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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 1 month ago

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30th December >> Fr. Martin's Reflections/Homilies on Today's Mass Readings for Sixth Day in the Octave of Christmas (Inc. Luke 2:36-40): ‘She spoke of the child to all’.

Sixth Day in the Octave of Christmas

Gospel (Except GB & USA) Luke 2:36-40 Anna speaks of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem.

There was a prophetess, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was well on in years. Her days of girlhood over, she had been married for seven years before becoming a widow. She was now eighty-four years old and never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. She came by just at that moment and began to praise God; and she spoke of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. Meanwhile the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him.

Gospel (GB) Luke 2:36-40 ‘She spoke of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.’

At that time: There was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived with her husband seven years from when she was a virgin, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the Temple, worshipping with fasting and prayer night and day. And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem. And when Joseph and Mary had performed everything according to the Law of the Lord, they returned into Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. And the child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom. And the favour of God was upon him.

Gospel (USA) Luke 2:36-40 She spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.

There was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived seven years with her husband after her marriage, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple, but worshiped night and day with fasting and prayer. And coming forward at that very time, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem. When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

Reflections (7)

(i) Sixth Day in the Octave of Christmas

It is said of Anna in the gospel reading that was eighty four years old and had become a widow after only seven years of marriage. The average life span at that time was much shorter than it is today, so, by the standards of the time, Anna was a very old woman indeed. Yet, she seems to be living a very fruitful life, from a spiritual point of view. She never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer, and she spoke about the child Jesus to all who were looking forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. She had a rich prayer life and was a preacher of the gospel, proclaiming the birth of the Saviour to all. She is described as a prophet, someone who was prayerfully attentive to God’s word and who proclaimed that word to others. She reminds us that as we grow older physically we can grow more vibrant spiritually. There are many things we can no longer do as the years take their toll on our bodies. However, our relationship with the Lord can deepen and grow as we decline physically. Our prayer life can deepen with the passing of the years, as can our freedom to witness to the Lord with whom we are in prayerful communion. Anna shows us that the Lord can have important work for us to do in our old age. We often have more time and space as we get older, and that can be an opportunity for the Lord both to draw us into a deeper relationship with himself through prayer and to send us out from prayer to witness to our relationship with him by our service of others. Perhaps that is why there are so many people like Anna, male and female, prayerfully present in our parish churches and rendering all sorts of services for the Lord quietly and humbly. Saint Paul in one of his letters says that the Lord’s power is often made perfect in weakness. Anna is a living witness to that truth, as are many of our elderly parishioners today.

And/Or

(ii) Sixth day in the Octave of Christmas

The widow Anna in today’s gospel reading is one of those lovely characters that feature in the opening two chapters of Luke’s gospels. Zechariah, Elizabeth, Simeon and of course Mary and Joseph are other such characters. What distinguishes Anna from the others is her age, eighty four years old, and the fact that she never left the Temple, but stayed on there, serving God night and day with prayer and fasting. When we think of ways of serving God, we tend to think of various forms of activity that we could engage in. Anna was a woman who served God by staying put in the Temple, praying and fasting. You could say that she lived a contemplative life. Yet her life of prayer and fasting in the Temple led to her being a powerful witness of God’s activity to others. The gospel reading tells us that when Mary and Joseph came to the Temple to present the child, she began to praise God and she spoke of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. Her prayer and fasting made her a powerful witness to what God was doing. Anna reminds us that there are many ways of serving God, and one of the most important ways of serving God is by our prayer. To pray is to serve God; it is to give ourselves to God. Such service of God will empower us, as it empowered Anna, to be witnesses to God’s presence and activity to all who are still longing for God’s coming.

And/Or

(iii) Sixth day in the Octave of Christmas

In yesterday’s gospel reading, Simeon was prompted by the Holy Spirit to go to the Temple just as Mary and Joseph were bringing their child to the Temple. In this morning’s gospel reading, it is said of Anna that she never left the Temple. She lived in the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. We could speak of her as a contemplative. When she saw the child Jesus, she broke into the prayer of praise, and spoke about the child to all who were waiting for God’s deliverance. It is striking that Luke says of her that she served God night and day with fasting and prayer. Normally when we hear the term ‘serving God’ we think instinctively of various forms of good works. This morning’s gospel reading suggests that prayer and fasting are also forms of service to God. We may not always think of prayer as an act of serving God. This morning’s gospel reading suggests that to pray is to serve God. Anna spent her time in the Temple praying, and yet she was as much a servant of God as those who served God by doing all kinds of good works. Mary who sat at the Jesus’ feet and listened to his word was serving him as much as Martha was. To pray is to serve the Lord, because when we pray we give the Lord our time, our focus, our attention; we give him ourselves.

And/Or

(iv) Sixth day in the Octave of Christmas

At the centre of this morning’s gospel reading is an 84 year old widow, Anna, who was constantly in the temple fasting and praying. She was probably in the last decade of her long life, and by then she had become something of a contemplative. She was at home in God’s house; prayer came natural to her. She needed and wanted to be in prayerful communion with God. You come across people a little like Anna in our parish churches today. They are a regular and prayerful presence in our churches. They are in prayerful communion with the Lord at all times and that prayerful communion spills over into a gracious and generous way of relating to others. Anna’s prayerfulness gave her the spiritual vision to recognize the child of Joseph and Mary as the long awaited Jewish Messiah. Having recognized the child for all that he was, she then spoke about the child to all who were waiting for God’s anointed one. She becomes one of the first preachers of the good news in the gospel of Luke. This eighty four year widow is the first real evangelist in Luke’s two volume work, the gospel and the Acts of the Apostles. She shows us that faithfulness to prayer invariably bears rich fruit. Those who are prayerful become witnesses to the Lord in what they say and do. Our opening to the Lord in prayer enables the Lord to work through us for the spread of the gospel.

And/Or

(v) Sixth day in the Octave of Christmas

It is striking that widows tend to have a very positive profile in the gospels. In one of the parables that Jesus spoke, a widow keeps coming to a corrupt judge for the justice she is entitled to, until she finally gets him to take her seriously. Jesus told this parable as an encouragement to us to keep praying always and not lose heart. On another occasion, as Jesus was in the Temple in Jerusalem, he saw a widow put two copper coins into the Temple treasure, all she had to live on. Jesus draws his disciples’ attention to her as a model of complete self-giving to God. In this morning’s gospel reading we find a widow named Anna who never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. Widows were vulnerable in the time of Jesus. They didn’t have a husband to provide for them and if they didn’t have children, they were especially vulnerable. It may have been their very vulnerable status which led them to entrust themselves to God. If they had no one to rely on, they could rely on God. Being somewhat alone in the world, there was a space in their lives which was filled with God. Anna was in constant prayerful communion with God. It was only fitting that she should happen to come by just at the time that Mary and Joseph brought their child into the Temple and Simeon was announcing who this child would become. Later on, the adult Jesus would say, ‘Ask and it will be given to you; search and you will find’. Anna was someone who sought the Lord in prayer, and one day she found the one whom she sought. Having found him, she shared him with others. The gospel reading says she spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. We have much to learn from this widow. She reminds us that the Lord comes to those who prayerfully seek him and she encourages us to share with others the Lord who has come to us.

And/Or

(vi) Sixth day in the Octave of Christmas

According to Luke’s gospel, when Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the Temple in Jerusalem to present him to God, there were two people there who were advanced in years, a man and a woman, Simeon and Anna. It is Anna who features in today’s gospel reading. She was eighty four years old and had been a widow most of her life, as she was only seven years married when her husband died. It is said of her that ‘she never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer’. The house of God was her home; she seems to have lived there. Our parish church is our spiritual home; it is a place where we can spend time with the Lord, where we can be at home with the Lord and with each other, where we can linger in the Lord’s presence. I am struck by the phrase that Anna was serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. When we think of serving God, some form of active service tends to come to mind first. We serve God by serving each other, especially the most vulnerable among us. Yet, Anna served God in another way, by fasting and prayer. We may not always think of prayer as a service of God. Yet, we are serving God when we pray. In prayer we give ourselves to God, our time, our attention, our heart and mind. We are serving God when we pray, and the fasting that is mentioned in connection with Anna can help us to enter more deeply into prayer. Anna’s service of God in prayer did not remove her from others. On the contrary, the gospel reading tells us that she spoke of the child, Jesus, to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. Her prayer enabled her to recognize the child of Mary and Joseph as the one Israel had been waiting for, and her prayer inspired her to tell others about this child. For us too, whenever we serve God in genuine prayer, it will always flow over into the service of others, the service of God in others.

And/Or

(vii) Sixth Day in the Octave of Christmas

There are several women in Luke’s gospel who welcome the coming of God through the person of Jesus. Mary, the mother of Jesus, and her cousin Elizabeth are especially noteworthy, and then there are the sisters, Mary and Martha, the woman who washed the feet of Jesus with her tears and dried them with her hair, Mary Magdalene and the other women who accompanied Jesus and his disciples on their travels and provided for them out of their means. Anna in today’s gospel reading belongs in their company. She had been a widow for most of her adult life, her husband having died after only seven years of marriage and Anna herself now being eighty four years old. Her devotion to God through prayer and fasting made her sensitive to the coming of God’s special messenger, the child of Mary and Joseph. When she saw Simeon with the child in his arms, she immediately recognized the child for who he was, and began praising God and speaking about the child to others. Her response to recognizing the true identity of this child was two-fold, towards God in prayer, and towards others in proclaiming to them the good news that God had come to deliver his people through this child. The portrayal of Anna in the gospel reading reminds us that prayer makes us sensitive to the Lord’s presence. Prayer attunes us to the various ways the Lord comes to us. Anna also show us how to respond to the Lord’s coming to us, his presence with us. Like her, we respond firstly by giving praise to God. We also respond by proclaiming the good news of the Lord’s presence to others. We do this above all by allowing the Lord to be present to others through us.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 1 month ago

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30th December >. Mass Readings (Except GB & USA)

Sixth day within the octave of Christmas (C)

(Liturgical Colour: White. Year: C(I))

First Reading 1 John 2:12-17 Observance of the will of God.

I am writing to you, my own children, whose sins have already been forgiven through his name; I am writing to you, fathers, who have come to know the one who has existed since the beginning; I am writing to you, young men, who have already overcome the Evil One; I have written to you, children, because you already know the Father; I have written to you, fathers, because you have come to know the one who has existed since the beginning; I have written to you, young men, because you are strong and God’s word has made its home in you, and you have overcome the Evil One. You must not love this passing world or anything that is in the world. The love of the Father cannot be in any man who loves the world, because nothing the world has to offer – the sensual body, the lustful eye, pride in possessions – could ever come from the Father but only from the world; and the world, with all it craves for, is coming to an end; but anyone who does the will of God remains for ever.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 95(96):7-10

R/ Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad.

Give the Lord, you families of peoples, give the Lord glory and power; give the Lord the glory of his name.

R/ Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad.

Bring an offering and enter his courts, worship the Lord in his temple. O earth, tremble before him.

R/ Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad.

Proclaim to the nations: ‘God is king.’ The world he made firm in its place; he will judge the peoples in fairness.

R/ Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad.

Gospel Acclamation Hebrews 1:1-2

Alleluia, alleluia! At various times in the past and in various different ways, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets; but in our own time, the last days, he has spoken to us through his Son. Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia! A hallowed day has dawned upon us. Come, you nations, worship the Lord, for today a great light has shone down upon the earth. Alleluia!

Gospel Luke 2:36-40 Anna speaks of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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x0401x · 4 years ago

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #14

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Santa Invasion

“What’s this?”

“Ice cream.”

“Well, I can tell that much just by looking, but...”

“To be precise, it is an ice cream cake.”

A gigantic ladybug was sitting on the low table. Its vivid red and dark brown-like black shades were definitely berries and chocolate. The back was decorated with flowers like marguerite. It was adorable. And huge. It was a hemispherical cake that looked like a basket ball cut in half, the name of a store from Dogenzaka printed on its box. It was 7PM. The last customer had left, I was done with the cleaning and all we had left to do was closing the store. It was still the second week of December, so the mayhem of making provisions for winter presents was a few ways ahead, but the number of clients was increasing little by little.

Just what on earth would this beautiful jeweler come up in such times?

Due to a habit of his from whenever he had something that was hard to say aloud and thus failed to speak up, Mr. Richard Ranashinghe de Vulpian had a serious crease forming just slightly between his brows. It made me feel at ease. This guy didn’t make a face like this when he was burdened with something that was actually difficult to say. He would speak more bland and expressionlessly instead.

“This is a little souvenir.”

“Are you going to a customer’s place after this?”

Richard’s reply was a gentle “no” in English.

He’d been often speaking a mix of Japanese and English lately. When English-speaking customers came by, he would switch completely to English as if for practical assessment, so I was desperate just to keep up with listening to them. I was grateful for having him as my English conversation teacher.

“A certain good-for-nothing who works with finances is currently in Japan, so...”

“Ah, Jeffrey-san, is it? He seemed so busy last time... Sorry, forget what I just said.”

“No need. That is a correct interpretation, so it is nothing to apologize about.”

Despite saying this, Richard’s facial expression did not seem even remotely satisfied as he swiftly took an indigo envelope out of his pocket. It had no seal, so it must have been handed over to him. The content was a pop-out card, and under a paper-craft cake colored with gold leaves and uneven printing, it was written in very tasteful Japanese: “I’m going to hold a party at the hotel, so come over. I’ll be waiting.” The date of the party was today and the place was the room of a luxury hotel in Tokyo. A home party? No, a hotel party.

The title was “Richard’s birthday party”. The plate of the pop-up cake didn’t say “Merry Christmas”. It said “Happy Birthday”.

Christmas Eve on the 24th was this beautiful shopkeeper’s birthday.

As I returned the card to him, a crease once again formed between Richard’s brows as he said with an unsparingly decisive tone, “How very embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t seem so much like it from your face.”

“Because I practiced making it. But this is extremely embarrassing. I think it is not something that warrants going through the trouble of arranging a plane ticket.”

“I wonder if anyone else will be going.”

“It seems Chieko will attend. I received an e-mail yesterday saying, ‘I am going to show up as a surprise so please take care of me’.”

“Is that even a surprise? Well, okay.”

Chieko-san was Richard and Jeffrey’s private tutor in the past and I was acquainted with her to some degree. I wondered if Homura-san, who had married her daughter, was also coming. No, not happening. He was a customer of Etranger, so Richard would probably feel abashed if he did so.

“If it goes on like this, the people lying in wait in that room will just gang up into an assembly to celebrate me.”

“What even is ‘ganging up to celebrate’?”

“They are ganging up on me. I likely will not be able to say anything other than ‘thank you very much’. I need reinforcements. If you would like, could you come with me?”

“Me too? That okay?”

“Of course. The party starts at 8PM probably because it coincides with Etranger’s closing hours. That British safe-like man is not narrow-minded enough to leave you out.”

It was written there that the party would begin at 8PM. We had 30 minutes. There was no spare time to make a pudding. What to do? What should I do?

Richard was apparently unable to let my groaning an “ngh, ngh” while deep in thought go unnoticed. “If it is impossible for you, just say so right away. I know that you are at the final stage of studying for your exams.”

“That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me a bit earlier about this? If I knew, I could’ve made preparations for it... Aah, is that why?”

“It is. I recall saying that you should refrain from being overly distracted.”

“I don’t think a ‘celebration’ is ‘overly distracting’, though.”

“Anything is fine, so please answer. Will you come or not?”

He didn’t have to go as far as asking me something like that.

I bowed in a way that wouldn’t cause any hairs to fall onto the ice cream ladybug. “I shall humbly accompany you.”

“Very well.”

“Sorry, but before that, I gotta go to the toilet for a bit.”

I hastily rushed to Etranger’s restroom and unlocked my phone in a flash. I then tapped on the e-mail app. Of course, the destination could only be one person.

“Help. I’m sorry but I just got informed about the birthday party, so I have no present.”

Jeffrey-san.

The contents of the message were not at all on a level that someone should send to the person they owed their life to, but he would understand.

