#but its the saturday before christmas and every person in the city was out and being fucking annoying abt it

[modernmaenad]

god what an absolutely hellish nightmare of a day i need like the biggest strongest drink possible

[news4dzhozhar]

Israeli forces kill two Christian women in ‘cold blood’ inside Gaza church

**So, will the West care now that it's not Muslims?**

Two Christian women – an elderly mother and her daughter – were shot dead by an Israeli soldier on the grounds of a Catholic church in Gaza City, the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem has said.

“Around noon [10:00 GMT] today … a sniper” of the Israeli army “murdered two Christian women inside the Holy Family Parish in Gaza” where Christian families have been sheltering since the Israel-Hamas war broke out, the patriarchate said in a statement on Saturday.

“Nahida and her daughter Samar were shot and killed as they walked to the Sister’s Convent. One was killed as she tried to carry the other to safety,” it said.

The patriarchate highlighted that no warning was given before the shooting started and added that “they were shot in cold blood inside the premises of the Parish, where there are no belligerents.”

Seven more people were also wounded by gunfire as they tried to protect others, the statement said.

“This is a targeted death campaign during the Christmas season on the world’s oldest Christian community,” Hammam Farah, Nahida and Samar’s family member, said in a statement on X.

This morning Israeli snipers shot and killed my two family friends in an attack on the Holy Family Catholic Church in Gaza.

Nahida (Um Emad Anton) and Samar, mother and daughter, were walking to the Sisters’ Convent to use the only bathroom.

Reporting from Rafah in southern Gaza, Al Jazeera’s Hani Mahmoud said the church, which was accommodating Christians in Gaza, has been a target of direct Israeli bombardment over the past few days.

“Major parts of it have been destroyed. Snipers are shooting at every moving object in the yard,” he added.

In its statement, the patriarchate said three projectiles fired by an Israeli tank had also struck a convent of the Sisters of Mother Teresa charity, destroying its generator and fuel supplies, and rendering a building housing 54 disabled people uninhabitable.

“The 54 disabled persons are currently displaced and without access to the respirators that some of them need to survive,” it added.

According to the Vatican press agency, the strikes wounded three people.

“The 800 remaining Christians in Gaza are on the verge of extinction. They’ve made life very difficult for this community,” Mahmoud said.

Pope deplores killings

Pope Francis on Sunday deplored the killings, suggesting Israel was using ��terrorism” tactics in Gaza.

“I continue to receive very grave and painful news from Gaza,” Francis said at his weekly blessing.

“Unarmed civilians are the objects of bombings and shootings. And this happened even inside the Holy Family parish complex, where there are no terrorists, but families, children, people who are sick or disabled, nuns.”

Francis said the two women were killed by “snipers” and also referred to the Patriarchate’s statement that a convent of nuns of the order founded by Mother Teresa was damaged by Israeli tank fire.

“Some would say ‘It is war. It is terrorism.’ Yes, it is war. It is terrorism,” he said.

It was the second time in less than a month that the pope used the word “terrorism” while speaking of events in Gaza.

On November 22, after meeting separately with Israeli relatives of hostages held by Hamas and Palestinians with family in Gaza, he said: “This is what wars do. But here we have gone beyond wars. This is not war. This is terrorism.”

Who are the Christians of Gaza?

Gaza’s Christians are one of the oldest communities in the Middle East, dating back to the first century.

However, the number of Christians in Gaza has dwindled in recent years. Today there are only approximately 1,000 left, a sharp drop from the 3,000 registered in 2007, when Hamas assumed complete control over the enclave.

According to Kamel Ayyad, a spokesperson for the Church of Saint Porphyrius, which was recently bombed by Israel, the majority of the population is from Gaza itself.

The rest arrived here after the creation of the state of Israel, which displaced about 700,000 Palestinians – an event they refer to as the Nakba, or “catastrophe”.

The Israeli blockade of Gaza following Hamas’s rise to power in 2007 accelerated the flight of Christians from the poverty-stricken enclave.

“It’s become very difficult for people to live here,” said Ayyad. “Many of the Christians left for the West Bank, for America, Canada or the Arab world, seeking better education and health.”

While most of Gaza’s Christians belong to the Greek Orthodox faith, smaller numbers worship at the Catholic Holy Family Church and the Gaza Baptist Church.

‘Living under siege’

After Saturday’s church attack, Italy’s top diplomat Antonio Tajani issued a “heartfelt appeal to the Israeli government and army to protect Christian places of worship”.

“That is not where the Hamas terrorists are hiding,” he said on X.

Under the recent Israeli bombardments, Christians and Muslims alike sought refuge at several churches in Gaza like Saint Porphyrius.

But after this church was bombed, they all moved to the nearby Holy Family Church, located 400 metres (1,300 feet) away, which has also been bombed now.

Israel has said it is looking into what happened at the Holy Family church on Saturday.

But living under siege, Christians in Gaza attest to a spirit of solidarity that has united faiths in their struggle for survival and their dream of freedom.

“We are all Palestinians. We live in the same city, with the same suffering,” said Ayyad.

“We are all under siege and are all the same.”

[xanthippe74]

Drarry ficlet: Momento mei

2399 words | general audiences | angst with a happy ending

Thanks to @glittering-git for the beta!

Read below or on AO3 here.

Memento mei

It seemed like a blessing at first.

In the months after the war ended, the articles chronicling Harry’s deeds in the Prophet slowly waned from full pages of lavish words and photographs, to barely a mention of his name. Harry felt lighter for it, free. By the time the first term back at Hogwarts was almost over, he could go to Hogsmeade without worrying about flash bulbs startling him every time he stepped out of a shop.

“They finally got tired of you, mate,” Ron said with a laugh as they trudged back to the school after a morning of Christmas shopping. Harry scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it, none too gently, into Ron’s grinning face.

Harry and Ginny’s break-up didn’t get so much as a mention, even in Rita Skeeter’s gossip column, which had been relegated to an ignominious corner ten pages back from the front page. When he came out as bisexual and briefly dated Terry Boot that spring, he braced himself for a fresh round of publicity. It never materialised.

Harry looked in the mirror of the eighth-year boys’ bathroom and found he was truly comfortable in his own skin for the first time. His life wasn’t going to be scrutinised and dissected for public consumption anymore. The people around him didn’t think he was a freak or a waste of space.

One year after the war, with a handful of NEWTs to his name, Harry was at a loss for what to do next. There was no particular career he felt inclined to pursue, so he put his energy into renovating Grimmauld Place and spending time with his godson. He wondered at times why no one had offered him a job—Ron and Hermione had been deluged with letters—but he never mentioned it to anyone. It would have sounded awfully big-headed to expect anything to be handed to him like that, much less complain about it. While his friends began training programmes and apprenticeships, Harry Vanished broken furniture and stripped mildewy wallpaper off the walls. On the weekends, he met the usual Hogwarts gang for pub night or a party in someone’s cramped flat.

Harry looked in the mirror on his way out to meet his friends, giving his hair one last check. Maybe he’d meet someone new tonight. He winked at his reflection before leaving his newly-renovated bedroom.

Two years after the war, Harry didn’t think twice about walking through Diagon Alley on a busy Saturday. There were no stares or requests for autographs, no whispers when he paused to look into a shop window. He met friends for leisurely lunches. He ate ice cream at a table in front of Fortescue’s and watched people strolling by in the summer sunshine. Once, Harry walked the entire length of Diagon without realising that George had flicked a spell at the back of his head as he’d left the joke shop.

Harry looked in the mirror when he got home and was bemused by the things that didn’t warrant a second glance in the magical world, like hair that shifted between purple and orange every five seconds. He went over to Andromeda’s house to show Teddy, who laughed to see his godfather’s hair change colours like his did.

Three years after the war, Harry’s friends started forgetting to invite him to things. At first, they laughed it off as absentmindedness or a simple oversight. “I’m sorry, Harry! It must have slipped my mind,” was an excuse he began to hear more and more often. And then they began to look confused when he confronted them, like it was strange for Harry to expect to be included at all. As the months went by, the hosts of the get-togethers weren’t the only offenders—not a single person seemed to notice when Harry didn’t show up for something. When he mentioned it later, they would only lament all the fun he’d missed out on. His frustration curdled into self-pity.

Harry looked in the mirror the day he found out he’d missed Lavender’s engagement party, studying his unremarkable features and the unremarkable haircut he’d had since he was eighteen. Was he really so boring and unimportant that nobody thought about him much anymore? He didn’t mind in the least that the wizarding world wasn’t fawning over him, but it cut deeply that the people dearest to him no longer seemed to want or need his company.

It was only when his closest friends stopped recognising him that Harry began to suspect that something was terribly wrong. The first one was Luna, but she was often so lost in her own thoughts that it didn’t strike him as odd that she’d drifted past him in Diagon without saying hello. Then Molly looked at him blankly one day when he arrived at the Burrow for Sunday roast, as if Harry were a stranger who’d wandered in by accident. Thankfully, Ron was passing through the kitchen and greeted him as he usually did. Molly gave herself a little shake and ushered them both into the lounge.

Four years after the war ended, Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt didn’t mention Harry’s name in his speech commemorating the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hagrid didn’t invite Harry to tea for his birthday, as he did every year.

And when Harry popped into Neville’s flower shop to wish him happy birthday, Neville responded to his greeting with a baffled look. Harry watched in horror as he turned to Hannah and mouthed the words, “Who’s that?”

Harry spun on his heel and went right back out the door.

Either he was going mad or everyone else was. He walked around London for half the night, unable to think straight. The city was a vast ocean, and Harry felt like a small boat that had been set adrift, tossed around by waves of panic. When he was calmer, he decided to turn to the two people he knew he could always count on for help.

On his twenty-second birthday, Harry woke up on his sofa and rushed to the Floo to call Hermione before she left for work. He was flooded with relief when he heard footsteps approaching the fireplace. Ron’s face appeared in the flames—and immediately twisted into anger when he saw Harry.

“How did you get this address? Who let you into our wards? Get out!”

Harry sat on the floor for a long time after Ron had slammed the Floo connection closed.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

Oh, god—Teddy. Harry scrambled to his feet. Would Teddy shy away from Harry as he would from a stranger, the next time they saw each other? He stumbled up the stairs and dry heaved over the toilet.

Harry looked in the mirror and prodded his chalky face with his forefinger. Did he look unrecognisable to everyone but himself now? Did they see a different face, a different person when they looked at him? Or were they all under some kind of spell that erased their memories?

How had he been forgotten by everyone who loved him?

Forgotten.

You will be forgotten.

The phrase echoed in Harry’s head, causing him to sink down onto the bathroom floor. Over four years ago he’d heard those very words, snarled by a Death Eater as she’d been dragged out of the Great Hall by Aurors after the final battle. Harry had been so exhausted that the dank weight of her magic settling upon him had immediately vanished from his mind.

“The Dark Lord will always be remembered! But you will not, Harry Potter. You are nothing compared to him—utterly insignificant! You will be forgotten!”

Harry went to St Mungo’s to see the Healers, who shook their heads at the young man who insisted he was supposed to be famous. When they couldn’t fix him, they called in an Unspeakable who specialised in breaking obscure curses. After an hour of waiting, a man in hooded grey robes swept into the examining room. He didn’t show the slightest sign of recognition when he introduced himself to Harry as Unspeakable Malfoy.

Harry looked in the mirror above the sink while Malfoy cast diagnostic spells at him. He tried not to cry.

Malfoy didn’t make any promises when he was done with his spells, the results of which he recorded in a small notebook. He promised to send an owl if he found anything and asked for Harry’s name again so he could write it down.

If Malfoy couldn’t fix this, Harry decided on his walk home, he’d have to leave England. If he went someplace where no one had heard of him, they couldn’t forget him, right? The tears he’d held back at St Mungo’s slid down his cheeks as he thought about how much he’d gained, and now lost, since his eleventh birthday. Maybe he didn’t have the most exciting life or a career to boast about, but there were people who loved him. There were happy times and an old house that he’d turned into a home with his own hands.

Harry went back to Grimmauld Place and waited for word from Malfoy. He paced through the high-ceilinged rooms and climbed the long flights of stairs until his legs ached. He caught himself holding his breath, listening for a knock on the door or the roar of the Floo. When they never came, he went out to the back garden instead and lay on its small rectangle of grass. He considered where he might go—California or New Zealand. Or maybe some South Pacific island where it never got cold.

At last, Malfoy’s owl arrived four days after he had examined Harry. He’d identified the curse and, more importantly, found the countercurse.

Back at St Mungo’s, Malfoy greeted Harry coolly and ordered him into a chair. The countercurse was a droning chant in a language that Harry didn’t recognise, accompanied by complex wand motions that made him dizzy to watch. He closed his eyes until it was over, hardly able to breathe.

When the casting was finished and the room silent again, Harry opened his eyes and found Malfoy gaping at him.

“Potter? What the hell?” Malfoy looked over at his notes on the table, then back at Harry, his eyes widening even further. Then he said, faintly, “Well, Scarhead, that was quite the predicament you got yourself—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Harry launched himself out of the chair and crushed Malfoy in a hug, laughing tearfully into the shoulder of his Unspeakable robes.

“Gracious, Potter, a simple thank-you would suffice.” Malfoy wriggled out of Harry’s arms and stepped back to cast a diagnostic spell at him. “Do you feel any different?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “Not really. Lighter, maybe?”

“You’re probably just relieved to be famous again,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. “It must have been terrible not to see your own picture in the newspaper every day.”

“No, that part was actually nice. It was having my friends not even recognise me anymore…”

The rest of the words got caught in Harry’s throat. Malfoy’s expression turned sympathetic, and when he spoke again, it was with surprising gentleness.

“Well, then. I suppose you’d better go see them now, hmm?”

He accompanied Harry to the Floo in the reception area. Harry tried to glance at him as they walked, but he’d pulled up his hood to hide his face from the other people in the corridor. No wonder Harry hadn’t heard anything about Malfoy in the past few years—he’d buried himself in the depths of the Ministry, learning to undo Dark curses.

And letting the wizarding world forget him, Harry thought with a pang.

Harry shook Malfoy’s hand and thanked him. Whatever happened next, he knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy, with his sharp gaze and clever mind, anytime soon. Malfoy, too, seemed to consider Harry for a few long moments before he stepped into the Floo.

This time, the only reason why Hermione and Ron were surprised to see Harry was because they weren’t expecting him on a Thursday evening as they were squabbling over what to make for dinner. He almost started crying again when Ron cuffed him on the shoulder and asked him if he wanted a beer.

Hermione noticed that he was upset first, of course. When Harry explained the curse, she blamed herself for not catching that something was wrong. Ron looked towards the pictures on the mantelpiece and swore under his breath. There weren’t any pictures of Harry there.

The good parts of Harry’s life returned to normal after that, and he was almost bursting with renewed gratitude for the people around him. Diagon was off limits again, since the vultures at the Prophet remembered to hound him, but that was a small price to pay. Harry threw himself a belated birthday party in Grimmauld Place, and the rooms were filled with music and laughter and shouted toasts in his honour. He never wanted the night to end.

Harry looked in the mirror before going to bed in the wee small hours, and he smiled with contentment at his bleary eyes and the glitter caught in his hair.

He’d invited Malfoy to the party on a whim, but received a polite note declining. Harry tried again and again—a Seekers game? Lunch in Muggle London? Tea at Grimmauld Place?—until Malfoy finally gave in. He showed up on Harry’s doorstep in jeans and a soft, well-fitted jumper. Harry found himself staring.

“Did you forget that you asked me to dinner, Potter?” Malfoy smirked.

“Oh, no,” Harry breathed. “How could I forget you?”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Five years after the war ended, Harry spends his Saturdays teaching Teddy how to fly on his first broom and Sundays being climbed on by two or three small Weasleys who know he keeps sweets in pockets. He orders Christmas gifts by owl post to avoid star-struck witches in the Diagon shops. He slips into the Leaky Cauldron under his invisibility cloak to meet his friends for drinks.

And when Draco reads out the ridiculous articles about him from the Daily Prophet, Harry chucks the crusts of his toast across the breakfast table at his boyfriend and says he almost forgot how much of a prat he could be.

“You didn’t forget anything,” Draco says pointedly.

And Harry has to agree. He didn’t.

[2dmenenthusiast]

Warmth - a Bakugou x Reader Christmas special

its finally done hhhhhh I love how I was just like “Oh yeah I’ll do a short little fic for Christmas” and then I ended up typing this long ass fic. I mean, its not that long but it took me days to write cuz I lack motivation always so it feels long lmao. Anyways, haven’t wrote for my explodey boy bakugou yet so here it is! Let me know if I gave the reader any specific pronouns or features by accident and I’ll fix it right away! I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to reblog if you wanna give my fic more exposure, I'd really appreciate it 😚

Summary: You get caught in the middle of a snowstorm, and when you get home, you’re desperately craving the warmth of your exploding, ragey boyfriend. 

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings/other info: swearing, itty bitty reference to sexy times, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, just a lot of fluff (you guys are so mean to each other tho lmao)

You hated winter. Actually, scratch that. Let’s rephrase. You hate snow. No, you had nothing against the actual season. Winter brought you cute Christmas movies and catchy songs, as well as the gift-giving holiday itself. However, snow was a demon, and it could fuck right off. Especially when it was blowing directly into your face like it was now, your snow-covered boots trudging through the thick snow as you held grocery bags in each of your gloved hands. Even though you were wearing a thick winter coat and hat, and had your scarf covering half of your face, you felt like you were about to shiver out of your own skin and god you could barely fucking see with all of this snow going directly into your eyes.

“‘It’s right down the street, y/n, just walk there.’ What am I, fucking stupid?” you muttered.

You had figured it would be better to just walk to the store rather than using up gas or spending money on transportation, and fuck were you dumb for making that decision. Bakugou had warned you too, taking one look outside and telling you it would be better to just go get groceries tomorrow. But noooo, you just had to get it done today. And honestly, it looked like the roads were gonna be shitty for the next few days, so better now than later. Speaking of the roads, there were barely any cars driving on them, which was expected. The plow didn’t look like it had come through yet. However, a vehicle slowly came towards you, going under the speed limit to avoid sliding on the road, and you could hear The Christmas Song playing loudly from inside as it passed. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Yeah, the only thing going to be roasting on an open fire was your ass the second you walked through the door. And by an open fire, you meant the heater, which Bakugou better have on full fucking blast, or else you swore you were going to wring his neck.

As your apartment building became closer in view, you doubled your efforts and tried to speed up your pace, but the snow made it almost impossible when it was almost past your shins. Still, you grit your teeth and pushed through, letting out a relieved groan when you walked through the front door of your building and felt heat blast you in the face. Releasing a sigh, your grip tightening on the grocery bags as you traversed up the stairs to your apartment, and when you jammed your keys in the lock and pushed through the door, it was just as you suspected. Too fucking cold.

“He’s dead. He’s a dead man. He knew I was going out in the fucking arctic tundra that is the city right now, but he chose to keep the thermostat at fucking 70 degrees?!” you thought, grumbling to yourself as you set the bags down in the kitchen and marched over to the thermostat.

“Hey, take your fucking boots off, will you? You’re tracking snow.”

You raised your middle finger in the direction the voice came from, not even looking back

at your boyfriend as you turned the dial of the thermostat and watched the numbers go up until you were satisfied. Turning to look at Bakugou with a glare, you said something that he could tell was filled with frustration and anger, but he could barely hear you when you were talking through your scarf, raising an eyebrow as if to silently say, “what the fuck are you saying?” Rolling your eyes, you toed off your boots and hung up your coat, taking off your gloves and hat next before unwrapping your scarf from around your face and neck.

“I said you’re a fucking maniac. How are you not freezing?” you asked, hurrying past Bakugou to your shared bedroom so that you could change into something warmer.

Bakugou just scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you change. “You remember what my quirk is, right?”

Slipping one of Bakugou’s large hoodies over your head, you let out a sigh. “Oh right, I forgot that along with the ability to blow shit up, you’re also a walking heat box,” you said, throwing the hood over your head as you turned to your boyfriend with a small pout.

He just looked at you with an amused smirk, a single eyebrow quirked as he looked you up and down. He had to admit, he’d never get tired of seeing you in his clothes. Though he quickly became worried when a mischievous grin appeared on your face, and he had no time to react when you were running forward and slipping your hands underneath his shirt, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

“Gah! Shit, you’re fucking freezing!” he yelled, trying to push you off of him, but you just tightened your hold as you buried your face in his chest. “Hey! Don’t you get comfy, get the hell off of me.”

“But you’re so waaarm,” you whined, looking up at him with cute puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying, he was very warm, and you’d be damned if you pulled away from him anytime soon.

Letting out a growl through clenched teeth, Bakugou gripped your thighs in his hands and suddenly lifted you, and you let out a noise of surprise, not expecting your feet to come off the ground as your legs automatically wrapped around him so that you wouldn’t fall. Carrying you back into the living room, he threw you on the couch and pinned you with a glare when you tried to move, not walking away until he was certain you wouldn’t get up from that couch. Once he turned his back to you, you sat up on your knees and looked over the back of the couch as Bakugou walked into the kitchen, bending over the reach into one of the bags, and holy fuck his ass in those sweatpants was downright fucking sinful. As the cool kids would say, he was, “double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon.”

“It’s Saturday, and stop staring at my ass, you damn perv,” Bakugou grumbled without looking back at you, and you pursed your lips as you raised your hands in surrender.

“Not my fault you’re so dummy thicc.”

“For the love of god, stop watching TikTok.”

You just laughed and stood from the couch, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter as you watched your boyfriend put the groceries away. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can put them away.”

“Nonsense. You were just out freezing your ass off in the snow. Now get back on that couch before I throw you on it again,” he said.

You smiled at the kind gesture. While Bakugou was often rude and uncouth, not making an effort to hide his frustration or disdain for certain people or things, there was a soft spot deep down in there, and you were lucky enough to be one of the few people he showed it too. Of course, it was hardly willingly. You were persistent as hell, getting under his skin the moment you started going to UA with him. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like your persistence.

Letting out a small hum to yourself, you leaned over and pressed your lips against his cheek, his skin warming up under your touch. “You’re cute.”

A light pink dusted his cheeks as you walked back to the couch and plopped down onto the soft cushions, grabbing the fluffy blanket hanging over the back and draping it around your shoulders. No, if anyone in this relationship was cute, it was you. With the way you stole his clothes and just seemed to always make them look better, or made him his bento lunch with cute little notes inside that he secretly kept in his desk and would look at whenever he needed a little pick-me-up. You probably didn’t realize how much he noticed every little thing you did, but he did, and it made him fall more in love with you every day. Of course, he wasn’t very eloquent and it was hard for him to express how he felt with words, but he was a believer in how actions spoke louder.

“Hey, dipstick! You almost done? I’m about to freeze my ass off over here and I need my cuddle buddy,” you yelled from the living room, and Bakugou’s eyebrow twitched as he scoffed, running a hand over his face. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?

“Yeah, yeah, wait a sec, would you? Not my fault your body can’t regulate temperature like a normal fucking human being.”

Your head popped up, looking over the couch at your boyfriend with an incredulous look on your face. “‘Normal?!’ What about you is normal, Mr. I-get-unnecessarily-ragey-and-blow-shit-up? Hm?”

“Oh and you think you’re so normal when you bought fucking ice cream in the middle of goddamn winter,” he said, holding up the tub of ice cream you recently bought on your trip to the store.

“Ice cream is good for any time of the year! And you have no room to judge me. It could be a hundred degrees out and you’ll be scarfing down a bowl of spicy ramen like it’s your last meal.”

“You don’t hear me complaining about it though, do you?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted. “Jerk. you know, I hope your quirk just one day combusts and you blow up your own face.”

“Fuckface.”

“Asshole.”

“Dumbass.”

“Mama’s boy.”

Eyes widening, he dropped the last grocery bag on the floor and stomped over to the couch. If you were any normal person, you probably would’ve been cowering in fear just from the pro-heroes intense stair. But you had been with Bakugou for a while now, and what “normal” person would date someone whose first draft of their hero name was Lord Explosion Murder anyway? He placed his hands on the top of the couch, looking down at you as you stared up at him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Oh, I think you heard me.”

“Take it back or I’m blowing up all of your Deku shirts.”

