Ebay and Mercari out). That's why there are sellers who take pictures of their products next to their usernames.

If you have read everything until the very end, you have my gratitude. I hope that this post has been educational in helping everyone become aware that watermarks are used to credit people's time, effort, and money to share high-quality scans/pictures of official merch that they purchased. The reason you can see it is because of their efforts to share it.

[luvhockey111]

doomsday

based off of doomsday by lizzy mcalpine!

summary: Quinn Hughes and Elouise “ellie” were high school sweethearts. Everyone surrounding them were just waiting for the day that Quinn would pop the question. What happens when Quinn turns cold?

warnings: sad quinn, sad reader, kind of asshole quinn, angst a little bit

Quinn and Ellie had been dating since their freshman year of high school, to be more specific November of 2013. They were so deeply in love, when quinn went to the University of Michigan, Ellie followed. When Quinn had to move to Vancouver, he bought an apartment for the two of them. There truly was no Quinn without Ellie and vice versa. They made their apartment a home, even buying a dog right before quarantine in March of 2020. Their relationship never once faltered. That is until Ellie got a job offer in Michigan in September of 2022. Ellie’s dream had always been to be a physical trainer for a sports team. While Quinn tried and tried for the Canucks to hire her, they just simply did not need another trainer. It never crossed Quinn’s mind that Ellie could possibly consider leaving Vancouver to work. I mean Vancouver had been their home for the past 5 years, Quinn had been her home for the past 9. Eloise had found out about this job last month, she had told quinn right when she found out, since that day he had been nothing but cold. A shell of the man she loved.

“El I just don’t understand why you would go and apply for this job in Michigan, do you not care about me?.” Quinn had never raised his voice at Ellie, not in all her years of knowing him. “Quinn this is my dream, you know that. I’ve followed you every step of the way since we went to college, I’ve been working towards this job since senior year of high school. I’m not going to let it get away.” Eloise could feel her body start to over heat, her eyes get watery and blurry and her throat starting to close. Why couldn’t Quinn understand? “I told you that you don’t have to work I can provide for you El” Quinn started yelling. “You’ve had no problem letting me take care of everything and pay for the past 5 years so what’s the problem now.” “Are you insinuating that I have been using you?” Ellie was furious now. How could Quinn, her perfect boyfriend who has never raised his voice or ever mistreated her say imply such a thing? “It’s not insinuating, if I am straight up saying it Eloise.” Quinn had completely run cold. “Okay, you know what quinn I’m booking my flight for tomorrow morning. I start next week. I thought my boyfriend would be happy I’m finally getting what I’ve been dreaming about, but I guess not.” Eloise already had started packing earlier that day while quinn was at training. “Eloise if you take this job we are over.” Quinn said with a shaky voice, tears brimming just above his waterline. “I guess we’re over than, I’ll get my stuff and go to a hotel tonight.” Eloise was trying her hardest to keep her composure. She knew it had to have been a heat of the moment thing, but even then, if he is that willing to throw 9 years down the drain over a little distance, maybe he wasn’t the one.

“Pull the plug in September I don't want to die in June I'd like to start planning my funeral I've got work to do

Pull the plug, make it painless I don't want a violent end Don't say that you'll always love me 'Cause you know I'd bleed myself dry for you over and over again”

It was now December 23 2023

Ever since Eloise left that night she had not seen or spoken to Quinn. He had not reached out and neither had she. It would be a lie to say that she had not thought about texting him everyday. However, as far as she knows he is living his bachelor life up in Vancouver. She knew Quinn would be coming back home to Michigan for Christmas, as he did every year. Last Christmas Eloise had opted on buying herself and her mom a week long cruise over the time period she knew Quinn would be back in their hometown. This year was different, although she still did not want to see Quinn or speak with him, she had done a lot of self evaluation and decided that maybe it was for the best that the 2 split. I mean they had been together since freshman year of high school. She truly had not known herself without the presence of Quinn, and same goes for Quinn. It could possibly be right person wrong time or simply just someone who wasn’t meant to be. Eloise was currently shopping in her local Trader Joe’s when she had heard an all too familiar voice. Now it’s not the voice that she had heard everyday for 9 years but it was a voice she could pick out of a lineup for sure. It was the voice of the little brother she never had. “Yup, okay Jack I’ll get that fried rice you like. Oh my god leave me alone you’re such a child.” Luke groaned loudly, Eloise let out a quiet laugh at the sound of this conversation, knowing the antics of her old second family all too well. She was in the aisle next to luke and could still hear him loud and clear. All of a sudden the voice started sounding louder and closer. “Jack I swear if you tell mom I’ll…” Luke locked eyes with Ellie and looked as if he had just seen a ghost. “Uh yeah jack I’ll see you when I get home.” Right as he hung up on jack he ran to Ellie, engulfing her in a bear hug. Right as they connected Ellie could feel herself starting to get choked up and tears welling in her eyes. “Oh El I’m so sorry about everything, I’m sorry I didn’t reach out, I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay lu, I know how close you and Quinn are I didn’t expect you to. I did miss you a whole lot though.” Luke and Eloise had always been extremely close. She had known him since he was 10 and watched him grow up into an amazing hockey player and an even better person. She reminisced back to when she had first gotten her license and the first thing she did was drive Luke to hockey practice because Ellen and Jim were busy, and Quinn and Jack were out of town. He was like the brother she never had. Luke and Eloise had talked for about 5 more minutes before jack called complaining that he was out for too long and he had to eventually part ways from Ellie. After seeing Luke it made Eloise realize how much she had missed Quinn, but if it was that easy for him to walk out of her life and not reach out then it would be just as easy for him to ignore her, or to do it again. December 25, 2023