The reply came in a matter of seconds. As expected, he worked fast.

“Good evening. I have everything, so there’s no problem if you come empty-handed. There will be champagne, canapés, chicken pie and cake, and I plan to have chocolate fondue coming up at the end.”

There was a proud smiley emoji at the end of the text. It seemed this was going to be a big deal.

Richard would probably have work tomorrow, and he wasn’t the type to get wasted or stuff his face with sweets in the middle of the night. It seemed I also wouldn’t have to worry about dinner. It made me feel sorry. This was the same old pattern. This course of eating and seeing good stuff amidst the confusion of the moment made my stomach hurt when I thought better about it.

“Don’t you know anything that Richard wanted?”

The response came after a moment, “My bad, but nothing comes to mind. How about you give him what you want most?”

What I wanted most. I could only think of refill shampoo and new socks. I’d be ashamed of giving things like that to Richard. After all, this was a mixture of birthday and Christmas party—

Just as I was thinking this, a genius inspiration sprouted in my head. It wasn’t the best solution. Not at all. But I felt it could work. This was too obvious, but if only I had the necessary materials for it, I could do it immediately.

Making up my mind, I came out of the restroom, apologized for making Richard wait, and as we rode to the designated address on the jaguar, I had him stop the car in front of a mass retailer for a moment. I told him I wanted to buy refill shampoo for my home. Richard was exasperated, but didn’t have any suspicions in particular.

We arrived at the hotel, got into the elevator, and on the way to the party venue, I made sure to walk a bit behind Richard. Staying out of his sight was essential.

When he opened the door to the suite, sure enough, Jeffrey-san and Chieko-san were waiting inside. Giving off a relaxed atmosphere, a room-service feast even bigger than what I had imagined from the phone call was waiting on the table for the main guest.

“Happy birthday, Richard. Chieko’s here too. Surprised?”

“Of course. Very surprised. Extremely.”

“Hmm, by the looks of it, I guess there was some information leak. Well, that’s okay! Where’s Nakata-kun?”

“What do you mean ‘where’? He’s right here. Seigi... Seigi?”

My eyes locked with Richard’s. I had locked them with Jeffrey-san’s before that. I was grateful that he had done me the favor of not laughing.

I politely shook my head at my boss, who was making a flabbergasted face. “My name is Santa.”

What I had bought at the mass retailer was a handy Santa makeover set. The three-piece set consisted of a hat, a put-on beard and a Santa costume, but I hadn’t had time to change into the costume, so it was folded up in my bag. I intended to borrow the suite’s bathroom to put on the costume. If I at least had my face ready, I could somehow make it work.

Richard was dumbfounded. It was the obvious reaction. But I wanted him to forgive me for this. After all, it was December and today was a party day.

“I’m Santa Claus! I came from the North Pole. Please take care of me for today!” After introducing myself, I thought that maybe this wasn’t an exemplary self-introduction for Santa, but it was already too late.

Jeffrey-san, who completely livened up the mood whenever he got excited, went along with the joke, saying, “Wah, Santa-san, thank you for coming from such a faraway place!”

I was grateful for that one. And that was how I got away with playing the role of a worldwide mascot-like old man character from the Arctic for the day. The ice cream cake brought by the star of the party was a success, and we had a toast with both champagne and royal milk tea. Chieko-san was wearing a kimono, the remade peridot brooch on her chest.

It had already been more than half a year since then, but to my body, it felt like even longer ago.

My location had moved from Japan to Sri Lanka, as one would expect, and I was busy fully enjoying a spring in which white temple flowers were blooming in Kandy, my new home. But for some reason, Santa was here. A beautiful blond, blue-eyed man slipped in and out of sight, but his outward appearance was that of Santa Claus. It was the kind of Santa costume that you could buy at the costume section of any mass retailer. One of the sad things about unmatched beauty was the fact nobody could actually claim that his natural beauty was ruined by the look. The brilliance of his blue eyes, which looked like they could suck you in, was the same as ever.

“I am Santa Claus. I came from the North Pole.”

“But now’s a hot time of the year.”

“Santa Claus is a symbol of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. I do not think it is particularly strange.”

“T-That might be true. Well, then... what’re you doing?”

“Santa does what Santa does. The tradition of Santa Claus, much like the language of jewels, has a wide variety of legends to it depending on the region, but either way, the role of a saint who grants blessings to little children, women and those in need is a guise commonly demanded in society. And for you, here it is.” Saying this, “Santa” offered me a plastic, loose stone display case that I was all too familiar with. There was a red stone stuck between the cushion and transparent lid. “Can you identify this gemstone?”

“Tourmaline, I guess. Red tourmaline.”

“Good for you. Did you know that it has one more name?”

“Rubellite.”

“Perfect. Large, pinkish-red tourmalines are called by that name, and it is a stone of which huge carved crystals have been loved as works of art, such as the amulet of Empress Dowager Cixi and the Romanov royal treasure, the ‘Strawberry Pendant’.”

As I peeked at the stone inside the case, humming that it was pretty, the beautiful jeweler cleared his throat and started over.

“Just as people’s feelings dwell within beautiful stones, this one is filled with the feeling of celebrating the start of your new life, from your family back in Japan, your friends and your superior at work, with whom you have a relationship other than the aforementioned and that neither of us knows how to define. Santa is wholly thankful for being in the position to bestow you with such a gift. I forgot to say it, but happy birthday. Nakata Seigi-san. I sincerely pray, all the way from my home in the Arctic, that this year will be a fruitful one for you.”

“Thank you. Seriously, thank you for always, Richa...”

“Santa. I am a passing Santa.”

“Then let’s go with that. By the way, if you’re Santa, where are the reindeers?”

When asked this, the man in disguise answered with a cool gaze that the reindeers were using stealth technology nowadays so that they wouldn’t be found by radars, hence they couldn’t be seen. He had it down to the details.

“It’s been about ten years since the last time Santa-san came around. I’ll take good care of this. Santa-san, you take care of your body too. I’ll ask my boss next time I see him about the person who gave you this stone.”

“You should. Well, then.” With a bow, Santa left for a car parked in the courtyard. I probably wasn’t supposed to see him off. I’d feel bad for the stealth reindeers.

The red stone stayed in my hand.

I had told a white lie. It hadn’t been ten years since Santa had last showed up. This was the first time ever since I was born. In my home, there was always someone playing the role of “Santa”, such as Hiromi, Grandma and Nakata-san, so they never tried to tell me nice lies. Nakata-san probably just followed Hiromi’s way of doing things, though. The fact I thought up something like that last December, when Jeffrey asked me what I “wanted most”, might not have been unrelated to this. At any rate, to me, not even once was there any supernatural existence who would leave toys by my bedside if I were a good kid. Until this day.

After a while of standing by the garden, where it was always summer, and listening closely to the cries of birds with my eyes closed, I unlocked my phone. The Wi-Fi range of the house seemed good, and so I could send e-mails immediately. The contents were simple. The destination was my boss, Richard.

“Santa came to my place. But he left so quick that I couldn’t make him tea.”

The reply soon came: “Are you half-asleep?”

If he really thought that I was half-asleep, then maybe I should delay the reply for a few more minutes, I thought, but I didn’t write anything further. The house’s cleaning was half-assed and I had to check the security. I also wanted to know as many of my neighbors as could.

Together with the feeling that I had suddenly been given something I had forgotten, and that I didn’t even know I had forgotten, I put rubellite in the jewelry safe and stepped out into the Sri Lankan provincial city. I had nothing to fear and no hesitation. The ill feeling that I’d be living here alone had disappeared. After all, Santa had come by. Far from elementary school, I was now an adult who had already graduated from university, and it currently wasn’t December but May, where the only anniversary I could think of was my own birthday, yet Santa had come by. Such an impossible thing had happened.

So I could do my best, I thought.

And so, I could be getting ahead of myself, but I began thinking about my plans for this December. Would there be a second chance for Santa to appear? If not, I wanted to make one. I decided to fuss over the outfit a little more and prepare proper gifts this time. Then I’d tell him stories about jewels and try to make him laugh a lot. That, too, was Santa’s duty.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinha de vulpian #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #jeffrey claremont #novel #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #my translation

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onceuponaloonatic · 4 years ago

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hehe a little follow up to what i posted yesterday because i know your all curious :)

tw: abuse, jail, cursing, etc...

After her labor, Sana is exhausted. She wonders how people do this more than once and briefly wonders how her own mother had given birth to her. Sana had been an even longer labor than Nico was, her Aunt had told her her mother was in labor with her for more than thirty six hours. Sana had no idea how she was able to even get through that.

Her mother. Sana hadn’t thought about her in a while. The thought usually associated with Sana’s parents briefly crossed her mind. When were they getting out? The release date initially set for her parents had been very tentative, but Sana remembers it was still about five years from now. That was a bit scary. In five years her parents would be free again, for the first time since she was a scared teenager. She had sent them three letters over the years. Once when she got into college, a second when decided to major in physics, and a third right before graduation where she gushed about Mina and Jihyo. She never had the courage to go visit them. She supposed she might have if any of her letters had ever been returned, but Sana had long given up the hope of a return letter. It had been nearly twenty years, she wasn’t even sure if her parents even remembered those letters anymore. Mina and Jihyo interrupt her thoughts before she can think about her parents too much. They are both worried about her, asking her if she needs anything or if there was anything they could do for her. They tell her all of their friends were crowded around the window with all the newborns trying desperately to see their baby and probably making a huge scene and that makes Sana laugh. Because she could picture that so vividly, her friends all crowded around a glass display, probably pushing each other and being loud and obnoxious and not even realizing it. That was just how her friends, her real family, were. Sana couldn’t help but smile as she remembered that. Her parents hadn’t been her family in a long time, but she had found a much much better one. It would have been nice to let them meet Nico before the doctors stole her away from intubation, but Sana knew she had no control over that. “Did you get any pictures?” Sana asked the two of them. They had both followed the doctors out with Nico, letting Sana rest for a bit while they watched the baby. “A couple. The doctor let us take a few before they connected her to all of the machines.” Jihyo tries to keep things light, both she and Mina knew all too well that Sana was probably blaming herself for Nico being born early. “Wanna see?” Sana nods eagerly, scooting over a bit in her hospital bed so Jihyo could sit down next to her. “She looks so red.” Sana giggled as she swiped through the pictures. Jihyo had done a pretty good job with them. “Like a little tomato.” “Hey well she is our little tomato.” Mina giggled as she got on Sana’s other side, kissing her head as she wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “The doctors said that was normal and her skin would be normal soon.”

“That’s good.” Sana hummed. “Was she behaving?” “She was being a little fussy earlier though, wouldn’t stop wiggling around as the doctors connected her to the heart rate monitor and tubes.” Jihyo kissed Sana’s shoulder. Sana continues to scroll, both of her wives falling silent as she did. “Did- did they say anything about when she could come home?” Sana stops when she sees a picture with wires connected to their baby. Insecurities bubbled over and tears welled up in Sana’s eyes as she thought about Nico struggling. “They said around Christmas if everything goes well.” Jihyo answered, taking her phone back and putting it in her pocket.

“Was there- was there anything wrong with her?” Mina and Jihyo are both quiet at Sana’s question. Of course they want to tell their wife the truth, but that was hard when they knew it would only hurt Sana. “Please tell me.” Sana begs when she notices their silence. “It’s-it’s her lungs.” Jihyo sighs. “They said she’s probably going to have breathing problems her entire life. Something about them not developing properly and that it was normal for preemies.” That word slipped off of Jihyo’s tongue so easily it almost scared Sana. Preemie. Their daughter was a preemie. “But they also said they aren’t fatal or anything.” Mina rubbed Sana’s shoulder. “They said she will be able to live a mostly normal life.” “That’s good.” Sana sighed. “Can you send me the pictures? I want to send them to my Aunt.” “Yeah sure.” Jihyo smiled at Sana. “Done.” Sana looked around for her phone at Jihyo’s response and it was only then it dawned on her it was gone. “Do you guys have my phone?” Sana asked. “No.” Mina nodded. “I don’t either. I’ll check the hospital bag though.” Their hospital bag had been very hastily thrown together. They would have assembled a real one if it weren’t for the fact that Sana’s labor was so sudden. Because it was, they spent barely a minute just throwing random things in a duffle bag. There were some random hoodies, a change of clothes for Sana, and a couple phone chargers. That was all Mina could manage to get in with the time pressure they had been on. “It’s not here babe.” Jihyo sighed. “Did you leave it at home?” “I think so.” Sana sighed. “I can go get it for you.” Mina kissed Sana’s temple, noticing her stress. “No, it’s not that urgent.” Sana nodded. “I can wait until tomorrow.” “Are you sure?” Mina asks. “Yeah.” Sana pulled her down until a kiss. “Everything I need is here in this hospital.”

Sana is discharged the next morning, but under strict instructions not to move around much. She grumbles about how they don’t have to worry about it, she barely can move as it is. The hospital gives them a wheelchair for her to go home in, but when they get home Sana insists on being carried by Jihyo who giggles and lifts her up slowly. Jihyo had been Momo’s gym buddy for years, as she was the only one who didn’t know Momo well enough to say no when she asked. Jihyo remembers when she told Mina and Sana about it and both of them told her she had made a mistake. They told her that Momo’s workouts were always so hard and took so long that they weren’t worth it. Jihyo ended up still going though, and she found herself getting used to it over time. Jihyo situates her in bed before leaving to take a shower. Mina begins to prepare lunch once she’s sure Sana is comfortable and Sana grabs her phone. She’s still in a bit of a weird headspace. It was weird to not have her daughter pushing at her back or kicking her anymore. It was weird to know her daughter was in the world miles from home. It was weird to think she had a daughter now. A living breathing daughter, that was no longer just a mass of cells inside of her. It was weird knowing she was someone’s mother now.

Sana finds her phone on the nightstand. She makes Jihyo hand it to her before she begins to shower and Sana realizes she has quite a few messages. Most of them are from her friends, and it makes her so happy to read them.

from that annoying bitch

Yesterday 11:56 PM

i know i didn’t get to see you today but i just wanted to make sure you were okay. mina and hyo say you're fine but i promised my mom i would make sure. i’m really happy for you and your daughter is so cute which is honestly surprising considering who her mom is. mina and hyo said we can meet her around christmas and i think nayeon might have put it in her phone calendar, just a warning my wife can be crazy with babies :p

Sana couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Momo’s text. Of course that was what Momo said.

to that annoying bitch

Just now

i left my phone at home, sorry lol. i’m pretty sore but i just got home. you can tell auntie i’m fine and that i’ll send some pictures of nico over in a bit. thanks for checking in, i knew you loved me ;)

from that annoying bitch

Just now

sorry but you know i never have. your just all weird from the post pregnancy

hormones :p

to that annoying bitch

Just now

you’ll admit it one day, mommy knows you're a good girl momoring ;)

from that annoying bitch

Just now

shut up i hate you so much :p do i have to deal with mommy jokes from now on?

to that annoying bitch

Just now

well considering i was making them before and i wasn’t a mom then, yes :p

from that annoying bitch

Just now

i cannot stand you

to that annoying bitch

Just now

your just annoyed i’m a milf and your not :p

from that annoying bitch

Just now

you are insufferable

Sana giggled at that. Her and Momo had always been the same and it was something really appreciated. It may have sounded like they hated each other, but truthfully they loved each other a lot. They were like twins. Sana and Momo. Momo and Sana. It had always, and would always be the two of them. Sana had never had a biological sister, but Momo was by far the closest thing she was ever going to get. She decides to start going through some other messages after she decided she had messed with Momo enough. from momo’s hot wife

Yesterday 12:05 am

send me baby pics

this isn’t a request it’s a demand

i need nico pics now

to momo’s hot wife

Just now

sorry i left my phone at home here

[image sent]

from momo’s hot wife

Just now

OH MY GOD I’M IN LOVE SHE’S SO CUTE BRB I’M GOING TO THE HOSPITAL TO STEAL HER

to momo’s hot wife

Just now

okay but after you steal her i’m coming to take her back :p

While waiting for Nayeon to respond she went through her other messages. They were mainly just congrats texts with a few worried ones, just as Sana was expecting. What she wasn’t expecting was the one from her Aunt. from auntie

two days ago

hey sana, it’s been a while :) i hope the pregnancy is going okay and i can’t wait to meet my granddaughter. just to let you know so you don’t have to find out through someone else… they set your parents' release date today. it’s set for november three years from now. i can go get them from jail, so you don’t have to worry about picking them up. i talked to your mom today and they plan on getting an apartment right after getting out right outside of seoul. i just thought it would be good for you to know. i love you and can’t wait to see you at christmas!

