#get it? it’s a snowglobe because Bear’s a Polar Bear?—
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When it snows in hell, you call them “ashes”.
@beartitled’s part on being a “great” parent to their Narry.
#get it? it’s a snowglobe because Bear’s a Polar Bear?—#ahem#nevermind#anyways#The amount of angst Bear gives to their Narry is mesmerising bro#and they do it so cutely too XD#the stanley parable#tsp#tsp narrator#stanley parable#tsp fanart#the narrator#paraverse#tspud#sketch#InSomniphic’s Art#InSomniphic’s Art for Others
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Have Yourself a Super Merry Christmas 3/3: Christmas Future: I have never known color like this morning reveals to me (Branjie)--athena2
A/N: Thank you so much for all the support on this! Thank you as always to Writ for betaing and encouraging me through this whole thing. Chapter title from In a Week by Hozier.
The very first time Frost and Vanjie meet is on Christmas Eve.
The paths that bring them there may be different–a fire whose smoldering wreckage creates a woman burdened by memories and an ice storm whose piercing shards mold a woman entirely devoid of memories–but those paths converge just the same.
It’s not the last time their paths will meet, paths that will lead to fighting and hatred and forgiveness and healing and loving, even marriage and a daughter.
But the path begins with enemies meeting in the snow.
—
“I wanna put the star on!” Lily squeals.
Vanessa smiles as Brooke carefully lifts Lily into the air, Vanessa placing her hands on Brooke’s hips to steady her, just in case (and just to touch Brooke’s hips).
“You can reach this high, Mommy?” Lily asks in wonder as she attaches the star.
“She sure can.” Vanessa smiles. “I said the same thing as you when she did that the first time.”
Brooke brings Lily back down and she starts placing ornaments on the lowest branches, and Vanessa has to step back and smile. Sometimes she sees the tiny blue Vans with yellow flowers by the back door and can’t believe those little sneakers really fit someone, and that that someone is their daughter.
This is the first Christmas Lily really knows what’s going on, and Brooke and Vanessa have had too much fun shopping, sledding, and snowman-building. Brooke absolutely loves the snow, a human polar bear, and will play with Lily until they’re almost frozen solid and Vanessa forces them inside for hot chocolate. Their backyard is the perfect battleground for snowball fights and an army of snowmen, the house a few miles from the city and everything they always wanted, purchased a few months before they adopted Lily.
“Mama, Mommy says we can make cookies after!” Lily announces, running up to her.
“She did, did she?” Vanessa scoops Lily up and helps her reach some higher branches (‘who’s gonna help you reach them?’ Brooke teases) and smiles as Brooke kisses the top of her head.
It’s been a busy year, one Vanessa couldn’t have gotten through without Brooke by her side. Vanessa’s nights were filled with online business courses and Brooke’s steady encouragement as she and A’keria became co-owners of the salon. Vanessa works mornings there and afternoons at home to stay with Lily, while Brooke takes mornings with Lily before going to directing duties at the ballet company at noon. It’s a lot of shuffling out the door, a lot of evenings where they manage to cook dinner, watch a movie, and read Lily a bedtime story before collapsing into their own bed, but Vanessa wouldn’t change a thing.
That scared woman who refused to let anyone in is still inside her somewhere, coming out in a panicked fear anytime Lily gets too close to the fireplace, but Vanessa isn’t alone anymore.
She no longer needs to burn herself down in order to live.
—
Somehow, Vanessa’s second Christmas without her family hurts worse than the first one.
Last year, the wound was still fresh, not even scabbed over yet, and it wasn’t like she expected to be okay. But this year, she feels like the wound should have gotten better but hasn’t; it’s festered instead of healed. This year, she had expected to be okay, and it’s only making it worse that she isn’t.
A’keria has told her about some Dr. West, suggested that a therapy session might help, but Vanessa refuses. It’s not that she thinks it won’t help, because she knows therapy works; it’s that if she goes, she’ll have to talk about it and she just can’t do that. Whatever thin patches are holding her together would split right open.
Silky and A’keria come over and they eat and exchange gifts, and Vanessa knows they’re doing it to help her feel better, but it’s not working.
When she sees the news report that Frost has struck again, something in her snaps. That Frost bitch has been wreaking havoc for almost a month now, always fleeing just before Vanessa can fight her.