You gasped dramatically, placing both of your hands over your heart as you gaped at your boyfriend before narrowing your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t say anything, simply raising an eyebrow at your challenge before walking towards your shared bedroom without another word. Oh. Oh, he was being serious. Scrambling off the couch, you ran after him.

“No! Nononono, wait. Ugh, All right!”

He turned to look at you, one of your shirts of the Pro hero Deku held tight in his fist and a smirk on his face that meant trouble. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at the nearby wall, not wanting to see that stupid little grin on his stupid face.

“You… You’re- not a mama’s boy,” you muttered under your breath, coughing to make the words more unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I feel my hand warming up a bit.”

“Ugh, fine! You’re not a mama’s boy. Happy?”

Grin widening, he dropped the shirt and walked over to you in long strides, closing the distance quickly and placing his hands on your waist. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Absolutely teeth-pulling,” you said, dropping your head on his chest as he chuckled, bringing a hand up to gently pat your head. Of course, there wasn’t a lot about you two that was so different from each other. You both had a mutual hatred for backing down. He then looked over at the bed where the green-haired hero’s smiling face stared back at him, and he scowled.

“Why do you have so many shirts of that damn nerd anyway?”

“I don’t have that many, Katsu.”

“You have like ten. You don’t have any merch of me.” His grip on you tightened possessively, and if he wasn’t aware of it, you certainly were, smiling against his chest before lifting your head.

“Why would I need merch when I have the real life thing right here?” you asked, poking at his abs. “Besides, it’s not like I bought them. They were gifts whenever he had new designs come out.”

“And you couldn’t just refuse?”

“Even if you have some weird tension with him, that doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him, dummy.” You lightly flicked his forehead and slipped out of his grasp as you walked back out to the living room, and he followed close behind with furrowed brows.

“Weird tension? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You just looked at him with raised eyebrows and shrugged, dropping down onto the couch before pulling out your phone. It took him a second to understand what you were getting at, and when he did, he wanted to vomit up his lunch.

“Oh, you’re sick.”

You threw your hands up. “I’m not saying I ship it! Your Twitter followers certainly do, though.”

“Yeah well, they’re all weirdos anyway,” he said, sitting down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you immediately relaxed into him, content with the warmth he seemed to produce 24/7. “The only person I wanna be…” he grimaced, shaking his head, “shipped with is you.”

You smiled, looking up at Bakugou as you placed your hand on his chest. “I think people would if we didn’t constantly insult each other while we’re out in public. And you know, if you were actually affectionate with me.”

“I’m affectionate!” he yelled, arm tightening around you. “Those damn extras don’t need to see that shit anyway. Not like it’s any of their business.”

You chuckled and moved to straddle Bakugou’s thighs, hands taking their time as you dragged them up his muscular torso and splayed your fingers over his chest. You admired the man below you with a small smile on your face, his hands moving so that they rested on your thighs, giving them a small squeeze, and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip as he seemed to look at you with that same red-eyed intense stare that he always did. Leaning down, you placed a slow kiss against his lips but pulled away before he could deepen it, and he chased your lips with a quiet growl as you let out an amused huff.

“Would you…” You could tell he was hesitant, never knowing how to properly express what he wanted to say, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. You placed your lips against his cheek, gently holding his face in your hands to try and reassure him. “Would you like me to be more affectionate in public? Would that… make you happy?”

Brows furrowing, your lips formed into a frown as you sat back, hands slipping into his. “Katsu… we’ve been together since our high school days. If I had any complaints, wouldn’t I have voiced them by now?” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond, grabbing his face again. “Listen to me for a second. Despite what people think about your rough edges and your unpleasant attitude-”

“Watch it.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. Your random outbursts, your sailor mouth, your shitty nicknames for all of our friends. Those things are what make you Bakugou Katsuki. Not some shitty tabloid with that stupid headline that’s like “Ten things to know about Pro Hero Dynamight!” or whatever. They’re all bullshit. No one sees the side of you that I get to. No one sees the big softie that you really are.” You lightly poked Bakugou’s chest with a giggle, and he swatted at your hand.

“Hey, I’m not soft, you dumbass,” he grumbled, and you just laughed as you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You heard him sigh and felt his arms wrap around you, happy in his strong embrace. There was nowhere you felt safer than in Bakugou’s arms. They were always there to hold you at night, or to pull you into a hug when you were feeling upset. You loved his arms, but you loved him in general. Everything about him always had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. When he would gaze at you like you were the only other person in the world, or when he’d come home after a particularly rough day, and you’d offer to help him relieve some stress, but he’d insist that the only thing on his mind at the moment was you underneath him while he memorized and tasted every inch of you. Yeah, you were a love-struck idiot, but so was he. Maybe even more so.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the lights started to flicker before going out, and you waited a few seconds for them to come back on, but they never did. Are you fucking kidding me?

“Um… Katsuki?”

“Hm.”

“Please tell me our power didn’t just go out.”

“Our power didn’t go out.”

You smacked his chest. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then don’t say stupid shit.”

You let out a groan before whining out his name, and he sighed as he lifted you off of him and walked into the kitchen to grab his phone. It was like you could already feel the cold seeping back into the apartment through the cracks in the doors and windows, and you shivered as you grabbed the blanket from before and wrapped it around your body. Bakugou then came back into the living room, letting out a sigh and tossing his phone onto the couch.

“Some idiot driving in this shit-storm hit a pole and took down a transformer. Power won’t be back until the morning.”

Great. Just magnificent. Who the fuck decides to drive in a snowstorm? Letting out a huff, you stood and went to the kitchen to find a lighter before lighting every candle you two had, hoping they would provide enough light for the night. After making sure at least one candle was in every room, you went back to find Bakugou gathering all the blankets he could and raised an eyebrow.

“What? We both know our comforter won’t be enough to warm your shivering ass.”

“But I have you, don’t I? My personal heater,” you said, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you smiled.

Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, can’t wait for you to suck all the heat out of me.”

“Oh piss off. You love my cuddles.”

Before he could give you another snarky remark, you turned on your heel and walked to your bedroom, pulling back the covers and immediately tucking yourself underneath them. But of course, it wasn’t warm enough. When Bakugou walked into the room, you stuck a hand out from under the blanket and made a grabbing motion, and he just chuckled at you before throwing an extra blanket on top of you and climbing underneath the covers to lay next to you. You immediately sought him out, desperate for his warmth as you wrapped yourself around him and nuzzled into his chest, and his arms looped around you as he tangled your legs together.

“Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” he grumbled.

“Shut up and hold me tighter,” you said voice muffled as you spoke into his chest, and he did as you asked, his arms tightening around you as you let out a content sigh. 

Relaxing in the silence, you felt yourself begin to grow more tired with each second that passed, and your boyfriend seemed to relax as well, which was rare for him. You both were perfectly content, dozing off in each other’s embrace.

“... So should I get a mistletoe for the apartment?”

“Dear god, shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

[cinnonym]

kiss me or we'll never know (we can blame it on the mistletoe)

Written for Day 7 - Tree/Mistletoe of 12 Days of Supercorp @supercorpbb

Read on AO3

***

The first time it happens, it’s actually an accident.

One of her employees must have put it up, because they thought it would lighten the mood or because they had a crush on a co-worker, Lena doesn’t know. All she does know is that when she stops to talk to Kara during her daily check-up on CatCo, someone yells “kiss” and the whole bullpen falls silent.

That includes Kara, who freezes mid-sentence, then turns crimson, before she, very slowly, lifts her eyes to the ceiling.

And at first, Lena doesn’t understand. For one, two, several seconds, she waits for Kara to continue telling her about that new take-out restaurant she’s found. For a short, very short moment, she feels a tiny pang of annoyance at Kara’s sudden muteness, at her refusal to meet her eyes. For some, blissfully oblivious beats, she doesn’t feel addressed by the “kiss” or the silence, that is unfolding deafeningly around them.

Then she follows Kara’s gaze up. Then she notices the sprig of green that is dangling from the lamp above them. Then she realises that not only is everyone in the room waiting for her to kiss her best friend, but Kara is too, blushing and helpless and jarringly apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, low enough that only Lena can hear her, “I thought I’d memorised all the spots we’d put them, but I must have missed this one.”

And maybe it’s the trace of nervousness in Kara’s voice and the gauging expression in her eyes as she waits for Lena’s reaction, or maybe it’s the shine of lip gloss on the curve of Kara’s mouth and the fact that it has never looked more inviting. But Lena suddenly finds that as inane as she’s always thought this mistletoe business to be, she doesn’t mind it that much this time.

And so, instead of turning away with an eye-roll and a scornful smile, as she might have done two years ago, Lena straightens up.

“Don’t apologise,” she whispers back, and allows her hand to cup Kara’s burning cheek. “It’s not a big deal.”

Except when she leans in and sees Kara’s eyes widen, senses Kara’s lip quiver, hears Kara’s minute gasp – she finds that she can’t do it. Her heart rate is peaking from the closeness alone, her legs feel like jell-o. She is suddenly aware that kissing Kara might be something she will never return from. Something that will change her existence forever. Something that her body will crave until it disintegrates.

And Lena shies away. Presses her lips to a spot of Kara’s face that is not quite the corner of her mouth and not quite her cheek. Stumbles back as the office cheers and Kara ducks her head. And flees.

Turns out, it’s a big deal after all.

***

After that, things change for Lena.

Of course, she noticed Kara before. It is hard not to, when her best friend has a weakness for tight slacks, and plaid shirts that show off her shoulders just so, and a smile that lights up ball rooms. But after the incident that Lena likes to call heureka-moment in her head, well…

Let’s just say Lena is more aware now. Of too-big sweaters that really have no business looking as good on Kara as they do. Of careless touches that leave a burning trail on Lena’s skin, so potent she wonders how it isn’t visible.

Of mistletoes.

There really are a lot of them, once Lena pays attention. At CatCo especially, and the thought of Kara’s involvement in the circumstance makes Lena’s heart trip out of its rhythm. It must mean something, she catches herself thinking, over and over again. She doesn’t believe in fate, but then again, she didn’t really believe in mistletoes either.

But now she counts them. She memorises them. She recites their locations before she goes to sleep at night, and when she wakes up in the morning, she spends her breakfast coming up with excuses to wait for Kara under one of them.

Because now that she’s had time to think about it, now that there isn’t a room full of people watching her come to a conclusion, now that Kara isn’t looking at her with a beautiful melange of nervousness and anticipation in her eyes, Lena has made up her mind. She has weighed her pros and cons, tracked her thought processes, and decided that as far as life-changing circumstances go, she’s already way too far gone to go back now.

If she spends a lifetime longing for Kara, she might as well get a kiss out of it.

And so the second time it happens, it’s very much by design.

***

The day is Saturday, and the bullpen is empty safe for a few stragglers who are behind schedule with their pieces for CatCo weekly.

Kara is one of them, but only because she volunteered to help with the Christmas Extra on top of her usual articles. She’s told Lena all about it on the phone yesterday, and if it hadn’t complimented Lena’s plans so excellently that she forgot to breathe, she would have sighed fondly at the excitement in Kara’s voice.

The very same enthusiasm is laced through her every step today too, magnifies her smile, vibrates through her surprised “Lena!” as Lena strolls into the room.

“I brought doughnuts,” Lena says in lieu of a hello, and although she’s rehearsed this line in the car, her tongue trips over the words in anticipation of what she has set out to do.

It doesn’t matter. Kara has already spied the bag full of sugary treats, and her eyes light up.

“Guys!” She exclaims, just like Lena knew she would, “Come here, Lena’s brought snacks!”

“For all you hard-working souls,” Lena says, and although this is just a diversionary tactic, her heart warms at the grateful smiles she receives.

Of course, none is more grateful than Kara’s. Lena’s been counting on that too. With Kara being fully immersed in savouring her doughnut, her guard is lowered enough not to notice that Lena is gently urging her towards the nearest mistletoe.

Kara finishes chewing her last bite just when they are in perfect position. She licks her lip, sighs happily – and freezes.

Score.

“Lena…” She whispers, not even bothering to look up. Just like Lena, she knows the position of all the mistletoe in the room. Just like Lena, she’s fully aware they’re standing right below one. Unlike Lena, she probably wonders how they got there.

“Oh,” Lena says, and although she meant to sound surprised, her eyes are already so fixed on the smudge of powdered sugar on Kara’s lips that it comes out breathless and longing. “Oh no…”

And the bullpen is quiet again, not because they’re being watched, but because everyone’s too busy eating to pay them any mind. And Kara’s skin is soft under her fingers again as she all but leans into Lena’s touch, trusting, waiting. And Lena’s heart is going miles again, and now she’s stepping closer, and now she’s feeling Kara’s breath on her lips, and now she –

She can’t do it. She sways away at the last second. Kisses a spot that is marginally closer to the corner of Kara’s mouth than last time, but still a full inch away from where the sugar smudge seems to laugh mockingly at her. Jerks away before Kara or anyone can react.

And flees.

***

The third time it happens, everything is different.

For starters, they are completely alone at CatCo. That’s mostly due to the office being closed for the duration of the holidays. Lena’s a business woman, but she isn’t a monster, after all. In fact, she has personally come to shoo out the loiterers, workaholic interns that claimed to “just want to finish this one little thing, promise Ms Luthor, just this one – “

None of their defences lasted long against Lena’s warmest CEO glare.

And so she’s sent them packing, seen them out through the automatic glass doors, wished and received a hundred felicitations. Until only she is left, the key pressed into the soft plane of her hand, on the late afternoon of the 24th.

Outside, night is falling quick like raindrops, sweeping the city up in a dark embrace. Inside, Lena lingers in the bullpen, her eyes seeking out the sprigs of mistletoe in the room.

There are eleven of them, and each seems to have the shape of Kara’s smile. And although Lena has long since moved past the self-degradation, the late-night detestation of her very person, at this moment, she can’t help but curse herself a little. For missing her chances. For chickening out. For –

“Lena?”

She swirls around as if Kara’d caught her in an act of crime. For a brief second, she wonders if it is wrong what she’s doing, having this kind of thoughts about her best friend, sweet, kind-hearted, innocent Kara. But then she meets Kara’s gaze, falls into the pools of her eyes, into the longing that swirls through them, discernible even in the low light.

And how can it ever be wrong if it feels like coming home?

She’s so close to leaning in, the impulse throbs through her like physical ache. Luthors take what they want, and she’s never wanted anything like she’s wanting now. And yet she can’t. Stands petrified and breathless under the only door frame that isn’t adorned with green, while Kara Danvers smiles at her like she’s about to let her in on a secret.

“What…” Lena murmurs, and that’s exactly how far she gets. Before Kara’s fingers slide under her chin, lifting it up. Before her eyes focus on something Kara’s holding in her other hand, something green and prickly, holding it in the air right above them.

Before Kara kisses her.

And she doesn’t miss Lena’s mouth. She doesn’t flee, but pulls Lena closer, into her, until all Lena can perceive is Kara, Kara’s lips against her, Kara’s arms around her, Kara with her as she unceremoniously drops the mistletoe.

[freakie-deakie]

Lucas // How To: Kill an Idea

i have been really struggling with feeling numb lately and i super projected that onto this character. i really do apologize if it doesn’t make for the most interesting read. i may or may not end up rewriting this when i’m feeling better.

Warnings: emotional numbness and detachment

Masterlist

THIS IS PART 2!!! Read part one here: How To: Hurt My Feelings

Lucas x Reader (angst // 7.3k words); ft. stepbrother!Johnny

The way the lights reflected off the water brought only distant memories of the Han flowing through the city of Seoul and mirroring the life around it. The bustle of the city, the calm of the river banks. The things that you neighbored so long ago.

You could become so lost in the remnants of the past - that you would forget to lose yourself in the readiness of the moment.

You owed the Garonne. After tirelessly looking over you for months on end, you owed her your presence at the very least. How dare you look at her in all of her beauty and only think of another.

She smiled at you nonetheless. The Garonne sat with you one last night and told you how much she would miss you - how much all of Bordeaux would miss you. She told you that the stone buildings, the ones in the alleyway that you cut through every night as you return to your dorm, didn't know what they were going to do without you. She told you that the little birds that had nested outside of your window had practiced a sadder song to sing after you left. She swore that the lights in the city shone brighter than they ever had before when you landed and that they would fade upon your departure.

She made you promise that you would come back to see all of them: the buildings, the birds, and the lights. On your own accord, you promised you would come back to see her.

The Garonne waved you off that night, sending you to bed and wishing you a restful slumber and a safe flight in the morning.

Tired and stiff, you limp out of the terminal with your laptop clutched to your chest and a yawn escaping your lips. You mindlessly followed the crowd of other travelers to baggage claim and patiently waited for your suitcase to be sorted onto the conveyor belt.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle," a familiar voice reached your ears, "I believe a poor boy has been waiting far too long to see you here."

You spun on your heel, a bright smile suddenly overtaking your features. "Lucas," you call quietly as you envelop him in a tight hug. You had barely moved for sixteen hours straight, but once in his arms, every desire for motion ceased. It seemed that he agreed, as he latched onto you and refused to let go.

"I missed you," he admitted before placing a kiss on the top of your head and moving to grab your bag off the belt.

"I missed you more," you answered softly.

He took your hand and kissed it before leading you through the airport and down to the parking garage where your brother was waiting, leaned up against his car, and dusting the cigarette ashes off of his sleeve.

"Hey there, Miss France," he says as he moves to envelop you in a hug of his own. "How was your flight?"

"It was fine," you answer simply. "Long, but fine."

"Well, you have an hour-long car trip to give us the highlights of France, if you're not too tired. We could stop by a late-night diner too if you're hungry."

You nodded along as you climbed into the car, enjoying the banter after your long trip. But as you rode in the passenger seat home (funny, you thought, that you still called it home), you took in things about the city that you never really appreciated.

The locals that ignored the do-not-cross signs, the billboards that were so shrouded in smog that you could barely read them, the stray cats that freely wandered the city like it was their own personal playground. All the things that you used to neighbor.

And when you got to the bridge that you'd longed to see since you left, the Han welcomed you home with as much love for you as it had six months ago. You made it a point to tell him about the Garonne sometime. You think he would enjoy hearing about her.

"The pastries," you say simply. "It was France; of course the pastries were the best."

Johnny dropped you back at your apartment and your boyfriend opted to stay the night, helping you settle back into the space that you could once again call your own.

Another tenant had contracted your apartment for the time you were away - there were a few more cuts and bruises than you remember leaving, but it was nothing you couldn't patch up. The bed wasn't where you had it, the shower knobs had been replaced, and an empty curtain rod rest stretched along your window seal.

"The stuff you left with us, it's still back at the frat," he chuckles awkwardly.

"That's okay." You offer him a small smile and plop down on one of the only four pieces of stand-alone furniture left in the space, the old black sofa in the same spot it's always been. "At least they didn't take my couch."

"Y/N, darling, I don't know if I would lay on that if I were you."

His words took a moment to register, but when they did your eyes shot open and you were out of your seat comically fast. "Oh God, ew..."

He laughed again and pressed a small kiss to your temple. "Let's take a shower and then we'll figure things out, okay? And you know, you don't have to sleep here tonight. There are no sheets on the bed or anything, so you can-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss and lead him to the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to take away all of your travel pains.

"Not really," you answered honestly, rolling your head to the side to look at your boyfriend. You'd been looking at his ceiling for a while, head resting on his thigh while he played with your hair. It felt nice, you thought, to get a chance to live in your memories - specifically the memories you had left with him here in his room, the ones that always waited for you while you were away. "All of my days in France were spent doing something or another. By myself, with the people that I met. So no, it never really got mundane. I didn't think that kind of life existed for anyone over the age of nine." You let out a small but heavy breath. "I guess I had to experience it for myself to understand."

Lucas doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he focuses on gently detangling a knot that his fingers had caught on. Your hair was longer now than it was.

"I'm happy for you," he reassures you. He doesn't quite know what he's reassuring, but he reassures you nonetheless.

"Lucas?" you ask softly.

"Hmm?" he responds, his gruff voice sounding tired.

"What would you have done if I didn't come back?" His finger stop working in your mess of locks and all of his attention is focused on dissecting what you just asked him.

"I don't know what answer you want me to give you," he says smally, glancing down at you before retraining his gaze on the ceiling, its texture nearly lost in the dark.

"There isn't a certain answer I want. I'm just curious."

"I don't understand the question," he almost interrupts, suddenly a bit tenser than he was only moments ago.

"I don't mean anything by it, Lucas. It's not a loaded question." Your soft voice is enough to lul his hand back to its comforting motions. "Would you have gone after me or would you have let me go?"

"I would have gone after you without a second thought. Definitely, I would have."

"I thought about staying you know."

There's a pause, a small silence of thought on both ends.

"Why didn't you," he asks with genuine curiosity.

"It wasn't home. You weren't there."

A wolf whistle follows you into the kitchen the next morning and you feel the need to suppress your groan.

"If I knew you were staying the night, I would have held a cup against the door."

"Oh, gross, Jaehyun," you sneer, turning to jab your elbow into the older boy's side.

"What? Not everyone gets to tour France." You can't help but dramatically roll your eyes and threaten him with a punch.

"Do you want a cup of coffee? I was about to put on a pot."

"Sure," he smiles gratefully. "And you can tell me about Bordeaux while we wait."

"Oh, it was beautiful," you think back as you prepare the grounds. "As the sun was setting, the sky would turn golden. If there were any clouds that evening, they would turn all different shades of pink. The lights over the water - words wouldn't do it justice."

Jaehyun chuckles before yawning out, "Well, that's a first."

"Jung Jaehyun, if you are trying to say that I talk too much-"

"That's not what I'm saying," he defends. "I mean you always have a way with words. It's your thing, ya' know. Words."

You hum, turning back to your task. "I guess I hadn't thought about it that way - at least not for a while."

The door to the kitchen swings open and another boy ungracefully stumbles into the kitchen. Haechan is clad in a plain T-shirt and dark shorts (if you could call them that). His hair is no longer silver; it's now a dusty brown, curling up into the picture of a sandstorm blowing about his head. He looked healthier, or maybe just more mature since you last saw him. He'd filled out a bit, and grown into those long limbs of his.

"Man, what's will all the commotion in here? It's Saturday and- Y/N?" The boy immediately perks up upon seeing you. "Oh my gosh, Y/N! You're back!" He hugs you and sits down at the island beside his older friend, suddenly as energetic as a child on Christmas morning. "Great, because I made a list of pranks we're gonna pull together. Jaehyun, since you're here, I guess you can help us too. Okay, first of all, we're gonna shove a bag of chocolate powder mix down the shower drain. I'd like to make sure that one gets Mark because he blamed me for breaking Johnny's lamp."

There were things you would have to readjust to in Korea. Things that you didn't think would catch you off guard, yet still managed to turn you around every now and again. The wet bath was one of them; you were going to miss your tub. You also suddenly found bowing a bit more strange than you originally had, as well as keeping personal space when you greeted someone altogether. Most prominently, the language barrier that you weren't so sure you'd ever really overcome in your first life in Korea.

Words were suddenly weird to you again. Ideas that could manifest themselves in one language but not another. At times, there were no proper parallels, nor were there ways in which to express everything going on inside your head.

Though you tried your hardest, what little French you learned simply wouldn't translate properly to English, or the English wouldn't translate to Korean, or the Korean to French, or the French to Korean, or the Korean to the English. The words just never came out the way you wanted them to, and in a way, it was like a piece of you fell away from the rest, lost somewhere between all of your different lives.

Lucas noticed how much quieter you seemed since you'd returned.

You made it a point to generally avoid contact with everyone while you were away. You occasionally checked in with them to let them know that you were alive, but other than that had kept your space. You became more dedicated to learning about yourself and how to care for your well-being. You began making decisions of your own, from what you would eat every night and how early you would wake up every morning to what debacles were worth your time and energy. You decided that most of them weren't. You decided that pondering your life was taking years off of it, and that you didn't like to eat snails. You decided that you weren't so bad after all, and for that matter, no one else was either. You decided to live.

"Hey, can I see something on your Instagram real quick?" you asked softly, setting your bowl of fancy ramen on the coffee table in front of you. "I think one of my friends just had a baby and I wanted to see if she's posted any pictures yet."

Without giving it much thought, Lucas hands you his phone and turns back to his meal. "What happened to your Instagram?" he questioned.