Reading that text made Sana feel like she was going to be sick. They set her parents' release date? Her parents were going to be coming back? To Seoul? The thought of that made her feel like she was going to be sick.

#twice #nahyo #minatozaki sana #myoui mina #park jihyo #im nayeon #hirai momo #misahyo #misahyo au

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flyinghome-againstthewind · 4 years ago

Text

Holly, Ivy, Mistletoe

Part of the 12 Days of OL Ficmas. Read on ao3.

Set in the TBBFIY ‘verse, between chapters 4 and 5. Can function as a standalone if you’ve never read TBBFIY! Taking a break from the current plot and looking back, this is pure unadulterated holiday fluff. Please enjoy!

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Holly, ivy, mistletoe,

and the gently falling snow

Truth and love and hope abide

This Christmastide

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December 1744

“I want Christmas,” she told him one day.

“What?”

“Christmas.” Her eyes were alight with a sudden urgency and hope, and he couldn’t for the life of him conjure up any sort of response.

“I know it’s not a big holiday here ‒ I know we’ll have Hogmanay in a few weeks, but… it’s Faith’s first Christmas and Fergus’s first one with our family and I didn’t realize… I haven’t‒” She shook her head suddenly and those bright eyes turned wistful. “I didn’t think it mattered, but I haven’t had a family Christmas since I was very small and now that we have the children with us,” she shrugged one shoulder and gave him a wobbly little smile that had his heart tumbling in his chest.

“Now that we’re a family of our own… I want Christmas,” she leaned up on her toes to kiss him, soft and quick, like the brush of a wing. “With you. With our family.”

“Christmas,” he echoed the word gently against her lips before sealing it with a kiss. “Aye, Sassenach,” he sighed with mock graveness, struggling to hide his smile. “I suppose we can have yer pagan holiday if it’ll make ye happy. That is, if Jenny doesna run us out of here for suggesting it.”

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

“Celebrate Christmas?” Jenny pulled a face, which drew a sigh from Jamie. Ian didn’t outright object but even he looked uneasy at the suggestion. Though it hadn’t been outlawed since well before any of them were born, most in the Highlands still frowned upon celebrating Yuletide. “Whatever for?”

“They dinna celebrate Hogmanay where Claire grew up. Instead, she had Christmas.” Jamie straightened up a little. “And ye ken how it is once there’s little ones, Janet‒”

“Oh don’t ‘Janet’ me‒”

“Claire wants us to start our own traditions here.”

“I dinna think the tenants would think well about it,” Ian said cautiously.

“The tenants dinna need to ken how we spend our day. Claire wants it just to be our family here.”

Ian absorbed this while Jenny’s brows furrowed together. “Ye ken that doesna give us much time between then and Hogmanay, and I’m already preparing for that.”

“I will help Claire with any preparation for Christmas. I’m no’ asking ye to give time where ye dinna have any to give. I’m only telling ye both so ye ken ye’re expected to participate, and give ye well enough time to come around to the idea.”

Jenny cocked her head at him. “Never thought I’d see the day,” she teased. “What’s next? Converting to the Church of England?”

Jamie let out a bark of laugh at that. He hadn’t missed the brief twitch of Jenny’s mouth, wanting to smile but stubbornly refusing. “My wife is Catholic. And I’ll remind ye that you said yerself ye didna mind Claire’s Englishness so much.”

“Och aye, when we were being invaded by the Watch and them about to blow a hole through yer head, aye, I said that.”

Jamie chuckled, clocking the faint smile from Jenny before she sighed. “It’s one day,” he said softly, his gaze shifting between Jenny and Ian. “And it would mean the world to yer sister-in-law if ye embraced it. And it willna take away from Hogmanay. Claire only wants Christmas as a family.”

Jenny and Ian shared a look, having long since developed a way of having an entire conversation conveyed in just one glance. “If it makes ye happy, mo bhràthair…” Jenny shook her head at him, but a soft smile played at her lips. “I suppose my niece is half-English, and it’s only fair.”

Jamie grinned broadly. “Claire will be verra happy to hear that.”

“But for heaven’s sake,” Jenny hollered after him as he turned to leave. “Not a word of this to anyone else!”

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

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked.

Fergus’s head poked out from the other side of Jamie where they all sat on the sofa. “Did you mess up your stitches, Milady?”

She frowned at the boy, which only drew an impish smile out of him. When Fergus had noticed Jamie giving Claire her first lesson in knitting, he had decided that if Jamie could do it, so could he. Claire was admittedly getting the hang of it but Fergus had outpaced her as he took to it immediately.

“It’s just this one part…” She grumbled. She had also, admittedly, taken on perhaps more than she should have with her newly-learned skill. But with Christmas only a few weeks away, she wanted to make something for a gift. The product of her own two hands, born out of love. So she had started working on a simple frock for Faith, throwing herself headlong into a project beyond her level of skill.

Jamie’s hands came over hers, helping her hold the needles. “Ye almost have it, Sassenach…” He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to her temple when he released her. She felt a warm, fluttery feeling in her stomach.

“I have faith in you, Milady,” Fergus offered up, his head now bent over his own work. She glanced over at his progress ‒ the first in a pair of wrist warmers. He’d already finished a set previously.

“That looks wonderful! How are you so quick?”

He looked positively proud, especially when Jamie ruffled his hair. “Aye, well done, laddie.”

“Who is that for, Fergus?” Claire teased. They had told him he didn’t need to give gifts on Christmas unless he wanted to, that they would have gifts for him either way, but Fergus had taken to the idea quite quickly.

He turned away from them slightly, trying to hide his work. “Never you mind, Milady,” he said in a sing-song voice that drew chuckles from both of them.

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

A heavy snow came one day, forcing them all inside except when tending to the animals. Claire stood by the window in their bedroom with Faith, looking out at the snow covered hills and trees, before she turned and settled in a chair by the fire to feed Faith. Jamie came and found them a short time later.

“We should get a tree,” she said softly by way of greeting. “Something to put up in the parlor. And the boys can help us decorate it.” She paused long enough to kiss Jamie when he bent down to silently ask for one. His hand gently cupped the back of Faith’s head where she was situated at her mother’s breast to feed before he sat down in the chair opposite Claire.

“A tree, hmm?” He leaned back in his seat, feet stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

“Yes,” she exhaled a smile, her gaze dropping to the baby in her arms. “I was just thinking it would be lovely to have one when we’re cooped up inside on a day like today. Something festive to brighten up the place.”

“We can get ye a tree,” he agreed easily.

“Thank you.”

“What’s it like in yer time?” he asked after a moment of quiet. “Christmas, that is. How did ye celebrate?”

“Well,” Claire took a deep breath, not sure where to begin. “It’s not unlike Hogmanay in that there’s usually a Christmas feast, lots of holiday cheer and the sort. But we hang stockings by the fire on Christmas Eve, telling children that Father Christmas will fill their stockings with presents for them while they sleep.”

“Father Christmas?”

“A legendary bringer of gifts.” She smiled broadly at his confusion. “It was just a tale, Jamie. It was the parents who placed the gifts under the tree and filled their stockings. Which means you’ll be helping me on Christmas Eve after the children go to bed.”

“Oh, so I’m Father Christmas, aye?”

She laughed so hard at this, she startled poor Faith. “Something like that.”

“And what else, Sassenach?”

“Hmm, well… I went to Mass on Christmas Eve, except for some of the years I was with Uncle Lamb. I do miss the Christmas carols sometimes, actually…”

“Sing one for me.’

“No.” Claire shook her head adamantly, but a smile played at her lips. “Oh! And we would read A Christmas Carol every year, Uncle Lamb and I. It’s a story about a wealthy old man who… well he’s downright cantankerous and mean in the beginning. His heart is closed off to people, even his family. And so he’s visited by three ghosts on Christmas Eve ‒ the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future ‒ to show him what truly mattered in this life. How people were worth living for and wealth didn’t truly enrich us. How there was always a chance to change, to be kinder and generous… I always liked that story. Uncle Lamb wasn’t one for making a fuss at Christmas, but that was our one tradition, wherever we were in the world.”

“Sounds lovely that ye had that with him.”

Claire made a soft sound of agreement. “I miss that. I miss him, especially at Christmas.”

Jamie sighed and if she weren’t feeding Faith at that moment, she was sure he would’ve tried to comfort her in some way.

“It’s alright. I’ll always miss my uncle, but I’m grateful for the years I had with him.”

“I feel similarly when it’s Hogmanay,” Jamie admitted. “I canna help but remember what it was like with my mam, my brother Willie… or even after we lost them but we still had our da…” His gaze settled on Faith and he smiled sadly. “There’s so many folks I wish she could’ve met. But we have our memories of them that we can share with her as she grows. And our traditions that we can give to her as well.”

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

It was a cold and clear day when Jamie and Claire wrangled a few of the children for the tree hunt. The snow had lingered on the ground, about ankle-deep, and they trudged through it as they headed for the woods.

Fergus, Rabbie, and wee Jamie took the task of selecting their tree with grave responsibility. Murtagh joined them, an axe slung over one shoulder while he pondered how they had ended up in this mess, preparing for Yuletide.

Jamie led them to a patch of evergreen trees and then it was up to Claire and the boys to find the right one.

And that was how a seven foot Scots pine came to be Lallybroch’s first Christmas tree. It was a marvelous tree, Jamie thought. Once set up in a corner of the parlor, Claire and the boys decorated it with ribbons, berries, and candles.

Other bits of greenery made their way into the house after that ‒ evergreen trappings along the mantels and around windows, holly wreaths on doors, sprigs of ivy twined together with holly berries and pine cones to adorn their tables.

“And you can keep them up through Hogmanay, if you’d like,” Claire added helpfully to Jenny.

It hadn’t taken much time at all for Claire to bring a little Christmas cheer, as she’d say, into the Lallybroch farmhouse. And she had been right ‒ the Christmas tree was a thing of pride for the children, who marveled at it daily whenever they entered the parlor. On dreary December days, it made the house feel warmer somehow.

But when Jamie caught Claire standing precariously on a chair trying to hang a bit of greenery from the entryway to the dining room, he thought perhaps the decorating could be reigned in a little ‒ it wasn’t anything worth risking injury over.

“What are ye doing, Sassenach?” He held her firmly by the waist to keep her anchored.

“Perfect. Thank you, love. Almost finished.”

He huffed loudly, but she seemed to miss it.

“There!” She declared triumphantly before stepping down from the chair and pushing it out of the way.

“Is it really necessary‒” he was in the process of speaking when suddenly it was she who held him by the hips and was busy arranging him in some particular spot. “What are ye doing?” He asked again with a little more exasperation than before.

Claire only grinned and looked up at the sprig above their heads. “Making sure we’re both standing perfectly under the mistletoe.”

She had him around his waist now, their bodies flush together, and she swayed with him slightly.

“Why do we need tae stand perfectly under the mistletoe?” He had his own responding smile now, too enamored with the feel of her in his arms to care about why they had arrived here.

“Because…” her hands came around his shoulders and settled at the back of his neck, tugging him down to her. “Now we can do this.”

She smiled into their kiss, slow and lingering as they swayed again in the entryway.

“I see,” Jamie said brightly once they’d parted. “Ye didna tell me about this Christmas tradition, Sassenach.” He leaned in to kiss her once more, a little less chaste than before. “Ye ken, I think I like this one best.”

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

On the day of Christmas Eve, Claire instructed each of the children to fetch one of their stockings to hang by the fire. They tore through the house together like a pack of wild dogs with Maggie on Claire’s hip and the boys excitedly at her side.

Jamie watched them up in the hallway from his seat in the parlor as Faith curled up on his chest. He heard the moment the last stocking had been fetched for they all poured back into the hallway with a shout and Fergus raced ahead in his excitement. Wee Jamie tried to catch up with his much shorter legs but had to slow down on the stairs, holding tight to the banister. Claire followed patiently behind with Maggie and soon their raucous tribe was standing in front of the fireplace, stockings in hand.

Faith lifted her head and watched them curiously.

Claire began to explain why they hung their stockings by the fire on Christmas Eve as Fergus put his up, and she helped Maggie with hers. Jamie watched as Fergus then lifted Wee Jamie to hang up his, while Claire pulled Faith’s stocking from her pocket and let Maggie help with that one as well.

They stood back and admired their work ‒ four wee stockings all in a row. Jamie felt his heart swell with gratitude and great joy that this family had Claire and she had them. Oblivious to the way he watched her, Claire shifted Maggie higher in her arms and pressed a kiss to the girl’s round cheek. Christ, he loved them, his wife and the niece that she brought into the world.

Fergus leaned over then and murmured to Claire that he knew that Père Noël wasn’t real but he wouldn’t tell the little ones. Jamie caught Claire’s sad sigh as she put her arm around Fergus’s shoulders and bent her head closer to his, but whatever she whispered to him was kept between Fergus and Claire.

Wee Jamie leaned suddenly against his uncle’s knee, pulling Jamie’s focus from his wife. “Gonna have presents in our stockings tomorrow, Unca Jamie!”

“Aye, I heard. Isna it wonderful ye have yer Auntie Claire here? Otherwise we wouldna ken to hang up our stockings.”

“Aye.” Wee Jamie nodded, glancing over along with his uncle to the woman in mention.

“What?” Claire’s gaze shifted between both Jamies. “Why are you both staring at me?”

“Because ye’re wonderful, Auntie Claire!” Wee Jamie grinned, earnest in his words and also in his excitement to use such a long word.

Her face flushed a faint pink at the boy’s words, visibly pleased to have his approval.

Later that night, after the children had been put to bed, Jamie helped Claire fill the children’s stockings with fruit and treats and small gifts.

“Faith’s is so small,” Claire giggled as she tucked a wooden rattle in there that took up most of the space. Jamie grinned, too.

“Aye and Fergus’s looks as though it belongs to a giant next to these wee ones.”

“Try and stuff a few more of those smaller candies into Jamie’s, I’m worried he’ll be jealous of Fergus getting more simply because his stocking can hold more.”

Jamie chuckled and did as Claire suggested. “Do ye remember hanging yer stocking by fire when ye were a lass, mo chridhe?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She smiled faintly, her gaze turning soft as she filled Maggie’s stocking. “I do. I remember coming down the stairs in the morning and seeing my stocking filled to the brim when it had been empty the night before and...” she shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a silly thing. I know now it was my parents. But it felt… it felt like magic.” Her gaze flicked over to his and she smiled softly. “Of course I’ve had Christmases since then and good ones at that, but this year with the children… I want them to have those memories. And I feel like I’ve been chasing that feeling of the last Christmas I had with my parents.”

“And have ye found it?”

“Well,” she stepped into the circle of his arms and her hand came to rest on his shoulder. He was all too happy to hold her, pressing a kiss to her hair. “It’s not Christmas just yet. I guess we’ll have to see what tomorrow brings,” she said coyly. Her expression turned tender just before she kissed him. “But I think there’s a good chance that I have found it, Jamie,” she whispered against his lips.

“Good,” he murmured when she pulled back before chasing her lips again. “Ye ken ye make those bairns so happy, aye? They all look at ye like ye hung the stars in the sky.” She seemed to melt under his gaze and ducked her head to rest on his shoulder, but the sigh that escaped her was happily reassuring that she did, indeed, know. “The babes may no’ remember this year’s Christmas, but Fergus will and mebbe wee Jamie, too. Ye’re giving them their own memories and starting traditions that they’ll have for years to come, Sassenach.”