Christmas was always Eloises favorite holiday. Every year that she had been home for Christmas she would walk down a street in her town that was filled with lights and people after their Christmas dinners. This year had been no different. After her family dinner she had grabbed her coat and went to walk down the street. Now, every year she had done this walk with Quinn, this year it felt like a part of her had died on this walk. The part of her that enjoyed Christmas, or any holiday for that matter. She had realized on this walk she had become a shell of the person she once was. She had realized how pathetic she probably looked to an outsider. It was never about not knowing herself outside of being in a relationship with Quinn, it was the pride she took in it, how he made her a better person, he pushed her to chase after her dreams, he did all that he could to get her every resource possible so that she could follow her dreams. All in all she realized that she’s the villain in her own story. Yes, Quinn had blown up on her when he really had no right to, but she was the one who packed all of her stuff without telling him, she was the one who left their shared home of the past 5 years without a word, and she was the one who had blocked his phone number meaning to have unblocked it by the next morning. As Eloise realized she never unblocked his phone number she broke. What if he had tried reaching out to fix everything? What if he missed her as much as she missed him and she would never know? Quinn’s perspective:

A piece of Quinn had died a little bit with every text he had sent to Eloises phone number and every time it had shown up as not delivered. Quinn had been siliently dying inside due to his ego not wanting to tell anyone about the breakup, although everyone could tell something was wrong. He had kept up with her life ever since they split. He as well was a shell of a person ever since she had walked out that door. He texted her everyday multiple times without fail, he had called her at least once a day to hear her voice and laugh on the answering machine. He knew that Christmas was her favorite holiday and he knew she was in town because Luke had told him. So he had decided to text her to wish her a Merry Christmas.

“The death of me was so quiet No friends and family allowed Only my murderer, you And the priest who told you to go to hell And the funny thing is I would've married you If you'd have stuck around”

Eloise had felt her phone buzz in her pocket

Q💘: Merry Christmas El, I know today is your favorite. Remember our first Christmas together when you still had braces and a unibrow lol. You still were the most beautiful girl I had ever laid my eyes on, well I mean you still are but you get the point. I know you won’t see this message and haven’t seen the other probably millions of texts I’ve sent, I still love you and will continue to love you for as long as I’m living but I think it’s doing me more harm then good. Until we (hopefully) meet again my Ellie girl.

“I had no choice in the matter Why would I? It's only the death of me”

[pebblysand]

The Year I Finished Castles

As we all know, 2024 is now drawing to a close. It's been quite a year, hasn't it? For me, it's obviously also the year I finished castles. After four years of hard work and dedication, and joy, and sleepless nights, almost to the day, I finally wrote out "the end."

Still, the adventure is not quite yet over. I didn't expect this, but it turns out that saying goodbye has been a very gradual process for me. First, because writing-wise, while I had a lot of great plans for what I would do and write after, it's actually taken me a bit more time than I expected to fully move on. That's okay. I've had a bunch of health issues to sort out, as well as a lot of travelling and resting to do, and in between, sadly haven't written much. I'm hoping the new year will bring a new start, and that I'll get back in the flow of things.

Second, because incredibly, people are still reading, and discovering this fic. That's been incredible to witness. I thought it had plateau-ed but it definitely hasn't, and I still have a backlog of over thirty comments to answer, and perhaps I always will. As soon as I answer a batch, another keeps coming. This fills me with joy beyond belief and brings a smile to my face every single day.

Third, because a number of castles-y things are still ongoing. I'm keeping the Discord discussion open until the end of December. There is a podfic being recorded by the wonderful josnail on AO3, and people are now finding and enjoying this fic thanks to them. And, now, as I have teased a couple times on different platforms, I have a surprise for you. I really wanted to get this over to you before Christmas/the end of the year but alas, the proofs took ages to come, so here we are.

There's a book. A physical one. You can have it too!

It's beautiful. It's a labour of love. It's got illustrations and a cover and loads of different things I hope you will enjoy! I made it for me primarily, but I also made it for you.

So, how do I get it?

Please fill out this form.

How much does it cost?

Nothing. This is a gift from me to you, so you don’t need to pay anything. However, if you’d like to help with the costs, you can donate to my Ko-fi. To give you an idea, the printing fee is €25.90 per copy, and shipping fees range between €10 and €30, depending on where I ship it.

(If you are part of the tiktok/tumblr fanfiction police and want to explain to me why I'm awful for illegally printing/selling these and will kill fanfiction because Anne Rice's ghost will sue me, please go touch grass. my fic is not hugely popular, and i'm anticipating maybe thirty people ordering copies, tops. also, i'm a lawyer, well able to calculate my own legal liability/risks, and what you think about the monetisation of fanfic is most likely wrong.)

When is the deadline to order?

31 January 2025. 

How will this work?

I will order the books in batch to my place. I will then sign them/dedicate them, then ship them to you. I am doing this because 1) I think it's cooler if they're signed and 2) I'm very Type A and want to make sure each of them is perfect before you receive them.