"Deleted it," you quip, pulling up your friend's account. He hears you coo before you shove the device back into his hands, urging him to look at the baby. He thought the child, redfaced and wet, looked like an alien, though he'd never tell you that.

"Why'd you delete it?" he pursues.

You simply shrug and cover more of your legs with the blanket that rested on the both of you. "Didn't need it." He gives you an unsatisfied groan, but you can't think of a better answer. It was simple - while you took plenty of photos to document your life, you no longer found it necessary to post them.

"Okay," he tries, "what about your Kakao Story?"

"Deleted."

"So you no longer use Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Skype, Instagram, or Kakao Story? What if someone needs to contact you?"

"I still have Kakao and Discord."

"Okay, what about my posts? Or your other friends'?"

"If they have something to tell me, they will," you sip your hot tea and lean into his side.

"It’s like she doesn't want to talk to me. She doesn't want to talk to anyone," groans Lucas as he sprawls out on Mark's bed. "She doesn't talk nearly as much as she used to."

Mark's hand didn't stop relaying notes to his journal as he talked with Lucas, translating as many of his lyrical ideas onto paper as he could keep up with.

"She's not the same person she used to be, Lucas."

Lucas had trouble making sense of it, why Mark sounded so sure about that. It almost hurt his pride that one of his roommates was telling him something about you, his girlfriend.

"Who is?" Lucas rubs his eyes. "We've all grown up since then."

Mark's hand halts. "Since then?"

"Since-" he sighs. "Ya' know, since... Since we..."

"Don't hurt yourself," Mark chuckles. "Maybe," he offers, "this chapter of your life is written in a different style. Did you even notice? That your life hasn't been going the same since she got back?"

"Of course it's not the same," the elder defends. "It's infinitely better."

"Spare me. Look, I'm just saying, the less she talks, the more dialog you're putting in your own book. And I think it's better this way. I mean, I can't tell you how to write your life, but I can honestly say I think you're doing better now than you were before. You started using your words instead of acting on impulse. That's not easy, man. Words are hard."

Words: your staple, your foundation, your life. They were your nothing anymore.

And Lucas didn't know how to understand.

He tried not to take it personally, but soon you fell into almost complete silence both with him and his friends. When you joined them for a Smash Bros competition, you didn't exclaim your victories nor mourn your defeats. When you dressed, you didn't ask for his opinions on the color of your lipstick nor the type of heel you should wear. When you laid in bed with him and watched his fan turn above your heads, you refused to humor his desire to hear your voice. And he took the fault upon himself.

He felt guilty asking anything of you anymore because you never opened your mouth to ask for favors in return.

"Y/N, will you come cuddle with me?" he calls with as much endearment as he can shove into his tone.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

You hadn't watched the news in months, and he knew that. You, ever the stickler for meaningful conversation, had devoted large portions of your time to staying up to date before. As of late, however, you preferred "to watch the world crash and burn around you from a first-person point-of-view rather than a third-person point-of-view."

He hoped that sitting you down to watch the news for a while would spark a fire in your opinionated soul. So imagine his reaction when you crawled into his arms and fell asleep, paying absolutely no mind to the colors or words on the screen.

His next plan was to plant your favorite novel in the hands of your favorite philosopher.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

He shoved the book into Doyoung's hands with a stern "fix her." Needless to say, Doyoung had the book read within a couple of days and Lucas invited you over as soon as his friend flipped through the pages for the final time.

"A piece of modern art," he suggests. "A sorrow lost to the sands of time and a meaning forgotten by society."

Lucas watches in amazement as you sit and nod along to everything that Doyoung says. You didn't interject your ideas even once. You just listened.

He was running out of ideas. So his last plot was his last hope that there may be a bit of yourself left inside of you. He would take you on a date - the best date you've ever been on - and thrust so much happiness and gratefulness onto you that you wouldn't be able to contain it so silently. He knew it was a dirty trick, but how else was he to make sure that you were okay if you would no longer tell him anything about yourself.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

Really, he should have asked you out first, before he came barging into your apartment (tidier than he'd ever seen it before and reeking of cleaner) with a bundle of flowers and demanding your attention for the evening.

Surprise.

He was about to push open the door to your bedroom when he heard a soft sniffle from inside. His eyes widened and his shoulders fell. His heart broke when he heard a small sob fall from your lips.

He peeked inside. It was dark, mind the laptop that sat on your desk and illuminating your shaking form. You laid your head on one arm and used your other hand to rake through your stringy hair. Your glasses had been tossed to the shadowy void and your cheeks were wet and sticky.

The header of your philosophy paper stared you down as you unraveled before it. The rest of the blank page was absolutely daunting. Your acceptance of the world around you had drained away your ability to have a coherent cognitive thought about it, forget about writing one.

To some extent, you missed the days when you were confident in your ability to build empires out of words. Now, you couldn't even build a ten-page paper, especially not by 11:59 pm that night.

To a greater extreme, you couldn't understand why you would want to return to your opinionated ways or your charismatic skills that abused fact until it bent to your will. What purpose did fact or, more importantly, idea have anymore, other than to aid your ability to charm others to abide by your purpose?

It felt wrong to write a definitive philosophical thesis, especially when you couldn't bring yourself to definitively believe in anything particular.

"Y/N," you jumped at the sound of your own name and quickly wiped your cheeks with the back of your sleeves, sitting up straighter and making yourself more presentable before you turned around to face him. Lucas saw it all. He watched you put your mask back on right before his eyes, and he realized that you were hurting in ways that he couldn't see until now.

"Lucas," you cursed your shaky voice. "What's up? Why are you here?"

He takes a few quiet steps until he's standing before you and kneels to look into your eyes. There are things that he wants to say, 'you're scaring me' being the most prominent, but he knows he should choose his words more carefully.

"I want to know what's going on. I want to help." He slips his hands into your own and rests them on your knees.

"I just don't think you can," you answer simply.

"Can you tell me what's the matter?"

You shake your head and the tears come rushing back to your eyes. "I don't know what's the matter." It's honest. You don't know why your head can't wrap around your assignments, or your conversations, or your own thoughts as of late.

All that time spent with yourself taught you how to understand yourself and your own needs. You feel that you have exchanged your understanding of the world around you for a simpler version of life. Did that make you selfish? You didn't know.

All Lucas could do was watch you as you fell back into your frustrations. It didn't take long before your brows were knitted back together, your nose was running, and your eyes had glazed over as you retreated back inside of yourself.

"Y/N," he softly called. Your eyes only met his for a second before they were cast somewhere else and your attention ran away from you once again.

"I think," you started, unsure of every word that slipped past your lips. "I think you should go."

You didn't know how to explain to him that you were afraid of what he might think of you at that moment, or that you didn't want to hurt his feelings any more than you guessed you already had.

"I don't want to go. I'm tired of leaving you alone." He stood, gently pulling you to stand with him, and led you to the edge of your bed with a delicate touch. "You don't have to sleep. You don't have to talk. Just lay here with me for a little while and let me be close to you."

"You know," Lucas started as he tossed the noodles in the pan. He'd tucked you into the couch earlier that evening and told you to forget the paper you'd been stressing over. You happily complied. "I don't know how to say this any better." You listened keenly as you pulled a throw pillow into your lap and wrapped yourself around it. "I know that this is probably the last thing you want to talk about, but I did something very wrong to you. I'm still sorry, and I hope you know that. But..." He cast you a quick glance over his shoulder before reaching for the seasoning in your pantry. "I don't think I ever gave you the chance to yell at me. Or like, to be mad at me - ya' know?"

You thought for a moment, front teeth chewing on your thumbnail before you shook your head softly and answered, "I don't want to yell at you. I don't want to be mad at you."

You heard a repressed sound of discouragement before looking to see him dishing your dinner plates. "I wish you would. I wish you would yell at me and tell me what I did was wrong. I wish you would be angry with me for a little while. I wish you would just tell me something about how you feel about it."

He handed you your plate and watched as you ran back inside of your own head. He watched your eyes glaze over as you replayed his words, and yet you made sense of almost none of them. You didn't understand what he was asking of you.

You toyed with your food as you tried to process his request. You didn't even notice when he took his seat beside you, nor did you notice the burning gaze he watched you with.

"Y/N," he called, shaking you out of your trance. "I want you to yell at me." You looked at him like a deer caught in headlights - big black eyes staring down a deadly light. "How did you feel when it happened? Shout something horrific at me about what was going through your head at the time."

You took a small bite and swallowed, training your eyes on the coffee table before you. "I don't remember."

You looked so small, so helpless, and so distant. You were there, right next to him, and yet you were so far away. He was having trouble finding you.

"Yell. Break something. For fuck's sake, please."

The more pressure he applied, the further you seemed to slip away. Before he knew it, you were gone.

"That's not her anymore." He found himself on Mark's bed once again, tucked into the younger boy's covers and pouring out his heart. "She's not all there. She just looks so empty now."

"Dude, I don't know why you come to me for this sort of thing. It's not like I'm just great with girls," the younger quips from his desk chair. "And Johnny would know more about her than I would-"

"No. He absolutely cannot know that I broke his sister."

Mark hummed in thought for a moment before he laid his pen down in his textbook and turned his full body to his friend. "Lucas, be honest with me about something." Lucas nodded. "Did you see anyone else while she was in France?"

Lucas shook his head as he took in his friend's words carefully. He had no right to be mad at the accusation, so he kept his temper in check until a particularly vile thought trotted across his mind. He sat up immediately. "Oh God, do you think that she did? Do you think she considered it a break and she slept with someone else?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying- hey- Lucas, stop." Lucas was already to his feet and out the door before he could finish. "So not my fault," he grumbled to himself.

Finally, it all made sense to him. You couldn't be mad at him if you were also guilty. You couldn't yell at him for committing a sin you'd also committed. He was going to redress the scale. He was going to make you the word again. He was going to be the action.

The solid thuds against your wooden door made you jump up from your floor. Adrenaline spread through your fingertips and you took a step back towards your bedroom.

"We need to talk."

Lucas sounded angry. You pushed and pulled with your memory, but found no trace of experiencing this feeling before: fear of him. You moved against your gut to let him in. You barely opened the door before he pushed his way inside, rattling off accusation after accusation.

"Did you think we were on a break? Because we weren't on a break."

You just listened.

"Did you just forget about me while you were there? Did you just ignore the fact that I was waiting for you? I was stuck here, waiting for you every day while you were in France."

You didn't speak.

"So you just got to do whatever you wanted while I had to sulk here? You just couldn't control yourself, huh? Do you know how hard it was to keep control of myself while you were gone?"

'It was hard?' you thought.

"How about we take another break then? How about this time, I get to sleep with whoever I want? Well? Aren't you even going to open your mouth to defend yourself?"

You didn't.

"Am I wrong?" He prompted. "I didn't think so. Now we're on a break. Now you can fuck around with whoever you want."

Shocked couldn't begin to describe the state he left you in. You stood there, clambering for answers as to what could have sent him on a warpath to your apartment in the first place. His seemingly unprompted fit of jealous rage couldn't really have been sparked without a cause, you figured.

Maybe he'd seen pictures of you with your male friends in France. Maybe a rumor had been spread about you. Maybe he was just tired of you and feeding himself a rotten narrative as an excuse to break up with you.

You didn't want to know. You opted to rather accept his decision, and all of your own emotions that came flooding back with it.

"Hey man, have you talked to Y/N lately? She took one of my classes last year, and I wanted to see if I could get her notes before semester tests." Haechan asks his elder who lay sprawled on the couch.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.'

"What?" Haechan asked, looking up from his phone. "What do you mean you haven't talked to her?"

Lucas lazily yawned and reached for his soda can beside him. "It's not like she's my girlfriend or something. I'm not her keeper."

"Shit, Lucas, you didn't," Mark groaned, rubbing his temple.

"No, you were right. She was sleeping with other guys while she was in France. She didn't even try to deny it."

"Hang on, I never said that. You conjured that one up all on your own, buddy."

Haechan frowned as his frat members debated. He was focused on a much bigger issue at large.

"When did you break up with her?" he asks cautiously.

"Hey, we're just on a break. Don't go getting any ideas-"

"Jesus fuck, can your ego get any bigger?" Lucas crossed his arms and refocused his attention on the television, jaw clenched tightly. "You're so annoying," Haechan mumbled under his breath, already moving towards the door and shooting your brother a message telling him to meet in front of your apartment.

"Damn, you got called annoying by Haechan. How does that feel?"

"Can it, Lee."

You could feel it all, the swarm of emotions swirling and twirling around inside your chest, and yet you couldn't begin to name any of them. All you knew was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.

You laid in your bed and watched your ceiling fondly. You liked how it didn't move. You didn't struggle to keep up with it. And it was dependable; it would always be there.

You didn't move when the knock at your front door finally registered in your ears; you were tired of playing doorman in your own residence.

You were just tired actually.

"Y/N," Johnny called, lightly pushing open the door to your bedroom. A strong sense of deja vu winded you. You knew this scene, you'd lived it before. "It's me and Haechan. I'm sorry we didn't call first." You didn't know how they managed to get inside, nor did you care. You just wanted to sleep.

Johnny took a seat next to you on the side of your bed. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes in an attempt to capture your attention. That's when the smell hit you. The heavy stench of cigarettes washed over all of your senses causing you to retract from his touch. He looked shaken at first, scared that he might have hurt you.

"You didn’t smoke before," you recalled. It was almost a feat in and of itself to remember the bitter past, but the small victory was stifled by the thick, wet air of the bitter present.

His eyes softened before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack he'd bought just a few days before. "I started a few months ago while you were away. I knew you wouldn't be happy about it."

"I don't care," you answered promptly before slowly pulling yourself to sit up against your headboard.

Haechan watched from the doorway. He wondered if he'd ever seen someone in this state before, or if he ever would again. He looked at you and almost failed to see the human being in front of him. He watched you move like a frightened animal, stiff and weary. He watched your untrained gaze flicker between your brother and your brother's outstretched hand. 

This couldn't have just been the work of Lucas, he concluded. There were more deeply rooted implications here. There was an unresolved issue before your idiot boyfriend played to his own role.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't know," you answered honestly.

Johnny looked to Haechan for support, but the younger could offer only his presence in this situation.

"That's okay," your brother soothed. "Haechan," he turned to your mutual friend, "can you call Ten and Yuta and see if they've, uh, noticed anything weird lately about..." He gestured to you. Haechan excused himself to place the calls. "Food? Food always helps, right?" he tried with a dry chuckle. You paid absolutely no mind to him.

"I can't take this," Ten muttered to himself, excusing himself from your bedroom. Five boys had soon found themselves huddled in your doorway, watching your every move intently as you resisted every attempt your brother made to move you.

You felt like a lab rat, being looked at from all angles as Johnny poked and prodded to see what would make you tick. It felt humiliating.

"Let's just go for a drive," he tried again, gently pulling your arms away from your chest and trying to guide you out of bed.

"No," you answered again, pulling yourself away from him and settling further back into your bed.

"Maybe we should just let her be for tonight," Jaehyun suggested, moving to stand beside your brother whose head was fallen in defeat.

"I can't just leave her like this, Jae. I still don't understand what's going on."

"Just give her some space," Jaehyun tried again. "This clearly isn't very effective."

Johnny sighed but ended up in compliance as everyone except for Jungwoo moved to your living room. They quietly deliberated as Jungwoo read allowed one of your favorite novels from the end of your bed, hoping against all hope that it would in some way bring you back from the void in which your mind seemed to currently reside.

"Honestly, we had planned to just come and cheer her up," Haechan had said. "We didn't know we'd find her like this. But I can't say it really surprised me, she's been off for months now."

"I thought something seemed weird. She hasn't said much to me in a while."

"Me either."

"Yeah, same."

Everyone generally agreed with Ten's statement.

"Do you guys think something happened in France?" Jaehyun suggests.

"Or maybe things haven't been going so well between her and Lucas for a while?" Yuta offers.

"Everything just feels like it's spinning," you said, cutting off Jungwoo's reading of Mary Shelley's finest work. He was just happy to have heard you say anything at all. "Everything is going so fast around me. I just wanna take a nap, sleep for a while." As you relayed your simple disposition, you found yourself moving to lay on your side, plenty warm but unwilling to relinquish your comforter. "I don't feel like I belong here, so I'm going to sleep instead."

Jungwoo set the book to the side and laid himself down at the end of your bed. "I don't feel like I belong here sometimes either," he relates.

"But you do," you say, looking over his features and seeing every sharp and jagged curve for the first time.

"You do too," he promises.

Hours of hushed worries bled into the night, and you awoke alone in your apartment in the morning. You had no initial intention of getting out of bed. It was the hardcover copy of Frankenstein standing upright on your bedside table that stirred your aching joints into motion.

Then you remembered.

How could you ever even forget?

The Han River smiled when you arrived, taking a seat on his bank. He asked you why you'd been such an unfamiliar face as of late, to which you had no reply. He thanked you for coming to visit him nonetheless and told you about how much Seoul had missed you while you were away. He told you about the alley cats and how they missed the treats you would occasionally leave for them on your way to classes. He told you about how much the sky cried about you spending spring away. He told you that the city lights drowned out the stars while you were gone, but let them peak back into the city when you returned.

You had no beating heart to pour out into his water, so instead, you gave him your soul. The Han understood and sat with you until you bore no more faults on which to complain. He told you he missed you. You told him that you missed him too. You told him about the Garonne and how much you thought he would like her. Then he sent you off into the afternoon bustle of the city with a watchful eye.

You wondered the streets for a while. Not a penny in your pocket, and still you found so many little joys in all the cracks and crevices of Seoul. You pet the stray cats; they'd always been particularly fond of you. You walked around an antique shop making wild guesses about the past lives of every item in sight. You climbed a tree in the park without a damn to spare the onlookers. By sunset, your feet had taken you back to your campus and directly to the front door of your apartment.

"How about some tea?" you ask yourself as you push the door open, not half expecting to be ambushed by a group of concerned young men demanding to know where you were.

"Would you all like some tea too?"

It was still a struggle to hear your voice most of the time, but visible relief settled over those who'd seen you cowering from your brother in your bedroom only days prior. They all continued to check in on you frequently, as they still had difficulties coaxing you away from your apartment.

"Lucas," Johnny had finally caught him lurking in the kitchen around midnight. He was beginning to grow irritable with how troublesome he had become to locate.

Lucas froze, cup ramen clasped in one hand with chopsticks in the other. Busted like a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Look, I'm sorry about your sister," he started without really knowing where he was going. "I know that I kinda jumped the gun-"

"I don't want to fight with you again," the elder said. He had kept his calm since the situation had arisen. The last time you and your boyfriend had a falling out, all hell broke loose in their dorms. He had landed a good solid punch on the more-than-deserving idiot and held the belief that he probably deserved a few more. However, he'd rather not have everyone in a frenzy once more, turning against one another. "I just need you to tell me what was going on before you left."

Lucas's shoulders slump and he sets his late-night meal on the countertop. "I was just so frustrated. She always let me into her head before - but when she came back, she just stopped talking to me. She shut me out," he relayed. "I tried everything I could think of. I tried to make her really happy, I tried to make her really mad. She wouldn't talk to me."

"She won't talk to me either," Johnny said, resting a reassuring hand on Lucas's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he responds, taking some measure of the blame upon himself. He felt that maybe if he'd had more patience with you, he could have helped you to get better. Now you were detaching yourself from not only him but your other friends and family as well. "Do you think she would want to see me?"

Your brother shrugged but a small smirk played on his lips. "I dunno. Maybe you should go find out tomorrow."

Needless to say, Lucas felt displaced and burdened by heavy guilt as he stood in your doorway, looking down on your fragile body. The last time he came knocking on your door in the most awful hours of the morning, he begged and cried on his knees for you not to leave him. He felt himself resist the urge to fall to the ground and repeat his mantra of pleas.

You didn't ask him why he was there so early in the morning, nor did you ask him if he wanted to come in. Your stare made his skin feel cold. He cleared his throat to dispel some of the awkward tension that he felt clawing at his airways.

"Can I come in?" Without a word, you moved to the side. "Thank you. Were you asleep?"

"No," you say simply, trailing behind him as he steps into your kitchen.

He lets out a low chuckle as he glances around the room. It looked so surprisingly unhomely and clean. Not a single dish in the sink, nor a potted plant out of place. "I keep messing up pretty badly, don't I?"

He hated the empty way you looked at him. It was as if you didn't know him. It was as if you had just let a complete stranger into your apartment.

"I don't understand, and I'm really trying to. I know that you know that things have changed since you got back. I don't know what that means yet, but I do know that I still love you. And that I'm stupid. I know that too."

You hummed along, a thoughtful expression overtaking your blank features.

"And I know that I’m sorry. I let a stupid idea get into my head and I let it hurt my own feelings. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. Please don't leave me."

You didn't offer an answer, instead opening your arms and inviting him back into your embrace. He placed a small kiss on your lips, something he felt like he hadn't done in ages, and wrapped himself around you in an effort to keep you by his side forever.

"Are you happy here in Seoul?" your boyfriend asked, picking at the grass in front of his crossed legs. He looked at you as you looked down at the water. "I mean, I know you don't want to go back to (country), and I have a feeling that you don't exactly want to go live with my family in China. But like, would you rather be in Bordeaux? Or would you rather stay here?"

"I don't know." He hummed and waited for you to elaborate, but you made no real effort to.

"I know that we're still young and we don't have to make any decisions about where we want to live yet," he cooed, looking up to watch the sun set behind the large city towers, "but would you stay here in Seoul with me for a little while?"

You nodded, reaching over to take his hand in your own before pulling him to lay in the grass with you.

"You know, you're not the same person that you were before you left. I've realized that," he said with a sad smile as he looked over at you and placed a small kiss on your chin, pulling a small giggle from your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I can't wait to get to know you again."

[songbirdsingingthings]

Winter Dance - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

DAY TEN OF 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST

Starlight seemed to twinkle at every angle you gazed. It was incredible, really, how the staff was able to transform the cafeteria. Gone were the long lunch tables and potted plants - silk draped circle stands lined the perimeter and in the center was open for dancing. 

“Wow, isn’t this incredible!” Mina gushed, clutching onto your arm. You laughed and nodded, still too much in awe to form words. However, the girl next to you was full of them. As energetic as ever, the pink haired girl flitted around, greeting everyone in her vicinity and you giving them a nod and a smile. You were glad to have Mina as a friend - she was able to break you out of your shell the moment she met you, giving you the confidence to be unapologetically yourself in all situations you were in. She also introduced you to Katsuki Bakugou. He couldn’t have been more different than most of the boys you usually pined after - a stubborn guy with even more stubborn hair and a person who seemed to always wear an annoyed expression. Something about him, however,  just seemed to take hold of your heart and not let it budge.

“Hey Y/N! You look great!” A friendly voice stirred you from your thoughts. Kirishima was giving you a wide toothy grin. You beamed back at him and swished your dress a little, watching the material fold and fall over itself.

“Thanks Kiri -  you as well! I like the tie.” You respond. He did look good, it was true - Mina thoroughly confirmed that notion by giving him a kiss on the cheek. They matched perfectly - your best friend was wearing a beautiful strapless dress that was light blue in color and made of tulle. Kirishima, ever the gentleman, matched his tie color and even the pattern, both of them having little flowers dotted all over. The three of you talked for a little while - small comments about the gorgeous decorations, fun anecdotes, and what they were planning on doing for Christmas. Just as your little group was about to grab some punch, a slow and sweet melody flooded the speakers, prompting couples to take to the middle of the dancefloor. You saw Mina and Kirishima look to each other and back at you, giving you an apologetic look. You gave them a silly look and pushed their backs toward the dance floor.

“You two didn’t come here to just hang out with me, go dance! I know you’ve been waiting all night.” You grin. They return your smile and Kirishima takes Mina’s hand, twirling her around once before they settle into a swaying rhythm. You watch them for a few minutes before you feel a sinking feeling in your heart. Yes, you’ve been talking to your friends all night, but you’ve also been keeping an eye out for the blonde-haired hero in training your heart was set on. Your vantage point finally allowed you to survey the entire room which proved the discouraging thought that lingered in your mind. He didn’t show up, you thought. Sighing you glance to one of the doors. This conjured a mental battle in your head. Do you leave? Is it even worth it? As much as you wanted to stay and have a good time, all you had to do was take a look at the center of the dance floor to make up your mind. Seeing happy couples spin, dance, and laugh made your heart ache - this wasn’t something that would be happening tonight. 