She kissed him softly then, her hands framing his face, and murmured a quiet “thank you” against his lips.

“For what?”

“Oh, for letting me throw the whole house into a tizzy preparing for a holiday your family would rather not celebrate,” she laughed. Her fingers traced the lines of his jaw and he waited, sensing there was more. “For giving me your family wholeheartedly from the time we wed and for…” she shrugged her shoulders. “For everything, Jamie. I’ve loved these last few weeks. More than I can say.”

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

“Sassenach.”

Claire grunted at the heavy rumble of Jamie’s voice in her ear, pulling her from sleep. “Not yet.”

“Claire.” There was laughter in his voice that she didn’t care for. She refused to open her eyes, though she could feel the likelihood of falling back to sleep slipping away from her.

“What?” She could hear how thoroughly British that one syllable sounded once it escaped her.

Jamie’s lips tickled her skin just below her ear at the same time that she registered the feel of Faith’s little hands grasping fistfuls of her nightgown right by her hip. “Ye have to wake up. It’s Christmas.”

She rolled over at that, finding Jamie’s beaming face and Faith in his arms, her little hands waving wildly.

“Thought we should get up soon if we want tae see the weans with their stockings.”

“Of course,” she agreed, shaking her head to try and clear the fog of sleep. “Here, I’ll take Faith. She’s probably hungry.”

He passed her over as Claire pushed herself up against the headboard. “And I’ll go down and make sure Fergus doesna tear into his stocking before we’re ready.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she smiled.

With Jamie slipping out of the room, it was only Claire and Faith and a few moments of stillness. “Merry Christmas, lovey,” she murmured to a bright-eyed Faith, bringing the baby up to her face for a loud, smacking kiss to the girl’s cheek and then pretending to nibble on her ear. Faith burst into a fit of giggles, and the sound made Claire positively melt.

“Oh my darling girl.” She cupped Faith’s head in her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Then with practiced ease, she shoved her nightgown down from her shoulder and out of the way, and settled Faith in her lap to feed her.

Claire’s fingers smoothed over the short, silky hairs on Faith’s head and then gently traced the shell of her ear. She hummed softly as she did, catching Faith’s eye eventually as the baby followed the sound. “That is from a song called Angels We Have Heard on High. I’ll teach it to you someday.” She tickled Faith’s cheek lightly. “I’ll teach you all the Christmas songs, my girl.”

Claire and Faith joined Jamie downstairs in the parlor where he stood by the fireplace, and the sight was completely warm and inviting. The work of Claire and Jamie last night was now on proud display in the light of morning ‒ four small stockings filled with treats and small gifts, and presents from them to the family tucked under the tree.

“No Fergus yet?”

“Nae. Heard him stirring about in his room afore I came down, though.”

“I guess it’s early still.”

Jamie tugged her forward into his arms and she went without resistance, the baby bracketed between them. Claire hummed a contented sound and kissed the top of Faith’s head.

“Merry Christmas, Auntie Claire an’ Unca Jamie!” Wee Jamie’s voice bellowed from the top of the stairs. Claire and Jamie looked up to see the boy beaming as he came down the stairs. Jenny was with him and had Maggie in one arm, practically perched on top of her mother’s rounded belly.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Claire warmly returned his greeting ‒ the one she’d taught him last week in preparation for this day. She and Jamie were situated perfectly by the hearth in order to see wee Jamie’s face when he rounded the corner of the stairs and noticed the stockings.

His mouth dropped open in surprised delight, but no sound came out. The boy practically danced on hurried steps to his aunt and threw his small arms around her knees through her layers of skirts. “He did come here, Auntie!”

Wee Jamie’s excitement was infectious, bringing smiles to everyone’s faces.

Jamie plucked Maggie from her mother, giving Jenny a kiss on the cheek as he did. “Merry Christmas, Jenny.”

She patted his arm as she moved past him to Claire. “Merry Christmas, sister.”

Claire squeezed her sister-in-law back and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. The warm embrace they shared was so much more than just that; Claire was keenly aware of and understood why they wouldn’t celebrate the holiday here, but it touched her to see Jenny embracing it and encouraging her children to embrace it as well.

“Can I look in my stocking?” Wee Jamie strained up on his tippy toes to try and reach his stocking, but his fingertips swiped at only air.

“Where’s Ian?” Jamie asked, bouncing Maggie in his arms.

“He’ll be down in a moment. The bairns couldna wait.” As if to prove her point, Jenny gestured to her son still trying desperately to reach his stocking.

“Jamie, love, not yet. Wait for Fergus,” Claire said gently.

“Where is the lad?”

“Still up in his room. Perhaps I should‒”

Fergus appeared then at the top of the stairs, his arms filled with bundles that he looked to have a precarious hold on. His head leaned around them to watch his steps as he went.

“What’ve ye got there?” Jenny asked him.

“My gifts for everyone!” He beamed at them as he rounded the stairs and made a beeline for the tree, though Claire caught the way his gaze sought out his stocking first. He dropped them carefully onto the floor and then stood. Claire was already reaching for him, settling an arm around his slim shoulders to draw him to her side.

“Merry Christmas, Fergus.” She kissed the top of his head.

“Joyeux Noël,” he answered softly. “When will we open presents?”

“I thought we could do that later in the day, but since all the children are here now, why don’t you all look in your stockings and see what Father Christmas brought you?”

There was a flurry of movement as stockings were passed to the children. Wee Jamie sat down promptly on the floor and upended his stocking so that the contents spilled out into his lap. The babies were far less riotous in their joy and took their first Christmas morning in stride. Claire watched all of them, heart simply brimming with happiness.

Fergus appeared at her side, his stocking in hand after having been carefully refilled once he’d sorted through the fruit, treats, and small gifts. The tender look on his face had her drawing him back in under her arm.

“Thank you, Milady,” he whispered, mindful of not wanting wee Jamie to overhear.

She smiled through the inexplicable urge to cry and kissed his hair. “Of course, love. Merry Christmas.”

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

Murtagh joined them, then Ian, and they made their way into the dining room for their breakfast. A few winter chores were unavoidable even on Christmas so the rest of the day passed as it normally would at Lallybroch, with the exception that there was something special to look forward to when the work was done.

When it was time for gifts, their family reconvened in the parlor and Claire took the lead on distributing the gifts she and Jamie had for everyone. She knew Fergus had made his gifts for everyone as well, and he excitedly joined her by the tree to start handing out presents. But throughout the day, without Claire’s notice, more gifts had found their way under the tree, and she suddenly realized that Jenny, Ian, and Murtagh hadn’t only showed up today, but came with presents of their own to give out.

Not for the first time that day, she felt swarmed by gratitude for these wonderful souls. There was thought and care put into each gift, from Fergus’s handknit hats and wrist warmers to the matching dolls Jenny gave to Maggie and Faith.

“Here ye go, lad.” Jamie placed a long, narrow bundle in Fergus’s lap, grinning broadly at the boy’s curious stare. “Go on, open it.”

Fergus unfolded the cloth wrappings to reveal the hilt of a wooden sword, hand-carved and sturdy. He pulled it free and held it up in one hand. Wee Jamie’s jaw dropped when he noticed. “Is this for…”

“So ye can practice yer swordfighting, aye.”

Fergus looked down at the bundle still in his lap. “There’s two of them, Milord.”

“Weel, when ye’re learning, ye need someone to practice with.”

Fergus launched himself out of his seat, wooden swords clattering to the floor, and threw his arms around Jamie’s neck. “Thank you, Milord! I love it.”

“I’m glad tae hear it, lad.”

“You’ll teach me? We can practice together?”

“Aye, I will. Figured ye could practice with Rabbie as weel, so long as you two dinna cause a stramash at the same time. And never in the house, mind.”

“Oui, I understand.”

From her spot next to Jamie, Claire reached over and caressed the boy’s curly mop of hair. He was so dear to them and seeing his happiness and gratitude, his love for everyone here through the gifts he’d made… Claire could hardly reconcile the fact that they hadn’t even known him a year ago. He seemed so permanently rooted in their lives already and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

The Christmas feast followed presents. With the help of Jenny and Mrs. Crook, they’d decided on a menu of wild game that had been recently caught and potatoes from their first harvest. A few other dishes had been prepared as well as desserts ‒ and it wouldn’t detract from the plans Jenny had for Hogmanay next week.

Supper was a lively time. Stories spilled out around the table and the laughter flowed easily. They basked in the comfort of each other’s company, the joy of being all together.

And with full bellies, their small clan retired to the parlor afterwards, soaking in the warmth of the fire as most of them reclined in chairs and on sofas. The candles along the wall had been lit as well, and from the glow of the fire, the room was cast in a warm light.

The wonder and the joy of the holiday… the togetherness… Claire had wanted this more than she could say, having felt for many years a tender ache for family at this time of year. First it had been a yearning for her parents, but then as she grew into an adult, it had shifted into a different kind of ache… a sharper pain for something that felt out of reach for her.

Of course she’d had her Uncle Lamb growing up. And she’d never truly been alone on Christmas ‒ even during the years stationed throughout war-torn Europe, she’d had the hope of reuniting with Frank when the war was over.

But she had still always felt the keen sense of loss this time of year.

Her gaze dropped to the baby and she brought one dimpled fist up to her mouth for a kiss. Her miracle girl. And it wasn’t just this year made special by Faith’s arrival in their lives. Claire was acutely aware that she held in her arms a lifetime of hope and promise. For this year and every year to follow, for as long as Claire lived, she’d never spend another Christmas with that feeling. That yearning which had become a yearly dark companion ‒ first to have her parents back and then to be a parent ‒ would no longer haunt her.

Her eyes sought out Jamie and found him stretched out on his back on the rug. Fergus was there, sitting up beside him, and wee Jamie reclined with his head on his uncle’s chest. Their voices were hushed but the easy smiles between the three of them shone brightly for all to see. Maggie was shuffling around them on her slightly unsteady legs and Jamie’s hand hovered at her back, already bracing for a tumble. The children always gravitated to him wherever he was, but it was also common on quiet winter evenings like this to find him at their level, engaged in some sort of play or discussion.

In all her wildest imaginings, she never saw this. She never saw him coming, but oh, was she ever grateful that he was hers. He’d given her not just Faith, but a home with him and a loud, wonderful family. She’d never been alone on Christmas all those years before, but she’d never in her life had something quite like this before.

Faith began to squirm in her arms, no longer content to simply be held. She shifted the baby to face her and set Faith’s feet on top of her thighs, letting her bounce her legs and flail her arms to her heart’s content.

“We are lucky, aren’t we?” She bounced Faith up and then brought her close to kiss her cheek. “You have the best Da in the whole world.”

At some point in the evening, he made his way back to her side on the sofa. Murtagh had stolen Faith and sat across from them, bouncing her on his knee and having Faith’s dolly pretend to kiss her cheek.

Claire wound her arm through Jamie’s, their hands linking together, and rested her head on his shoulder. “He’s so funny with her now. When she was born, I would’ve sworn he hated babies. Recently, he steals her every chance he gets.”

“Nae,” Jamie chuckled quietly. “He doesna hate them. He’s only afraid they’ll break when they’re sae small. Especially Faith.”

Claire hummed softly, caught up in the notion of rough-around-the-edges Murtagh being scared to hold newborn babies for how fragile they looked. “Well, I’m glad he came around.” She exhaled a smile, watching Jamie’s godfather as he pretended to scold Faith for trying to chew on her dolly’s face.

She felt more than heard Jamie’s quick exhale of a laugh, no doubt equally amused and endeared by those two as she was. Her hand squeezed his in a sudden swell of affection for him, and he raised their clasped hands to kiss the back of hers in response. She looked up at him then, catching the slopes and strong lines of his profile before he turned to her, drawn by the feeling of her gaze.

God, he was so beautiful, and when he looked at her like that, all soft and content and in love, it felt as though her bones were turned to putty. But in the moment, what sprang to mind was something more astounding to her; she had forever with him.

Warmth bloomed in her chest. She had a lifetime yet with him of Christmases and birthdays, Hogmanays and quarter days, and every mundane or monumental day in between. And it thrilled her to the very marrow of her bones that they would do that together, building traditions as a family, just as they’d done with Christmas.

“What’s on yer mind, Sassenach?”

She shook her head, throat swelling with emotion at just the thought of trying to get those words out. She’d be blubbering in front of their whole family. “Later,” she promised and leaned up to kiss him instead.

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

When they retired to their room for the night, Faith had already lost her battle to sleep and was carried up to her crib in her father’s arms. Claire began readying for bed, shedding layers of clothing and letting out her curls from their tight confines.

She hadn’t been watching Jamie so she was surprised when he appeared suddenly by her side.

“Here, I didna want to give this to ye in front of the family.” He held out a small rock to her. “It’s amber, ye see. Like Munro gave ye as a wedding present. I thought ye could fashion a bit of jewelry out of it perhaps. Merry Christmas, Sassenach.”

She accepted the bit of amber, touched by the thought behind it. The dragonfly in amber that Hugh had given her was a treasured gift. “It’s perfect, I‒” Claire’s eyes went wide with a sudden realization. “Jamie, I didn’t get you anything!” Her hand flew to her mouth as the shock of it set it. “You did all this work to make Christmas happen and I‒ Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Tis alright, mo ghraidh.” He kissed her forehead.

“No, it’s not. I can’t believe I didn’t even realize.” She blinked back the sting of tears.

“Tis alright,” Jamie repeated, giving her a half-smile. “Ye did this all for the bairns, aye? And they had a wonderful time.”

“But you were right there with me. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you. I feel so foolish.”

“Don’t. Claire…” The way he said her name had her heart tumbling in her chest. He so rarely called her by her name and when he did, his voice was usually laced with emotion. He captured her chin in his hand and looked at her with so much love, she felt like clay in his hands, completely soft and pliable. “I dinna need anything, truly. Today was a gift of its own and I’ll never forget it.”

“I’m glad,” she murmured. “You still deserved something. I’ll‒ I’ll make you‒”

“Christ, I dinna need anything else, Sassenach.”

He kissed her then, though whether in reassurance or to change the subject, Claire wasn’t sure ‒ he kissed her hungrily and she found she didn’t care what the reason was.

He hoisted her up and her legs anchored her around his hips. Her fingers were tangled in his curls and she kissed him back fervently, pouring every ounce of affection she felt for him into that act.

Though as he began to walk them toward their bed, she pulled back abruptly and he froze in his trek. “What is it?”

Her fingers traced the lines of his jaw, biding time as the feeling slowly framed into words in her head.

“I’m no’ upset, mo ghraidh.”

“I know, but…” Her vision clouded with tears, thinking of how she had sat in the parlor tonight feeling so infinitely grateful for and desperately in love with him, and the entire time, it hadn’t occurred to her that she had no gift to give him. “I love you,” she rasped. “And I’m worried I don’t tell you enough or show you enough. For Christ’s sake, I forgot your Christmas gift and… what does that say to you?”

“Dinna need a trinket or token to ken ye love me. I know it in my bones, Claire. And as for telling me… weel,” he kissed the tip of her nose, a soft act of reassurance that melted away some of her fears. “Ye stayed with me when I gave ye the chance to go home. Ye gave me a bairn and took in another one wi’out question. Ye’re here wi’ me now, loving my family as your own. Ye didna‒ ye didna give up on me after all that happened since last year. A Dhia... ye tell me a thousand ways wi’out ever saying the words, mo nighean donn. I dinna have any doubts.”

Her fingers carded through his curls and a heavy sigh escaped her.

“And I meant it,” he continued. “Today was a gift. Ye were so radiant wi’ joy, Claire. I wish ye could have seen you as I did.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat and breathed in sharply. “You make me happy, Jamie,” she murmured. “So happy, I could burst.” She captured his lips then, too overcome for any more words and needing desperately for the feelings to be expressed some other way ‒ a way that felt more natural to her than speaking.

She squealed in surprise when he flung her backwards onto the bed. “Jamie!”

“Shhhh!” He crawled over her in an instant, covering her body with his own. Both were still clad in a layer of clothing each, but that problem could be easily resolved. “Ye’ll wake the bairn, Sassenach. And that would ruin how I plan to spend the rest o’ this night with ye.”