She pulls on her suit as A’keria and Silky beg her to stay.
“Frost beat the crap out of Shuga Rush and Honeybee last week, and you wanna take her on?” Silky argues.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” A’keria adds. “Your ass belongs inside.”
“I’m getting that blue Gatorade hoe,” Vanjie vows as she heads out into the snow.
—
Brooke helps Lily tie her green apron on and can’t believe how little it is, or that she has a daughter little enough to wear it. Sometimes she can’t believe she has a daughter at all, or their cozy house, or that she still gets to curl up in bed with Vanessa every night, even all these years later.
The snow flew early in November and the past month has been spent mostly in the backyard, playing with Lily. Vanessa doesn’t love the snow the way Brooke does, but she’ll still come out and play with them as much as she can. Brooke even got her special thermal gloves so she could make snowballs without them melting in seconds.
Brooke watches Lily’s tiny hands roll out the cookie dough, gripping the rolling pin to help her while Vanessa tosses chocolate chips in her mouth, and the safety of it all, the love in the kitchen, are so great that Brooke has to excuse herself to the bathroom because she doesn’t want Lily to get scared if she sees Mommy crying.
She breathes slowly, the joy of the past three years flooding her, absolutely worth all the fears she and Vanessa had. It hadn’t been an easy decision to walk away from the superhero life, and it wasn’t one they made lightly. There had been several late-night conversations and a few joint appointments with Nina and endless questions to be answered. Is it wrong to put themselves and their wants over a city they’ve been protecting all these years? Is it wrong not to stop crime when they had the ability to do so? Should they feel like every crime to occur after they quit is their fault?
But the fighting took its toll more and more, bruises lasting longer, injuries more frequent, a soreness in their muscles that never went away. What they both wanted was a child, one they would love and support no matter what, and they simply couldn’t be out risking their lives every night with a baby at home.
They hung up the masks (still in the closet just in case) and began the process of moving on.
Brooke doesn’t regret it, even when she sees crime in the news that she could have stopped, and she knows Vanessa doesn’t either. Lily is more than they dreamed of, everything they ever wanted.
“You okay?” Vanessa knocks.
She always knows, Brooke marvels.
She opens the door and pulls Vanessa into her arms. “I’m okay. I just–I never thought I would be so happy, and sometimes it really hits me.”
Happy hadn’t even been a concept at the lab. They only cared if she was physically well enough to follow orders, not what she felt. Brooke never felt much anyway, the drugs like a veil over her that stopped any emotion or feeling from rising too far. In her early recovery days, her emotions were like a shaken-up snowglobe where the snow wouldn’t settle, but floated around helplessly, and she and Nina had spent several sessions just understanding and naming the feelings she had.
“I know, baby. I love you both so much,” Vanessa says.
“Mama, we have to finish the cookies!” Lily yells from the kitchen. Brooke and Vanessa laugh and head after their daughter.
—-
The snow falls thick and full, like pieces of a cloud around Frost. She pauses just to watch it fall, each flake silencing the noise around her, car horns blaring and people shouting and laughing and sirens wailing. It’s much louder than the lab, so loud it hurts her ears, and the snow somehow soothes her.
The lab said Christmas Eve is a good night to strike, and they’re right. Frost has already stolen weapon blueprints from Atlas Labs and sent Black Diamond home with a broken nose. She ducks into an alley to review her missions when a light from a tree catches her eye and momentarily blinds her with its brilliance.
Has she ever held a bulb in her hand, seen her smiling face reflected in its surface as she hung it from a branch? Has she ever gotten a present like she saw people carrying earlier, ripping through the paper to see what surprise awaited her? Was she ever lifted up out of the snow by her mother, like the little boy she saw yesterday?
Of course she hasn’t. She’s being bad. Her breaths are painful and her heart clenches in her chest. She forces out a slow stream of air. She has to focus, she has to–
“So, you must be the famous Frost,” a sandpaper voice booms, and Frost jumps, spinning around to see a short woman with eyes burning bright even surrounded by her black eye mask.
“Who are you?” Frost asks in confusion. She hopes that not too many people know about her, because the lab will surely punish her if she blows their cover.
“I’m Vanjie, and don’t you forget it, Frosty,” the woman–Vanjie–says with a fireblast. Frost has barely stopped it before Vanjie yells something else and runs at her with a punch, and Frost throws one back, grateful for something to stop the bad thoughts she was having.