“I just need some air,” you mumble, weaving through bystanders near the wall. You didn’t realize how stuffy it was in that room - you guessed all of those people plus dancing would fill the room’s atmosphere. 

The large windows were something that had drawn you to UA. While it wasn’t the most practical thing to think of when applying to high school, you thought it was a nice touch. You could practically see for miles through them. Rubbing away the condensation, you saw the city in the distance. The colored lights from cars and skyscrapers lit up its surroundings, casting a wondrous glow to the streets and apartment buildings. Just beyond the campus you could spot the cherry blossoms covered in snow - the light pink blossoms blanketed by the heavy layer of white. And up close were the detailed patterns of the paths and foliage that accented UA so well. You could even make out the colors of the flowers. One blue, those two a light yellow, one red and- Bakugou? You rubbed your eyes to see that, yes, the blonde was really outside in the cold wearing a suit and tie. Without thinking, you ran down the steps to the door that opened up right next to him. With a shove, the door creaks and a rush of wind blows by you. Katsuki jumped a bit in surprise, his eyes widening as he saw you.

“What are you doing here?” He inquires, eyebrows narrowing. You brush a stray piece of hair away from your face and shoot him a confused look.

“I saw you from the window?” You said, pointing up to the glass pane. “I saw you out here and was wondering what you were up to.” He rolls his eyes and kicks some snow with his polished black dress shoe.

“No, seriously, what are you doing here.” He says flatly. “Why aren’t you at the dance thing.” He gestures to your floor length dress, the end of which was currently getting damp by the snow. 

“I needed some air,” you say quickly, remembering that technically he was the reason you stepped out in the first place. “What about you?” Katsuki scoffs and tugs on the collar of his shirt.

“Like I’d go to a dance - they’re idiotic.” You frown at his wording but speak up anyways.

“Well, you’re certainly dressed for one - unless this is your usual Saturday night attire?” You ask, motioning to his suit and slacks. They even looked newly ironed. Realizing that you caught him, you grinned and stepped closer to him. “You can tell me Bakugou, you know I’m not one to judge.” He sighs and turns his back to you. Thinking that he was just going to ignore you, you exhale sadly and turn back towards the door, ready to go back into the warm building. However his voice, soft as velvet, found you.

“I dunno how to dance.” Stopping in your tracks, you twisted around to look at him, your dress swishing with you. “How was I supposed to ask you to dance if I can’t do it properly, dammit?” He confesses. It was as if Cupid himself had notched his arrow and aimed perfectly for the square in your back. You were ready to squeal and jump, but what Bakugou needed right now wasn’t you being giddy about his confession. He needed you to take charge of the situation.

“We can do it here.” You suggest, grabbing his hand. He finally turns back to face you, some red flashing on his cheeks. You knew if you commented on it he would blame it on the nippy weather, so you let it slide.

“In the snow? Are you serious?” He says, almost laughing at your suggestion. You simply nod, guiding one of his hands to your waist and the other into yours. You settle your right hand onto his shoulder and smile.

“Yeah, in the snow. Besides, the stars out here,” you say, looking up to the sky, “are much more realistic than the ones in there.” He nods stiffly and waits for you to make the first move. Stepping forward with your right foot he steps back. You lead him through a simple box step, and for someone who didn’t know how to dance, he caught on perfectly. Like everything that challenged him in life, he grew more confident in his motions. He surprised you with spins every now and again, always earning a laugh. Flurries began to fall as you danced but neither of you seemed to care.

“Bakugou,” You say softly as he spins you again.

“Katsuki,” he corrects, earning a shy smile from you.

“Katsuki,” you laugh, “the reason why I wasn’t at the dance and why I got some air was because you weren’t there.” The boy in front of your smirks and then dips you, your weight now fully supported by him. No words came from his lips, instead, they met your own. They’re softer than you would’ve imagined. It lasted for only a couple seconds but you couldn’t complain - it was perfect. No more words were spoken between you that night - you just danced and danced, your head now resting on his shoulders. Even when the event indoors came to an end you didn’t stop. It was just you and Katsuki and the snow, swirling and spinning in unison... and Mina and Kirishima, watching from the windows, thankful that their two friends finally got together.

[grigori77]

2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)

10.  WOLFWALKERS – eleven years ago, Irish director Tomm Moore exploded onto the animated cinema scene with The Secret of Kells, a spellbinding feature debut which captivated audiences the world over and even garnered an Oscar nomination.  Admittedly I didn’t actually even know about it until I discovered his work through his astonishing follow-up, Song of the Sea (another Academy Award nominee), in 2015, so when I finally caught it I was already a fan of Moore’s work.  It’s been a similarly long wait for his third feature, but he’s genuinely pulled off a hat-trick, delivering a third flawless film in a row which OF COURSE means that his latest feature is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my top animated feature of 2020.  I could even be tempted to say it’s his best work to date … this is an ASTONISHING film, a work of such breath-taking, spell-binding beauty that I spent its entire hour and three-quarters glued to the screen, simple mesmerised by the wonder and majesty of this latest iteration of the characteristically stylised “Cartoon Saloon” look.  It’s also liberally steeped in Moore’s trademark Celtic vibe and atmosphere, once again delving deep into his homeland’s rich and evocative cultural history and mythology while also bringing us something far more original and personal – this time the titular supernatural beings are magical near-human beings whose own subconscious can assume the form of very real wolves.  Set in a particularly dark time in Irish history – namely 1650, when Oliver Cromwell was Lord Protector – the story follows Robyn (Honor Kneafsey, probably best known for the Christmas Prince films), the impetuous and spirited young daughter of English hunter Bill Goodfellowe (Sean Bean), brought in by the Protectorate to rid the city of Kilkenny of the wolves plaguing the area.  One day fate intervenes and Robyn meets Mebh Og MacTire (The Girl at the End of the Garden‘s Eve Whittaker), a wild girl living in the woods, whose accidental bite gives her strange dreams in which she becomes a wolf – turns out Mebh is a wolfwalker, and now so is Robyn … every aspect of this film is an utter triumph for Moore and co, who have crafted a work of living, breathing cinematic art that’s easily the equal to (if not even better than) the best that Disney, Dreamworks or any of the other animation studios could create.  Then there’s the excellent voice cast – Bean brings fatherly warmth and compassion to the role that belies his character’s intimidating size, while Kneafsey and Whittaker make for a sweet and sassy pair as they bond in spite of powerful cultural differences, and the masterful Simon McBurney (Harry Potter, Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) brings cool, understated menace to the role of Cromwell himself.  This is a film with plenty of emotional heft to go with its marvels, and once again displays the welcome dark side which added particular spice to Moore’s previous films, but ultimately this is still a gentle and heartfelt work of wonder that makes for equally suitable viewing for children as for those who are still kids at heart – ultimately, then, this is another triumph for one of the most singularly original filmmakers working in animation today, and if Wolfwalkers doesn’t make it third time lucky come Oscars-time then there’s no justice in the world …

9.  WONDER WOMAN 1984 – probably the biggest change for 2020 compared to pretty much all of the past decade is how different the fortunes of superhero cinema turned out to be.  A year earlier the Marvel Cinematic Universe had dominated all, but the DC Extended Universe still got a good hit in with big surprise hit Shazam!  Fast-forward to now and things are VERY different – DC suddenly came out in the lead, but only because Marvel’s intended heavy-hitters (two MCU movies, the first Venom sequel and potential hot-shit new franchise starter Morbius: the Living Vampire) found themselves continuously pushed back thanks to (back then) unforeseen circumstances which continue to shit all over our theatre-going slate for the immediate future.  In the end DC’s only SERIOUS competition turned out to be NETFLIX … never mind, at least we got ONE big established superhero blockbuster into the cinemas before the end of the year that the whole family could enjoy, and who better to headline it than DC’s “newest” big screen megastar, Diana Prince? Back in 2017 Monster’s Ball director Patty Jenkins’ monumental DCEU standalone spectacularly realigned the trajectory of a cinematic franchise that was visibly flagging, redesigning the template for the series’ future which has since led to some (mostly) consistently impressive subsequent offerings.  Needless to say it was a damn tough act to follow, but Jenkins and co-writers Geoff Johns (Arrow and The Flash) and David Callaham (The Expendables, Zombieland: Double Tap, future MCU entry Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings) have risen to the challenge in fine style, delivering something which pretty much equals that spectacular franchise debut … as has Gal Gadot, who’s now OFFICIALLY made the role her own thanks to yet another showstopping and definitive performance as the unstoppable Amazonian goddess living amongst us.  She’s older and wiser than in the first film, but still hasn’t lost that forthright honesty and wonderfully pure heart we’ve come to love ever since her introduction in Zack Snyder’s troublesome but ultimately underrated Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice (yes, that’s right, I said it!), and Gadot’s clear, overwhelming commitment to the role continues to pay off magnificently as she once again proves that Diana is THE VERY BEST superhero in the DCEU cinematic pantheon.  Although it takes place several decades after its predecessor, WW84 is, obviously, still very much a period piece, Jenkins and co this time perfectly capturing the sheer opulent and over-the-top tastelessness of the 1980s in all its big-haired, bad-suited, oversized shoulder-padded glory while telling a story that encapsulates the greedy excessiveness of the Reagan era, perfectly embodied in the film’s nominal villain, Max Lord (The Mandalorian himself, Pedro Pascal), a wishy-washy wannabe oil tycoon conman who chances upon a supercharged wish-rock and unleashes a devastating supernatural “monkey’s paw” upon the world. To say any more would give away a whole raft of spectacular twists and turns that deserve to be enjoyed good and cold, although they did spoil one major surprise in the trailer when they teased the return of Diana’s first love, Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) … needless to say this is another big blockbuster bursting with big characters, big action and BIG IDEAS, just what we’ve come to expect after Wonder Woman’s first triumphant big screen adventure.  Interestingly, the film starts out feeling like it’s going to be a bubbly, light, frothy affair – after a particularly stunning all-action opening flashback to Diana’s childhood on Themyscira, the film proper kicks off with a bright and breezy atmosphere that feels a bit like the kind of Saturday morning cartoon action the consistently impressive set-pieces take such unfettered joy in parodying, but as the stakes are raised the tone grows darker and more emotionally potent, the storm clouds gathering for a spectacularly epic climax that, for once, doesn’t feel too overblown or weighed down by its visual effects, while the intelligent script has unfathomable hidden depths to it, making us think far more than these kinds of blockbusters usually do.  It’s really great to see Chris Pine return since he was one of the best things about the first movie, and his lovably childlike wide-eyed wonder at this brave new world perfectly echoes Diana’s own last time round; Kristen Wiig, meanwhile, is pretty phenomenal throughout as Dr Barbara Minerva, the initially geeky and timid nerd who discovers an impressive inner strength but ultimately turns into a superpowered apex predator as she becomes one of Wonder Woman’s most infamous foes, the Cheetah; Pascal, of course, is clearly having the time of his life hamming it up to the hilt as Lord, playing gloriously against his effortlessly cool, charismatic action hero image to deliver a compellingly troubling examination of the monstrous corrupting influence of absolute power.  Once again, though, the film truly belongs to Gadot – she looks amazing, acts her socks off magnificently, and totally rules the movie.  After this, a second sequel is a no-brainer, because Wonder Woman remains the one DC superhero who’s truly capable of bearing the weight of this particular cinematic franchise on her powerful shoulders – needless to say, it’s already been greenlit, and with both Jenkins and Gadot onboard, I’m happy to sign up for more too …

8.  LOVE & MONSTERS – with the cinemas continuing their frustrating habit of opening for a little while and then closing while the pandemic ebbed and flowed in the months after the summer season, it was starting to look like there might not have been ANY big budget blockbusters to enjoy before year’s end as heavyweights like Black Widow, No Time To Die and Dune pulled back to potentially more certain release slots into 2021 (with only WW84 remaining stubbornly in place for Christmas).  Then Paramount decided to throw us a bone, opting to release this post-apocalyptic horror comedy on-demand in October instead, thus giving me the perfect little present to tie me over during the darkening days of autumn. The end result was a stone-cold gem that came out of nowhere to completely blow critics away, a spectacular sleeper hit that ultimately proved one of the year’s biggest and most brilliant surprises.  Director Michael Matthews may only have had South African indie thriller Five Fingers for Marseilles under his belt prior to this, but he proves he’s definitely a solid talent to watch in the future, crafting a fun and effective thrill-ride that, like all the best horror comedies, is consistently as funny as it is scary, sharing much of the same DNA as this particular mash-up genre’s classics like Tremors and Zombieland and standing up impressively well to such comparisons.  The story, penned by rising star Brian Duffield (who has TWO other entries on this list, Underwater and Spontaneous) and Matthew Robinson (The Invention of Lying, Dora & the Lost City of Gold), is also pretty ingenious and surprisingly original – a meteorite strike has unleashed weird mutagenic pathogens that warp various creepy crawly critters into gigantic monstrosities that have slaughter most of the world’s human population, leaving only a beleaguered, dwindling few to eke out a precarious living in underground colonies. Living in one such makeshift community is Joel Dawson (The Maze Runner’s Dylan O’Brien), a smart and likeable geek who really isn’t very adventurous, is extremely awkward and uncoordinated, and has a problem with freezing if threatened … which makes it all the more inexplicable when he decides, entirely against the advice of everyone he knows, to venture onto the surface so he can make the incredibly dangerous week-long trek to the neighbouring colony where his girlfriend Aimee (Iron Fist’s Jessica Henwick) has ended up.  Joel is, without a doubt, the best role that O’Brien has EVER had, a total dork who’s completely unsuited to this kind of adventure and, in the real world, sure to be eaten alive in the first five minutes, but he’s also such a fantastically believable, fallible everyman that every one of us desperate, pathetic omega-males and females can instantly put ourselves in his place, making it elementarily easy to root for him.  He’s also hilariously funny, his winningly self-deprecating sass and pitch perfect talent for physical comedy making it all the more rewarding watching each gloriously anarchic life-and-death encounter mould him into the year’s most unlikely action hero.  Henwick, meanwhile, once again impresses in a well-written role where she’s able to make a big impression despite her decidedly short screen time, as do the legendary Michael Rooker and brilliant newcomer Ariana Greenblatt as Clyde and Minnow, the adorably jaded, seen-it-all-before pair of “professional survivors” Joel meets en-route, who teach him to survive on the surface.  The action is fast, frenetic and potently visceral, the impressively realistic digital creature effects bringing a motley crew of bloodthirsty beasties to suitably blood-curdling life for the film’s consistently terrifying set-pieces, while the world-building is intricately thought-out and skilfully executed.  Altogether, this was an absolute joy from start to finish, and a film I enthusiastically endorsed to everyone I knew was looking for something fun to enjoy during the frustrating lockdown nights-in.  One of the cinematic year’s best kept secrets then, and a compelling sign of things to come for its up-and-coming director.

7.  PARASITE – I’ve been a fan of master Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho ever since I stumbled across his deeply weird but also thoroughly brilliant breakthrough feature The Host, and it’s a love that’s deepened since thanks to truly magnificent sci-fi actioner Snowpiercer, so I was looking forward to his latest feature as much as any movie geek, but even I wasn’t prepared for just what a runaway juggernaut of a hit this one turned out to be, from the insane box office to all that award-season glory (especially that undeniable clean-sweep at the Oscars). I’ll just come out and say it, this film deserves it all.  It’s EASILY Bong’s best film to date (which is really saying something), a masterful social satire and jet black comedy that raises some genuinely intriguing questions before delivering deeply troubling answers.  Straddling the ever-widening gulf between a disaffected idle rich upper class and impoverished, struggling lower class in modern-day Seoul, it tells the story of the Kim family – father Ki-taek (Bong’s good luck charm, Song Kang-ho), mother Chung-sook (Jang Hye-jin), son Ki-woo (Train to Busan’s Choi Woo-shik) and daughter Ki-jung (The Silenced’s Park So-dam) – a poor family living in a run-down basement apartment who live hand-to-mouth in minimum wage jobs and can barely rub two pennies together, until they’re presented with an intriguing opportunity.  Through happy chance, Ki-woon is hired as an English tutor for Park Da-hye (Jung Ji-so), the daughter of a wealthy family, which offers him the chance to recommend Ki-jung as an art tutor to the Parks’ troubled young son, Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun). Soon the rest of the Kims are getting in on the act, the kids contriving opportunities for their father to replace Mr Park’s chauffeur and their mother to oust the family’s long-serving housekeeper, Gook Moon-gwang (Lee Jung-eun), and before long their situation has improved dramatically.  But as they two families become more deeply entwined, cracks begin to show in their supposed blissful harmony as the natural prejudices of their respective classes start to take hold, and as events spiral out of control a terrible confrontation looms on the horizon.  This is social commentary at its most scathing, Bong drawing on personal experiences from his youth to inform the razor-sharp script (co-written by his production assistant Han Jin-won), while he weaves a palpable atmosphere of knife-edged tension throughout to add spice to the perfectly observed dark humour of the situation, all the while throwing intriguing twists and turns at us before suddenly dropping such a massive jaw-dropper of a gear-change that the film completely turns on its head to stunning effect.  The cast are all thoroughly astounding, Song once again dominating the film with a turn at once sloppy and dishevelled but also poignant and heartfelt, while there are particularly noteworthy turns from Lee Sun-kyun as the Parks’ self-absorbed patriarch Dong-ik and Choi Yeo-jeong (The Concubine) as his flighty, easily-led wife Choi Yeon-gyo, as well as a fantastically weird appearance in the latter half from Park Myung-hoon.  This is heady stuff, dangerously seductive even as it becomes increasingly uncomfortable viewing, so that even as the screws tighten and everything goes to hell it’s simply impossible to look away.  Bong Joon-ho really has surpassed himself this time, delivering an existential mind-scrambler that lingers long after the credits have rolled and might even have you questioning your place in society once you’ve thought about it some. It deserves every single award and every ounce of praise it’s been lavished with, and looks set to go down as one of the true cinematic greats of this new decade.  Trust me, if this was a purely critical best-of list it’d be RIGHT AT THE TOP …

6.  THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’ undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular series with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping great ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in a thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered.  Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who’s working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan.  The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here.  Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’.  They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story.  Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large.  After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …

5.  MANK – it’s always nice when David Fincher, one of my TOP FIVE ALL TIME FAVOURITE DIRECTORS, drops a new movie, because it can be GUARANTEED to place good and high in my rundown for that year.  The man is a frickin’ GENIUS, a true master of the craft, genuinely one of the auteur’s auteurs.  I’ve NEVER seen him deliver a bad film – even a misfiring Fincher (see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or Alien 3) is still capable of creating GREAT CINEMA.  How? Why?  It’s because he genuinely LOVES the art form, it’s been his obsession all his life, and he’s spent every day of it becoming the best possible filmmaker he can be.  Who better to tell the story of the creation of one of the ULTIMATE cinematic masterpieces, then?  Benjamin Ross’ acclaimed biopic RKO 281 covered similar ground, presenting a compelling look into the making Citizen Kane, the timeless masterpiece of Hollywood’s ULTIMATE auteur, Orson Welles, but Fincher’s film is more interested in the original inspiration for the story, how it was written and, most importantly, the man who wrote it – Herman J. Mankiewicz, known to his friends as Mank. One of my favourite actors of all time, Gary Oldman, delivers yet another of his career best performances in the lead role, once a man of vision and incredible storytelling skill whose talents have largely been squandered through professional difficulties and personal vices, a burned out one-time great fallen on hard times whom Welles picks up out of the trash, dusts off and offers a chance to create something truly great again.  The only catch?  The subject of their film (albeit dressed up in the guise of fictional newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane) is to be real-life publisher, politico and tycoon William Randolph Hurst (Charles Dance), once Mank’s friend and patron before they had a very public and messy falling out which partly led to his current circumstances.  As he toils away in seclusion on what is destined to become his true masterwork, flashbacks reveal to us the fascinating, moving and ultimately tragic tale of his rise and fall from grace in the movie business, set against the backdrop of one of the most tumultuous periods in American history.  Shooting a script that his own journalist and screenwriter father, Jack, crafted and then failed to bring to the screen himself before his death in 2003, Fincher has been working for almost a quarter century to make this film, and all that passion and drive is writ large on the screen – this is a glorious film ABOUT film, the art of it, the creation of it, and all the dirty little secrets of what the industry itself has always really been like, especially in that most glamorous and illusory of times.  The fact that Fincher shot in black and white and intentionally made it look like it was made in the early 1940s (the “golden age of the Silver Screen”, if you will) may seem like a gimmick, but instead it’s a very shrewd choice that expertly captures the gloss and moodiness of the age, almost looking like a contemporary companion piece to Kane itself, and it’s the perfect way to frame all the sharp-witted observation, subtly subversive character development and murky behind-the-scenes machinations that tell the story.  Oldman is in every way the star here, holding the screen with all the consummate skill and flair we’ve come to expect from him, but there’s no denying the uniformly excellent supporting cast are equal to the task here – Dance is at his regal, charismatic best as Hearst, while Amanda Seyfried is icily classy on the surface but mischievous and lovably grounded underneath as Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies, who formed the basis for Kane’s most controversial character, Arliss Howard (Full Metal Jacket, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Moneyball) brings nuance and complexity to the role of MGM founder Louis B. Mayer, Tom Pelphrey (Banshee, Ozark) is understated but compelling as Mank’s younger screenwriter brother Joseph, and Lily Collins and Tuppence Middleton exude class and long-suffering stubbornness as the two main women in Mank’s life (his secretary and platonic muse, Rita Alexander, and his wife, Sara), while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke’s periodic but potent appearances as Orson Welles help to drive the story in the “present”.  Another Netflix release which I was (thankfully) able to catch on the big screen during one of the brief lulls between British lockdowns, this was a decidedly meta cinematic experience that perfectly encapsulated not only what is truly required for the creation of a screen epic, but also the latest pinnacle in the career of one of the greatest filmmakers working in the business today, powerful, stirring, intriguing and surprising in equal measure. Certainly it’s one of the most important films ABOUT so far film this century, but is it as good as Citizen Kane?  Boy, that’s a tough one …

4.  ENOLA HOLMES – ultimately, my top film for the autumn/winter movie season was also the film which finally topped my Netflix Original features list, as well as beating all other streaming offerings for the entire year (which is saying something, as you should know by now).  Had things been different, this would have been one of Warner Bros’ BIGGEST releases for the year in the cinema, of that I have no doubt, a surprise sleeper hit which would have taken the world by storm – as it is it’s STILL become a sensation, albeit in a much more mid-pandemic, lockdown home-viewing kind of way.  Before you start crying oh God no, not another Sherlock Holmes adaptation, this is a very different beast from either the Guy Ritchie take or the modernized BBC show, instead side-lining the great literary sleuth in favour of a delicious new AU version, based on The Case of the Missing Marquess, the first novel in the Enola Holmes Mysteries literary series from American YA author Nancy Springer.  Positing that Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and his elder brother Mycroft (Sam Claflin) had an equally ingenious and precocious baby sister, the film introduces us to Enola (Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown), who’s been raised at home by their strong-willed mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter) to be just as intelligent, well-read and intellectually skilled as her far more advantageously masculine elder siblings.  Then, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Enola awakens to find her mother has vanished, putting her in a pretty pickle since this leaves her a ward of Mycroft, a self-absorbed social peacock who finds her to be wilfully free-spirited and completely ill equipped to face the world, concluding that the only solution is sending her to boarding school where she’ll learn to become a proper lady.  Needless to say she’s horrified by the prospect, deciding to run away and search for her mother instead … this is about as perfect a family adventure film as you could wish for, following a vital, capable and compelling teen detective-in-the-making as she embarks on her very first investigation, as well as winding up tangled in a second to boot involving a young runaway noble, Viscount Tewkesbury, the Marquess of Basilwether (Medici’s Louis Partridge), and the film is a breezy, swift-paced and rewardingly entertaining romp that feels like a welcome breath of fresh air for a literary property which, beloved as it may be, has been adapted to death over the years.  Enola Holmes a brilliant young hero who’s perfectly crafted to carry the franchise forward in fresh new directions, and Brown brings her to life with effervescent charm, boisterous energy and mischievous irreverence that are entirely irresistible; Cavill and Claflin, meanwhile, are perfectly cast as the two very different brothers – this Sherlock is much less louche and world-weary than most previous versions, still razor sharp and intellectually restless but with a comfortable ease and a youthful spring in his step that perfectly suits the actor, while Mycroft is as superior and arrogant as ever, a preening arse we derive huge enjoyment watching Enola consistently get the best of; Bonham Carter doesn’t get a lot of screen-time but as we’d expect she does a lot with what she has to make the practical, eccentric and unapologetically modern Eudoria thoroughly memorable, while Partridge is carefree and likeable as the naïve but irresistible Tewkesbury, and there are strong supporting turns from Frances de la Tour as his stately grandmother, the Dowager, Susie Wokoma (Crazyhead, Truth Seekers) as Emily, a feisty suffragette who runs a jujitsu studio, Burn Gorman as dastardly thug-for-hire Linthorn, and Four Lions’ Adeel Akhtar as a particularly scuzzy Inspector Lestrade.  Seasoned TV director Harry Bradbeer (Fleabag, Killing Eve) makes his feature debut with an impressive splash, unfolding the action at a brisk pace while keeping the narrative firmly focused on an intricate mystery plot that throws in plenty of ingenious twists and turns before a suitably atmospheric climax and pleasing denouement which nonetheless artfully sets up more to come in the future, while screenwriter Jack Thorne (His Dark Materials, The Scouting Book for Boys, Wonder) delivers strong character work and liberally peppers the dialogue with a veritable cavalcade of witty zingers.  Boisterous, compelling, amusing, affecting and exciting in equal measure, this is a spirited and appealing slice of cinematic escapism that flatters its viewers and never talks down to them, a perfect little period adventure for a cosy Sunday afternoon.  Obviously there’s plenty of potential for more, and with further books to adapt there’s more than enough material for a pile of sequels – Neflix would be barmy indeed to turn their nose up at this opportunity …