“Hmm,” her hands smoothed over the broad expanse of his back, pressing him down on her. “And what exactly would those plans include, I wonder?”

He rolled his hips then, drawing a gasp out of her at the sudden contact with the evidence of his arousal through the fabric of her shift. He grinned at her. “Weel, it was yer idea, ye see. Just a little bit o’ togetherness.”

#outlander #jamie x claire #faith fraser #outlander fic #OL fic #12 days OL ficmas #my fic #tbbfiy #holly ivy mistletoe

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 5 years ago

Photo

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach

Chapter 10: 14 Men (6)

"Now you will tell me that this is all publicly available information and I would agree with you. But I was not aware of it before. In a way, it woke me up. It took some time but when I had the opportunity to take over another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling over. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the Brexit, his travel intensified."

To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013, supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian."

Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside.

"Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data."

"In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty, because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."

"Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?"

"Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie.

"Certainly."

He got up and left the room for a moment. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.

"Tea” by Pexels

"It's good to take a little break," Groide said as he slowly walked across the room and then paused at one of the windows. Claire, too, had stood up and stretched. Her steps led her to one of the dark oak bookcases. Slowly she let her eyes slide over the old leather-bound volumes. Then her gaze wandered over to Groide. Ferdinand Groide was, at least as far as she could judge right now, an impressive person, even on the outside. Claire estimated him to be in his mid-60s and should be almost right. The 66 year old, tall man stood bolt upright in front of the window and had his arms crossed behind his back. He was moderately slim and not muscular, but his movements suggested that he had kept himself physically fit for his age. His black, short cut hair showed grey patches only at the temples. From the first moment they met, Claire had been attracted to the unusual shape of his face - you could almost call it rectangular. The way he appeared and behaved radiated calm and a kind of positive authority. He was wearing a black three-piece suit of virgin wool, whose jacket he had taken off before dinner. The timelessly elegant waistcoat that appeared beneath it, from whose small side pocket a golden watch chain protruded, and the discreet tie of dark Italian silk jacquard that matched the pocketkerchief of his jacket contrasted with the visitor's simple but flawless white shirt. Groide wore gold-framed, thick glasses that suggested myopia, a simple gold wedding ring on the right hand and a signet ring with a dark blue stone on the left hand. At dinner, Claire had also noticed the rectangular gold cufflinks bearing Groide's monogram. Everything about this man underscored Claire's impression that she was dealing with a person who not only knew exactly who he was, but also what he was doing.

Moments later, the door opened and Jamie entered.

"Tea will be here in just a few minutes. Would you like something else to drink?"

Claire shook her head, Groide turned to Jamie and said:

"Thank you. Not yet."

A little later, a knock caught their attention.

After Helene Ballin served tea and everyone had a cup, Groide asked:

"Can we continue?"

Claire nodded.

Groide pressed the record button on the recorder, and Claire went on to talk:

"My husband has always had a certain reluctance towards the new media. Of course we had a PC in the house that was connected to the Internet. But my husband used it very rarely. An yes, he also has a notebook. But it was never allowed to be connected to the Internet. Frank was always afraid of viruses or that hackers would steal his work. Before 2015, when he used the term 'work', I was thinking only of his research and the manuscripts of his books. But since that conversation in November 2015, I wondered if it could be about something else entirely. My husband always took his notebook with him to the university. But that was not a problem. Because Frank was obsessed with the thought that his notebook might get lost or - even worse - be stolen. So..."

“.... were there disks, USB flash drives?" Groide asked interested.

"No," Claire replied smiling, "papers.”

The expression of highest astonishment was to be heard in the older man's voice.

“Papers?”

"Yes, papers. Frank believes that only what is written by hand will remain in ones memory. That's why everything he later typed into his notebook was first written down by hand."

"And you had access to these handwritten documents?" asked Groide, who had now put his arms on the table and moved his whole body forward a little.

"No," Claire replied smiling.

"Too bad."

An unmistakable disappointment spread over the face of the German.

"Why?" Claire asked, adding: “One can get access."

She laid her head to one side coquettishly, smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

Once again, astonishment spread over Groide's face. Meanwhile, Jamie had to pull himself together because he almost laughed out loud. This woman was not only intelligent and strong, she also had a sense of humor. It was delicious to watch the rapidly changing emotions she was able to conjure upon Ferdinand Groide's face.

"So you have ... gained ... access ..." he said, trying to remain objective.

"Yes," Claire, in turn, noted objectively and took another sip from her teacup.

"One Friday evening, it was in early February 2016, my husband came home from university in a rage. He said that he had had a dispute with the university management about his research funds. Later I was to learn that this dispute never existed. In fact, it was that one of his affairs had dumped him. But that's another story. As always, when he was angry or did not know how to handle a situation, he became aggressive and drank. And that's what happened that weekend. "

Claire paused for a moment, looked at the table and took a deep breath.

"Then on Sunday ... he started drinking whisky after lunch. He drank until he was laying snoring on the sofa. I used this opportunity to make a copy of the key to his filing cabinet and the key to his desk."

"How did you know how to do that?" Jamie asked, looking at Claire in amazement.

"As I said, I was raised and educated in a very ... nonconformist way. In port areas you can ... come into contact with ... people ... who ... help you with ... such questions ... I had used the pre-Christmas period to, well, let's say, make contacts there. Frank hates to go shopping and so I knew that on these days I did not have to expect that he wanted to accompany me. In a bar I inquired and the waitress behind the counter told me that she could make a contact for me for the payment of $100. I gave her $50 and the number of my department at the hospital as well as the dates on which I was on night shift. Two days later, a man calling himself 'Joe' called. We set up a meeting the night of the next day. He promised to give me two small boxes with a mass to make prints with. He asked me $600 for them. The next night, just before the night shift started, I met ‘Joe’ in the parking lot of the hospital. He gave me a brown bag, the kind you get in burger and fast-food restaurants. Inside were the little boxes. I gave him an envelope with the money in it. We agreed that if I got the prints, I would get back to Brenda at the bar. It took some time, but at the beginning of February, as I said, I finally had the opportunity to carry out my plan. When Frank fell asleep drunk on the sofa that Sunday afternoon, I took the bunch of keys from his jacket pocket. Then I locked myself in the bathroom and made the prints. When I returned to the living room, Frank was still asleep and it was easy to slip the bunch of keys back into his jacket pocket. I had taken the boxes with the prints, wrapped in a towel, into the bedroom. There I stashed them among other things in my doctor's bag.”

“Medical Bag” by Raimundo Pastor

Claire held out her cup to Jamie, who poured tea for her again.

"A few days later I went back to the bar, gave 'Brenda' another $50, the boxes and a note with the details of my next night's duty. It took about 10 days, then 'Joe' called during my night shift and announced that he would bring me the keys the next evening. And that's exactly what happened. He gave me the keys and I gave him another $600. The next day I went back to the bar and gave 'Brenda' another $100, as I had promised her. That was the end of the deal. In total I paid 1400 dollars. I thought, this investment will certainly pay off."

Now Claire took a big sip from the cup that Jamie had left for her.

"Investment?" Jamie asked.

"Well, I was curious if Frank was really working for the Secret Service. To be honest, I still thought his story was just bragging and I didn't expect to find anything real to do with MI5. But I was hoping to get hold of evidence of his affairs. Evidence that, in the event of a divorce..."

Claire paused for a moment.

"Our marriage had gone downhill in the years leading up to it ... I had heard rumors, I had suspicions. "But my studies and work didn't give me time ..."

"And then you put the keys to use?" asked Groide, who was very keen to make sure the conversation didn't drift into secondary topics.

"Yes, in mid-March the opportunity arose. Frank flew to Edinburgh for a weekend, supposedly for a conference, and I took the opportunity to look around in his filing cabinet. I was frankly amazed at how well the keys worked. When I opened his cabinet I found, among other things, 14 files relating to the 'New Jacobite' leaders. They contained detailed information about each of these men. CVs, family trees, family relationships, friendship and business relationships, relationships abroad and more. In each of these files there was also a folder with pictures. I didn't recognize Jamie, I mean Mr. Fraser, in Boston. Because in the pictures in the file that Frank keeps on him, he has red hair and no beard..."

Claire looked over at Jamie, whose hair and beard were black. He smiled and stroked his hair, slightly theatrical, and said:

"There's nothing like a good make-up."

All three of them smiled. Claire picked up her cup again and drank. Then she continued in a rather nonchalant tone:

"It was very interesting to read about the lives of these men. "

"After all these years, do you think you can still remember what you read in these files?" Groiede asked.

"Anything?" she asked with a smile.

"I can remember everything as if I had a photographic memory."

Again she reached into her handbag. To the surprise of the two men, Claire's delicate hand produced three silver USB flash drives, which she slid over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Each of these sticks contains one terabyte of data. I photographed all the pages of the files and placed them in folders with the appropriate names."

The men looked at her first, then at each other in silence for a moment. Ferdinand Groide took the sticks and looked at them.

"You ... said ... that ... you ... did this ... research ... in 2016, so seven years ago ... does that mean the files are up to 2016?"

Her answer came quickly and came as no surprise to Ferdinand Groide or James Fraser:

"No, I made the last additions three weeks ago. At that time Frank was - supposedly - at a meeting of historians in Canberra. So all the files should be almost up to date."

Groide was struck dumb. Jamie had no recollection of ever seeing the old man like that. He had sunk slightly into himself and his face had lost the rosy colour that was so characteristic of him. He was obviously aware of the heavy responsibility that came with owning these sticks. Claire's information could change the fate of at least three or more nations. Groide knew it and Jamie knew it, too. But was Claire aware of it? Jamie could not answer this question.

His friend took off his glasses with the angular golden rims and wiped his eyes. A long breath of air escaped the old man's lungs. Then he looked at Claire:

"And you want to give me, I mean us, this information freely?"

Claire nodded:

"Yes."

"May I ask you, are you doing this to get back at your husband?"

"No, I mean yes, you may ask me. But the answer is no. I was thinking of using it against him in case of divorce. But having read so much about the history of Scotland, I think that something like this ... must never happen again. And..."

"And?"

Now ist was Claire who took a deep breath.

"And having learned by chance this afternoon what a member of my husband's family had done to Mr. Fraser, I don't want anything like that to happen to anybody else."

Groide looked over at Jamie, but kept silent.

"All I ask is that you use the information you receive from me in a way that will prevent harm."

China-usb / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

Groide had his eyes on the tabletop and the USB sticks in front of him. Claire and Jamie heard the hands on the big wall clock that hung behind them ticking. A few moments passed, during which they all remained silent.

"Mrs. Beauchamp, I want you to know that I have great respect for your decision. I'm just one small weel in a much larger machine. But I promise you that I will use all my influence to see that this information is handled as you wish. I also want you to know that we have no hostile feelings towards your country here. On the contrary. The Brexit and its consequences are much regretted in our country by most people. And not just for economic reasons. We miss the voice and political weight of your country. The oldest democracy in the modern Western world has always had an important, a great weight in this Union - also to establish a political balance. You know, there are member states that have not been familiar with the democratic system for so long. So far, things have gone reasonably well, but the loss of the British vote in the Europan Parliament could lead to dangerous imbalances ... And then we must not forget the human relations. I myself grew up many decades before the reunification of our country in a West German state where British troops were stationed. The British were neighbours for us. A friend of mine, who has since passed away, married an English woman, joined the Anglican Church and became military chaplain for these troops in his city. Friends of mine had planned to buy a small cottage in the southwest of England and spend their retirement there. Many of the cities where I lived had partnerships with English cities. We all very much regret the developments of the last ten years ... and we can only hope that a future generation may be able to reverse them. I hope you know that you are very welcome, not just because you are giving us this information or as a health professional, but as a person. And I hope you'll be able to settle in."

Claire nodded. Then she reached out her hand and put it on the old man's right hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Groide. I appreciate it."

"You can call me Ferdinand, if you like."

"Sure, Ferdinand, I'm Claire."

"Thanks, Claire."

"Well, after that eventful work meeting, let's have a nice drink, shall we? How about a whisky?"

Jamie looked at her expectantly.

Claire nodded.

"I'd love one."

Groide shook his head.

"Jamie, you know I don't drink that stuff. I'll have a vodka, please."

"You see Claire," Jamie said with an ironic undertone, "you might as well learn something about the Germans here. When it comes to alcohol, they have no taste."

He handed her a glass of whisky.

"He's right, Claire. And remember one more thing. We have absolutely no sense of humor either."

The men began to giggle and Jamie had to stop for a moment before he handed the glass of vodka to Groide.

"You may say what you usually say about my taste in alcohol, Jamie," Groide then said jokingly.

Jamie looked at Claire with a grin.

"He spent too much time with Russians, they spoiled his taste."

Wodka / Vodka Rene1905

"Sa sdarovje!" was all Groide would answer. Then he turned to Claire again:

"You said earlier that you intend to ask for a divorce from your husband?"

"Yes, I do. I hope it's also possible from here."

Groide looked at her thoughtfully.

"Do you object to Claire's request, Ferdinand?"

"No, I understand the request very well. I'm just worried it might put MI5 on to you, Jamie."

A mild shock drove Claire through and she nearly choked on the whisky she'd just taken.

#14DaysofOutlander #Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #From Boston to Berlin in 14 Hours #Boston #Berlin #Claire Beauchamp #jamie fraser #Ian Murray #Jenny Murray #Frank Randall #Germany #Modern AU

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livehorses · 4 years ago

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Candelaria Day or Day of the Candles

In the rest of the World, Christmas practically ended after the New Year. Christians keep celebrating until the Solemnity of the Epiphany and beyond ‘till the Feast of the Baptims of Christ. But for many hispanic speakers and mostly mexicans, who have the inherited tradition of not taking off the Bethlehem scene until February 2nd, it isn't over at all...

On February 2nd, the Church celebrates the feast of our Lord's Presentation in the Temple. This happens to be remembered 40 days after Christmas, given that the Jewish tradition prescribed 40 days of purification for the mother that gave birth and was considered impure since she keeps bleeding a little, after which it was mandatory to go to the Temple to get purified and to present the child. Also every family had to bring up an animal for it to be sacrificed to God. By being a poor family, the animal that it had to be brought up was a couple of turtle doves (on the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me two turtle doves)

That day the prophet Simeon went to see the Child as God promised him that he would have the chance to see Him before he died. He took the Child in his arms and praised God, and started speaking of the wonderful things Jesus would do on the future.

This feast is celebrated with people assisting to mass and there is lighten up a lot of candles, indicating how God is the Light of the World, that’s why it’s known as the Candelaria. However and as always, in México the peculiar traditions can't never be missed.

As I said before, many people wait 'till that day to take off the Bethlehem scene, and the person that found the little doll hidden in the rosca has the honor to become the Child Jesus' godparent. The chosen people to become godparents from each family bring to church a figure of the Divine Child Jesus dressed up and for it to be spreaded with holy water by the priest.

Around that date, the markets become full of sellers that offer you to buy your “Niño (Child)” and your candles. It’s the opportunity many artisans have to make a good business.

After mass, people gather together and have the famous tamaliza, and the godparents have to pay for the tamales or make them themselves. There are plenty of types of tamales: green tomato tamales with chicken, red salsa tamales with pork, mole (a salsa of chilli and chocolate) tamales with pork, with jalapeno and cheese, sweet tamales with strawberry flavor, chocolate tamales, blackberry and cream cheese tamales, and more. The tamales can be accompanied by hot chocolate, coffee or atole, which is a prehispanic drink made with corn flavor and another ingredient as chocolate, strawberry or vanilla, or champurrado, also prehispanic, made with corn dough and piloncillo instead of corn flour and sugar. It's has more density than the atole.

If you’re mexican, do you know more traditions? Do you belong to a country in which the Candelaria has similiar traditions? What do you do to celebrate it?

Happy Candelaria or Candles day!!!