Vanjie is a good fighter, strong and fast, but lacking control in some of her punches and blasts. Still, Frost has never met an opponent that could keep up with her. It’s almost—fun. Definitely the most even fight she’s had since she started, breathlessly accepting hits and giving them right back. They trade kicks and punches, each move tight and quick and focused, and Frost’s mind starts buzzing, clearing, maybe, all the Christmas lights and car horns brighter and louder, and that means she’ll need another dose soon. She’s not supposed to feel like this.
She would keep going all night but a siren rings out and Vanjie flees, too far away for Frost to track once she clears through a last arc of flame.
Frost almost wishes she would come back.
—
Brooke smiles as Vanessa glares up at her.
“Remind me again how I let you talk me into this?” Vanessa asks as she laces her skates.
“Because Lily really wanted to go ice-skating and we can’t say no?” Brooke suggests.
“Sounds about right.”
Brooke stands, unsure, in her own rented skates, holding Lily’s hand. Skaters whizz past them, laughing and shouting, and Brooke is grateful again for the therapy and meds that help her feel okay in such noisy areas.
“Let’s do this, twinkle toes. I bet you’re gonna be like one of them figure skaters in the Olympics.” Vanessa finishes her skates and stands up, shuffling to the ice rink.
Brooke doesn’t know if she’s ever been skating, but she’s figuring her dance ability might at least keep her on her feet. Vanessa, on the other hand…
“My body ain’t supposed to go this way!” Vanessa yelps, stuck in a half-split on the ice, and Brooke pulls her up as she snorts with laughter.
“I got you, don’t worry.” Brooke tugs along Vanessa with one hand and Lily with the other. She has enough balance to keep herself from falling, and the super-strength to keep both of them steady too, and they make slow laps around the rink while they talk about the upcoming Christmas dinner at their house.
“I think I got this, let’s go faster!” Vanessa says. She pulls Brooke so hard that she lets go of Lily, and it’s just the two of them barreling along.
“I don’t think this is a good id–” They crash into the wall and land in a heap, arms and legs tangled together.
“Let’s do that again!” Vanessa yells, her words muffled by Brooke’s leg, which has fallen over her face.
They untangle themselves and stand up, only to burst into laughter so fierce they fall all over again. Steaming cups of hot chocolate warm them up once they get off the ice, and Lily insists everyone watch Frozen again, her favorite because she thinks Mommy looks like Elsa (if she only knew, Vanessa thinks). Her second favorite is Moana because Mama looks like Moana and screeches like Te Kā (kid’s got a sense of humor, Brooke thinks).
Lily falls asleep laying across the both of them and Brooke places her gently into bed, Vanessa pulling her covers up with a smile shared between them.
—
“I think we should get Lily a dog for Christmas,” Vanessa begins one night. “Might be nice for Riley to have a dog friend.” She’s in her favorite position, head on Brooke’s chest and arm around her waist, thumb stroking the skin on her hip.
“Okay!” Brooke agrees, and Vanessa has to laugh. She doesn’t know why she thought Brooke would be harder to convince. Brooke loves animals, and they already have three; what’s one more?
“I got my dog for Christmas when I was six.” The confession comes out of her without warning, her heart speeding up until Brooke brings a hand up to cup her cheek, and everything slows down again. Vanessa never feels safer than she does in Brooke’s arms, and she tells her all about that Christmas morning, ripping the lid off the box to see that perfect little puppy, how she and her brother played fetch with it every day.
Brooke lets out soft little puffs of smiling laughter, pressing a kiss to the top of Vanessa’s head when she’s done.
“I’m proud of you,” Brooke whispers.
“For what?”
“For just being you,” Brooke answers, and Vanessa hugs her tighter.
They go to the shelter the next night, Yvie and Scarlet taking on babysitting duty (‘If we come back and our child is talking about conspiracy theories, your babysitting career is over, Yvie,’ Vanessa threatens). The worker tells them there’s an older chihuahua named Rosie who would love to have a home.
Brooke kneels down by the cage, speaking softly to the dog. It takes Vanessa back to when they first adopted Henry and Apollo, and Brooke had been afraid she would get in trouble for touching them. It seems like a lifetime ago, but also just days ago, her life with Brooke so beautiful and warm and safe that sometimes Vanessa doesn’t even know how much time has passed.