Important: while I created the cover, picked out the chapter illustrations on Canva, and created the typeset myself, this is a private company I'm paying to bind and print the books. I am not hand-binding them. I neither have the skills nor the patience for this.

When will I receive my book?

I can't say for certain. I will be making the first order at 8pm GMT, Monday 9 December, and hopefully receive and ship out the first batch of copies by 21 December. Then, I will make a batch order every Friday until the end of January. Once I receive the books, I will sign them and ship them to you. If you live in Europe/UK, it will be quicker than if you live elsewhere. I am hoping/anticipating everyone will have their copy by end of February.

I have other questions...

Please send them to my ask box ❤️.

[rainstormsdarling]

A Court Across Seas and Stars

Chapter 1

Summary: In present-day Edinburgh, Feyre Archeron is having a morning like any other – filled with research for her PhD in art history and endless cups of tea. Suddenly a mysterious and extraordinary male appears, and she is drawn to his side compelled by his dark allure. When Rhysand returns to Prythian, Feyre embarks on a journey that sweeps her not only into realising her true power and passion, but also into the arms of male that is not of her world. But Rhys and Feyre must confront their own histories that haunt them in different ways, and question where they truly belong. In what begins with a search for the truth, Feyre finds herself torn between two worlds and two irreconcilable choices; love or her life.

please see the end for notes :)

....

Edinburgh, Scotland - 21st December 2022 (Winter Solstice)

When Feyre thinks about all the work she has to complete by the end of the month, she feels paralysed.

So mostly, she doesn't.

Instead, she paints.

For her, painting wasn’t just a productive form of procrastination, there was also a deeply therapeutic aspect to creating something soulful with her hands.

On this particular winter morning, the heady scent of earl grey tea, banana bread, and oil paint filled the air of her tiny Edinburgh flat and drifted over to the second-story window that was cracked a third of the way open -as far as it could go - where condensation dripped down onto the weathered and flaking sill.  

She lifted the canvas off its mounts, placing it haphazardly on the kitchen benchtop amidst an assortment of reference books, open laptop, and freshly baked banana bread that adorned the hardwood countertop.

Her colleagues at the art gallery would surely applaud her new contribution. And she didn't mean the art - unless they were suddenly accepting banana bread as a modern art form.

Feyre excelled at justifying even the most irrational choices to herself. Amidst the relentless deadlines of her penultimate year of doctoral research in art history, indulging in a third piece of banana bread felt undeniably well-deserved, even if it was 9 AM on a Wednesday morning and she ought to be on her way to the library right now.

...

After dropping off half of the banana bread to the art gallery where she worked, later that morning Feyre made her way across campus in the mid-winter mist, frost nipping at the tip of her nose and bitter gusts of wind blowing tendrils of her brown hair that had fallen free from her bun away from her face. 

Outside the library she stomped her boots, flicking off little droplets of rain and wayward leaves, before pushing through the great doors. This early in the morning the library was clear and mostly empty, and she made her way up to the seventh floor, where she took her usual spot on a desk hidden amongst the rarely visited section on reference materials for the history and philosophy of renaissance art.

Sitting down with a quiet sigh, she took out her laptop and supplies, glancing out the rain-streaked window before opening a spreadsheet and starting work for the day.

She worked through lunch and into the early evening, absentmindedly twirling her pen in knots through her dark hair. Thoroughly engrossed in the statistical minefield of the dataset she was working on; she almost didn’t notice when she felt rather than heard a heavy thud from behind her. Scrunching her eyebrows, she looked up just as another rumble sent dust falling from the wooden beams above her head.

‘Hello?’ She called, jumping to her feet.

Creeping tentatively down the corridor, it felt like all the many particles in the air were vibrating around her.

Something about the dimly lit stacks at the end of the hallway called to Feyre; a sense that she was stepping towards something intended to be unseen, unnoticed. But a low thrum echoed in her blood and in her bones, urging her onwards. The air around her felt noticeably cooler now, almost freezing, as she reached the final row of shelves. As if all the windows in the library had been thrown open to the icy winter wind.

Peering around the corner, her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Crouched on the ground, surrounded by scattered books and loose pages in varying degrees of damage, was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Everything about the man in front of her seemed to exude danger, and yet she could not for the life of her stop staring at him. Dark hair fell across his forehead in a disarray of midnight blue-black strands offsetting his suntanned face. His white dress shirt was partially untucked from his black leather pants and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying strong forearms that were covered in whorls of dark ink. The tattoos flowed under his shirt, over his chest where they peeked through the unbuttoned neckline, and up his neck.

She had an inkling the strange markings continued down the rest of him, too, but as her eyes traveled downwards, she caught the hilt of a vicious-looking dagger strapped to his side. Although disheveled, there was no denying the dark allure that seemed to radiate from him.

Uneasy, she stepped backwards, and directly into the bookshelf behind her. A gasp slipped past her parted lips as he sharply glanced up at her, his features as stinging as cut glass. 

 Before she could blink, the stranger had drawn a sword into his right hand from where it was sheathed against his spine. It sang as he swept it through the air, holding it at her neck.

She glanced down at the sword, and angled her chin higher, swallowing deftly. The blade's length was inscribed with runic letters which emitted a faint obsidian glow, casting shadows from where he pointed it at her.

Her heart pounded like a drum, but she kept her focus on his eyes as she asked faintly, ‘Do you need any help? I - heard a loud noise...’ 