😃🎉🎊🕯️👶🏻🫔 ☕

#Orgullo mexicano #Mexican pride #Mexican traditions #Mexican traditional food #Día de la Candelaria #Candelaria day #Day of the Candles #Catholic traditions #Presentation of the Child Jesus in the Temple #Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

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sserpente · 5 years ago

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24 little kinks | Doors 20, 21 🎄

“You remember that chocolate advent calendar I got you for December?”

“I do,” he chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “You made me display it in the kitchen so I would not eat it all at once.”

Your smile widened. “How about we get another one?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, only now paying proper attention to the sex toy ad. Then, he frowned. It was an odd mixture of disgust, genuine curiosity and even a hint of arousal flashing in his blue eyes.

A/N: Christmas is approaching! ♥

Loki and you had agreed to celebrate on Christmas Eve already—to enjoy some alone-time together, with mulled wine, hot cocoa, biscuits and a lovely Christmas dinner before you would both join the Avengers at the compound on Christmas morning.

Now you were merely hoping that you would get to celebrate the holiday at all. It had started with a call from the local police, alerting Tony Stark for ‘alien activity’ at 42nd street station. You really wished you had a code for that. Any public disruption containing the word ‘alien’ usually caused a mass panic.

Loki took the call before you could reach your phone, reading Thor on your display. You had just put on those naughty panties with the little vibrator inside which he had pulled from yesterday’s door when his face suddenly fell.

“We are on our way.” He hung up without a word of goodbye.

“What happened?”

“Chitauri. They are as of right now raiding New York.” Fuck.

When you arrived downtown, the areas the police had named were on fire. Debris, broken cars and injured pedestrians scattered on the hard and cracked asphalt. Loki took a deep breath. It was like a flashback, like a distant memory which came crushing back into him with full force, like a blow in the face by Mjölnir.

You could feel his discomfort. Like heat, it was radiating off of him as he clenched his daggers. Suppressing your sudden trembling, you gave him a quick and reassuring nod. You would get through this.

The woman you saved was in a wheelchair, her eyes filled with pure terror. You slit the Chitauri’s throat before her eyes. It was anger that kept you going. Anger at these creatures for their involvement with Loki’s past actions. Anger at what he had had to endure with Thanos and anger at the destruction they caused.

FRIDAY had translated their somewhat cryptic language. They were ready to tear the whole city apart, kill every man, woman and child until the artefact was returned to them. They had learned from their attack on the compound—so they took innocent lives instead.

You blinked away the tears forming in your eyes when you spotted the huge Christmas tree in the middle of a roundabout falling, ripping with it a power line which caused hot sparks to fly. It dropped on a car whose driver had been unable to duck fast enough.

It was almost Christmas, for Christ’s sake. You were going to kill them, each and every one of them.

“We’ll have a cup of mulled wine when this is over, right?” You heard Tony’s voice over the earpiece you were wearing, making you roll your eyes. You admired his optimism, for all you could see right now was death and violence.

Your gaze flicked over to Loki, to see if he was alright. His elegance during battle kept impressing and fascinating you over and over again. Yet at the same time, as you watched his new vibranium daggers slice through the alien’s bodies, you felt incredible fear washing over you. The man you loved, at war…

A blow in the stomach made you gasp for air desperately. You dropped one of your daggers in an attempt to strike at the Chitauri bashing at you from the left. You flew through the air, the impact of its force knocking all air from your body as you were thrown against a fire hydrant. It broke instantly, flooding the street with water and wetting your clothes to the bones. The sudden and brief electricity shock between your legs you ignored.

Your hair stuck to your skin when you stood with shaky legs, checking if you had any broken bones. With all the adrenaline cursing through your veins, you felt not a single sting of pain. Hopefully, this would not cost you a limb later.

You moaned when the Chitauri who had caught you off guard started at you once more, this time trying a frontal attack. You narrowed your eyes at him, ducking its strikes with but a few skilled movements. When you buried your dagger in its calf, it howled, dropping on its knees for you to slice its neck. You will pay for causing this much pain and fear so shortly before Christmas…

Turning around, you dragged your wet form back to Loki. It wasn’t all water. You were bleeding. But it was fine, you were fine. Your eyes met, Loki’s lips slightly parting. You raised your arm, meaning to help him when behind him, another Chitauri approached. They were circling him, one by one—it was clear they recognised him, remembered what he had and had not done all those years ago.

One of them you hit in the head when you threw one of your daggers, watching its dead body drop to the ground in a satisfied manner but you were not fast enough for the second one. Loki had just killed the alien before him and took a deep breath to cast illusions of himself to distract his opponents when the Chitauri behind him already bored its sharp weapon into his lower back from behind.

You screaming his name was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness.

“(Y/N), can I speak with you for a second?”

Steve was holding his shield so tightly his knuckles turned white. With a worried expression on his face, he nodded at an empty corner on the helicarrier. Only reluctantly did you leave Loki’s side. Thor had helped carrying his unconscious body on board after the remaining Chitauri had been eliminated. Only a few escaped—a handful which would not be able to cause any more harm anytime soon.

The police was alerted, arrangements were made, people were brought to the hospital. All you cared about, however, was Loki. You held his hand with trembling fingers, looking for a sign of consciousness on his beautiful face. Thus far, nothing. There was so much blood on his armour…

“The others and I,” Steve began right away, “we think that maybe you should take a break from your duties as an Avenger.” He phrased it like you were a soldier in a military camp.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that… Loki has strong… feelings for you.”

“And for reasons we do not quite understand,” Tony interrupted, “You have strong feelings for him too.” You rolled your eyes.

“What we’re trying to say is that out there, on the battlefield, on a mission, whatever you want to call it, you’re a threat for one another.”

“What are you talking about? Loki would give his life for me and I would give mine for his! I know what you think about him, Tony, I know you all hate him but even if you don’t want to see it, Loki is a good man, he has a good heart! It would be a Christmas miracle if you guys finally saw that.”

“That’s not my point. You’re constantly worried for each other. Reindeer Games is… possessive over you, he’s like an alpha animal protecting its omega.”

Steve nodded. “His worry for you during a mission could sooner or later cost him his life—or yours.”

Your face fell. You had never seen it like that. It was true—during a fight, Loki and you always looked out for another. You had seen his concerned look before he got stabbed and dropped to the ground like a broken marionette.

FRIDAY had already run a quick test and examined his body as soon as you boarded. The wound was not fatal and hadn’t hit any vital organs but it was deep and severe enough for him to lose consciousness. He would heal again, sooner than later. But that also meant that he was to take it easy for the next few days. You’d make sure he would.

You insisted they dropped you both off at your flat. Thor helped you lay Loki into your bed, then disappeared after a quick goodbye hug. While you wetted a wash cloth and cleaned his face from any dirt and blood, Steve’s words came to your mind again. You’re a threat to one another on the battlefield… was it really true? Was it possibly you could cause harm to each other when you were only trying to protect what you loved?

You swallowed thickly; and it was then Loki opened his eyes and coughed. Reacting quickly, you brought a glass of water to his lips. He swallowed the cool liquid eagerly.

“Thank you,�� he choked out.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I have been stabbed, my sweet. How are you?”

“You’re asking me? I’ve been wearing vibrating panties during a mission.”

“I forgot you were still wearing those.” He stated bluntly, an exhausted and weak smirk tugging at his lips. You let out a relieved sigh. If he was able to be amused by this predicament of yours, his wound could not be that bad.

“The battery died after I got hurled against a fire hydrant.”

And you were still soaking wet. Loki gave you a reproachful look.

“I’m okay, just a few bruises. It’s you we need to take care of. Can you magic off your clothes for me? So I can clean you up.”

He nodded. It took him some effort to use his seidr in this condition but he managed. As soon as he was pretty much stark naked and for just a split second, you admired his godly body, you went to work and gently wiped his skin clean off all the blood.

“What happened? Did they kill the other Chitauri?”

You nodded. “A few are still on the loose. They won’t get very far, as far as I’m concerned, Tony is using FRIDAY right now to track them down. Do you need more water?”

“No. I need you. Lie with me.”

Smiling, you obliged, careful not to come in contact with his wound. Now that it was cleaned, it did not at all look so bad—he was already healing. As soon as you had removed your wet clothes and simply dropped them to your bedroom floor, you lied down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“We forgot today.” He suddenly said.

“What?”

“We forgot to open our calendar.”

“Oh, no we didn’t. I checked this morning.”

“So what was in it?”

“A penis pump.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t make me explain it to you, not now.” You giggled gently. “But I think you will like what it does to you.”

Loki smiled, his blue eyes already falling shut again as you tenderly stroked his raven hair.

“I am sure of that.”

A/N: Nothing really naughty happened today, I know. But it’ll make the last days before Christmas even sweeter, I promise. ;-)

Door 22 will be opened on Sunday, December 22nd.

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente

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adz · 5 years ago

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in case you were needing it, here is my attempt at creating a comprehensive, mostly chronological list of every song sufjan stevens wrote/released as a solo act

A Sun Came We Are What You Say A Winner Needs a Wand Rake Siamese Twins Demetrius Dumb I Sound Wordsworth’s Ridge Belly Button Rice Pudding A Loverless Bed (Without Remission) Godzuki Super Sexy Woman The Oracle Said Wander Happy Birthday Jason Kill Ya Leil A Sun Came Satan’s Saxophones

Eye of the Beholder All Delighted People

8.21: A Blue Bunny Compilation Woman at the Well Far Physician’s Son

Seen Unseen Damascus

Enjoy Your Rabbit Year of the Asthmatic Cat Year of the Monkey Year of the Rat Year of the Ox Year of the Boar Year of the Tiger Year of the Snake Year of the Sheep Year of the Rooster Year of the Dragon Year of the Rabbit Year of the Dog Year of the Horse Year of Our Lord

To Spirit Back the Mews God’ll Ne’er Let You Down Bushwick Junkie I Can’t Even Life My Head

Michigan Flint All Good Naysayers For the Widows in Paradise Say Yes! To M!ch!gan! The Upper Peninsula Tahquamenon Falls Holland Detroit Romulus Alanson, Crooked River Sleeping Bear, Sault Saint Marie They Also Mourn Oh God, Where Are You Now? Redford Vito’s Ordination Song --- Marching Band Pickerel Lake Niagara Falls Presidents and Magistrates Wolverine

Hope Isn’t a Word Borderline

Metaphysics for Beginners How Can the Stone Remain?

Seven Swans All the Trees The Dress Looks Nice on You In the Devil’s Territory To Be Alone with You Abraham Sister Size Too Small We Won’t Need Legs to Stand A Good Man Is Hard to Find He Woke Me Up Again Seven Swans The Transfiguration --- I Went Dancing with My Sister Waste of What Your Kids Won’t Have Illinois Concerning the UFO Sighting The Black Hawk War Come On! Feel the Illinoise! John Wayne Gacy, Jr. Jacksonville A Short Reprise Decatur One Last “Whoo-Hoo!” Go! Chicago! Go! Yeah! Casimir Pulaski Day To the Workers of the Rock River Valley Region The Man of Metropolis Prairie Fire That Wanders About A Conjunction of Drones The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades They Are Night Zombies!! Let’s Hear That String Part Again In This Temple as in the Hearts of Man The Seer’s Tower The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders Riffs and Variations Out of Egypt

NPR single The Lord God Bird

The Avalanche The Avalanche Dear Mr. Supercomputer Adlai Stevenson The Vivian Girls The Henney Buggy Band Saul Bellow Carlyle Lake Springfield The Mistress Witch from McClure Kaskaskia River Inaugural Pop Music No Man’s Land The Palm Sunday Tornado The Pick-Up The Perpetual Self For Clyde Tombaugh Pittsfield The Undivided Self

Mews Too Opie’s Funeral Song

Songs for Christmas ---I We’re Goin’ to the Country! It’s Christmas! Let’s Be Glad! ---II Put The Lights On The Tree Only at Christmas Time ---III Come On! Let’s Boogey to the Elf Dance! That Was the Worst Christmas Ever Ding! Dong! All the King’s Horns ---IV Hey Guys! It’s Christmas Time! Did I Make You Cry on Christmas? (Well, You Deserved It!) The Incarnation ---V Get Behind Me, Santa! Christmas in July Jupiter Winter Sister Winter Star of Wonder The Winter Solstice

The Believer In the Words of the Governor

The BQE Prelude on the Esplanade Introductory Fanfare for the Hooper Heroes Movement I: In the Countenance of Kings Movement II: Sleeping Invader Interlude I: Dream Sequence in Subi Circumnavigation Movement III: Linear Tableau with Intersecting Surprise Movement IV: Traffic Shock Movement V: Self-Organizing Emergent Patterns Interlude II: Subi Power Waltz Interlude III: Invisible Accidents Movement VI: Isorhythmic Night Dance with Interchanges Movement VII (Finale): The Emperor of Centrifuge Postlude: Critical Mass --- The Sleeping Red Wolves

Single: Sofia’s Song

All Delighted People All Delighted People Enchanting Ghost Heirloom From the Mouth of Gabriel The Owl and the Tanager Arnika Djohariah Side D

The Age of Adz Futile Devices Too Much Age of Adz I Walked Now That I’m Older Get Real, Get Right Bad Communication Vesuvius All for Myself I Want to Be Well Impossible Soul

Silver & Gold ---VI Lumberjack Christmas The Midnight Clear St. Benjamin the Bearded One Barcarola ---VII Christmas Woman Happy Family Christmas Mysteries of the Christmas Mist Behold! The Birth of Man, the Face of Glory Ding-a-ling-a-ring-a-ling Mr. Frosty Man Make Haste to See the Baby Eternal Happiness or Woe I Am Santa’s Helper Even the Earth Will Perish ---VIII Christmas in the Room Particle Physics The Child with the Star on His Head ---IX X-mas Spirit Catcher ---X Happy Karma Christmas Justice Delivers Its Death Christmas Unicorn

Carrie & Lowell Death with Dignity Should Have Known Better All of Me Wants All of You Drawn to the Blood Eugene Fourth of July The Only Thing Carrie & Lowell John My Beloved No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross Blue Bucket of Gold

One Night Stand #1 Harsh Noise

Exploding Whale single

The Greatest Gift Wallowa Lake Monster The Greatest Gift The Hidden River of My Life City of Roses

CMBYN Singles Mystery of Love Visions of Gideon

Tonya Harding single

Lonely Man of Winter single

The Ascension Make Me An Offer I Cannot Refuse Run Away with Me Video Game Lamentations Tell Me You Love Me Die Happy Ativan Ursa Major Landslide Gilgamesh Death Star Goodbye to All That Sugar The Ascension America

Live Only Majesty Snowbird The 50 States Song Many Guides Maple River

#please let me know if you notice anything i missed OR mistakenly included #sufjan stevens #some letters are bolded in the post but not in the editor so i can't fix it? whatever lol

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 1 year ago

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30th December >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Sixth day within the octave of Christmas

(Liturgical Colour: White: B (2))

First Reading 1 John 2:12-17 Observance of the will of God.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 95(96):7-10

R/ Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad.

Give the Lord, you families of peoples, give the Lord glory and power; give the Lord the glory of his name.

R/ Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad.

Bring an offering and enter his courts, worship the Lord in his temple. O earth, tremble before him.

R/ Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad.

Proclaim to the nations: ‘God is king.’ The world he made firm in its place; he will judge the peoples in fairness.

R/ Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad.

Gospel Acclamation Hebrews 1:1-2

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia! A hallowed day has dawned upon us. Come, you nations, worship the Lord, for today a great light has shone down upon the earth. Alleluia!

Gospel Luke 2:36-40 Anna speaks of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem.

When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. Meanwhile the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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stardancerluv · 5 years ago

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Gotham Lockdown 2020

Part 15

Summary: Christmas sentiments fill the air.

As you went down in the elevator you slipped on your mask. You were happy, to be able to do this.

The engine was purring when she walked into the garage. Getting in you caught Victor, singing Jingle Bells. You rose an eyebrow and looked at him. “Victor?”

A chuckled came from him. “What can I say, Doll-Face puts me in a good mood. She brings out the holiday spirit in me.”

*****

Once Roman heard the bell for the elevator ding, did he practically leapt out of bed. He took a very fast shower and shaved. Pulling on a black sweater and pants, he called his connection.