“Hey there,” Brooke whispers. “You can come out, I won’t hurt you.”
The dog creeps slowly to the front of the cage, tentatively licking Brooke’s hand and allowing Brooke to pet her. “Good girl,” Brooke says. Vanessa smiles as Brooke strokes the fur. Animals, especially ones that had been hurt, always trusted Brooke. It was almost like they knew she had been hurt too, and would never, ever harm them.
“We’ll take her,” Vanessa declares.
—
Vanjie steals Silky’s police scanner and catches Frost in an alleyway. Her neon green boots don’t even have heels and she still towers over Vanjie, which pisses her off right away.
“So, you must be the famous Frost,” Vanjie barks, delighting as the ice bitch startles. Not so tough, is she, scared of a little noise?
“Who are you?” Frost asks.
“I’m Vanjie, and don’t you forget it, Frosty.”
She revs up a fireball, small to keep control, and throws it at Frost’s face, flames dying out when they meet her ice blast.
“Come get me, you stupid snowball!”
Vanjie runs at Frost before she can move, sinking a punch deep into her rib cage that will definitely bruise, if not crack something. She follows it with another punch, adrenaline running through her, and it’s probably wrong that she’s getting such a rush beating another person, but it’s the first time she’s felt anything in months, and even if it’s probably not good, it’s better than feeling absolutely nothing, like an empty shell of a person.
Frost is light on her feet and counters with a punch of her own, and Vanjie admits she’s good. She sees now how Frost has beaten so many heroes. Frost knows how to move those stupidly long limbs, her movements focused and controlled. It’s an even fight, and Vanjie loses herself in it, beyond the stupid jokes she uses to make it all bearable, giving herself over to the anger and satisfaction of every kick and hit. She’s locked in the fight for what feels like hours, Frost keeping up with her, when she hears police sirens. She runs, leaving a column of fire behind her to delay Frost, and is down the street before anyone can see her. Frost doesn’t give chase, and Vanjie’s not sure if she’s disappointed or not.
The scanner is silent, and she decides to pack it in. She passes by an animal shelter, which proudly advertises that all their animals have been adopted. Vanjie had a dog once. Except she wasn’t Vanjie then. She was just Vanessa, with no idea of what was coming. The woman she is now has no idea how to be the girl she was then. The woman she is now has no idea how to be, period. How to live in a world where terrible things happen and she is just left to pick up the pieces.
She wipes away her tears and heads back home. If the shelter wasn’t empty, she thinks she would have taken a dog for herself.
But it’s probably better that she didn’t. It’s hard enough keeping herself alive these days.
—
Brooke and Vanessa send Lily with A’keria and Silky for the day while they wrap Lily’s presents.
“We’re putting all this shit in bags next year,” Vanessa says and Brooke snorts.
Sticky tape remnants cover Brooke’s fingers, Vanessa with two paper cuts on hers from wrapping paper mishaps.
Brooke looks at the bright green wrapping paper patterned with snowmen and elves, and all she can think is that all the best gifts she’s gotten in her life wouldn’t fit in a box (well, Vanessa probably could).
Lily herself had been an early Christmas present three years ago. Brooke can hardly believe she’s three already, that they’ve been through three years of diaper-changing and nighttime-soothing and Sesame Street-watching.
When they had decided to have a kid, IVF had been the first plan. After endless testing, Vanessa wordlessly holding Brooke’s hand through all the needles, and even more waiting, they learned that because of all the changes that occurred in their bodies when they got their powers, neither of them would be able to carry without severe risks for themselves and the child, and their dream of a baby with Brooke’s green eyes or Vanessa’s brown waves was shattered.
That had been a horrible week in their house. They each blamed themselves and started every morning with bloodshot eyes they didn’t mention. Brooke retreated into herself, avoiding the world and apologizing over and over while Vanessa exploded out into the world, screaming at every tiny inconvenience, until A’keria coaxed them into a joint session with Nina. They both cried and were reassured that it was no one’s fault, that they weren’t undeserving of a child in any way, and when the heaviness weighing them down lifted away, they embraced for the first time since hearing the news and it was like coming home.