3.  1917 – it’s a rare thing for a film to leave me truly shell-shocked by its sheer awesomeness, for me to walk out of a cinema in a genuine daze, unable to talk or even really think about much of anything for a few hours because I’m simply marvelling at what I’ve just witnessed.  Needless to say, when I do find a film like that (Fight Club, Inception, Mad Max: Fury Road) it usually earns a place very close to my heart indeed.  The latest tour-de-force from Sam Mendes is one of those films – an epic World War I thriller that plays out ENTIRELY in one shot, which doesn’t simply feel like a glorified gimmick or stunt but instead is a genuine MASTERPIECE of film, a mesmerising journey of emotion and imagination in a shockingly real environment that’s impossible to tear your eyes away from.  Sure, Mendes has impressed us before – his first film, American Beauty, is a GREAT movie, one of the most impressive feature debuts of the 2000s, while Skyfall is, in my opinion, quite simply THE BEST BOND FILM EVER MADE – but this is in a whole other league.  It’s an astounding achievement, made all the more impressive when you realise that there’s very little trickery at play here, no clever digital magic (just some augmentation here and there), it’s all real locations and sets, filmed in long, elaborately choreographed takes blended together with clever edits to make it as seamless as possible – it’s not the first film to try to do this (remember Birdman? Bushwick?), but I’ve never seen it done better, or with greater skill. But it’s not just a clever cinematic exercise, there’s a genuine story here, told with guts and urgency, and populated by real flesh and blood characters – the heart of the film is True History of the Kelly Gang’s George MacKay and Dean Chapman (probably best known as Tommen Baratheon in Game of Thrones) as Lance Corporals Will Schofield and Tom Blake, the two young tommies sent out across enemy territory on a desperate mission to stop a British regiment from rushing headlong into a German trap (Tom himself has a personal stake in this because his brother is an officer in the attack).  They’re a likeable pair, very human and relatable throughout, brave and true but never so overtly heroic that they stretch credibility, so when tragedy strikes along the way it’s particularly devastating; both deliver exceptional performances that effortlessly carry us through the film, and they’re given sterling support from a selection of top-drawer British talent, from Sherlock stars Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch to Mark Strong and Colin Firth, each delivering magnificently in small but potent cameos.  That said, the cinematography and art department are the BIGGEST stars here, masterful veteran DOP Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, Blade Runner 2049 and pretty much the Coen Brothers’ entire back catalogue among MANY others) making every frame sing with beauty, horror, tension or tragedy as the need arises, and the environments are SO REAL it feels less like production design than that someone simply sent the cast and crew back in time to film in the real Northern France circa 1917 – from a nightmarish trek across No Man’s Land to a desperate chase through a ruined French village lit only by dancing flare-light in the darkness before dawn, every scene is utterly immersive and simply STUNNING.  I don’t think it’s possible for Mendes to make a film better than this, but I sure hope he gives it a go all the same.  Either way, this was the most incredible, exhausting, truly AWESOME experience I had at the cinema all year – it’s a film that DESERVES to be seen on the big screen, and I feel truly sorry for those who missed the chance …

2.  BIRDS OF PREY & THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN – the only reason 1917 isn’t at number two is because Warner Bros.’ cinematic DC Extended Universe project FINALLY got round to bringing my favourite DC Comics title to the big screen.  It was been the biggest pleasure of my cinematic year getting to see my top DC superheroines brought to life on the big screen, and it was done in high style, in my opinion THE BEST of the DCEU films to date (yup, I loved it EVEN MORE than the Wonder Woman movies).  It was also great seeing Harley Quinn return after her show-stealing turn in David Ayer’s clunky but ultimately still hugely enjoyable Suicide Squad, better still that they got her SPOT ON this time – this is the Harley I’ve always loved in the comics, unpredictable, irreverent and entirely without regard for what anyone else thinks of her, as well as one talented psychiatrist.  Margot Robbie once more excels in the role she was basically BORN to play, clearly relishing the chance to finally do Harley TRUE justice, and she’s a total riot from start to finish, infectiously lovable no matter what crazy, sometimes downright REPRIHENSIBLE antics she gets up to.  Needless to say she’s the nominal star here, her latest ill-advised adventure driving the story – finally done with the Joker and itching to make her emancipation official, Harley publicly announces their breakup by blowing up Ace Chemicals (their love spot, basically), inadvertently painting a target on her back in the process since she’s no longer under the assumed protection of Gotham’s feared Clown Prince of Crime – but that doesn’t mean she eclipses the other main players the movie’s REALLY supposed to be about.  Each member of the Birds of Prey is beautifully written and brought to vivid, arse-kicking life by what had to be 2020’s most exciting cast – Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress, is the perfect character for Mary Elizabeth Winstead to finally pay off on that action hero potential she showed in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but this is a MUCH more enjoyable role outside of the fight choreography because while Helena may be a world-class dark avenger, socially she’s a total dork, which just makes her thoroughly adorable; Rosie Perez is similarly perfect casting as Renee Montoya, the uncompromising pint-sized Gotham PD detective who kicks against the corrupt system no matter what kind of trouble it gets her into, and just gets angrier all the time, paradoxically making us like her even more; and then there’s the film’s major controversy, at least as far as the fans are concerned, namely one Cassandra Cain.  Sure, this take is VERY different from the comics’ version (a nearly mute master assassin who went on to become the second woman to wear the mask of Batgirl before assuming her own crime-fighting mantle as Black Bat and now Orphan), but personally I like to think this is simply Cass at THE VERY START of her origin story, leaving plenty of time for her to discover her warrior origins when the DCEU finally gets around to introducing her mum, Lady Shiva (personally I want Michelle Yeoh to play her, but that’s just me) – anyways, here she’s a skilled child pickpocket whose latest theft inadvertently sets off the larger central plot, and newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a fantastic pre-teen irreverence and spiky charm to the role, beautifully playing against Robbie’s mercurial energy.  My favourite here BY FAR, however, is Dinah Lance, aka the Black Canary (not only my favourite Bird of Prey but my very favourite DC superheroine PERIOD), the choice of up-and-comer Jurnee Smollet-Bell (Friday Night Lights, Underground) proving to be the film’s most inspired casting – a club singer with the metahuman ability to emit piercing supersonic screams, she’s also a ferocious martial artist (in the comics she’s one of the very best fighters IN THE WORLD), as well as a wonderfully pure soul you just can’t help loving, and it made me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that they got my Canary EXACTLY RIGHT.  Altogether they’re a fantastic bunch of badass ladies, basically my perfect superhero team, and the way they’re all brought together (along with Harley, of course) is beautifully thought out and perfectly executed … they’ve also got one hell of a threat to overcome, namely Gotham crime boss Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, one of the Joker’s chief rivals – Ewan McGregor brings his A-game in a frustratingly rare villainous turn (my number one bad guy for the movie year), a monstrously narcissistic, woman-hating control freak with a penchant for peeling off the faces of those who displease him, sharing some exquisitely creepy chemistry with Chris Messina (The Mindy Project) as Sionis’ nihilistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz.  This is about as good as superhero cinema gets, a perfect example of the sheer brilliance you get when you switch up the formula to create something new, an ultra-violent, unapologetically R-rated middle finger to the classic tropes, a fantastic black comedy thrill ride that’s got to be the most full-on feminist blockbuster ever made – it’s helmed by a woman (Dead Pigs director Cathy Yan), written by a woman (Bumblebee’s Christina Hodson), produced by more women and ABOUT a bunch of badass women magnificently triumphing over toxic masculinity in all its forms.  It’s also simply BRILLIANT – the cast are all clearly having a blast, the action sequences are first rate (the spectacular GCPD evidence room fight in which Harley gets to REALLY cut loose is the undisputable highlight), it has a gleefully anarchic sense of humour and is simply BURSTING with phenomenal homages, references and in-jokes for the fans (Bruce the hyena! Stuffed beaver! Roller derby!).  It’s also got a killer soundtrack, populated almost exclusively by numbers from female artists.  Altogether, then, this is the VERY BEST the DCEU has to offer to date, and VERY NEARLY my absolute FAVOURITE film of 2020.  Give it all the love you can, it sure as hell deserves it.

1.  TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly saved our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that my ultimate top-spot winner FOR THE WHOLE YEAR was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN. You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August and ultimately taking the bite at the box office because of the still shaky atmosphere), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with.  I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the first reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night-out big screen EXPERIENCE since March.  Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT.  Still with us?  Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who was ALMOST the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s Himesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine.  The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even if that amazing new teaser trailer wasn’t making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic.  As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual triumph and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital. The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some absolutely mesmerising visuals.  Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he had good reason, since he was working on his dream project at the time, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his collaborations with Ryan Coogler Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as career-best work on The Mandalorian) is a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence this film is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven.  As a work of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that proved truly unbeatable in 2020 …

[terrm9]

Could you share more of Chiara's and Bryce's story? Did they ever make out? Does he know her family? That friendship is golden🌟

I will be happy to share their story <3 (this turned out rather long. Sorry if you didn’t want THAT much:D also I am once again adding my taglist and once again please ignore the tag if you do not care about this weird sort of fic:D)

It was her first day. First day as a doctor, first day out of safety of a med school and known cities and Dr. Ramsey already hated her and she screwed up with Annie and this is not what she wanted. Chiara desperately needed a cigarette to calm her blazing senses but she couldn’t quite well leave the hospital to smoke and so she hid in the nearest supply closet and hoped for the best. And then Bryce - she was happy to remember his name - walked in and before she could tell him to go away, he sat on the floor next to her and smiled. And Chiara’s heart fluttered in her chest because he had Liam’s smile. The wide, bright, warm smile that looked like it could snap his face in two pieces. And he smelled good and leaned so close and Chiara didn’t know what has gotten into her but she kissed him. And damn, the kiss calmed her down just right.

Until she realized what happened. She broke the kiss and looked at the Bryce, terrified. It is not like she never kissed mindlessly before - even though she never dated in the med school, she did attend a party here and there and it’s not like kissing is a big deal. And Bryce’s lips were very kissable. But this was not a med school party, this was a supply closet in a hospital she just started to work in.

“I am so sorry,” she stuttered. “I don’t do this normally, I swear!”

“I bet you usually don’t cry in a supply closet either,” Bryce grinned, not a single hint of tension in that smile and after the pep talk, they both left the supply closet with the wide smiles on their faces.

And they clicked that day. The smile remained on Chiara’s face and she just felt it in her gut that this Lahela guy just became her first friend in Boston. Little did she know back than that he would become her best friend for life.

Soon, they started to meet on their lunch breaks intentionally and it was for the first time in six years that Chiara let someone get close to her, close enough to call him friend. And he still reminded her of Liam, with his teasing and jokes and that smile. And he was the first person to remind her her brother without the reminder being painful. It actually felt great. Heartwarming. She felt happy.

And Bryce felt happy too. There was something about Chiara being so sincere and just such a good person that let him believe that even if she did find out about his family and its history, she wouldn’t see him as an asshole. Chiara made it easy to believe that he could have real friends somewhere out there.

The physical attraction between them was undeniable. And so they kissed often. No strings attached, just two people that enjoyed each other’s lips. After two months of their friendship, Chiara realized that she hasn’t had a cigarette in weeks. Bryce’s smile and his words and his kisses calmed her down even better.

The first time their kisses turned into a hook up was after the housewarming party. It felt great, because how could it not. But there was no spark that would indicate that those hook up could turn into something more and they made it clear that best friends is what they are. Best friends that help each other blow some steam off occasionally.

It was at the time when Chiara admitted to herself that she truly liked Ethan, that she also realized that she and Bryce were spending more and more time as best friends without the benefit of physical touch. Adventures, swimming in the lakes and picnics, roadtrip to New York and karaoke nights, movies in his apartment and roommies nights that Bryce was automatically invited to.

It was one night when she stayed over for a night at Bryce’s place and he laughed on something, a genuine, rich laugh that had her stare at him for longer that would be appropriate.

“What?” Bryce asked when he noticed her intense gaze.

“You laugh like him, too. Exactly like him,” she whispered and Bryce’s smile fell of his face because Chiara just shared something she never shared with him before. 

“Like who?”

“My brother,” she answered slowly, still lost in her weird state.

“Oh, he must be awesome, then,” he grinned.

“He was,” Chiara nodded.

It was that very moment when the first tear fell from her eyes and she spilled her heart. She told Bryce everything, about Liam and Dorian and her family never being the same again and it was the first time in six years, the first time since the accident that she talked about it to anyone besides her family. And it felt like healing.

Then she left to Miami. When she came back, something was off, Bryce could tell. She told him the same day she returned that the hookups needed to stop and Bryce agreed, because no matter how much they enjoyed those, it started to feel weird. Their friendship was deeper than that. Chiara even admitted that there is a man in her life which she fell for and it feels all kinds of wrong to kiss anyone else and she never told him who it was but Bryce is perceptive and celever and he came to know her so very well and she didn’t need to tell him for him to know. But who was he to push her to tell him anything?

Their friendship kept frowing stronger and stronger every day and even without Bryce’s kisses, Chiara didn’t feel the need to smoke. One hug, one whispered “you got this, Chiaris” and she calmed down enough to get through her day.

But then Ethan left the hospital and with it, he left Chiara. And life became just too much to bear, because Naveen, her dear Naveen, was dying and Ethan left her alone and Mrs. Martinez died and she could lose her license and one night, she was so alone and overwhelmed and so she left the apartment to take a walk and smoke a cigarette or two. She called Bryce, instead.

“Hey,” his sleepy voice greeted her. “Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not. Everything has gone to shit, Bryce,” Chiara sobbed into the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Walking around the block.”

“Go home, you’ll catch cold. I’ll be there in thirty.”

With that, he hung up and showed at the doorstep in thirty minutes. And he hugged Chiara and promised to stay by her side no matter what happens next.

After Ethan left to Amazon, Chiara couldn’t really blame him. She couldn’t hate him, no matter how much she wished she could. But it still did hurt. And after the year she has had, Chiara just... wanted to go home. And so she asked for a vacation and Naveen quickly approved her two weeks off (because Naveen knew) and then Chiara dared to ask Bryce if maybe he would like to visit San Francisco with her.

Of course he would like that. So he did.

Chiara knew that Bryce would be just fine, that he would fit, that he would get along with her mom and her sister, because well, it was Bryce. She never expected for them to love each other so much after those two weeks. Diana Ray LOVES Bryce. She found a son in him and for the first time in his lifetime, Bryce Lahela knows what a mother’s love feels like.

Bryce and Diana keep in touch. She sends him a gift on his birthday and Christmas and he sends her a postcard from every single one of his trips.

“Hey, Chiara,” Bryce smiled one day, deep into the second year of their residency, as he sat down next to Chiara. “Mom asked me to say hi to you!”

“Uh...” Chiara furrowed her brows in an utter confusion. “Why would she send her greetings through you? She could’ve called me.”

“Well, your facetime day is Saturday.”

“And?”

“And ours is Wednesday. It is sooner.”

“You face-timed mom yesterday?”

“Yup! She is doing great, don’t worry,” Bryce smiled. Not grinned, not smirked, smiled so sincerely Chiara’s heart hurt in her chest because Bryce just became a part of her family and there was no better feeling.

Even after Chiara got together with Ethan, Bryce visits San Francisco with Chiara every summer and there might have been times when he visited without Chiara, too. He sends selfies in his scurbs and doctor’s coat to Diana regularly along with a caption “Have an amazing day! Love you!!!” and Diana shows those photos to her colleagues proudly, because her daughter is an amazing diagnostician and her son is an exceptional surgeon and of course he cannot replace Liam, but he can heal some of her scars and she loves him like her own child.

And Alicia loves Bryce just as much, because she misses having an older brother and also because Bryce is fun. He is a doctor but he still manages to be funny, which Alicia teases Chiara constantly about.

Things change when Alicia meets Keiki (Alicia is 21, Keiki is 17 at the time) and whoa, Keiki is the funny Lahela! And so in the end both Chiara and Bryce are the boring older siblings.

I will end here because this is already much longer than I intended and I could go on forever, I think about this friendship way too often.

Feel free to send any more questions about Chiara! It makes me incredibly happy that you guys enjoy her character.

@takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @ohchoices @adrex04 @queencarb @archxxronrookie @whatchique @drariellevalentine @gryffindordaughterofathena @mvalentine @doilooklikeiknow @custaroonie @secretwolfdreamertree @jamespotterthefirst @starrystarrytrouble @caseyvalentineramsey @open-heart-ramseyyy @whimsicallywayward15 @iemcpbchoices @stygianflood @tsrookie @fireycookie @canigetanawwjunk

[octalove]

VIII: Struck by Lightning

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader makes a confession, and goes on a date. Previous.

TW: Brief mention of gore (just blood)

In the weeks succeeding the Little Italy mission, I found a rhythm in the two conflicting heartbeats of my life. Occasionally, I met with Jason to file down the multitude of criminals who opposed him (it wasn’t all rescuing orphans and kittens, but his justice was fair and swift), and other than that, I carried on with life as normal; both as myself, and Batgirl. It was an inconsistent, exciting balancing act.

I tried to humor Bruce’s transparent attempts to placate me with cold cases, deeming it study. My school work had unsurprisingly lost its appeal, and I found myself rocking in the river banks of what was sure to be a failing grade in most of my classes- though I had yet to run ashore. Yet.

I danced along, despite my reprisal (a lack of sleep, and white lies on either side), and overall there was a certain stalemate. With that, peace. Or at least, the closest I could get.

On a Saturday I happened to have free (to my great relief), I woke up at one in the afternoon, to a blessedly dim day that kept the light in my room dark enough to cradle my lie-in.

I washed the sleep from my face, and stumbled downstairs, muscles sore from a Thursday night mission with Jason at the Port (of which I told my family I was going to a party). Tim was the only one in the kitchen- looking like he, too, had just crawled out of bed. He was eating cereal in silence.

We hadn’t been avoiding each other, per say- just got wrapped up in our own routines. Routines that kept me out of the house, and him trapped within it.

“Morning.” I said.

“Mm.” He replied.

I poured out my own bowl of cereal and settled on top of the glossy white granite. It was kind of a running joke at the Wayne household that you could sit anywhere but the chairs. Even Damian picked up on it- and, naturally, he was the best at it- perching his lithe little form atop the fridge at one point.

Now, Tim and I sat side by side on the countertop, shoulders brushing and spoons clanging against our glass bowls. Nothing more was said, but it was a comfortable silence.

I thought, for a second, about the world he’d been living in for the past few months as November bled into December. About his work and his many, many jobs he had to do. The way he shouldered them all week-to-week. He didn’t have to, but he did.

Tim made me a better person. I thought so, anyway.

But then, before I met him, I was the kind of person who let Carolyn Crawford slap me across the face to cover for someone else’s secret. Now, I was the kind who let other people take the blame for mine. Maybe Tim didn’t make me a better person. Only I could do that.

*

“I need to talk to you.” I said it firmly, and with authority. Mostly to convince myself that I was certain in my intention to go through with it. Bruce eyed me, looking up from his book.

“Alright.”

“...”

“...”

“In private.”

Alfred and Damian’s voices carried through to the living room as they had tea (an evening tradition). Bruce nodded, closed his book, and led me upstairs.

His office was a quiet, peaceful place. Finished dark wood, glass tables, and black leather accents. It was the room in the house that was most furnished to his own private taste, and thus, a glimpse inside was into him. It was mostly predictable; W.E. briefcases, notebooks and pens, case files open, and a map of the city that was displayed behind his desk. But there were other things too; a rubik’s cube half solved on the settee, a magazine featuring Vicki Vale with a pen in her hand and a defiant, head-strong look on her face. A gorgeous trailing point knife that belonged to Damian (probably confiscated).

I sat down in the chair that faced his own; his giant, glossy desk between us. I wanted to be swallowed into the dark leather. I felt like I was back at the shrink.

“Tim didn’t sneak off on the 21st.” I said quickly, cutting off the silence as quickly as I could. “He’s not the one who saw Red Hood kill that guy. It was me. I made Tim promise not to tell. He lied to cover for me.”

Bruce was quiet. He did that a lot; made you wait for him to speak. Seconds, minutes, hours. It all felt the same when he let you simmer in your own mistakes. I didn’t look up.

“I see.”

Silence. A long, testing silence. His irritating little desk clock ticked away.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

“Really?” I asked. “That’s it? You’re not mad?”

He paused. “Should I be?”

I blinked, gaze falling on the floor. “I put Tim in a really shitty position. He didn’t have to lie, but he did because I asked him to. I’m mad at me.” I admitted quietly.

Bruce nodded pedantically, resting his head on his hand. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t good enough for me. “It was wrong.” I clarified, trying to press for some manner of reprimand that I didn’t truly want, but felt deserving of anyway. Bruce considered this, in his quiet, inscrutable way. After a moment, he spoke.

“Your mothers trusted me.” He said. I knew that. My parents were business-oriented like that. They were pulled together by happenstance, each without family and carving their own way in the world by studying international law, and applying it to companies who could afford private foreign trade, such as Wayne Enterprises. I attended the parties, the galas, standing around in my designer gowns while my moms handed out their business cards and talked about imports. They weren’t neglectful, just distracted.

“I don’t know if you remember-“

“I do.”

And if I had a dollar for every time the cops or the shrink asked me if I remembered that night, I’d buy my own manor.

Bruce Wayne was at my birth. He and my mothers had been business partners for a while by that time. He watched me, dutifully, when my parents went on date nights, and played catch with me when I accompanied him and Dick to the park. He cooked me breakfast the morning after my mothers died.

I knew it wasn’t a random killing, but he didn’t talk about why they were murdered in their own bed until I was fifteen. By then, I was knowledgeable enough to go searching through the police reports on my own. So instead, one night he’d sat me down at the kitchen table, looking at me earnestly.

“You have to understand, Y/N. Your mothers were...” He’d taken a deep breath. Tried again. “They were involved in things. Things I didn’t know about. It made them a lot of enemies.” Then, something harder passed his features. A frustration.

“They were completely blind to the fact that it meant you would never have a normal life. Not as long as they kept it up- that... double life.” I let the statement hang in the air for a time. “That was stolen from you, from the moment they got involved with the Baciu. And I’m sorry.”