“I’m ready.” That was all he said.

Going to his bar, he downed a scotch and grabbed two bottles of Cristal Brut. To show generosity he brought the extra bottle. He had better done good on his promise. Going back to the bedroom, he grabbed one of his guns and hooked it on his belt and put his sweater over it.

He really hoped it all went alright. There wasn’t he wouldn’t do for his girl. He picked up, Doll-Face, on the way to the club level.

“I think its really sweet what you’re doing.” She gave him a smile.

Roman, smiled. “There isn’t much, I wouldn’t do for her.”

“I’m sorry I told her last night.”

“Don’t be. She has a away of cutting through the shit. She’s called me on it from time to time.”

“Yeah, she a straight no chaser. I like that about her.”

“Me too. Roman smiled proudly.

Going over to the back door, he waited. Roman’s phone buzzed. He looked down and smiled.

Knock three times. And announce that you are the grinch. He typed.

The three knocks came followed by the announcements. She just looked at him. He shrugged. “I had to make sure they are on the level.” Together you lifted up the metal bar and took care of the locks.

He had one bottle in the open, he kept the extra hidden, in case they were all shitty. He withdrew his gun. “Ready?”

She nodded, slowly she opened the door. And Roman put a gun to the guy’s temple.

“Damn it Sionis, Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Look, last night I was shot. I had to be sure.

“No shit?”

“No shit, let’s see what you brought me.” Roman, tucked his gun back into his belt.

A lanky fellow, with a mop of red hair and piercing green eyes stood there. His flannel shirt, muddy boots and torn jeans completed the country, farmer boy look. In the alleyway there were five different Christmas trees lined up.

“Will, you be needing one of our large ones for New Years?” The kid asked as Roman considered the trees.

He grimaced. “I will let you know.” His eyes were narrowed. He barely breathed. He was focused.

******

As you walked through the boutique, Victor stopped. “What?” You looked around. “Is everything ok?” You drew close to him.

He pointed to a lovely shawl that was wrapped around a mannequin.

“Oh, that is quite lovely.” You encouraged him. “Grab it, she will love it.”

“I want her to have something in case something ever happens to me.” He paused as he gently touched the fabric. “She can wrap herself up in it. It could be like I can still give her a hug.”

You grabbed his arm. “Victor, you are invincible.” You smiled up at him. “No one could ever do anything to the two of you.”

He smirked, “You’re right I will grab it for her.” Going over he gently took it down from the mannequin.

You held open one of your bags. Closing it, the two of you continued to walk on.

“Oo, look at those.” You went over and picked up the loviest green gloves. “You know how she loves green. I am sure she will love these.”

He smiled, “I bet she will.”

You checked the sizes, then grabbing her size you slipped a pair for her into your bag.

*****

“I will take that one.” He chose the one that was much taller then him, it will be so much fun to decorate.

“Thank you.” He took the stand and opening the door, he let the kid carry just in and put it against the wall in the hallway.

Roman turned and smiled. “Doll-Face, did you want one for you and Victor?”

You shrugged, and looked at the kid. “Do you have an extra tree stand?”

The kid beamed. “I do.”

Doll- Face, smiled. “Then I will take one too.”

Of the ones left she grabbed a talk but fat one.

Roman nodded. “That’a good one.” Reaching down he grabbed both bottles. “Here you go, you did good.”

“Oh, you spoil me Sionis.” He chuckled.

Roman shrugged. “Just you and yours stay healthy and safe. I will let you know about new year’s.”

The kid smiled, as he held the bottles close to him going back to the truck.

*****

“Ooo” You couldn’t help yourself when you Victor came across the jewelry store. “There is a few things here, I think Roman would like.” You chirped happily as you looked at the cufflinks first.

“I am sure. It is Roman after-all.”

You smiled at Victor, “Why don’t you find some jewelry for Doll-face.”

He shrugged. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nudged him. “Of course. Nothing huge, she has a subdued taste like me.”

He shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”

You smiled as you saw him begin to look. Before, cufflinks were something you noticed on a good suit. But to actually buy them you had never thought to do until you became Roman’s girl. In the end, you settled on a lovely pair of sapphire ones for your favorite blue suit and a sterling silver pair that had gears and moved. They were very fun.

Moving the watch case, that a little harder to look through. Roman already had a nice selection of them. Though, he could always use a new one. With a smile you soon found one.

Looking over at Victor you smiled even wider as he held up two completely different necklaces. Resting your cheek in your hand, you looked at him. “Need any help.”

He grimaced. “I thought for sure, I could choose.” He looked at you. “What do you think?”

You looked at what he held up, one was a traditional heart pendant and the other was a very elaborate but beautiful compass. That intrigued you. “Victor, why the compass?”

Because she has helped navigated me in the world of love and a few times in well what her and I enjoy doing.

You raised your eyebrows, “Dispatching people for Roman or Falcone ?”

“Victor!” You cooed, excitedly. “Then get her the compass! That is very touching.”

He smiled. “I was leaning towards that one.”

“Good.”

******

After Roman, gave Doll-Face half the lights and ornaments, he was stuck trying make sense of the tangled lights.

Setting up the trees in their stands had been easy this, not so much.

Every so often, he would bark out a fuck .

He would test them, then go up on the stool and string them. A few times, he got tangled himself. He’d curse even louder. Though eventually the lights all made it to the branches of the tree.

Seeing, snow begin shift from the heavy clouds, he got from the mass lights that ended up not being needed and the ornaments, that sat in the boxes waiting to be plucked up and hung, he made some hot cocoa and some popcorn. He leaned against the counter and strummed his fingers, admiring his handy work while waiting for treats to be ready. With the snow beginning to fall. He would much rather have you home.

By the time, he heard the elevator ding, he was beyond the point of getting up. “Doll-face or Baby?” He called out. The cocoas were near him, and he had munched on some of the popcorn. He really hoped it would be you.

“I’ll be right there.” He heard you call out. You were a blur as you ran by.

“Alright!” He called back smiling, he couldn’t wait to see what you thought.

*****

Quickly, you ran to your closet. You had hoped he would have been in his office but as you stood there, pulling off your boots it dawned on. Were those Christmas lights? What had Roman been up too? Pulling your sweater off you sighed to just be in your cami and jeans again.

As you came out to the living room area. In Roman’s penthouse, it was hard to even label areas, well except for those that were separated by walls and doors. The things had collected over the years before and after you met hung or stood or even leaned thought the places in various bunches.

You gasped, your jaw simply fell open as you saw a really large Christmas tree and light twinkled and shone from the branches.

Roman, sat near the tree. As the floor creaked as you came closer. He smiled as he looked at you over his shoulder. “Hi baby.”

“Hi!” You said softly as you took it all in. “Roman, you began to get the penthouse ready for Christmas.”

He nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “I did, I know how much you love Christmas.”

“Oh!” Excitement, filled you. “I love all of this so much.” Not able to contain yourself, you went and hugged him. Loving how handsome he looked in that wintery, Christmasy sweater. Both of you chuckled as you practically knocked, Roman over.

“So I guess you like your surprise?”

Your eyes met, the scent of fresh pine filled the air, the lights twinkled above the two of you, your lips locked. A sigh came from him, as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you deeper.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obession @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @starwarsprequelfangirl @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @whyisgmora @theblackmaskclub @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @primadonna-girl23 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @guns-n-marvel (your first tag!)

#gotham lockdown 2020 #part 15 #ewan mcgregor #roman sionis x you #roman sionis pov #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis #black mask x y/n #black mask #black mask fanfiction #black mask x you #black mask x reader #victor zsasz x you #victor zsasz x reader #chris messina #bop #birds of prey

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m-austinbooks · 5 years ago

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Dear @midqueenally, Merry Christmas from your Secret Santa! When I was reading through the list of AUs you liked, I saw “superhero” and went “ahhhh”. So here you go, a Modern Westeros!AU where Jonerys are a badass superhero duo and Christmas inexplicably exists. I also wrote a little <2000 word drabble, which is kind of fluffy but with dark undertones(???). I hope you enjoy!

The Dragon Queen and The White Wolf

Daenerys had become a nocturnal creature. The night was where her enemies lived, darting into the shadows at the sound of her wingbeats. It was where Jon was strongest, stalking those enemies through Flea Bottom alleyways and catching them in his claws. It was when their baby son found his voice, wailing loud enough to raise those who still existed in the day.

The night before Christmas offered no break to that pattern. She and Jon curled up together on their favourite window-seat, watching the skies instead of the festive lights, leather and lycra peeping darkly from beneath their warm wools. It was hard not to watch her husband too, admire how the moonlight played over his handsome face. It scattered like a thousand stars in his night-black curls and turned his skin to scarred marble. His dark eyes flickered away from the glass when their son began to cry, and they rose together, smiling, sighing, fingers entwining as they crossed the room and looked into Aemon’s cot.

‘Aye, aye, we hear you, pup,’ Jon murmured, the low rasp of his voice settling deep in Daenerys’s stomach. He scooped their boy up, arms that could rend limbs from torsos cradling Aemon so gently. ‘Hush, little one.’

‘Like father, like son it seems,’ she teased, ‘howling at the moon.’

Only when Aemon’s crying had faded to sparse whimpers did her husband reply. ‘What’s this, Dany?’

‘That’s what you wolves do, isn’t it? Howl at the moon, hunt in the snow, sniff each other’s … hindquarters.’

Jon snorted where once he would have bristled, ‘Only at family reunions.’

Dany chuckled, rooting around in the cot for something for Aemon to chew. He was teething, and the canines that were coming through were already sharp as a Stark’s. The grip on the lion teething toy she gave him was supernaturally strong. Despite inheriting the star-bright hair of the Targaryens, Dany’s blue-green eyes, the wolfblood was strongest in him.

Jon seemed to map the path of her thoughts. ‘He’s a dragon too.’

‘In name only.’

For the other great superhero families, Stark and Tully, Lannister and Tyrell, power was a shared bond, but the blood of the dragon was something to bear alone, only kindling in the womb of a Targaryen mother after the previous Dragon died. It had been a lonely path to master her flames, her flight, poring over her long-dead brother Rhaegar’s notes for clues on how to control her gifts. But Rhaegar had died young with his observations incomplete, awaiting a revision that never came.

‘It’s not just about the powers,’ Jon insisted. ‘Otherwise, what would I be?’

Dany was feeling stubborn tonight. ‘Still a Stark. You have the wolfblood.’

Raising his eyebrows, Jon summoned a perfect sphere of ice and balanced it on the tip of his finger. He rarely acknowledged it, this strange twist to his Stark heritage: an unknown mother and ice powers.

Aemon gurgled in delight, grabbing at sphere with his tiny fingers. It was too cold for him, and he cried out when the shock of it went through his arm.

‘Yes, shiny, but cold bad.’ Jon passed the baby to Dany, whose skin was always warm.

‘I suppose he prefers the heat,’ she allowed, watching Aemon curl into her with a cheek-aching smile.

‘So do I,’ Jon’s low rumble was behind her, then tucked into her neck. Wrapping his arms around his family, he kissed up her face, paying special attention to the black scales that emerged at her temples whenever she stoked her inner fire. ‘How couldn’t I?’

Dany sagged back into him, admitting to herself that she preferred how fresh and cool he always felt. ‘You know, it seems pretty quiet out tonight. After we put Aemon back to sleep, we could…’ She reached back and slid a meaningful hand down her husband’s thigh.

‘Aye, we definitely could…’

The warning blare of their phone cut him off immediately, not the normal handset she kept for social calls and dentist appointments, but the one with their police liaison waiting on the other end, ready to disclose which of Dany’s enemies had scuttled out of the shadows this time.

‘Of course,’ she said, kissing Aemon on the top of his curly head before lowering him back into his cot.

‘Bet it’s the Hero Flayer.’ Jon shrugged out of his jumper, slipped out of his jeans. ‘Only he would be enough of an arse to start something on Christmas Eve.’

‘Don’t validate that stupid name.’

‘What should I call him then? Pinkie? Creeper? Git we should have pegged as a murderous psychopath from the first day of Hero School?’

‘The last one,’ Dany murmured as she picked up their work phone. Jon searched the room for his personal mobile, and an eyeful of the back of him in his skintight super-suit made her miss Missandei’s first words.

‘Sorry, Missie. Dragon Queen is ready to go. White Wolf is also on standby. How can we help?’

Missandei’s voice was oddly terse. ‘We have a hostage situation at the Wall.’

‘The Wall? That’s Stark territory, and very far for us here.’

‘The Starks are there, but the situation requires Team Winged Wolf’s specific talents.’

‘Who is it? The Mountain. Crow’s Eye? … Hero Flayer?’

‘Someone new, unlike anyone we’ve ever seen before. He can summon blizzards wherever he goes. And there's something else, though this has been harder to verify. Something about … corpses … reanimating.’

‘Corpses?’ She tried to match Missie’s sober tone and imagine an opponent formidable enough to summon her so many leagues north. But all vague thoughts of danger dissipated in this warm room, where her family was safe and Jon played with his son’s feet as he made his own phone call.

‘It sounds … fantastical, but there are hundreds of eyewitnesses and almost as many casualties. The number is growing. Dragon Queen, the Starks – in their full capacity as wardens in the North – have declared a state of emergency. They need your flames. Please, hurry.’

‘Understood, we’re on our way.’ She set the phone down with a heavy click.

Jon approached, reclaiming her attention. ‘Gilly answered. She promised to drag Sam up to our floor in a couple of minutes.’ The look on her face was enough to make him pause. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked.

‘Trouble at the Wall, we need to be quick.’

‘The Wall?’

‘I’ll tell you on the way.’

They donned the rest of their armour with practised efficiency: gloves, boots, masks and, in Dany’s case, a rich, red cape. Sam and Gilly arrived quickly, still in their pyjamas, their own little boy sleeping in his mother’s arms. And knowing that their son was watched, they took the stairs up to the roof.

On the rooftop, despite the tapestry of Christmas lights unfurling far into the distance, she noticed the dark most, the dark and the bitter cold. The idea of undead creatures held a little more power out here.

‘And so do I,’ she reminded herself, letting her flames spread within her, then without. Jon sighed beside her, drawing closer to her heat despite his indifference to the cold. ‘My love, we’re about to face something a little different today. Something in the North is waking the dead. Your family are fighting, but they need us.’

There was no doubt from him, no smirking scepticism. He just stared at her with those dark, wolf-wild eyes and nodded, ice collecting in his palms. ‘All right, let’s go,’ he said.

Dany was and would always be the only dragon in her lifetime. She had grappled with her gifts on her own, spent long, lonely years fighting to suppress them before she could even bring herself to accept, explore and master them. But she had found her match in Jon, the man who never flinched from her flames. The man who could follow her off the edge of rooftops, skating through the sky beside her on rivers of ice. The man who stood with her when Goldcloak searchlights stamped dragons and direwolves across the blackening sky, mask on, claws out, as hungry for the blood of his enemies as she was. And when the fight was over, he was the man who could melt into her arms without hesitation, who would hold the little dragon-wolf they had made together with the gentlest hands. With Jon at her side, she could do anything.

The last of her fear slipped away.

The Wall glimmered on the horizon long before they reached it, and the dark, formless mass that churned beneath it, she saw that too. Her rage burned hot. How many lives had already been stolen tonight? How quickly could she end these enslavers of the dead? Could she defeat them all in one night?

As they sped closer, she took a deep breath, running through the plans she and Jon had tossed between them on the flight over, picking the ones that best fit the situation sprawling beneath them. Jon called out to her, catching his siblings roving along the top of the Wall. It was nowhere as tall as it was once claimed to be in hyperbolic, semi-historical textbooks, but it was a great vantage point to slash at the undead citizens that climbed up to kill them. Unfortunately, they were not alone up there. Strange, tall creatures encrusted in ice stalked them along the Wall, taking their time, waiting for the Starks to tire themselves out. 'They’re like the White Walkers of old,’ Jon whispered. ‘I heard stories about them as a child. I thought they were just stories.’