They started the adoption process the day after their session, their names down at the agency from January. The wait was endless, and the longer it dragged on, the more it seemed that people were mocking them with handfuls of kids in everything from winter coats to rain boots to bathing suits as the seasons changed and they still remained childless. It felt like they would never have a child at all, when the first day of December they got a call that a two-day-old baby’s adoption had fallen through and she could be theirs if they were ready.
They had already painted the extra bedroom in the house in soft greens and yellows, but it remained empty, cheery paint laughing at them and floors collecting dust, because neither of them could bear to fill it with a crib and stuffed animals, fill it with the hope and promise of a child’s laughter, only to have to take everything down if the agency never called.
When the call came, they brought in the reinforcements (bribing Silky with pizza) and bought everything for the nursery and got it set up in hours, Brooke and Vanessa taking the drive to meet their baby right after.
It was a two-hour drive to the hospital upstate, the road stretching forever as Brooke fought between excitement and fear. Eleven months of waiting, of discussing names and talking longingly about taking their kid sledding and to the beach and having a tiny human in their house, and somehow Brooke needed more time, legs shaking with fear that maybe this was all a joke, or that the agency would change their minds and say that Brooke and Vanessa weren’t fit to be parents, and it was only when Vanessa pulled over that Brooke saw she was crying too.
They clutched hands, their intertwined fingers sharing the message of love and support, that they would both be there for each other whatever happened. Vanessa got back on the road, and they walked into the hospital holding hands, bringing their baby home and ready to give her the love that burst out of them the second they saw her.
“How the hell do I wrap a soccer ball?” Vanessa asks with a laugh. Brooke joins in, pulled out of her memories.
“Put it in a bag?” Brooke suggests.
Vanessa sighs and grabs a Frozen gift bag, shoving the ball inside. “Okay, no round presents next year either! What the hell were we thinking?”
“I think I’m gonna need a shower to get all this tape off me,” Brooke says, peeling one last piece off.
“I might need one too,” Vanessa says. She pauses, a mischievous sparkle popping into her eyes. “You know, Lily’s still with Silky and A’keria till dinner…”
Brooke scoops Vanessa off the floor, carrying her bridal-style to the bathroom.
—
The days get closer and closer to Christmas and Lily is exploding with excitement, listing all the cookies she’ll leave for Santa and all the cards she wants to make for her aunts and all the things she’ll make if she gets her toy kitchen. Her little legs kick under the covers and it takes four bedtime stories to lull her into sleep. Vanessa took story duty tonight, and Brooke finishing putting dishes away when Vanessa comes in, shuffling over to Brooke with a groan.
“Bedtime story go well, then?” Brooke teases, massaging Vanessa’s shoulders.
“What I want to know,” Vanessa says in the serious tone of someone contemplating the mysteries of the universe, “is why this Mr. Fox dude is wearing socks. He’s a fox. He doesn’t need ‘em.”
“I don’t think I know the answer to that, baby,” Brooke says, turning Vanessa around to face her.
Vanessa slips a hand under her shirt, fingers running up to her heart–
“Mama, will you read me another story?” Lily asks, appearing in the kitchen out of thin air. “What’s on your tummy, Mommy?” Lily asks curiously, pointing to the scar above her waistline where the doctor shot her.
Brooke stiffens. Vanessa’s hand flies out from beneath the shirt and moves to Brooke’s back, fingers brushing near her shoulder. Brooke knows Vanessa will say something if she can’t, but she wants to try. “Oh, that–that’s nothing, honey. Mommy just got hurt there before.”
“Hurt?” Lily’s eyes widen. She runs to the bathroom and comes back with a box of Star Wars Band-Aids, stretching up to Brooke’s waist and lifting her shirt to stick one over the old scar. “There,” she says proudly.
“Thank you, sweetie. It feels better already,” Brooke says truthfully, blinking away tears as she hugs her daughter.
“Come on honey, I’ll read you another story,” Vanessa offers, taking Lily’s hand.
“Fox in Socks?” Lily asks hopefully.
Vanessa nods, throwing a grimace over her shoulder at Brooke on the way out. Brooke lingers in the doorway, smiling along as Vanessa reads in her rough voice, watching her kiss Lily’s forehead after she falls asleep. Brooke remembers when the emptiness inside her almost consumed her, but now it is love powerful enough to do the same.