It was easy to be sorry. I was sorry, too. My mothers got themselves tangled in Gotham’s heroin trade, and they weren’t careful enough, so they died for it. It was fairly cut and dry. Open file, close case. But the part that was so bitter to swallow was that it happened to me. A fourteen-year-old child creeping into my mothers’ bed because I’d heard a noise, and the re-runs of Ghost Hunter I’d religiously consumed were conjuring movement in the shadows. But there were no ghosts. Just sheets stained with blood that looked black in the darkness. Just the wet, clogged sort of sound when I peeled back the covers, unable to register they way my mothers were bent, and stilled in a way that only death can induce, where just earlier that night they’d been walking and talking. Bringing me Chinese take-out for dinner.

Their death, and everything that followed was emptying. Cracking open a great chasm and bringing death home, into the halls, and into my room. No longer a rumor. It was an empty chair, and a storied space made cold and worthless. It would’ve been easier if they had simply died as a random killing. Tragic, standard, random Gotham City killing. If I had just been that unlucky. If they’d only been struck by lightning. Instead, I grieved twice; once for who they were, and another time, for who I thought they were.

When Bruce adopted me, I became Batgirl. I made it my own vendetta to stop criminals without killing them, because I knew that some- most of them had children at home who would be the real victims if I did.

But then, I thought deeper. More considerately, about who my mothers were. Moreover, who they weren’t. Pearl and gold, white teeth and hairspray. Singing to me, and playing Monopoly, at which they were both so competitive that they had to kiss and make up after every game. Bringing me a strawberry cupcake in bed every year on my birthday. Kissing me on the head. Telling me to be good. Leaving me in that big house. Going off to Port Adams, or Crime Alley. Signing orders. Putting bodies in Finger River.

Nobody’s innocent here, dollface.

“They trusted me.” Bruce’s voice interrupted my reminiscing with the ghosts of my past. “I know their death was hard, and you may still be recovering. I’m trying to do the best I can for you.” He finished. For all the gnashing teeth and avaricious expanses of Gotham City secrets, he looked tired.

“I know, Bruce.” I said quietly. “Me too.”

*

The following Tuesday, I got home from school and started on a mountain of homework I needed to do- some make up work as well. Christmas break was around the corner, and I was slowly losing motivation as the semester drew to a close. I had too many distractions; and tonight was no exception.

Ding.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down, eyebrows raising to find that it was a text from Jason- one that wasn’t just a pin dropped to a location.

Meet me at Twin Sharks. I’ll buy you a coffee.

- What’s the occasion?

No reply. I sighed. I should’ve called him and made him tell me, but I knew that I would go no matter what, so I decided to play the apathy card. Despite my cool response, my heart (the traitor) was fluttering like a bird. Was this about the kiss? Our partnership? Was it an actual, regular date? Or was he breaking it off? My mind raced, and as I pulled together a tasteful outfit and sprayed myself with perfume, I promised myself that it wasn’t for him.

The Twin Sharks was a diner in Upper West Side, near China town. It was nicer than the likes of Sherman’s, or anything else East End had to offer. The late afternoon was unexpectedly bright, clouds parted for a sweet reprieve of gold and blush in the sky. The sun was a striking blood-orange, hung low over the city. It struck a match in my chest- some childish, poetic hopefulness.

The diner’s door jingled, and I scanned the booths and tables. It was a little crowded, but I spotted Jason alone in a booth, his eyes cast down, involved with his phone. I made my way over to him, slipping off my coat and plopping down his opposite.

“Hey.” I said. His eyes fell upon me, and I saw something on his face- maybe surprise, or something to that effect- before he composed his expression into something unreadable.

“Hey.”

The diner had a big, hot pink neon sign that depicted a matching pair of sharks above the counter. Its buzzing glow mixed with the orange gleam of the lowering sun through the windows- it was all very rose-colored.

The waitress put a coffee in front of me, and I got to work on adorning it with the little cream and sugar packets on the table. He watched me do it for while.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothin’.” He said. Then, he reached across the table, and took my hand, pulling it back to him, and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. I was so startled by it that I dropped the sugar packet I was holding. Neither of us seemed to notice. He turned my hand over and placed another kiss in the inside of my wrist before returning it safely to my side of the table. I was certain my face burned like the neon sharks.

“I’m- um- is this a date?” I asked, trying to get him to say something- anything- to get my mind off the way he’d just reduced me to a puddle.

He looked amused by that. “You want it to be?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, stirring my coffee. “You invited me.”

He nodded, eyes falling away. “Yeah. I’ve got an update for you. D’amici business.”

“Oh.” By the look on his face, it wasn’t good news.

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“Perfect. My day’s been a little too good so far.” I said. He slid me his phone- on the screen was an article from the Gotham Quarterly.

Young Bride Found Murdered in Diamond District Estate

I read over it a couple times, brow furrowing. “You mean...“

“Penelope. It happened last night.”

“Shit.” I muttered, scrolling down and scanning through the article. My throat caught as I read over it. She was shot in her bed. “It says there’s no suspects.”

“Course it does. It’s the mafia. They handle things nice and quiet.”

“And I’m guessing you have a few a suspects.” He nodded grimly as I slid his phone back to him.

“One better. I know exactly who did it. I think you do, too.”

I put my head in my hands, mulling over my options. Really there was only one. Penelope’s beautiful, flustered face and apologetic eyes flashed through my mind. Her wind-chime laugh as we ate scones under the watchful eye of her adoring, peculiar grandmother.

“Okay.” I resolved. “Let’s get that girl justice.”

[allscalliepsds]

RP GUIDE: TIPS FOR WRITING ITALIANS CHARACTERS!

So, from one Italian roleplayer, check this list for creating credible Italians fictional characters. I don’t know if you’re ever gonna read this post, but let’s try. Aaaand, if it works maybe one day I’ll do a list of italian faceclaims, or italian names and surnames. (Obviously, I’m not used to writing in english. Ignore my mistakes, lol)

• We have very different features. We’re not all tanned, with brown eyes and brown hair. My best friend is pale as hell and blonde like a freaking scandinavian. So we have lighter skin, darker skin, we’re tall, very short, redheads. And we have different cultures here! You can use asian faceclaims, black faceclaims, tunisian faceclaims... your character can have any kind of origin and still have the italian citienzship.

• Food is important. And by saying this I do not only mean that things like pineapple pizza or carbonara with pancetta are unacceptable! I mean that we EAT together. Most of Italians families have lunch together daily, same happens for dinner. Eating means spending time with family and friends. On sundays a lot of families reunite and have lunch with other relatives like grandparents or uncles, without even being on holiday time. We do not need Christmas or Easter to have lunch with relatives. Talking more about food: every place has its own speciliaties, so look for them when creating a character.

• Talking about food, WE DO NOT SHARE PIZZAAAA! Okay, maybe we do, sometimes, but it’s different. I’ve seen a lot of American tv shows or movies where they order just one pizza for four family members. Like, what?? Here in Italy most of the times we have one pizza per person. Because Italian pizza is obviously better and lighter, so you don’t get your belly full just by eating two slices unless you’re 5 y/o.

• We might be spending a lot of time complaining about our country and what doesn’t work, but in reality we are very proud and sometimes a lot patriotic. You know what really gets me super mad? Scrolling tik tok and seeing Americans that call themselves ITALIANS just because their grandma’s uncle was from Salento. No the hell no, that’s not how it works. You’re not Italian you cunt. 

• We’re a little bit a cliché, I gotta give you that. Sometimes more than a little bit. When quarantine/lockdown started here in Italy it was sooo hard finding flour and baking powder at the supermarket. And it’s not just a Super Mario thing: we do actually say mamma mia! But we’re not all the same. Please do not consider always the same kind of relatives: conservative religious parents with that grandma that always cooks a lot of stuff and blablabla. Think out of the box!

• Talking about grandmas: if you wanna follow that cliché of the Italian grandma that cooks and makes you eat until you pass out, it’s fine. You can do this. One of my grandma is like this and even though we have lunch in like four people she’s still gonna cook for an entire army. But if you don’t wanna do that, then don’t. My other grandma does not know how to cook and so she doesn’t that much. It’s fine, no one’s gonna revoke your character’s Italian citizenship if you don’t stick to those basic clichés we’re tired of.

• Please, look for a map. Not every Italian lives by the sea, it isn’t always sunny and hot and you don’t always feel in the right mood for a gelato. The northern part of Italy is colder and there aren’t as much bathing areas. Even if your characters lives or is from Sicily ( which is where I’m from ), it isn’t sure that he’s gonna have the beach next to his house. I’m a lucky person, in jenuary from my balcony I can see the sea on my right and the vulcano Etna covered by snow on my left. But it depends, so choose a city and look for it.

• We have dialects. So, let me try to be clear. Italy is a country divided into 20 regions, okay? Sicily is a region of Italy, Lazio ( where Rome is, to be clear ) is another Italian region. The official language is obviously Italian. So since I’m from Sicily, with a girl from Lazio/Rome I’m gonna speak Italian. But, inside the regions, there are dialects. Since I’m sicilian my dialect is called siciliano, and it’s influenced from all the past invasions. Sicily was conquered by arabs, and arabs also conquered Spain which is why some words in siciliano are similar to spanish words. Even though we have dialects we can understand each other pretty well. Southern dialects are all pretty similar, for example. But I gotta be honest, I don’t understand a single words in northern dialects. If you wanna stick to that grandma cliché I mentioned before, then add the dialect to it. Grandparents speak dialects. Generally speaking, old people speak dialects way more than the younger ones. Unfortunately it’s a culture that is starting to disappear.

• Please, dress properly. You’re never gonna see a true Italian walk out of his own house in his pajamas and with slippers, that only happens in nightmares. We’re classy. And by saying this I do not mean that we dress Dolce&Gabbana and Gucci. We don’t. I mean, rich people do, they’re lucky enough. So you do not need to mention important and expensive brands. We’re not all rich. Or at least I’m not as I wish. Last thing: it’s VersacE, not Versaci.

• Italy is (unfortunately) a pretty religious country. You know, we have the Vatican here. The most common religion here is Christianity. Not everyone practise it, and not everyone goes at the Church every sunday. 

• ROME AND MILAN AREN’T THE ONLY TWO ITALIAN CITIEESSS! I know, they’re the most known, Rome is beautiful and in Milan there’s the fashion week, I get that. But Italy is full of beautiful places. Maybe you don’t wanna choose unknown little towns with less then 3.000 habitants, but be original.

• There isn’t a large representation of Italy outside our country, so you might know very few of how we live here and what our habits are. Let me do just a small list of things:

- At 18 years old you are old enough to take your driving license, your car, and to drink. Obviously do not do everything together, lol. But you can buy alcool at 18 and go to the clubs.

- We kiss. If you’re my friend I’m gonna give you two kisses on the cheeks to say hi and to say goodbye. Even if you’re not my friend but you are with my friends, I’ll do that to be polite. And sometimes It can be pretty boring, but If I’m leaving a room with 12 people I (more or less) know I’m gonna kiss all of those 12 people.

- We have school from monday to saturday, mostly from 8 am to 13 pm. So we do not spend the afternoons at school like Americans do, and we do not have all those extracurricular activities and sports.

- We do not use snapchat anymore, while I know that it’s still a thing somewhere else. And for texting we mostly use Whatsapp and Telegram. Not iMessage because not everyone has an iPhone (they cost a little bit more, here), and neither we use Messanger that much.

- We do study a lot of art, history and literature. They’re not optional subjects. And we really praise our artistic patrimony. You can’t live here and study in Italy and then don’t know how to recognize a piece of art of DaVinci, Michelangelo, Botticelli or Caravaggio. If you’re Italian you know who Dante is and that he wrote The Divine Comedy.

- I don’t know how it is in the rest of the world, but when we go out (like, at night??) we have this thing of going downtown. So you can go to a restaurant with your friends for dinner or you can go out after dinner and just meet your friends at a square, grab a beer at the nearest bar and sit on a bench or on the stairs of something that faces that square and even stay there all night. It might sound strange, but that’s how it works and in towns where there are a lot of young people or university students those squares and those bars next to them are always full of people. Here’s an example.

[treechangeseachange]

The return

It’s coming up to 3 months since we returned to our block and it took us 8 weeks to slow down. On the weekend we slowed down we enjoyed the first official Friday night catch up with our neighbours as the full moon rose. On Saturday we went out for brunch. No sport on Sunday morning meant a sleep in. I played handball with my boys for the first time ever in my life. Lamb shanks slow cooked on the wood heater. We squeezed in a late Sunday afternoon fishing trip. It took us 8 weeks to find some calm. We had forgotten how to do normal. I haven’t written for this blog since um wow December?! My leisure time since then has been extremely limited and when it occurred I prioritised my mental wellbeing and sleep.

This journey has brought me to the edge of my psychological and physical limitations. I watched my husband do a terminator style non stop renovation while trying also to commence a rebuild. His promises to take time off over Christmas dwindled to 2 days. There was so much to do. I helped with whatever jobs I was able to and then focussed on the household and occasionally, our boys. Midway through January this year we realised trying to work on both the renovation and the rebuild was insanity. The local real-estate market was booming. Post COVID, Sydney city dwellers realised they could put in a few days in the city then work from their coastal holiday pad the rest of the week. We decided to get our investment property, come bushfire haven, onto the market before the summer ended. We mapped out each remaining job and the days required to accomplish them. We calculated selling time, settlement time and remaining bank balance. What were need to do’s and what were optional extras. If everything went to plan, we could pay to get some work done at the block and make it habitable enough to move into. It was an extreme test of time, energy and resources.

It worked. We listed by the end of February, sold in three weeks and settled five weeks after settlement. I write that all in one glib sentence. Of course all of that only happened with considerable focus and effort. Life for the boys was hectic. 99% of their toys were packed and moved into storage weeks before the house went on the market. As the house neared completion we stressed about them damaging something. When the house was on the market we stressed about them getting things dirty - the walls, the windows or the cupboards. I banished them from the bathroom, they had to brush teeth in the laundry and shower outside. Luckily it was warm and didn’t rain much in those few weeks! Anyone who has sold a house while living in it knows how painful open homes are. The logistics and effort of cleaning and styling, while working full time from home, scheduling everything between work appointments, getting the dog out of the way and the boys to school, nearly broke me. Thankfully the selling process was short, but we packed a lot of opens into that time and by the end of it all, I had become a shouty, grouchy mum and wife. It was also a real highlight to hit menopause and bring some phenomenal hormonal energy into the mix. Phew.

Before we packed up and left I was lucky enough to have a week away with the boys. My fully wired self hit Melbs and my family gave me refuge and forgave my intensity. We managed some fun and the change of scenery was a big relief. Husband, however, stayed behind to work on the temporary shed home. Holiday behind me, I returned to packup and clean and polish the house for the financial return of our lives. Literally.

Can you then imagine our triumphant and spectacular return to our block bathed in happiness and light? Um well perhaps instead picture this - we arrived exhausted to an unpowered, work in progress temporary residence in the middle of a mice plague and endured 200ml of heavy rain in four days leaving us surrounded by mud. Happy to catch the rain in our tank? I wish! The new tank leaked 8000L the week before we moved, and only our neighbour’s spare tank loan meant we had any water at all. But being so small, it overflowed and made even more mud. The heavy rain was so loud on the tin roof it frequently woke the kids in the night (who then woke us), mice ran across the floor, huntsmen spiders dropped from the ceiling. With nowhere really to unpack things, cooking became like the biggest ever memory game, which box were the bowls in? Where did I pack the cutlery? The rain delayed our solar power install so for 10 days we lived out of an esky and by torchlight. We both kept working full time, getting the boys to school, after school sport commitments and then husband kept building after he got home and into the night. After a week of stress and chaos we knew something had to give, fortunately husband could take time off work to focus on our build and family life.

Fast forward to now. The financial pressure of the summer has eased. The temporary living quarters are functional and steadily improving. We have a beautiful wood heater. Our off grid solar system is powering us even during these short winter days. I have more kitchen cupboards than ever before, plus a dishwasher! I have hung up my clothes in a full wardrobe for the first time in nearly four years. The boys each have clean new wardrobes. Their separate rooms are still being built so they are in what will be our room which is insulated and wall paneled. We can cope with an outside shower and toilet. My husband is a legend.

What’s it like actually being back? I confess I was nervous about my own and the boys emotions. Eldest son is extremely happy to be back. Youngest son has taken time to adjust but that has more been due to his fear of the dark. The noises of the bush are unfamiliar and there are no streetlights out here! There has only been one time where a prebushfire memory overwhelmed me. Every person’s bushfire experience and recovery is unique. Unlike many others we are fortunate have the opportunity to not have to build on the exact footprint of the old place and I think this is psychologically helpful. It’s not the same space, and with some trees dead and gone the landscape is altered, its a slightly different perspective. The boys are older now, so our lifestyle is different too. Slowly we are finding a new rhythm on our land. The boys are absolutely loving being back on their bikes on bush tracks.

I was excited to resume my morning walks, although maybe not as excited the dog! He’s happy to have his off-lead roam again. But the first week of walking I found tough, the burnt and recovering state forest I traverse didn’t bring me the joy it used to. In the heavily logged areas where only isolated saplings were left unlogged, they couldn’t survive the heat of the fire or they didn’t have community trees to share nutrients through their roots to support recovery. The undergrowth is now the canopy and is booming with all the extra sunlight but when I look at it, all I see is fire hazard. Then as the weeks went by, my view softened, I recognise the bush is healing like me. I am appreciating small wonders of nature. A spider’s web highlighted with morning dew or the fascination of new plants thriving. There are trees that have fully recovered, others seem to be doing well, and there is much green in the landscape to enjoy.

On my morning walk I also see which animals are about in the night from what they leave behind. There is at least one very busy wombat! We see wallabies reasonably often and last week one morning I found big roo prints in the clay right near our place. We hear a boobook owl calling most nights and more frogs chirping croaking from the gully than I ever remember. Which now makes sense, we definitely were in drought for some years prior to the fires and the creek has this year been running for months. Less exciting is hearing foxes at night, my son especially dislikes their eerie calls. In daytime the bird life is altered. We are down to one lyrebird, there used to be two with adjacent territories battling loudly with their extraordinary mimicry. But at least there is one, how a ground bird survived I can’t imagine. The yellow robins aren’t around us now, we have wrens in the cleared spaces and in the lush shrubs busy brown gerygones dart and chirp. A shrike thrush has made a nest in our bushfire remains pile, her song is piercing and wonderful. Rarely are the yellow crested black cockatoos here now. This past weekend we did see two circling wedge tailed eagles the silent assassins of the sky wheeling high over the gully with that phenomenal wingspan.

Surprisingly my greatest source of happiness in these first few months being back has come from the sky. Unobstructed by buildings, the sky feels bigger in the bush. I’m loving the late winter sunrises. My very favourite time is just after the sun has risen when the horizontal sun rays set tops of the trees bright orange. Those are magical minutes of golden tinged trees. The sunsets. The stars. The moon. the sky has been a revelation and a source of happiness. Maybe because I’m spending more time outside I notice it more. Seeing glittering stars through the steam of a hot outdoor shower makes the cold walk inside completely worth it!

Slowly I am regaining my sense of gratitude for this place. The quiet. The privilege of not seeing another house. Having no curtains and that not mattering. Not worrying about noise and neighbours. Lack of street lights at night.

All of a sudden things aren’t hectic and we are settling in. It still amazes me after 6 moves in 5 years how intense moving is and then how imperceptibly things transition to not being new anymore. Normalcy sneaks up on me every time. Clearly this isn’t really normal but we’re enjoying this new start in our old place.

[amoveablejake]

My Five Key Songs of April 2021

Another dive into my currently playing 

Here we are, the last Sunday of another month and time for my five key songs of the past month to make an appearance and vie for that all important track of the month place and with it earning its place in the playlist of the year. Without further ado lets hop to it:

First out of the gate: 

‘El Cortez’ by US Golf 95

After a brief hiatus from being constantly listening to Vapourwave this month I returned to the genre in full force. I’ve been listening to Vapourwave records over and over again and it will therefore come as no surprise to see at least one track appear here. I have spoken about the album ‘Casino’ before from which this track is lifted from and you know what, I’ll give it some air time again. This is a song that transports me into a hotel lobby or even a casino as the title suggests. Its the song that is playing whilst you wait in the lobby to venture out, its the song that greets you when you come back from the heist and the one that is gently wafting through the air as you nurse a drink in the wee small hours of the morning. This track for me is pure escapism and once again helps to fulfill my heist pulling fantasies. 

‘Get Down Saturday Night’ by Oliver Cheatham 

If there is one thing that I adore, it is a fake radio show format worked into an album. This can be found on the ‘Reservoir Dogs’ soundtrack, infact ‘Once Upon a Time in Hollywood’s’ album has it aswell, but also the Grand Theft Auto compilation albums for Vice City have it aswell and oh boy are they a treat in particular the Fever 105 album. This Funk Soul radio station feels like it could be the b side to ‘Jackie Brown’ and or that it could be whats playing in the background of many Elmore Leonard novels. Its hard to pick only one song from the record after I’ve been listening to it all month but I’ll go with ‘Get Down Saturday Night’. It has a rather chilling appearance in ‘Ex Machina’ but other than the horror of that, its a song that should be played throughout the week to gear you up for the weekend and could be in the getaway car after you’ve robbed the Vegas casino. What is this theme of heists that is going on, its almost as if I’ve got a bank robbery story on my mind. Is that an easter egg? Whose to say 

‘Bonita Applebum’ by A Tribe Called Quest 

As with the Vapourwave genre this month after a period of absence I have returned to one of my favourite bands ‘A Tribe Called Quest.’ Last month for our album of the week I spoke about how important they are to me however, I didn’t really do as deep dive into their music so shall we change that. ‘Bonita Applebum’ is from Tribe’s debut album and boy does it feel like it in the most perfect way. This is a song that shows the band’s bravado and charm all in one. It feels like a record that they had to fight to keep in rather than being the first choice from any record label. In many ways, it could be the definitely track of the record for showing the band’s personality and it could well be the best track on the record. The problem is you then look at every other song and think damn, they’re all perfect, how can they compete with each other. Rivalry with its other songs aside, ‘Bonita Applebum’ is a song that seems to absorb the sunshine and should always be playing when its warm outside. This might be the song for the summer and I wouldn’t be surprised if it makes another appearance on the tracks of the month feature. 

‘Great Pumpkin Waltz’ by the Vince Guaraldi Trio 

It has been a little while since I have written about Vince Guaraldi so let me change that. ‘Great Pumpkin Waltz’ from ‘It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’ is another example of why the Peanuts specials have the best scores around. The entire album for the Halloween special for Charlie Brown and his friends is flawless but this track is my particular highlight. It may not reach the same dizzying heights of perfection as we see from ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ but then again what song possibly could. This time, rather than being completely wrapped up in the glow of the fire and the lights on the Christmas tree in our hygge fantasies, we are walking home, hearing the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot and dreaming of hues of oranges and browns. This is the song that will make you want to reach for your autumn wardrobe essentials and have your playwright beagle accompany you everywhere. 

And here we are, the track of the month, ‘Make Me Love You’ by Dan Mason 

Really, it was always going to be a Dan Mason song that featured as the track of the month. I have listened to no artist more than him this last month as he has accompanied me on my lunchbreaks in the office and as I read before bed. ‘Miami Virtual’, the album from which ‘Make Me Love You’ is lifted from, is quickly becoming one of my staple and favourite albums. It is a record that despite me only finding it a few months ago taps into so many of my memories. It has no reason to feel this way but a great sense of nostalgia surrounds it for me and I can’t quite shake it. As I work my way through the tracks I feel a great sense of warmth and happiness that makes me jump right back to the beginning the moment the record stops playing. Choosing one song from the album to feature here was difficult however, I’ve gone with ‘Make Me Love You’ because there is something about it that really hits home. It feels like an end of the day song, or one that you listen to as you’re flying home looking at your country from above. Its a true joy to listen to and has more than earned its place in the twelve song playlist of the songs of the year. 

So there we have it, the five key songs for April 2021. Looking back at them it does seem that there is a theme of unwinding and relaxation in many cases after a heist has taken place. As I have touched on before, is this hinting at a project I’m working on? No, it couldn’t be, right? Because after all, I definitely don’t leave easter eggs and hints throughout these blog posts do I? 

Can you feel the wink directly at the camera? 