‘Let’s see what fire does to them,’ she said.

‘Give them all the seven hells,’ Jon growled.

She dove towards her goodbrothers and sisters like a silent spear. Jon’s family were giving the Others a wide berth, but an uncontrolled strike could still hit them, burn them, kill them. Still Jon had sent her off with nothing more than a vicious smile, his trust absolute. The knowledge gave her power, precision and just a little spark of joy, despite the bleakness off the night.

‘Dracarys!’ she hissed, and the frozen world before her bloomed with fire.

#jonerys secret santa 2019 #midqueenally #game of thrones #game of thrones fanart #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #jonerys #show jonerys #daenerys being the hero she is #jon is too short oops #boatie #myart #mywriting #Daenerys POV #jon is just a stark here #mild jon thirst #... merry christmas #.😂#not beta read

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forlornmelody · 5 years ago

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Take Your Girlfriend To Work Day

Rating: E (it’s smut with a little bit of plot thrown in)

Fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda

Ship: Sara Ryder/Suvi Anwar

Summary: Sara Ryder has Concerns™ about taking Suvi with her on a mission. But she's always wanted to show her the badlands of Kadara. What could go wrong?

Linkage: clicky

Note: Written for FallingOverSideways over at @spectre-requisitions-exchange. Now that reveals have happened, I can finally share this all with you!

-*-*-*

Sara would give Suvi the entire galaxy right now. The way she stretches across the tangled sheets, the light of a distant sun making her hair glow like fire. How the light glistens on her sated body, and catches in her eyes like the pools on Kadara. It’s probably why Sara sticks her foot in her mouth while her breaths are still ragged.

“I wish you had been there with me.”

Suvi’s smile vanishes and Sara feels it like a pain in her gut. “Sorry?”

Shit. “I’m not mad.” Sara swallows, pushing an errant lock out of Suvi’s eyes. “It just would’ve been nice to have you on Kadara with me, before the vaults went online.”

“When the water was toxic with sulfuric acid?” Sufi’s brow wrinkles like it did when she poured over the Scourge data, looking for solutions to a big-ass problem.

Just keep digging your grave and lie in it, Sara. “I mean. I loved the look on your face when you looked over the data I gathered.” Sara traces the line of Suvi’s swollen lips, smug knowing their romp made them that way. “It would have been even better for you to see it in person.”

Suvi’s lips twist as she bites the inside of them in thought. “I’m sure there’s still useful data for us. Maybe we could go together next time?”

“I would love that!” Sara rolls them so that her hands are braced on either side of Suvi’s pillow, and she peppers her face with kisses, imagining them swimming together in a hot spring, or a cold one, with bikinis on, or not. Drying off on a ridiculously large beach towel and licking that now potable water right off her--

“You’re going tomorrow, right? Maybe I could come with you.”

Sara’s lips freeze on the hollow where her neck meets her shoulder, and Suvi giggles at the slack-jawed expression she gives her. “Tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you going to Ditaeon to talk with Tate about trade?”

“...Yes.” Christmas Tate’s not what sets the Pathfinder's heart racing. It’s not his colony, either. It’s all the mayhem around it. Sara can all too easily imagine an eiroch crushing her girlfriend against a boulder or rylkor whipping her off a cliff with its tail. She needs to find a reason for Suvi to stay behind. Maybe she needs more arms training? Or they could wait until they fit her with some armor? Watch some training vids?

“Why don’t I go with you?” Suvi trails her fingertips down Sara’s spine, and suddenly she’s spineless.

“Sure!” Sara says brightly. This is a bad idea, isn’t it?

----

Turns out Cora’s not much different in height or build than Suvi, so the human commando loans her a set of armor, and a manual on how to care for it. Suvi walks around in it stiffly, and Sara would find it comical were it not for how the components accentuate some of Suvi’s best features. As much as she shouldn’t, not right now, Sara can’t help but imagine removing it piece by piece as she kisses her senseless.

“Worried about me, Ryder?” Suvi says as they make their landing.

The airlock disengages, and Sara looks around for any sign of danger. “Just don’t lick any rocks,” she says wryly.

“But--”

“No, Suvi.” Both her and Vetra say it together.

“Fiiine.”

-----

Suvi loves Kadara. Or maybe she loves being on the ground for a change. Either way, Dr. Suvi Anwar sits on her knees, scanning a small rock, and Sara Ryder can’t look away. The sun catches in Suvi’s flame-colored hair, making Ryder wish she had brought her here sooner. She aches at the soft smile on her face, the warm glow in her blue eyes. Ryder’s in the middle of pulling out her omni tool to take a picture when--

Sara. There are weapons warming up behind you. It appears they are aiming for you, Vetra Nix, and Dr. Anwar. I suggest--

“Got it, Sam.” Sara Ryder says nothing to Suvi, only dropping her in a tackle and ruining the picture-perfect moment. Actually, whatever exiles who were shooting at them ruined the moment, and the thought makes Sara’s blood boil.

Suvi squeaks from underneath her, but she doesn’t protest, especially after the first rounds hit the rocks behind them, and their shields shimmer with the ricochets. “Pathfinder?” she whispers cautiously.

“Exiles,” Sara growls under her breath. This is not how she pictured pinning Suvi on Kadara.

“I thought--”

“They’re still around. Still wanting to shoot us, apparently.” Sara shoves Suvi behind a bolder, and squats next to her, pulling out her pistol, and deploying her combat drone. It dashes over, firing beams at their assailants, the cool evening air warming in its wake.

Vetra looks at Sara sideways. “Really, Ryder? A drone?”

“What? Peebee showed me how to use it last night.”

Suvi glances between them, her eyes widening. “Sara?”

“It’ll be fiiiine.” On cue, the drone crumbles to the ground. Peebee will kill her later. “Well, shit.”

“We’re doomed.” Vetra sighs, powering up her assault rifle.

“Oh ye of little faith.” Sara switches to her shotgun, firing off shots while her biotics cool down.

Suvi giggles, and Vetra groans. “At least one of us is having a good time.”

Ryder really shouldn’t have brought Suvi with them. A little skirmish like this rarely fazes her anymore--more like target practice than a fight worth worrying about. Waste of ammo, really. But her heart thuds in her chest and her neck and shoulders tighten up at the thought of a bullet hitting the scientist next to her. Suvi’s so gentle, and kind. She’s not made for violence like this. Sweat gathers beneath Sara’s hard suit and her under armor, and itches around her joints. Her arm aches and her temples start to throb. Just a little bit longer---

There.

One exile remains, a sharpshooter with a sniper rifle that tries to pick them off like drops of water torture. Ryder ducks back behind their bolder, counting the seconds between shots. One Andromeda...Two Andromeda...Three--

Sara Ryder charges full force into her enemy, smashing him with a nova that sends his innards flying every which way. Turning with an adrenaline-fueled, shit-eating grin on her face, Sara looks at the boulder, craning to see the look on Suvi’s face. “Not bad, huh?”

“RYDER! MOVE!”

The ground rumbles beneath Sara’s feet, throwing her off balance. Enemy Krogan.

“Shit!” Ryder screams as the berserker hauls her up in the air. Blood rushing to her head, Sara looks down at the battered Krogan growling up at her. “I thought I put you down already.”

“RAAAAH.”

“Shit’s right! I’m out of ammo.” Vetra glowers, letting out a litany of Turian words SAM can’t translate.

Don’t panic. Just grab your pistol and--One problem. It must have fell from her holster when she left the ground. The Krogan swings her back like a wet towel.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

Her biotics won’t fire--still cooling down. Ryder’s neck and temples still flare with heat.

Sorry, Suvi. I--

A shot rings out, and Ryder sucks in a breath, bracing for a bullet wound.

The Krogan drops her, and Sara rolls out before his body falls on top of her. What the hell??

Her eyes meet “SUVI??”

Nudging the Krogan’s body with her toe, Suvi blows the steam off the barrel of her pistol, and holsters it. She glances down at Ryder, a shy smile on her face. “You alright, Sara?” Suvi reaches out with her hand to help her up.

“Damn, Anwar. Didn’t know you had it in you.” Vetra comes out from behind the boulder, brushing herself off.

Sara doesn’t take her hand, too busy doing the math in her head. “Who taught you how to shoot?”

“Drack. He took me out on Elaaden. Said it would help my skills as a geologist if I learned how to shoot rocks.”

“Of course he did.” Ryder groans as she stands, checking herself for injuries. Her shoulder throbs from being yanked around like a rag doll, but other than that. “Anything I should see Lexi about, SAM?”

My scans indicate nothing but some swelling and inflammation. Though a visit would--

“I’ll see her later, SAM.” Sara has an idea. “Hey, Vetra. I think the Nomad needs an oil change.” She walks over, rummaging through the storage compartment for a very conspicuous picnic basket.

“The Nomad doesn’t even...oh. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.” Turians don’t roll their eyes, but the way her mandibles twitch, Ryder bets Vetra would be right now if she did. Swinging into the driver’s seat, she starts the engine, and Sara scrambles to get the storage compartment shut in time.

“Catch ya later!”

-----

“Do you ever miss them?” Their picnic long over, Sara and Suvi stretch out on the blanket, watching the sun set.

“My parents?”

“Yeah.”

“All the time.” Suvi stares out across the lake, and Sara gets the feeling she’s not watching the clouds change color.

“How did you find the strength to leave them?”

Suvi says nothing, and Sara wonders if she went too far as she listens to birds call in her silence. When she finally does speak Sara strains to hear her over the lap of the shoreline. “I couldn’t stay behind when there was a whole galaxy out there to explore.” She looks at Ryder, sorrowful, but without regret in her eyes. “I was miserable when I considered staying behind. My parents could tell. I was making them miserable with me.” A small laugh escapes her mouth. “It was them who told me to go. Told me they’d miss me if I left, but they’d miss me even more if I stayed with them.” Her smile slips away, and Sara would give anything to bring it back.

Think, Ryder, think. “Nice shooting earlier. You saved my life.” Sara runs her fingers down Suvi’s cheek, holding her breath as she waits for her face to change.

The smile doesn’t come back. Suvi pulls away, looking off towards Kadara Port. “Sara, I don’t think violence suits me.”

Sara drops her hand. “Oh.”

Suvi immediately draws it back to her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire what you do--the risks you take, the hard decisions you make.” She closes her eyes, taking a settling breath. “But I’d rather make my hard decisions in a lab, not with a gun.”

“I understand.”

Biting her lip, Suvi dares to search her eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. We’re different. I’m better out in the field kicking ass, and you’re better in the lab…. doing...sciency stuff.”

Suvi’s laugh spills from her mouth like a bubbling brook. “Ryder.”

“I mean it.” Sara takes her chin. “I don’t want you to change who you are just to please me.” She’s already nose to nose with her before Suvi realizes she’s being kissed. And Sara wouldn’t have it any other way.

While Suvi’s usually slow to kiss back, when she does, she makes up for lost time, always. She presses in, already reaching for Sara’s hair tie, pulling her hair out of that perky ponytail and winding her fingers through her hair. The motion pulls Sara closer, tighter against her mouth and she can’t help but part Suvi’s lips with her tongue, grabbing the collar of her uniform in her fist, and holding her close.

Their hands and mouths move like binary stars, so close, but never close enough. Sara groans in frustration as her fingers roam across Suvi’s lab coat, searching for that elusive zipper. Suvi giggles, taking her hand and guiding the zipper down with her, her eyes dark with want. As the uniform falls from Suvi’s shoulders, Sara traces her tongue across her now bare skin, smiling at her goosebumps and drinking in her sharp breaths. Each freckle pattern forms new constellations, and Sara writes the racy mythologies to go with them.

In Suvi’s sighs and goose-bumped skin, Sara finds a paradise better than the Initiative could have ever hoped for. She unhooks her bra, and finds the path between her breaths, scanning the terrain with her eyes and making contact with her hands. Suvi arches into her touch, and Sara smiles against her skin. “You mean the world to me, you know that?”

Suvi opens her mouth, but her sweet nothing is lost in her moan as Sara’s lips close around her tit. She should really take her time. They have little to interrupt them here, with the Tempest far away and Sam scanning the perimeter for trouble. But it’s been days since Sara had the chance to make love to the center of her universe, and so she dives headfirst into the gravity well, pulling the rest of Suvi’s uniform down with her.

“I’ve missed you,” Sara whispers, trailing her lips down Suvi’s stomach.

“Ryder. You see me every day.”

“Not the same thing, and you know it.” Sara gives her a pointed look, and she can’t help but smile at Suvi’s parted lips. She sits up, running her fingertips up and down Suvi’s thighs, outside and inside, gently nudging them apart.

Suvi sucks in her breath, and Sara pats her skin as she leans down. “Breathe, Suvi. I swear the air here is safe.”

“Shh, you.” Suvi chuckles.

Sara breathes in the scent of her pubis mons, grinning wickedly. “Make me.”

Suvi’s eyes widen, and for a moment Sara wonders if she should apologize, but then Suvi’s fingers grip her by her ponytail, pressing her between her legs and it is glorious. Holy shit holy shit holy shiiiiiiit. She never took Suvi for a dominant one, but Sara definitely want to explore more of this side of her. Tasting her, Sara gives her folds those nice long licks that Suvi loves so much. Her pushup routine comes in handy as her lover writhes beneath her. Just as Suvi starts to moan louder, Sara pulls back to wet her finger.

“Is this too much?” Suvi asks breathlessly.

Her own mouth feels dry, and Sara reaches over to gulp some water from her cannister. “Not at all. Keep going.” She blushes at her own words.

Suvi pushes her hands away, sitting up. Sara blinks, watching her go. “Actually, I have new experiment I want to run by you.” Grabbing Sara’s shoulders, Suvi presses her onto her back.

Laughing, Sara replies. “Oh? What’s your hypothesis?”

“That you’ll love me sitting on your face.” Suvi’s cheeks redden as much as her hair.

“Mm, that’s hard to quantify.” Sara smudges her lips together playfully. “But we can try it.”

Suvi crawls over her, and Sara groans as her scent overwhelms her senses. She whispers her name into her folds, sliding one finger, then two into her warmth. Gasping, Suvi grinds against her, gripping the top of her head. Sara fingers faster and harder, sucking on her clit until Suvi’s nails dig into her scalp and she calls out her name.

The sun’s far too bright when Suvi rolls off her. “Holy shit. Holy shit,” Sara swears breathlessly.

“Mmhm.” Suvi kisses her sloppily, running her hand down Sara’s side. “And what are...mm... our findings?

Sara laughs into the crook of her neck. “I think your hypothesis may be right. But further tests are needed.”

“Mm.” Suvi presses a finger to her lips, looking up at the clouds as if the answer might be found there. “Perhaps we should increase our sample size?”

That notion jolts Sara off her back. “You mean like a threesome?”

“No!” Suvi laughs so loudly Sara swears the whole valley can hear them. “I meant you. Sitting on mine.”

“Oh.” Sara stretches. “Maybe next time.” She kisses the pout right off Suvi’s lips. “Right now, I want to kiss you while you…” She grasps Suvi’s hand, guiding it between her legs. “While you…. demonstrate your expertise on the subject.”

“Sara!” Suvi shakes her head in mock humility. “I’m hardly an expert.”

Sara leans over, stealing another heated kiss. “Then maybe you should…” She can’t help her laugh. “....do a more in-depth study?” Their laughs sink into moans as Suvi trace and probes between Sara’s legs, putting just the right amount of pressure to make her beg.

Suvi grins against her mouth, teasing her long and light, until Sara’s gripping her so hard, she swears she’ll leave bruises. Thank the stars Suvi wears long sleeves. “You like it rough, Sara?”

“Yes, please. Please.”

Suvi’s teeth graze the skin of her neck in reply, hooking her fingers inside her and beckoning her to come undone.

Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours later, when Sara’s always pushing Suvi’s bangs out of her eyes just to watch them fall again. “Y’know. I definitely learned something today.”

“What’s that?”

“I should bring you planetside more often.”

#mass effect andromeda #suvi x ryder #suvi anwar #sara ryder #melody writes #lemon #spec recs 2020

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