Pale blue-violet eyes narrowed as they scrutinised her, piercing in their intensity against his golden skin. So intensely deep that she felt like she could fall into a thousand skies full of stars if she stared into them long enough.

‘Who are you?’ He said finally.

The cadence of his voice, deep and even, but rough around the edges sent shivers along her skin and spread goosebumps in their wake. It was a rich, cultured voice, accented in a way she had never heard of. It wasn’t exactly said as a question either, but more of an order, and Feyre bristled at the command in his tone.

‘Who are you?’ she challenged in return, raising an eyebrow.

Realising as soon as she said it that it probably wasn't the smartest to question a stranger alone, and who was holding what looked like a very real and very sharp looking sword to her neck. She nervously glanced down at the sword once more, then back to him.

Although, she certainly hadn’t noticed him in the library before, and she would have, without a doubt. Feyre’s mouth dried out. Great, she was literally being held at - sword point - and she was thinking about his looks? She supposed some people must find him irresistibly attractive, in a basely sexual sort of way, if they could get past the unsettling aura of carnal danger and depravity that emanated from him.

The man languidly stepped out of his crouch, lifting the sword with him so the blade maintained its perfect balance at her throat. Feyre pressed her back closer against the bookshelf behind her as he rose to his full height with sensual grace. He would have to be at least a whole foot taller than her, six foot five or more, and her breath caught in her throat as he prowled closer. His eyes seemed to twinkle in dark amusement as they beheld her in front of him, a half-smile playing on his lips, like he could smell the emotions coursing through her. As if he could hear her traitorous heart beating furiously in her chest.

His smile curled upwards as she willed her heartbeat and breathing to calm, this man was clearly an actor or performer. The billowy shirt, tight leathers, the long sword, merely costume for a peculiar period-drama the university’s theatre department currently had in season.

Carefully he stepped around the books strewn across the floor, only stopping once he faced her, not more than a metre away, studying her with a predator’s gaze. Her shoulders stiffened with his close proximity.

‘I’ll ask you again, who are you and where have you brought me?’ 

 ‘What do you mean where have I brought you? All I heard was you thumping around back here and I came over to check if you were alright.’

She swallowed thickly, and surveyed him once more, taking in the fine leather boots that appeared to be half-heartedly concealing more blades. He made an impatient sound and she dragged her eyes up to meet his again, only to find that he seemed to have leaned in even closer. Her whole body felt on edge from the intensity of her vulnerability.

His warm breath fanned over her cheeks as he demanded ‘Where. Are. We.’ 

She lifted her chin, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears, ‘We're in the faculty of fine arts library. Now, would you mind stepping away from me please?’ 

The air shifted and he went preternaturally still as he tracked her movements with wide eyes. Shock and confusion flashed across his features, so quick she could scarcely believe she saw it as his expression molded back into something that resembled cool indifference once more.

‘Forgive me’ he murmured, bowing his head slightly. But his eyes remained locked on hers as he took a careful step back. ‘I seem to have ah… lost my place.’ 

‘Right…’ She shifted uncomfortably on each foot. Her eyes sliding between his eyes and the long double-edged sword, where the gleaming obsidian light leaked from its tip right up to its dark hilt. Noticing her stare, he sheathed it smoothly on his back behind him. 

She fiddled with her necklace nervously, running the amulet between her thumb and forefinger. ‘Are you a theatre student?’ She asked abruptly.

‘No, I don’t belong to the theatre.’ His eyes narrowed in disdain.

 She looked around at the shelves, and the discarded books on the floor again. Not really knowing what else to say, she said  ‘We should really tidy this stuff up before the librarian comes up.’

Not waiting for an answer, Feyre stepped around him and began picking up books. Some seemed to be close to falling out of their bindings, errant pages coming loose. ‘How on earth did you manage this?’ she asked.

‘I fell’ he said, looking up from the books he was beginning to stack in a neat pile. ‘What is earth?’ Only curiosity laced the question.

‘What –‘ she started to say,  but as she did the heavy book in her hands started to glow, light shining outwards from the spine. The air was thick with the combined aromas of book-like mustiness and something metallic, a tang of mineral bitterness that seared her nose.  A low rumble shook the air, echoing off the walls and sending more books tumbling in its wake. She let go of the tome and stumbled back, only to find it shockingly still hovering in the air before her. Magic - that scent that effused the air and gave it a strange charged quality - it was magic making the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

‘What the– can you see this?’ Looking up at the stranger with wide eyes.

‘Yes, I – you need to tell me where we are -‘ he started, but then the pages froze in the air, mid turn. Like someone had gotten out a remote control and hit pause. Everything went still as the whole world around them paused in time, even the wind outside seemed to halt its course through the trees for a moment as the heavy tome dropped to the floor with a resounding thud. That strange glow dissipated until only the waning December sunlight at dusk shone from the window of the dimly lit, dark wood library once more.

Feyre sucked in a breath, her heart pounding. The late nights working, studying, and never getting enough sleep had finally caught up with her. She was actually seeing things, and having hallucinations. The sense of panic that rolled through her then was staggering, but the tome, old and heavy, leather-bound and covered with dark inscriptions was still not a mere half a metre before her. Like the mysterious stranger who studied her now with narrowed eyes. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to take a slow breath, steadying herself against the bookshelf behind her. This couldn’t be real, he couldn’t be real, she thought. Obviously, he was nothing more than a hallucination, a very vivid one at that, but not real nonetheless. It was frightening that she had lost her grasp on her senses so fully, but she could only stand there, frozen, as panic rushed through her veins like acid.