-Jake, a man dreaming of walking through Palma listening to ‘Miami Virtual’, 25/04/2021 

[ilvsyzj]

Chapter Thirty-Four: Orientation Day of Yin Yang Royal Couple Training.

Week #4, Thursday, 12/24/2020, Christmas Eve

     When I woke up this morning, I was a little confuse as to where I was. Then I remember I was at Safe Haven Mountain. I was really tired. Sky was already up and he was just laying next to me, with a very groggy look on his face. Toothless and Snow climb into our bed and they sat on our chest. 

Sky: -yawning- Can I help you?

Snow: Food. 

Toothless: Hungry. 

Jazzy: -yawning- Five more minutes. 

Snow and Toothless: No. Now. 

Sky: Scarlet and Icy isn’t asking for breakfast just yet. 

Toothless: Because they flew off at sun rise to hunt. Now, feed us. 

Sky: Can we just stay in bed for a few more minutes?

Toothless and Snow: Nope. 

Sky and Jazzy: -getting up- Fine. 

    I went to get ready and Sky fed the cats. Then Sky went to get ready as I was going to our team for breakfast. Sky joined us shortly after. No one was talking to Brandy or Jeff because of what they did last night. I think they are too embarrassed. They should be because everyone in Safe Haven Mountain heard what they did. After breakfast and well deserve two cups of coffee, Scarlet and Icy returned from their hunt. 

Scarlet: Ready for training?

Sky and I: Yes. 

Phil: Do you want us to join?

Icy: Yes. Today, is just an orientation. So every should listen up. Because your official first day of training is Saturday. 

    Scarlet and Icy took us to a quiet cave. There are multiple little caves in this mountain. Inside this little quiet cave we had our orientation. 

Scarlet: This Saturday we are going to start our Yin Yang Royal Mythical Court and Couple training. How this training works is that you all are going to go to a special cave. You will find this cave with a Yin Yang symbol carved into the entrance way. Go into this cave and that’s where all of you will start your training. The first four level are elements. Four of you are going to send some your powers into me and Icy. You’re going to learn a new power called Friendship Power. Levels 5-10 physical training. For the next two weeks all of you have to give it your all. At the end of the two weeks there is a small ceremony and then your Yin Yang Royal Mythical Court and Couple Training is complete. Any question?

William: Will the Healers come with us?

Icy: Yes. But they are not to interfere unless you are injured. 

William: Understood. 

Icy: Any more questions?

Mike: If there wasn’t a war how long will this training usually take?

Scarlet: 9 months to a year. 

Jazzy: Wow! We are taking the express way. 

Scarlet and Icy: Yup. 

Icy: If you don’t have any more questions then lets return to camp. 

Simon: Wow! Scarlet and Icy are already as big as house. 

Toothless: Dragons do grow in rapid speed. But Scarlet and Icy aren’t done growing yet. 

Jazzy: By the time we get home, Scarlet and Icy are sleeping outside. Because they will be too big and won’t be able to fit through the front door, I think we should build them their own little house. 

Icy: No need. We like to spread our wings when we wake up in the morning. We don’t like being trap inside a small wooden box. 

    After our short orientation we went back to camp. We had a little lunch and Sky was acting a little nervous today. I was about to ask why he’s being nervous, but I couldn’t because Brandy screamed-laughed again. Since she was next to me and her voice is pretty loud. I freaked out and shot a fire blast towards the ceiling of the mountain. And few chunks of rocks fell down to the little river behind us. 

Michelle: Jeez. 

Sky: -growling at Jeff and Brandy- 

    Brandy and Jeff stopped fooling around. I went to check to see if anyone was injured from my little scare blast. To my relief no one was hurt. But the large chunk of rock was blocking the flow of water. I moved the large chunk of rock with my wind power. The head Healer told me to put the large rock in far corner of the cave, because she has idea of what do with the large chunk of rock. Then I went back to camp. When I got back to camp I heard some fighting between Sky, Jeff, and Brandy. 

Sky: -angry- Hold it! Do it on Christmas! Not now!

Brandy: -crying- I can’t hold it. Every time Jeff touches me, I feel turned on and I just want to make out with Jeff. -sniff- We don’t want to do it in front of all of you. It’s already embarrassing. -sniff- 

Sky: -angry- Jeff, for the next 24 hours don’t touch Brandy until tomorrow. If you continue to touch her today, than I have no choice but bench the both of you. Understood?!

Jeff and Brandy: -nodding- 

Sky: -angry- Good!

   After that little fight. Brandy went to join her girls and Jeff went to join the boys. Sky asked me if any injures, and I told him no. Just a large chunk of rock blocking the flow of the river, which I moved with my power. Sky nodded and sigh. I understand what Sky is going through because he has to team two different groups. Also, being in heat is really hard. You either get super horney or you’re in a lot of pain. I’m feeling a little bit more sore these last couple days and tired, so I know I’m in heat but I don’t complain because I’m focusing on my training. If I don’t think about me being in heat, I don’t feel it. Unless I bleed all over my pants, which I have done multiple times when I was a teenager. But now, I know when I’m about to be in heat or in heat, is when my body is telling me whether I’m sore or when I’m super tired. When I’m super tired I go to be early at night or I don’t want to get out bed in the morning. But focusing my mind on something different, then I would be fine. However, I do get jumpy when I’m in heat. So, any loud sudden noises makes me jump out of my skin. I also get very grumpy when I’m in heat. I try not to show it but once in while I will show it if I get annoyed enough. Jeff and Brandy little horny festival did annoy me, but my mind was thinking about something else, so I didn’t snap at them, not like Sky who snap at them a couple times. Sky is the leader and he has to make sure everyone stay in line. If not then we will have chaos on our team and we don’t want that. 

     Since today is Christmas Eve, Sky walked over to me and took my hand. Sky led me away from the group. But we were only 5 feet away from the group when Vix came up to us. 

Vix: Sorry, to bother you two. But don’t wonder off too far, because there’s going to be a team meeting before dinner tonight. 

Sky and Jazzy: Understood. 

Vix: Good. Have fun. -smiling-

Jazzy: Where we going?

Sky: I want to show you a place where I find it amazing. 

Jazzy: Okay. 

     Sky took me to a cave called Hidden Crystal Cave. I never been here before and when I walked in I was so amazed by what I saw, that my jaw dropped to the ground. I felt like I was in the movie How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World. The entire cave is pitch black with little dots of light. From the glow worms hanging from the crystals. It was the most place I’ve ever seen. 

Jazzy: Wow. -smiling- 

Sky: I thought you’ll like it. -smiling- This is my favorite place to be. Because its like I’m looking at stars. I would come here when I can’t see stars in the city because of the city lights. I don’t really come here unless I want to destress. You are the very first person I brought to this spot. I didn’t even bring my parents. 

Jazzy: Oh. You’re very sweet. This is our special spot. -smiling- 

Sky: Mhm. 

Jazzy: Why do I have a feeling that you’re going to give me something?

Sky: -laughing- You love ruining surprises. Stop reading my mind. 

Jazzy: Hey. -slapping Sky’s arm- A) I didn’t read your mind. 2) When you get nervous about something its written all over your face. So, you’re nervous about some bad news you’re going to give me, or you’re nervous about asking me something. 

Sky: Darn. I do have something to ask you, but I’ll ask you tomorrow. However, I did find the perfect jewel for your Christmas gift. -smiling-

Jazzy: Now, you’re making feel bad. :(

Sky: Why?

Jazzy: Because I didn’t get you anything. 

Sky: You still got time. I can take you to the Jewel Cave tonight. 

Jazzy: Okay. 

Sky: Let’s go. 

    Sky took me to Jewel Cave which turned out to be a Jewelry Shop. Sky waited for me outside so he wouldn’t know what I’m getting him. I spend a good 10 minutes in the shop looking for the perfect gift, and I found it. I’m actually giving Sky a Yin Yang Couple Message Necklace.  I’m actually a little bit of Yin and Yang. Sky is mostly Yang. So I’m his Yin and he is my Yang. The nice employee wrapped it up for me and I left the Jewelry Shop. 

Sky: What did you get?

Jazzy: -laughing- Cheater. I’m not telling you. You have to find out tomorrow. -smiling- 

Sky: Boo. 

Jazzy: Don’t boo me mister. I didn’t ask you what you got me. Why should I tell you what I got for you?

Sky: True. Fine. I’ll wait like a good boy. Can I get a tip?

Jazzy: It’s our new symbol. -smiling- 

Sky: Oh. I know what you got me. Thanks. -kissing Jazzy on the lips- 

Jazzy: You’re welcome. -smiling- 

    Sky and I walk back to the camp site. Because we had a meeting that we need to attend to. 

Simon: Did you two have a nice walk?

Sky and Jazzy: Yes. 

Candy: Where did you guys go?

Jazzy: Did a last minute Christmas shopping. 

Brandy: -excited- Oh. What did you get me?

Jazzy: Oh. I didn’t know the entire group was exchanging Christmas gifts this year. I only got something for Sky and no one else. I’m sorry. 

Brandy: That’s okay. Next year, we’ll do Christmas gifts exchange. 

Jazzy: Deal. -smiling-

Jeff: Oh, you shouldn’t done it. Now, Bran is going to expect a gift from you next Christmas. 

Jazzy: That’s fine. I actually like giving gifts to family and friends. So, I don’t mine giving you guys a little something for Christmas. -smiling- 

Sky: Some of us can be picky. You sure?

Jazzy: Mhm. I usually ask my family and friends what they want. If they don’t tell me then I just bake my family and friends some cookies, brownies, or hand made stuff. 

Sky: Okay. But Brandy can be very expensive. Just warning you. 

Jazzy: Good to know. -smiling- 

Brandy: I’m not that expensive. Sky is execrating.

Sky: I’m execrating? 

Vix: -shouting- Team meeting! 

   We went to where Vix was standing. 

Vix: This meeting is very short so I’m going to take up much of your time. Tomorrow is Christmas so we have the day off. So you can go and do whatever you want. Just don’t leave this mountain. If you leave this mountain you are going to be attacked by the enemy, or the enemy is hiding outside this mountain and watching where we come out, so the enemy can come in and kill everyone in here. So tomorrow and until we leave no one is allow outside. Understood?

Everyone: Understood.

Vix: Good. One more thing, everyone needs to focus in the next two weeks. So if any you have news please announced it tomorrow night. So you can get it out your system tomorrow night. If you can focus without telling us any good news, then please keep to yourselves. I’m just saying if you are a type of person that need to tell people right away, do it tomorrow night but if you are a type of person that can wait until the job is done. Then please keep the news to yourselves. Because I don’t want any of you being distracted from the task at hand. Understood? 

Everyone: Yes.  

Vix: Good. That is it. Have a good night rest. See you tomorrow. 

   The meeting ended and we went to do our own thing. 45 minutes later it was time for dinner. All of us were in our own little world. Enjoying our Christmas Eve dinner. After dinner our group start telling stories about their Christmas Eve dinner parties. Some of these stories are funny and some of these stories are embarrassing. But it was all good fun sharing stories about our families and friends. At 9pm I went to take a shower because I was feeling tired. 20 minutes later Sky took his turn. I wrapped Sky’s half of the gift. I put my half on my neck. I already set up the necklaces and I send a message to Sky’s half. I’m wearing the Yin half and tomorrow Sky will be wearing the Yang half. The best thing about these necklaces is that they are waterproof. So Sky and I wouldn’t have to take it off, when we shower or go swimming. Also these necklaces doesn’t look too girly so its perfect for Sky when he wears his. Before Sky came out of the shower, I put his gift in my backpack. When Sky came into our tent Toothless and Snow came in as well. 

Toothless: Do we get gifts tomorrow?

Sky and Jazzy: Sorry no. 

Snow: Oh. May next year?

Jazzy: I promise next year you two that you get gifts from me and Sky. 

Toothless: I’ll hold you up to that deal. 

Snow: Ditto. 

Jazzy: -smiling- 

Sky: Can I have my gift tonight?

Jazzy: No. You and I will exchange gifts tomorrow. 

Sky: All right. Because I’m curious as to what you’re wearing around your neck.

Jazzy: My half of your gift. -smiling- 

Sky: Oh. I know what it is. But in my family we have a tradition of exchanging Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve. 

Jazzy: I don’t believe you. 

Sky: Okay. -handing Jazzy his phone- I have old videos on my phone. That proves my family does exchange gifts on Christmas Eve. Every year. 

    I unlocked his phone and went to his videos. I found Sky’s old family videos and it proves that Sky wasn’t lying to me. After watching 5 videos I was convince. 

Jazzy: -handing back Sky’s phone- Fine. -Taking out Sky’s gift out of my backpack- Merry Christmas. -smiling- 

Sky: -pulling out Jazzy’s gift from his jean pocket and handing it to Jazzy- Merry Christmas. -smiling- 

     Sky and I open our gifts. Sky loved his gift and I love my gift. Sky gave me a Promise Engagement Ring with a beautiful 1/2 carat ruby diamond. Sky already put his gift around his neck. I was crying because I never seen such a beautiful ring. Because my 1/2 carat ruby diamond sits in the middle of the Yin Yang symbol. 

Sky: Promise Engagement Ring is more important than a regular Promise Ring.

Jazzy: -sniff- Why?

Sky: -wiping away Jazzy’s tears- Because this ring symbolizes my promise to love you until death due us part, and I want to ask you, will you do me the honor of being my wife and queen?

Jazzy: -sniff- Yes. 

    With that I’m engaged today to Royal Prince Sky You. I put on the ring and I kissed Sky. Sky hugged me and he was very happy that I said yes. I couldn’t be happier. Because I found my soul mate and best friend. I didn’t have to think twice because I knew Sky was the one for me, when we first met. That night we didn’t get our new tattoo, because the ring symbolizes that Sky and I are engaged. Sky and I came to decision that we won’t tell the team that we are engaged. Because we know that they are going to be more excited over our engagement, and not focus on the task at hand. So, tomorrow we are going to put our gifts into our backpack. We are going to tell them after the war. Because we don’t know when our wedding is going to be. That’s why we decided not to tell them that we are engaged. The most common question is going to be asked is when the wedding is. Sky and I haven’t set a date yet for the wedding, but we know that we want to enjoy our engagement for as long as we can. But December 24, 2020 is the day I’ll never forget. I’m so happy that I said yes to Sky that I’ll be his wife and queen. However, Toothless, Snow, Scarlet, and Icy know our news, but they wouldn’t say anything because they know that we are going to get mad at them, and also they know what is more important which is the task at hand and not our engagement.

    Sky and I went to sleep and our animals are very happy with what they heard. But Sky and I knew that our team heard Sky pop the question and my answer to his pop question. So by tomorrow morning our entire team is going want to celebrate. Especially Brandy. Before I closed my eyes I have a gut feeling that Brandy would want to know what colors I want for the wedding. Because my gut is telling me that Brandy wants to be my wedding planner. At midnight we felt someone come into our tent and plop on top of me. Whoever came into our tent scared the crap out me and I set my tent on fire. It was Brandy who came charging into our tent. 

Brandy: -screaming- I’m sorry for scaring you. But I couldn’t sleep until you give me answer. 

Jazzy: -annoyed and groggy- What is it that so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow?

Brandy: -shouting- Can I be your wedding planner?!

Sky: -annoyed and angry- Jeffery! If you don’t pick up your wife to be. My wife to be is going to set your wife to be on fire! 

Michelle: -yawning- Jazzy just answer Brandy. Because if Brandy doesn’t get an straight answer from you, she isn’t going to stop bugging you with the question for the rest of the year. 

Jazzy: -groggy and annoyed- Ugh! Sky and I will think about it. And in 2 weeks after our training we’ll give you an solid answer. But you are not to ask us the question repeatedly for the next two weeks. If you repeat the question every day for the next two weeks then Sky and I will give you a solid no as our answer. Understood? 

Brandy: Understood.  

Jazzy: -yawning- Good. Now go to bed. 

    Brandy left and Vix gave us a new tent. We all went back to bed. 

-End of Chapter Thirty-Four- 

[fragilevixenfic]

A House is Not a Home

Summary:

The mere thought of raising a newborn in a world full of horrors has every part of Scully’s emotional irrationality over firing on a chilly, winter evening. Mulder wants nothing more than to show her that not everything is gray and grim.

“Hope transforms pessimism into optimism. Hope is invincible.” – Daisaku Ikeda

For Teresa, I hope that this is everything that you were imagining.

The situations mentioned in this fic (ripped from the headlines) are real ones and altered ones to assist in the story. No mention of the real-life situation was meant to injure, harm, or otherwise trigger the reader. The shooting was real; the others were either from prior events (altered to fit the story) or didn’t happen during this date range. Also, took a few personal liberties with Jackson. He is unexplored and underdeveloped, at best.

You can’t go back and change the beginning,

But you can start where you are and change the ending.

-C.S. Lewis

Saturday, January 5th 2019

6:00 PM

The Unremarkable House

227700 Wallace Rd, Farrs Corner, VA

               The haze of pea soup fog preceded the battle between rain and snow as the small, muted sage house became swallowed by the thicket until visibility reduced to mere feet beyond the reaches of the steps. A glow of twinkling strung and wound up lights along the edge of the outside band and the header marked the well-concealed home like a lighthouse along a quiet shore. It was quiet aside from the tinkering of raindrops in mud puddles, down the gutters, and along the siding of the house, along with the whistling of faint wind through the trees with every gust. The front window, fogged-up with an outer layer of condensation, concealed the remnants of Christmas from a reluctant set of parents, who had been clinging to that moment of reminiscence from matching lights in the tree just feet from a fireplace. There was homey, inviting warmth even with the occasional battle cry from the infant that now lay nestled within the bassinet, her little tuft of gingery curls visible beneath the lilac cap, suckling at the air even in sleep.

               Scully’s fingers still twitched along the edge of the rail, gently rocking the cradle as she leaned against the armrest to watch her, the lack of sleep evident under her eyes. “How long are you going to let me relax this time, little one?”

               “Think I have enough time to start making us some dinner?” Mulder’s voice was a welcomed distraction, as were his lips to her temple as the back of her head found the soft material of a pillow. “No one wrote this in the parenting manual.”

               “Mmmm…please tell me we’re having those stuffed shells covered with cheese tonight because I’m already drooling just thinking about them.” Scully smirked, nodding as she felt the pop of her vertebrae moving back into place, aligning carefully as she looked up at him. “Ran ragged, send a nanny. I don’t remember it being this exhausting with her brother and I don’t remember him unpredictably crying at random moments of the day.”

               “So, what you’re saying is the diet isn’t coming back for a while?” Mulder massaged the back of her neck, admiring the beautiful baby in the bassinet as she stretched her little hands and feet as far as they would go before settling back down. “Well, I’d say that most people don’t pause eighteen years to have number two, either, Scully…and she’s been a unique little peach since she was big enough to do somersaults in the womb.”

               “I’m enjoying the carbs and I’m getting plenty of vitamins from the side salads that go along with straying from the diet I had been observing,” Scully bit down on her lip and gazed at the sweet, cherubic cheeked babe in the rapt of slumber. “As long as it doesn’t inhibit Lily’s growth and progress, then we’re doing something right.”

               Lily. The miracle that made so many others along the way seem so small. The second chance at something right. Scully glanced at the sleeping babe and felt the pang of longing to have spent more time with her firstborn to watch the intricacies of his infancy. So many milestones had been missed in such a short period of time and they only set off the catastrophe that followed—years of wondering if he was loved as much as she had hoped he was. Lily wasn’t simply another baby or a replacement for Jackson; she was the missing puzzle piece in a graying world full of darkened corners and dead ends. Scully knew that their sweet, little Lily had brought so much more than light into this world as her eyes diverted to the side-by-side pair of bronzed baby booties. Mulder saw her wipe an errant tear and leaned in to steal a kiss, tasting that salt that had been left behind before she could clear away memory.

               “I’ll make some garlic bread and put on some water for that decaf tea that you’ve become a little obsessed with—the kind with the mint in it,” Mulder wasn’t used to this much emotional turbulence but he was handling it like a champ as he placed a sweet kiss on the apple of her cheek before straightening his spine. “Maybe we should watch a movie tonight?”

               “Yeah, that might be nice if she manages to sleep through even thirty minutes of it,” Scully waited until he was halfway into the kitchen before reaching for the remote, flipping channels until a newscast caught her attention.

               “…We brought you breaking news overnight of a multiple fatality shooting in Pittsylvania County, Virginia and have obtained more details about the shooter and his victims. We have learned that the identity of the shooter was Jason Owen Davis and it has been confirmed that he fired multiple shots within the home that he shared with his wife and twelve-year-old son. Authorities have informed us that Davis shot his wife and twelve-year-old son before killing himself. Two women were also hospitalized after sustaining injuries from gunshots they had received while driving past the home of Davis…The investigation is ongoing…”

               The red, blue, and white flashing lights in the dead of night from the footage in front of a small home atop its foundation with a short drive tugged at Scully’s heartstrings. The sleepy, little town was only a few hours south but a shooting involving murder and suicide wasn't something that happened often. At least, it didn’t use to happen often. Scully swallowed hard as she listened to the newscaster recall the previous night’s events, a lump forming as she thought of a child’s life being extinguished before they could even blow the candles out on their thirteenth birthday cake. Her eyes darted to Lily as the tears nipped at her waterline, biting at every open nerve as the unthinkable played out in a single breath; losing another baby before they even had a chance to take their first steps.

              The circumstances were different but the inflicted pain felt so real as she changed the channel and palmed her mouth to cover the sob, hoping to quell an onslaught as the flickering screen wracked at her subconscious.

               What do I do if everything I am isn’t enough to keep you safe in this world?

               Scully knew that she was playing with fire as she pulled the bassinet closer, just enough to caress the rounded, little cheeks that belonged to their miracle. Lily stirred and let out a brief whimper as she traced the line of her chin and coaxed the waiting tears from her unusually sensitive Mother’s eyes. Scully pulled her hand back and watched the delicate traces of baby feet underneath of loose swaddling as they kicked up and down before settling back against the linen coverlet, the sigh audible as she drifted deeper into sleep. Scully feverishly wiped her tears and leaned back, resting her back against the couch cushions as the ticker at the bottom of the screen on CNN announced another terrorist attack in the city of Paris followed by a rising death toll from a bombing in Pakistan from the week earlier. It was enough to make her stomach churn and the bile rise. The world had become an unfolding nightmare full of waiting, blooming shadows ready to enfold the light.

               “Should I make the tea now while the oven does most of the work?” Mulder’s voice, like her beacon through a haze, struck a chord as he came around the corner and found her with shimmering streaks still fresh along first blush. “Scully, what happened?”

               “What world are we raising Lily in, Mulder?” Scully muted the television, imploring him as the floodgates opened and the upheaval worked its way to the surface, her voice just barely above normalcy. “Death and destruction around every corner, chaos in countless countries including our own, and the constant threat of some whack job rigging themselves up all in the name of religion to take the lives of those who don’t fit their normative of acceptable. I don't remember looking at life for our son with this much sadness in it."

               “I don’t know that the world has necessarily changed, Scully,” Mulder was keenly aware of the fluidity of her hormones and sentimentality as he took the remote from her and set it aside, knowing that she’d only begun to tap the surface of a vortex of upheaval. “We’re not out there like we used to be—with our guns readied to take aim and go running after monsters without a second thought for health or regard of our health.”

               Scully's head tilted; the notion of his comment filled with questionable truths as she felt her own aches and pains giving her a not-so-gentle reminder of their existence without even doing a tally of his. Some of the injuries weren't exactly old, either, she knew, but the passing of time had lessened the frequency of a new mark or blemish. Admitting that Mulder was right held a little bit of astonishment and disinclination for Scully as she felt that eyebrow lift upon her like a parental judgment. He was a little pleased with himself as he heard the gentle sigh leave her lips despite the undeniable urge to fix her pain.

               Yin and yang; their relationship personified as opposition met harmony, molding together in such a way that one was incomplete without the other.

               “Why does it feel like decay, misery, and melancholy are waiting around every corner?” Scully was visibly uncomfortable as she pointed toward the television, nearly going hoarse as she felt her blood pressure spike, aiming her energy toward chaos as Mulder’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t turn on the TV without seeing something awful happening as close as two or three hours away. If it isn’t a stabbing, it’s a shooting…if it isn’t a shooting…it’s a bombing. Lily will never see anything but the constant chipping away of humanity and crumbling of sanity.”