—
“Do you think we’ll ever have to tell her? How do we even say something like that?” Vanessa asks in bed that night, her mind spinning with worries. Lily has already noticed one of Brooke’s scars; how long until she wants to know how Brooke really got them? How long until they couldn’t explain away why Mama’s hand is burning hot and Mommy’s is freezing cold?
Brooke turns to her, understanding, as always, the words unsaid. Will they have to tell their daughter they have superpowers? That they both went through hell? That they used to fight criminals for a living?
“You remember when we first brought her home, and I was afraid to hold her?” Brooke asks.
“Of course,” Vanessa replies, unsure where this is going.
“You remember what you told me?”
Vanessa can’t forget the day they brought Lily home, watching her big blue eyes blink and her tiny fingers flex, their hearts full of all the laughs and challenges and beautiful firsts that were about to come.
Brooke had set the baby carrier on the table and froze, voicing her worries that she would hurt Lily, or make her sick because her hands were so cold. Her worries made every one of Vanessa’s rise up after she fought all day to push them down. What if they did something wrong and caused her pain? What if she was crying and they couldn’t give her what she needed?
And then the answer had come to her. They would do it like they had done everything, from gunshots to lab blowups to death visions.
“I said we would hold her together,” Vanessa answers now, stepping out of the memory and into the present.
Brooke just smiles at her.
“Oh,” Vanessa says. “Oh, shit, Brooke. That was smooth.”
Brooke snickers and pulls her into an embrace. Vanessa nestles her head against Brooke’s chest, safe and secure in the thought that no matter what happens, they’ll always do it together.
—
Frost completes her last mission, stealing a drug formula that the lab says is dangerous for anyone but them, and is on her way back to her motorcycle when something pink catches her eye.
It’s a window display, pastel pink string lights framing the scene, like a picture she wants to climb into and live in. In the center of the display, raised on a pristine white pedestal, sits a pink music box, a small ballerina inside. For some reason she thinks she’s seen it before, that she even held it in her hands.
Frost stares at it, imagining the ballerina spinning, imagining herself spinning, light as air as she leaps–she rubs furiously at her eyes. She’s not in the air, a silk costume soft on her skin. She’s on solid sidewalk, and she’s being bad. Frost has never seen this box before; it’s probably just her medicine making her think that. They had given her an extra dose today, and she had been good and didn’t even squirm when she saw the needle, and the doctor said she might be a little confused.
She has to go back to the lab and give them her report, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the box. She wants it so badly but she can’t understand why. She doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anything like this, and why a music box?
I could break the glass and have it right now, she thinks, heart racing. She readies an ice blast–no, she’s disobeying, and that’s bad. She’s already had bad thoughts of wanting to stay with Vanjie to clear her head some more, and she can’t be late too; late means punishment. She races back to the lab and gives them her report before dragging herself up into her apartment.
Her body is heavy, being pulled down to the ground, her head pounding. The emptiness of the apartment stares at her, carving a hole into her chest that will never fill. She almost wishes she had a Christmas tree, just like the ones she saw in peoples’ windows, to bring some life to the empty space.
She should eat something, but all she wants is to sleep, to forget the buzzing in her head and the burning eyes of that fire woman. Vanjie. What a strange name.
She crawls into bed, her aching body asleep in minutes, tumbling into dreams of tiny hands holding a music box and a little girl sitting on a bike. The girl has blonde hair, and Frost is close, almost close enough to see her…but she never sees the girl’s face, and when she wakes up, she’s forgotten the dream entirely.
—
Vanessa rolls over, blinking awake, the clock flashing 1:53 on Christmas Eve morning. There’s another dim light behind her, and she turns around to see Brooke’s phone screen, blinding in the dark.
“Baby, why are you still up?” Vanessa asks.
Brooke doesn’t answer, just stares intently at her phone. Vanessa’s trying not to panic, forcing her breathing to slow. It’s not a flashback; she’s seen enough of them to know from Brooke’s eyes that she’s here, not trapped in time somewhere. But Brooke is always so alert and attentive, so why hasn’t she reacted?
“Brooke?” Vanessa asks again. “It’s almost 2, what are you doing?”
She lightly taps Brooke’s shoulder, hoping not to scare her but unsure what else to do. Her heart only resumes its pounding when tears run down Brooke’s face. “Brooke, what’s wrong? Please tell me so I can help you,” she begs, helplessness bubbling up into her voice. She glances at Brooke’s phone screen, sees the picture from yesterday afternoon, the three of them posing with the gingerbread house Lily made.