Her attempts to breathe and calm herself were failing, and she felt a familiar anxiety rising up within her chest, her lungs stuttering in small, rapid inhalations. ‘Darling’ said a low, even voice from above her, and suddenly she felt a firm but barely there pressure applied to her shoulder. The stranger’s hand, warm and broad, gripped her shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down gently.

‘Take slow, deep breaths’ he said softly. ‘Can you hear me?’

She took a breath, and then another.

‘Yes.’ Unfortunately, she didn’t add. She didn’t want to admit that everything she had just seen and heard from him right now was most probably a sure sign of insanity. Wringing her hands at increasing speed, ‘I’m fine – well, no, I’m not. But I will be. I’m just stressed out, another overworked grad student, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and now I’ve started seeing things – no, conversing with figments of my imagination, and –‘

‘You’re not seeing things.’ The stranger interrupted, ‘Well, you are, but not figments of your imagination. I’m really here and you are really talking to me’. He paused. ‘Why don’t you tell me your name?’

She peeked open her eyes. He stood directly in front of her, absurdly intimidating with his dark eyes, staring down at her from his height – which now that he was so close it must be well over the six foot something she originally thought. And his hand, large and pleasantly warm, was still wrapped around her shoulder. She let her hands fall to her sides and sighed resignedly.

 ‘It’s Feyre’

‘Fey-ruh’ he repeated, drawing out her name in that low voice of his like he was testing it on his tongue.

She eyed him warily, ‘Yes, Feyre. And what’s yours then?’

‘Rhysand’ he said shortly, with a scowl. A strange, odd name. A name that didn't sound of this time or place. 

‘What is happening to me?’ She asked breathlessly.

‘Concentrate, Feyre. Take another breath.  What you saw just now – with the book –‘

‘Glowing and flipping through the air, you mean?’

‘Yes that –‘

‘Wasn’t real, right? and neither is this conversation, so now I’m going to walk back to my desk, pack away my stuff, go home and pretend this never happened.’

He stared at her for a moment, then dropped his arm and nodded. ‘If you want to forget it, fine. But at least tell me how to activate the portal in this-’  he looked around darkly ‘library… before you go. I would like to get back to my world before dinner if possible.’

He lifted one eyebrow, staring expectantly. For a minute she just blinks up at him, confused.

‘Look, whatever is going on here I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I really have to go now.’ Taking a deep breath, she turns around hurriedly and starts down the corridor. Only to come face to face with none other than the austere senior librarian, Ms. Argyll. Feyre was almost certain the stern older lady was capable of moving silently through the dark wood halls, appearing from between the shelves at the slightest noise. Never mind the wrath you might face if you fail to return a book on time or in less than perfect condition.

‘Miss Archeron, do I need to remind you that this floor is of silent study?’ She said in her icy Scottish burr, which altogether made her more frightening. Feyre froze. If Ms. Argyll stepped any closer, she was going to see the destroyed books hidden behind the stacks she now stood in front of.

‘Ah.. no. I mean, no, I know. Sorry, Ms. Argyll.’ Stepping forward nervously, Feyre angled her body hopefully to shield the fallen books behind her.

Ms. Argyll stared grimly down at Feyre from her red-framed glasses. ‘And who, may I ask, were you talking to?’

‘Well, I was just practicing –‘ Feyre started to say when she felt movement to her left.

‘That would be me, my lady, please let me apologise for any disturbance we might have inadvertently caused. Feyre here was graciously helping me locate a book,’ Rhysand said smoothly from her left.

Ms. Argyll narrowed her eyes ‘You know young man, that’s what the computers are here for’

‘I am not a young- computer?’ He looked at her with a mildly confused expression.

Feyre jumped in, ‘Please rest assured next time I will absolutely make sure to send him down to the front desk if he has any trouble finding something. We are really sorry about the disturbance, and we’ll be leaving now’ She turned to Rhysand expectantly.

‘Yes’ he confirmed, nodding at her.

‘The library closes in twenty minutes even so.’ Ms. Argyll seemed unconvinced but sniffed haughtily regardless. ‘See to it that you two return any books to their rightful places'. With a final severe glance of disapproval, she turned on her heel and stalked – indeed silently – down the hallway.

Feyre exhaled, before turning abruptly to face Rhysand. ‘She can see you’

‘Yes.’ He drawled, ‘and so can you.’ Again, with that raised eyebrow.

‘Ughh’ She rolled her eyes, ‘Are you going to tidy up those books?’

‘Already done, sweetheart’

‘That’s not possible, and don’t call me –‘ She stepped around him, but the books were indeed placed back in their spots on the shelves. Not one yellowed page to be found scattered on the floor.

She whirled back to him. ‘Alright, what is going on here? There had to have been at least fifty books, not to mention the mess caused–‘

‘You two, out. This instant!’ Came Ms. Argyll’s raised voice down the corridor.

She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him over to her desk where she started packing up her things hurriedly.  ‘This is unbelievable. She’s going to be on my back for weeks, and I needed that twenty minutes - I have at least five more books I need to reference.’ She whisper-shouted up at him. 

Rhysand only looked back at her, his mouth quaking in faint bemusement as she hastily shoved her supplies back into her bag. He was leaning casually against the desk, as if a suddenly glowing book was an ordinary occurrence for him. To her disbelief, tucked under his arm, although no longer glowing, was the very book from before.