               “Lily will be surrounded by two parents that love her and a brother that, with some time, will protect her from anything and everything,” Mulder was studying the expanse of freckles on her face as she met his gaze, coaxing a soft, needed smile that slowly faded as he continued. “I know it seems like the word of the decade is grim but there's a lot more to the world that is worth exploring—from the smallest blade of grass to the tallest trees. Nature, the lifting up of communities in the wake of a disaster, and the little gestures in between like carrying a rainbow flag down a crowded street. I don't think I had a chance to take a look at what was underneath the surface until I felt like there wasn't any hope left."

               “You make it sound so easy and idyllic, Mulder,” Scully stared at the floor, at the fibers of the area rug until they were blurring together in a sea of worn, little waves of blues and grays while the strings of her heart played a note she hadn’t felt since writing a letter addressed to her son. “What happens to Lily if we’re no longer here to raise her—to protect her? Who will be here to make sure she is safe?”

               “Jesus, Scully,” Mulder swallowed hard at the mere implication of a piece of them being swathed in their love as she leaped through each milestone had him choking back the tears. “I know we’re getting up there in age but I really didn’t want to jump straight to the morbid talk before she even turns one.”

               "I don't want to imagine a world where I don't get to see those little fingers and toes become more grown-up or those insanely hazel eyes develop depth when she's angry," Scully didn't want to wake Lily but the trepidation was quickly morphing into something more frenzied as she covered her mouth, muffling the sob. "I don't remember being this reactionary with Jackson and all I want to do is call my mom…but I can’t.”

               Mulder wanted to be angry but the sadness he felt for Scully was undeniable as his knees went weak and his eyes fell on the shimmering tears from the corners of her eyes. Lashing out wouldn’t have done much good because the truth of it was that he missed his Mother-in-law nearly as much as Scully did. The hole that Maggie Scully had left in their lives was a shock to the system that neither of them were entirely prepared for and Mulder had spent so much time trying to repair the damage done over losing her. She was a source of great strength and levity for both of them during a time of unbearable darkness to a point that he wondered if she was the only one that knew, deep down, that they weren’t beyond repair. She always held out hope and proved to be that steadfast link that brought them back together as her spark slowly went dark. Sometimes, he wondered if that same glimmer of warmth hovered around Lily’s angelic face to admire what she always knew could come to pass.

               He had hoped that she looked down on their girl and saw their love, personified, down to the tendrils of red curls that came from her mother and the flecks of green and chestnut that came from her father.

               “I wouldn’t say that our support system has gotten smaller, Scully,” Mulder scooted alongside her, squeezing her fingers as her eyes stayed locked on the circular pattern on the floor. “It has simply changed over the years—and adjusted to the people we’ve become along the way. Your brother may not like me but he’s in our lives more now than he was years ago and because of that galvanized bond, we have your sister-in-law and your nephew. We still have a lot of people in our lives that were always there for us that are now here for her. I have to think it means something that we have that for Lily.”

               Scully wanted to feel the words sink in and mean something but there was a struggle buried underneath as she rested her head against the back of the couch, exhaling slowly as she stared at the beam across the ceiling. Her heart thudded against her chest wall as that groundless dread bloomed into a waking nightmare that stayed trapped within her psyche. Scully’s eyes met Mulder’s and her fingers coiled around his as she let the tears fall, searing a trail down her cheeks as she let his warmth melt with hers, palm to palm. Having Mulder in her life all over again meant more than a second chance at love and a life with him…he had become the steadied ground beneath her feet while everything else seemed so shaky.

               “I know, deep in my gut, that you’re right but my heart is just swimming with so many uncertain factors that could pop out to surprise us from the wings. I don’t know what I would do if I had to do this alone,” Scully sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and held it between her teeth as she grappled with the upheaval of affectation, wiping her tears with her free hand. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what would happen to you if I weren’t here and you had to raise Lily alone.”

               “Scully, there will always be a worry that one of us or both of us could be taken away from Lily before she’s old enough to be on her own,” Mulder pulled her fingers from her face and held both hands between his own, caressing the space below her wrists as he flashed a soft, caring smile. “However, let me be the one that postulates about death for a while. I’m good at it and my hormonal fluctuations aren’t going to be the ones to affect the overall quality of breast milk.”

               “I know you’re thinking it, Mulder, because I’m thinking it,” Scully felt the tears drying on her skin, leaving behind a residue of salt that made her face feel tight and uncomfortable as she sighed. “I passed the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale with flying colors and made Doctor Jacobi and Doctor Layton laugh when I asked if they’d read the results correctly. I was never this relentlessly emotional with Jackson and I don’t remember waking up in the middle of the night to cry when he wasn’t right there in my arms.”

               "Scully, you didn't do that with him because you were focused on the mess that was the father of your child," Mulder leaned in and kissed the trails of tears, pressing his forehead to hers as he knelt against her shins, palms caressing her forearms. "You didn't have a chance, back then, to stop long enough to see the spiritual toll that Jackson might’ve taken on you because you were so focused on the safety of me and him. This time around I’m not letting you do it alone.”

               “I am not good at feeling untenably over-sensitive at any moment of the day,” Scully exhaled slowly and covered his hand with her own, the look of her fingers small on top of his. “I guess it’s all worth it when I see the tiny toes and fingers that belong to the second little miracle that we get to call ours.”

               “You just had a baby,” Mulder wanted to scoop her up and take her upstairs but the sleeping child would’ve done her best to shut it down before they could even pull an arm out of a sleeve. “To expect any mother to be perfect at every moment of the day is unreasonable. I can’t even tell you the number of times that I got told to watch Samantha when mine just needed a moment to go lock herself in the bathroom.”

               “I just hope that I’m not going to be like this for the entirety of breastfeeding,” Scully made a face and furrowed her brows, exhaling slowly. “It would tempt me to switch to the bottle and I really don’t want to do that. The time I have with her like this is so precious.”

               “You know what I see when I look at you, Scully?" Mulder slid backward and stood, stretching his arms toward the ceiling until his back popped that was followed up with a satisfied groan.

               “Don’t…you…dare…wake her up,” Scully snapped her fingers at him, signaling to Lily as their typically loud infant stirred in her peripheral while she scooted forward to put another throw pillow behind the small of her back. “What do you see, Mulder?”

               “I see the same woman that came into a basement level office so many years ago and managed to spin an already upside-down life even further on its heels," Mulder could smell dinner wafting through the air and it hanging at the cusp of burning as he went to check on everything. "You may have gotten older, have a different shade and length of hair, and think you’re getting haggard when you’re not…but all I see is that same person and I always will.”

               “I’m suddenly remembering exactly how you managed to make a seemingly barren woman pregnant…twice,” Scully coaxed a laugh from him as he fiddled around in the kitchen as she went toward the tree, letting her fingers run along an ornament with glitter-covered doves on it. "How's it looking in there, Gordon Ramsay?"

               “I think you were really just underestimating the power of the can you spare a prophylactic back in the day,” Mulder peeked his head out from behind the stove and wiggled his eyebrows at her as she turned to smile at him. “Estimating another ten minutes before this can be consumed.”

               “You are absolutely ridiculous,” Scully rolled her eyes while adjusting a string of lights, the synthetic material of the tree grazing her palm as the sound of drops of rain against the side window tapped with changing of the wind. “We should dip into the brownies I made the other night after dinner and find a zombie movie to distract ourselves from thinking about the real-life horror outside.”

               “Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Mulder was putting the kettle before reaching for the tin of tea, a pause in the air as he peeked his head back out from behind the stove, a look of confusion on his face. “Maybe not a zombie movie but something on the Hitchcock spectrum sounds good. Out of curiosity, though, Scully, do you have something you’d like to tell me or think you’d like to tell me?”

               “Mulder, that's…not funny," Scully's jaw dropped as she checked on Lily, tugging the little blanket back around her to keep her cozy and warm before resuming the shocked expression in Mulder's direction. "We do not need a third and we don't need two of them under one. That would put me in my grave prematurely."

               “Well, how am I supposed to know? You’re the one that suddenly wants chocolate and pasta loaded with cheese,” Mulder shrugged his shoulders and met her in the archway between the kitchen and the living room to pull her into an embrace. “You ate that through your entire second and third trimester.”

               “I love you but you’re crazy,” Scully wrapped her arms around him, caressing his back as she looked up at him, grinning. “Lily and you are more than enough infant for me.”

               “I love you, too, but you’ll appreciate the childlike persona when it comes to teaching Lily all about the important things in life,” Mulder kissed the space above her nose, between her brows, and squeezed her tightly while he listened to the bubbling of water inside of the kettle. “I’ll always keep you guessing.”

               “I don’t know if fart jokes and distance spitting sunflower hulls across the yard are considered the important things, Mulder,” Scully scrunched her nose and jabbed him in the ribs as he started to back away to check the oven again.

               The knock at the door put a stop to the discussion and nearly caused an emergency as Mulder narrowly missed pressing a hand to a hot surface. He had forgotten the oven mitts as his attention swayed in the direction of the front door, toward the soft tapping, but thankfully, Scully’s snapping fingers pulled him right back to reality. She was good at keeping him from taking a clumsy tumble into another potential disaster even if admitting it was not his forte. He had mentioned it, long ago, that she kept him honest and it part of that veracity resided in an ability to pull him from the edge of catastrophe. Neither of them had been expecting to stop by today but the brewing tension was familiar as Scully let her eyes focus on the frosted glass in the door and the tall, broad-shouldered shadow that stood on the other side.

               Scully had a longing in her eyes and Mulder had anticipation deep in his soul as he nodded, willing her to unlock the door.

               Scully pulled the door open, holding the edge against her cheek as she found him standing on the other side of the screen, hood pulled up, drenched to the skin with a couple of bags in hand. "I know…I should've called to let you know I was nearby.”

               Scully shook her head and felt the surge of tears breaking through as she saw the wisp of a smile on his lips for the first time since Lily was four days old, the undeniable yearning to express her love bleeding through. “No, you never have to give us warning…”

               “I could hear you, uh, arguing, from down the road so I waited to walk up,” Jackson pulled the screen back and crossed the threshold, the drips hitting the floor like little pieces of his soul as he felt the weight of the world drop off his shoulders. “It sounded important.”

               “We weren’t arguing,” Scully took the bags from him and set them aside, the joy colliding with an onslaught of tears as she wiped her cheeks. “It was just a discussion fueled by hormones and everything is fine.”

               “Okay, maybe I should’ve said that it felt important," Jackson pushed his hood off and pulled the zipper-free, pressing his lips together and elevating his brows in such a way that he was a spitting image of his father, leaving no question about the actuality of his genetics. “I don’t know if an apology is what I should be doing but I know that communication hasn't really been a thing for me lately. I was returning your texts for a while and just had to get out of my head for a while. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and had this feeling that including you will be too overwhelming with Lily.”

               Jackson’s wheels were turning; the signals weighing as he was moving his eyes between them, seeking the justification. He was seeking out answers and didn’t stop long enough to fathom that he’d been running from them for far too long. It weighed on him in an inevitable way as the radiating heat of the fire found him and restored a semblance of warmth in weary, well-traveled feet. It felt like home and there hadn’t been a place that inched close to that inclination for a long time. It was a complicated perception, though, as the calm, inviting blanket wasn’t the walls that kept out the elements but their faces, their hands, their voices…pieces of them that had been so far away for far too long.

               They weren’t the Van De Kamp’s but they meant something else—something different that he knew, in the severed part of his soul, that he needed.

               “You always know how to reach us when you’re ready,” Mulder had pulled their leftovers from the oven and set them out on the counter before coming out of the kitchen to greet him. “Relying on either of us won’t be putting any extra strain on life, either. We’ve been through a lot…you’ve been through a lot. We’ve lost a lot of time, Jackson.”

               “The last thing either of us want from you is an apology or to feel as though you need to hand one down to us,” Scully was hanging by a thread, her tears glimmering along the curves of her cheeks as she quietly wiped them, her voice small, distant. “You’ve been through so much and there was no need to hold expectations beyond being able to reach out to you, which we valued, more than you can ever know.”

               “I kind of liked the jingling in my pocket, reminding me every day that someone cared about where I was and what I was doing. Hadn’t anyone do that in a long time," Jackson had matured in a year despite that inherent, deeply rooted consternation that was still hovering over forging a relationship with his biological parents as he let Mulder take his wet, zippered hoodie to hang up. “Putting all of my woes on both of you felt really selfish at the time and it wasn’t until I was drinking disgusting coffee in a diner on Florida Avenue yesterday morning that I realized that I was being dumb. I knew I should just come here.”

               “Ah, lured into The Florida Avenue Grill, huh?” Mulder didn’t want to push the boundaries but he squeezed his son’s shoulder anyway and pushed the door shut as the draft moved through the room. “The heartburn that place inflicted on me was legendary.”

               “Yeah, well, the pancakes were, at least, pretty decent and smothered in peanut butter,” Jackson’s wit was much like Mulder’s but the softer aspect of his nature was more than a little evident as he glanced at Scully as she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Mom, you know you can just hug me instead of looking at me longingly like I’m only a figment of your imagination, right?”

               Hearing him call her mom had only happened twice since he’d come back into their lives and it was still sinking into her consciousness, leaving an irreversible mark on her heart. The sensation was almost as intense as the agony she felt the day she placed that final kiss on his temple and sent him to be with a family that could protect him better than she could. His name wasn’t the issue, anymore, but reconciling whether or not he would become the yo-yo in their life was as she felt the sting of tears along the corners of her mouth. They’d lost so much time and never gotten to see him become the man standing before them; looking every bit the collective of their genetics as the pale tones stood out against his long lashes and dark hair. He really was theirs. Overjoyed and yet, doubt was still residing in the darkest parts of her mind as she embraced her grown-up son and tipped over the remainder of her bottled sensitivities.

               “I never imagined that there’d be a day when I’d be able to put my arms around you but there was finally a day I thought there could be a chance…” Scully’s last efforts to be composed fell by the wayside as she sniffled and wept while she kept her arms around Jackson, the enormity of him being there coursing through her like an administered drug in her veins. "And I couldn’t let you go through life not knowing that the people you came from loved you…that we didn’t just throw you away.”

               “You’re going to make me cry and I’ve done a lot of that when no one was looking,” Jackson had his chin on the top of her head while Mulder was doing his best to keep composed as his eyes glassed over. “I wouldn’t be here if I believed that either of you threw me away.”

               Scully was reluctant to pull away but the whistle of the kettle had her moving to check on Lily after giving Jackson the lightest grip to his hand. “Sure, when her brother shows up, she’ll sleep through anything but when the floorboards upstairs creak in the wrong way…it’s the end of the world.”

               Mulder took the kettle off of the flame, a smile on his lips as he gathered teacups from the cupboard, his peripheral catching Jackson as he walked beyond the couch to peek at a sleeping Lily. "Speaking of Lily…we should eat before she senses that you're attempting to put food into your mouth and decides that she wants to nurse, Scully. It's been about two hours since she was fed, right?"

               “Give or take by five minutes,” Scully watched Jackson standing next to the softly lined cradle, the gentle swing of it in motion as his eyes moved back and forth, willing it to move. “Jackson, there’s more than enough for you and I’ve already been teased that it’s craving food so you know it’s going to be really good.”

               “Yeah, I’d like that,” Jackson nodded as Scully put another log on the fire, stoking the flames in the background as he ran a couple of fingers through damp hair. “Might help finally get rid of that epic heartburn?”

               “Wait, you still have the heartburn, kid?” Mulder met him in the doorway and put an arm around him, directing him toward the kitchen table where he had already put an extra plate out, ready to serve. "What you need is my special hot cocoa…that’ll get rid of the heartburn and any other aches you might have.”

               “Mulder, you are not giving our not over-twenty-one-year-old son the modified Frohike special," Scully gave him a dirty look and aimed the business end of a spoon at him as she retrieved another teacup from the shelves. “Just one of those is more than enough to render him incapable of navigating the house before the sun has set.”

               “You are a party pooper, Scully,” Mulder already had the bottle of bourbon in his hand and a grin plastered on his face as he turned toward Scully. “I would never make it the way Frohike made them—that’s a rookie mistake that you only give to an enemy.”

               "I know I shouldn't say this and you can't be mad mom, but I'm intrigued," Jackson finally perked up and chuckled, making Scully roll her eyes as she made eye contact with her son. "I mean, I've had drinks before—when I wasn't supposed to.”

               Scully met the waiting gaze of Mulder as she shook her head, scoffing at the situation as the white flag waved. “He certainly is your son.”

               “The secret to the hot cocoa is just enough bourbon to smell it but not enough to taste it,” Mulder went on the drinking lesson while Scully was in the background getting plates filled with portions of their dinner. “If it’s too strong then there’s no point to the drink at all…you might as well be drinking bourbon on the rocks.”

               “Was there ever a point to begin with, though?” Scully had that witty, Cheshire cat expression as she moved the last of the hot plates to the table and sank into her seat with a hot cup of tea steeping in front of her.

"Jackson, ignore the naysaying," Mulder stirred the steaming milk at the stovetop, his back to her as Jackson joined her at the table. "This is going to be so good and she's just going to miss out because…breast milk."

               “I don’t think this is what I envisioned when I pictured spending time with my biological parents,” Jackson stifled a chuckle as he watched Mulder pour the milk into a mug, stirring the contents vigorously until it was to his liking. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

               “Did they encourage you to be curious and fun-loving, Jackson?” Scully didn’t want to bring the energy back down but she couldn’t help but reference his adoptive parents as she filled his water glass, the butterflies creeping into her throat.

               Jackson nodded as he put his napkin across his lap, not a trace of sadness on his face as he glanced at the reflection on the bend in the fork, contemplating every word. “They did their best with consideration to the pain in the ass that they called son. I wasn’t the easiest and it only got worse as I got older—they weren’t exactly equipped for a kid like me. I don’t think many people could have handled someone like me.”

               “Something tells me that they never looked at you as anything less than what you are,” Mulder carried the mug of cocoa to the table, setting it next to Jackson’s plate while he made a declarative in front of the mother of his children and his son. “And that would be a miracle that they couldn’t have gotten any other way. That’s how I see things.”

               Scully mouthed I love you from across their little, evening setup, the steam rising from hot pans and plates as Mulder settled into the third chair and returned an un-uttered I know much to her chagrin. Mulder had been watching too much Star Wars but the meaning was received and struck her heart in just the right way as she took a sip of her tea, hiding her smile behind the cup. It shouldn’t have made her feel like a million dollars but it did as the blush peeked out along her cheeks all while Jackson pretended not to notice his parental units and their flirting. Something was endearing about all of it; even if it made the already quiet dinner that much more awkward as Jackson speared the first bite of pasta, savoring the flavor.

               Just as quickly as the first bites began to be consumed, the hush in the unremarkable house was ended with the unpleasant wailing by his infant sister.

               “She let me get two bites in,” Scully was a little frustrated but the glimmer in her eyes told an entirely different story as she started to rise from the table. “Better see if I can get her to nurse for a bit.”

               “Mom, you just sit there and eat a little,” Jackson was on his feet in only moments, the look on his face determined as he put his napkin next to his plate while giving her a gentle nudge of the shoulder. “Let me see if it’s just gas?”

               “Jackson, I can feed her so you can eat while it’s hot,” Scully’s eyes widened as moved toward the living room, a little hint of a knowing smile on his face as he turned around.

               “Let me try?” Jackson shrugged while Lily’s cries changed pitch in the background, growing in volume to the point that he winced at the shrill sound she made. “I have a feeling…It’s just gas. If it’s not, you’ll know pretty fast.”

               “It couldn’t hurt and it isn’t like they’re far away,” Mulder knew the first thought from Scully was about Jackson being unfamiliar with his sister but he wanted them to bond as he put a hand over hers. “If she keeps at the screaming, she’s hungry.”

               “Okay,” Scully’s stomach growled as she gave a nod toward Jackson, watching him move toward the other side of the couch where the bassinet was situated. “…Don’t forget to support her head while you’re holding her, Jackson.”

               "I know, I've held babies before," Jackson spoke up over the top of Lily's stuttered cries as he handled her with care, gathering her into his arms as her tear-filled eyes looked up at him while her little pout trembled and her hands swung. “Oh, my God, Lilybean, you stink. Mom, where're the diapers?"

               “There’s a diaper bag next to the couch on the floor,” Scully was chuckling at Jackson already giving Lily a nickname as she looked at him holding her against his chest in the doorway. “There should be an opened container of wipes in there as well…and powder, if she needs it.”

               Jackson was undeniably unskilled but attentive as he addressed the soiled diaper after getting her out of the coordinating bottoms and unhooked the onesie while his sister continued her series of cries. "Let's address the biohazard going on in here…All you eat is breast milk, Lilybean...guh."

              Jackson was mainly exaggerating the reaction to the odor wafting around Lily as he swapped out the dirty diaper for a clean one after making sure she had been properly wiped. Lily hadn’t quite developed the motor functions for true laughter but she was fully captivated by his facial features as he scrunched his nose and puffed out his cheeks while discarding the concealed, poop-filled diaper into a plastic bag. It was then that his tongue extended and the sound of cartoon-like horror popped free from his throat, coaxing the cutest, sweet grin from that beautiful face as she kicked her little feet on the couch cushions. If Jackson hadn’t known what love looked like before, he certainly knew what it looked like as he fastened her clothes and tickled her feet before pulling her back into a cradled grasp.

               It swelled their parents’ hearts as they stole a peek from the kitchen.

               “Fresh diaper and a sneaky toot after you got powder on your butt, you’re right as rain,” Jackson swayed as he paced the floor with Lily in his arms, taking her past the tree while her eyes studied his face. “Big brother has to be right about a little bit of stuff…and we know a stinker when we see one.”

               Scully was nibbling at her slice of garlic bread but her focus was on watching a sight she had imagined a thousand times as Jackson began a one-sided conversation with his two-month-old sister. Scully's anxiety-fueled rant from earlier started to seem moot as Lily's tiny fingers coiled around Jackson’s while he enthralled her with a rambling story about teaching her how to ride a bike one day. Her soft cooing was just enough sound to carry through the room, the tone and inflection intimating a babble, mouth mimicking the same movements that it would if she were speaking. Jackson nodded and let out a laugh, the intent of understanding the baby sounds more than apparent as he kept all of his attention on her.

               “Is that so?” Jackson adjusted his grip on her and held her a little closer, resting his palm across her belly to latch on to as she played with his fingers. “I’ll tell you a secret, though, because you’re my baby sister and I know you won’t tell anyone. We’re not just special because of how we came into this world. We are special because we’re always going to have each other, through thick and thin, bad and good times.”

               “How did we get so lucky?” Mulder could see Scully crying again as he chewed a bite of his pasta, the tenderness of the moment finally setting in as he squeezed her knee.

               “Deep down I always knew he’d be good with her and love every little part of her but this was unexpected, in the best of ways,” Scully wiped the tears and folded her fingers around Mulder’s hand, gripping the curve between his index and his thumb as he smiled in her direction. “It wasn’t luck. It was destined.”

               Jackson sank into the easy chair and rested Lily against his shoulder to rub her back as she gripped the edge of his shirt. “Even if I’m far away, I’ll always be able to get here whenever you need me. No matter how big or small the crisis may be…no distance will be too far if you ask your brother to just come home.”

               Home.

               It rolled off of Jackson’s tongue and struck a chord for Mulder and Scully as the subject of their discussion before his arrival seemed to be on his mind as much as it had been on theirs. Jackson placed a light kiss on his sister's forehead while he hummed an indistinct tune and rocked her while the tips of his fingers caressed the expanse of her back until the cooing turned into a long, continuous murmur. Scully recalled doing that very same thing with Jackson when he was the same size and it had the same effect on him on several occasions. It usually put him to sleep and it was doing the same thing for Lily as her eyelids did battle with gravity while a puddle of drool formed on his shirt where her chin lay.

               “One thing I want you to remember as you drift back to sleep is that a house is not a home, Lilybean,” Jackson sounded like his Grandmother as his index drifted over a pink, soft cheek until it trailed into the stream of drool. “Home is where you laugh, cry, talk, and argue with the people that you love and love you back. This is home.”

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