‘What on earth are you doing with that? You can't seriously be thinking about taking that out of the library?’

‘Darling, I can and I will.’ He crooned. ‘and again if you’d care to enlighten me. What is this earth?’ He cocked his head to the side as he studied her, and she could have sworn there was true curiosity in his eyes. 

Feyre’s chest was tight with anxiety merely considering the question like she’d found herself on the precipice of the unknown and had no choice but to leap. Her head was growing light, and entertaining the idea was pure nonsense. Instead, she shook her head and strode for the direction of the stairs, not caring if he was following or not.

She took the stairs two at a time, only stopping to exhale once she was out of the library and the great doors were sliding shut behind her. It had snowed while she had been inside. The courtyard outside was blanketed in it, and the visual relief alone from all the darkness and unease she felt inside the library was soothing. She squared her shoulders, slowly descending the outside steps.

‘Wait –‘ a deep voice said behind her. She whirled mid-stride, boots slipping on the slick steps. Losing her balance - her eyes closed, bracing for impact – but then suddenly there was a large, warm weight steadying her. A firm pressure on her upper back and waist, as Rhysand caught her.

Feyre opened her eyes and looked up with a wince.

‘Are you okay?’ He said it in a low, intimate tone. She swallowed thickly, but her answer caught in her throat, his face was so close and her heart was beating too fast. Although only concern was written over his features, an incredibly confusing blend of desire and irritation swirled in the pit of her stomach. Did she actually just fall for a guy? And a ridiculous one at that. Can this day get any worse? Rhysand lifted her to her feet but kept his hands on her waist.

‘You alright, lass?’ the gruff voice of the campus security guard, as he trudged over. ‘Is this man bothering you?’ twitching his head towards Rhysand as he dropped his hands and stepped back.

 ‘Um no, everything’s fine. I just tripped that’s all.’ She looked between them.

The security guard surveyed them with narrowed eyes, his eyes halting over Rhysand’s clothes, before glancing back up at her. ‘Very well. You two best be off then. Channel four is saying there’s a storm on the radar tonight you know.’

Feyre looked up at the grey sky then and noticed the cooling temperature. Grimacing, she said, ‘Alright, have a good evening then,’ 

 The security guard merely shrugged, making an indecipherable noise in reply, and ambled off.

She stared blankly into the distance as he made his way through the snow, her breath clouding in front of her.

‘Feyre’

‘Yes?’ She turned to face Rhysand. His brow was furrowed again, glaring fiercely off at the security guard, before fixing on her once more. He started opening his mouth, but then closed it again.

‘Thanks for catching me’ she said softly.

‘Of course,’ inclining his head slightly, ‘Forgive me, darling, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He purred, and his eyes seemed to darken imperceptibly. Great, she was staring again. 

 ‘That’s alright. I um, really should be going now though…’ She looked towards the snowy courtyard and streets that lay beyond the campus buildings.

He was frowning at her ‘Where will you go?’

‘Home. To my flat’ She turned to go, she really didn’t feel like explaining her actions to this strange man who looked like he’d walked out of a bizarre period drama.

‘What is a flat - never mind. You will go without anyone to accompany you on your travels?’

Throwing her hands in despair, Feyre turned back and faced him.  ‘Yes of course I will. Do you need something?’

‘You act uncommonly strangely for a female of your age’ 

Feyre grit her teeth and raised a brow. ‘A female my age?’ He couldn’t be serious, she seethed. ‘What, pray tell, do you mean by that?’

Rhysand merely gestured to her, his face expressionless like what he was pointing out was the most obvious thing in the world.

They stared at each other for a moment in stilted silence.

‘Your behaviour, your odd manner of dress. You are a human woman are you not?’

She stared at him perplexed. ‘What's wrong with what I’m wearing?’ She looked down at her cream-coloured blouse, dark denim jeans, heeled boots, and coat. She looked good, better than good even. Considering most days, she couldn’t be bothered to change out of her grad student uniform of a fluffy sweater and black yoga pants. As if he could talk with that ruffled neckline. She rolled her eyes skyward, this man was infuriating.

She blew out an aggravated breath. ‘Look Rhysand – if that is even your real name – I don’t care if this is a new method of acting practice, or some kind of sick joke, or whatever. I really don’t have time for this and I want no part in it. Alright? Goodbye, and I wish you all the best for your performance.’ With that, she turned sharply and walked towards the lane leading out of the campus grounds.

Notes: if you are still here thanks so much for reading, I appreciate it and would love any and all feedback - let me know if you would like me to keep going.... follow the story on ao3 here

[solacescastleglow]

🗓️2024 Review + Introducing 2025🗓️

At risk of jinxing it, 2024 has been amazing. I have really made huge strides in my year of healing. My physical health is the best it's been since I was a kid, and I finally started showing up for myself mentally. Beyond that, I've been able to heal my relationship with my dad, and I've made a lot of personal growth.

But soon, it will be time to move on to something else. I will be building on top of what I already have, of course, so it's not really the end of healing. I mean, it's not really even the end of the year yet, so I still have time to focus on it, but I want to get ahead of the new year. So:

The word of the coming year is

Achievement

Resolutions and Goals

1. Learn more French

I started learning on the 30th of October, 2024. By the 31st of December, 2025, I will be at a B1 level, if not higher.

2. Finish my book

As of November 2024, I have planned out the plot and written 4 out of 13 pages of a picture book. By December 2024, I will have written, illustrated, and formatted the story and it will be ready to print.

3. Graduate university with a GPA over 6

My GPA is already over 6, and I will maintain it until my graduation in October of 2025. I will then have a degree in history with a minor in applied history with a HD average.

4. Learn to take public transport alone

As of November 2024, I can ride the bus and train with family members if I won't have to walk too far. In 2025, I will learn specific routes to get to where I need to go and build up my confidence so I won't be limited by my family's schedules.

5. Save $1500, then $2000 in a separate account

In November 2024, my income after rent is $200 per fortnight and I have $800 in savings. Regardless of whether my income will increase throughout 2025, I will save at least $100 per fortnight until my total savings amount to $3500. If there is an increase, I will continue to save to make up for the head start I've given myself.

6. Finish reading 30 books

These books won't need to be started in 2025, but they will need to be finished in it. Starting a book in December 2024 and finishing it after the new year still counts.

7. Donate to 10 different charities

In addition to joining a mutual aid group that helps my community, I will expand my sphere of positive influence by donating to local and global causes.

8. Learn to eat intuitively

I will learn to stop eating emotionally or out of habit and binge eating. I will also study which nutrients I am craving when I feel certain ways, including how to use food to aid in the production of hormones like dopamine.

9. Start low-dose testosterone

In order to do this, I will learn to control my fear of needles enough to have the required blood tests, then use gel.

10. Set up my sewing machine and make 5 pieces

I will start with simple pieces to get used to the machine, and exercise my discipline and executive functioning by ensuring that I finish every piece I start, even if it takes multiple sessions.

11. Stop skin picking and start waxing my eyebrows

As of October 2024, I have stopped biting my nails, but still struggle with skin picking. I will also start taking more care with my appearance and wax my unibrow area, if not also shaping, once every 3 weeks.

12. Start ERP, touch a mushroom without compulsions

Although my medication is helping, 2024 me still has moderately severe OCD. 2025 me will not only expose themself to triggering things in a safe environment, but work on not performing compulsions. Mushrooms are my current biggest contamination trigger, so I will work on that the most.

13. Learn 25 basic Auslan signs

Despite living in Australia, I know no Auslan, only ASL. In 2025, I will learn Auslan signs for basic communication of needs, such as water, help, and emergency.

14. Recover from [specific trauma]

As of late 2024, I have processed a lot of it. In 2025, I will finish the job and be free of something that has weighed me down for over 20 years.

15. Start the conversion program at my new synagogue

On Rosh Hashanah of 5779 (2018) I started converting to Judaism, but due to life circumstances I had to stop before I could finish. In 2025, I will finally restart the process and will be finished in 2026.

[xanthippe74]

The mood this year, as this header photo demonstrates, was Le Tired. Just physically and emotionally slogging along. Brain stuck on perpetual static. A pull-the-covers-over-my-head sort of year. I read a few books, watched a lot of shows, found new songs to listen to on repeat, and spent way too much time futzing around on Tumblr.

But that's not what this post is about! This is to remind myself that I did accomplish writer-ly things this year, even if it didn't feel like it sometimes. So here's my 2023 Fandom Year in Review:

Drarry

🐈 A Dreadful Invasion (of the Feline Persuasion) rated G | 6K words

Most of the time, it’s easy for Harry to forget that Draco Malfoy is his next-door neighbour—until the night Malfoy seemingly goes round the twist in his back garden. Of course Harry has to investigate. A birthday gift for @caroll-in.

🍷 Under the Table rated T, 4K words

A string of nearly-insufferable dinner parties has made Draco acquainted with Harry Potter’s completely insufferable, social-climbing boyfriend. But tonight it seems like Potter’s finally had enough, and Draco’s more than happy to watch it all play out from across the table.

Microfics: Different  |  Thalassophile  |  Role play  | Careless |  Mama’s Gun  |  Raven  |  You Should Probably Leave  |  Afraid of the Dark  |  Eerie

WIP progress: I added about 25K to my Drarry retelling of Howl's Moving Castle. The working title is "Skybound" and it will be about 55 to 60K words when complete (by spring 2024, god help me!). Featuring: lots of banter, secret identities, adventures and misadventures in a floating house, a plucky house-elf, and (of course) a fire demon who wants to make a bargain.

9-1-1 fics, HP recs, and 2023 highlights under the cut!

9-1-1/Buddie

🌧️ It pours, man it pours rated T | 11K words

An endless rainstorm. A head-on collision on a dark canyon road. Eddie and Buck find themselves stranded with a woman in labor after they’re cut off from the rest of the 118 by a flash flood. With the fate of their team unknown, can they weather the night ahead—and mend the rift Buck caused by trying to kiss his best friend?

💣 A Few Good Pranks rated T | 4K words

The firefighters of the 118 decide to give Bobby a turn at pranking them after seeing how disappointed he was to be left out. And since two heads are better than one, why not three? Or four? If only they could figure out who's pranking and who isn't, and who the intended victim is. It's all in good fun, though—as long as everyone is too distracted to notice that Buck and Eddie keep sneaking off alone.

❤️‍🩹Let It Be Me rated T | 1.8K words

After another Buckley Family reunion-turned-disaster, Buck makes a decision about his parents. Of course the 118 has his back. Or, Bobby employs some LAFD equipment to help Buck out—and tell him something he needs to hear.

Episode codas/fix-it ficlets: 1x01 | 1x03 | 2x01 | 2x03 | 6x10 | 6x11 | 6x12 | 6x13 | 6x15

WIP progress: First chapter of a season 3/canon divergence Buddie fic. Featuring: angst with a happy ending, a secret marriage of convenience, and pandemic bed sharing.

HP Rec List

I was inspired by this post to rec twelve favorite fan works from 2023 in twelve days in December. It actually took fourteen days, but I did it!

💖 12 Favorites from 2023 💖

(after posting those twelve, of course I thought of a few more faves that I missed. I'll try to share them soon!)

2023 Highlights

I'm so very grateful for the wonderful, funny, imaginative people here who shared their creative works, the memes that made them laugh, photos of their pets, gif sets of shows I didn't know I needed to watch, and insights into the characters we love. You all got me through the year, honestly.

I had a good time doodling some Halloween treats for Inbox Trick-or-Treating. I hope it will become an annual Tumblr event! Thanks to the folks who rang my doorbell that night and the other blogs who gave out treats.

I truly treasured every kudos, comment, and rec I received this year. I was also very fortunate to receive a few special gifts:

🎙️ EllaMcSmellBella recorded a Podfic of "Spooked in Salem," my Drarry 'Round the World fic.

🎙️ Spades/bumblingbees recorded a Podfic of "Crimson Neon."

📕 @cheriecherishchen wrote a lovely rec for "Vortex" and designed gorgeous book covers for that fic and its sequel, "Riptide."

✏️ @saijordison drew this incredible piece of art for "Riptide."

And finally, if you read all the way to the end of this post, I'm grateful for YOU. 😁

Wishing everyone a very Happy New Year and an excellent 2024!

[youthkenworld]

Everything Republican

Posted by 

Matthias S. Regen1y

“I Was Driving Completed Ballots from NY to Pennsylvania – So I Decided to Speak Up” — UPDATE: USPS Contract Truck Driver Who Transferred 288,000 FRAUDULENT BALLOTS from NY to PA Speaks at Presser

As reported earlier by Cassandra Fairbanks new election fraud whistleblowers came forward on Tuesday, including one who witnessed the shipping of an estimated 144,000-288,000 completed ballots across three state lines on October 21.

The new information was made public at a press conference by the Amistad Project of the Thomas More Society, a national constitutional litigation organization.

The Amistad Project said that they have sworn declarations that state over 300,000 ballots are at issue in Arizona, 548,000 in Michigan, 204,000 in Georgia, and over 121,000 in Pennsylvania. They claim that their evidence reveals multi-state illegal efforts by USPS workers to influence the election in at least three of six swing states.

The whistleblower statements include potentially hundreds of thousands of completed absentee ballots being transported across three state lines, and a trailer filled with ballots disappearing in Pennsylvania.

Attorney Phil Kline said, “130,000 to 280,000 completed ballots for the 2020 general election were shipped from Bethpage, NY, to Lancaster, PA, where those ballots and the trailer in which they were shipped disappeared.”

Truck driver Jesse Morgan was present at the press conference and spoke for 9 minutes about his unbelievable ordeal. Morgan was tasked with delivering completed ballots to Pennsylvania from New York state.

This was explosive testimony.

Jesse Morgan: In total I saw 24 gaylords, or large cardboard containers of ballots, loaded into my trailer. These gaylords contained plastic trays, I call them totes or trays of ballots stacked on top of each other. All the envelopes were the same size. I saw the envelopes had return addresses… They were complete ballots.”

Jesse went on to say that he sat in Harrisburg for hours and when he was told to leave the supervisor at the post office would not give him a slip or an overtime slip so he could get paid. Jesse said the manager-supervisor was “kinda rude.”

Jesse’s testimony today revealed that employees at the United States Post Office were in on the conspiracy to steal the votes.

The video ALREADY has 1 million views!

Jesse Morgan, a truck driver with USPS subcontractor says he was suspicious of his cargo load of 288,000 COMPLETED ballots: “I was driving completed ballots from New York to Pennsylvania. I didn’t know, so I decided to speak up.” pic.twitter.com/YYIiZL1V55 — Team Trump (@TeamTrump) December 1, 2020

UPDATE from reader Brian: Please pass this info along. I am a professional driver, and all companies have onboard computers in the trucks. They record miles, location, departure, and arrival times. This electronic log book will be a valuable resource to verify any movement of illegal ballots. This is more unbelievable at every turn. Contact me if more info is needed. Give info to all your other staff writers please.

Source:"I Was Driving Completed Ballots from NY to Pennsylvania - So I Decided to Speak Up" -- UPDATE: USPS Contract Truck Driver Who Transferred 288,000 FRAUDULENT BALLOTS from NY to PA Speaks at Presser (VIDEO)As reported earlier by Cassandra Fairbanks new election fraud whistleblowers came forward on Tuesday, including one who witnessed the shipping of an estimated 144,000-288,000 completed ballots across three state lines on October 21. The new information was made public at a press conference by the Amistad Project of the Thomas More Society, a national constitutional…https://www.thegatewaypundit.com/2020/12/driving-completed-ballots-ny-pennsylvania-decided-speak-update-usps-contract-truck-driver-transferred-288000-fraudulent-ballots-ny-pa-speaks-presser/