“I–I was looking at the pictures,” Brooke sniffles, “and I–what if she forgets us? What if what happened to me happens to her and she can’t remember, or what if she loses us and forgets?”
Vanessa’s heart shatters, the shards puncturing every part of her. Brooke is trembling now, and Vanessa pries the phone from her hands, trying to figure out how she’ll keep Brooke together when Brooke’s fear makes Vanessa herself want to fall apart.
“Shhh,” she whispers, pulling Brooke’s shaking body to her and holding on tight. “Brooke, we–it’s okay. It’s okay. The lab is gone. They won’t hurt anyone again. And we…we just love Lily, okay? We can’t protect her from everything, but we can try, and we love her. We love her, and whatever happens, she knows that we love her. That’s all we can do.” Vanessa’s crying now too, shuddering sobs that tear through her body, she and Brooke holding each other to keep themselves whole.
She wishes that nothing could ever harm Lily, but she knows that just isn’t possible. There’ll be things like scraped knees and broken hearts and other hurts, both big and small, that there’s just no protecting her from. She and Brooke know too well the kind of pain this world has to offer. But they also know the love available, the love enabling her to look at Brooke all these years later and still feel calm and safe, like everything is all right. The love present in a scene of them curled up on the couch, laughing at movies they’ve seen ten times, knowing they were safe in each other’s arms. The love that has helped them through all the good and bad times, brought them together with their daughter in an unbreakable bond.
Brooke pulls away, wiping her eyes. “You’re right. It’s just hard, you know? Knowing what we know and still wanting to believe things can always be good.”
“I know. But we love each other, and we love her, and we always will. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”
“I love you.” Brooke is calm again, both of them cried out. Brooke kisses her cheek, the touch soft and warm and familiar, the feeling of home on two cool lips.
“I love you too. Always,” Vanessa vows, pulling Brooke back to her.
Vanessa lets herself get washed away in Brooke’s steady breathing, both of them off to sleep in a few minutes, exhausted after all the tears, and wake up to a Christmas Eve shining bright with possibility.
—
Vanessa gets Lily set up on her chair by the counter, Lily wearing her green apron that doesn’t serve much purpose because she has cinnamon on her forehead and eggshells in her hair. Her tiny hands dip the bread in the egg mixture and Vanessa tells her she’s doing a wonderful job.
Brooke helps Lily flip the French toast in the pan, and the loving look in Brooke’s eyes makes Vanessa warm and renewed after the 2am sobbing session. Lily gets whipped cream all over her nose just like Brooke, and Vanessa knows they’ll always be okay.
The rest of the day passes by in layering lasagna and setting the table and giving Lily two baths (‘she sure can make a mess like you,’ Brooke teases) before finally getting her into the black leggings with tiny snowmen all over them and her Disney Christmas sweater.
Vanessa pulls on the soft red sweater Brooke had gotten her for Christmas last year, Brooke in the oversized blue sweater Vanessa had bought her, feet clad in green Nutcracker fuzzy socks. Vanessa had gotten her more pairs for Christmas this year–a gift for Vanessa as well, because without them, Brooke’s feet are blocks of ice when they brush against her in bed.
The four of them come rushing in all at once, Silky bearing that godforsaken Bingo set, dropping gift bags on the floor and flinging coats at Vanessa.
“Do I look like a human coat rack to you?” she barks, throwing them all on the bed.
“Lily, come say hi to your favorite aunt!” A’keria says, opening her arms.
“We’re all her aunts,” Yvie points out, which is true. Vanessa and Brooke had also appointed Silky and A’keria as godmothers, after realizing that neither of them knew a single man. A’keria had even thrown together a baby shower after they brought Lily home, insisting that no godchild of hers would be going without one.
“Yeah, but I’m the favorite,” A’keria argues, lifting Lily up.
Vanessa lets the night go by, and she thinks of how they’ve all grown, not just her and Brooke but everyone. A’keria is one of the top hair stylists in the city, Scarlet started her new day job as a preschool teacher, and Yvie is assistant director to Silky at the base, and Vanessa just looks around and loves. She watches Scarlet fix Lily’s bow for her and Yvie help butter her bread, watches A’keria and Silky nudge each other and smile without words, and Vanessa finally believes all those words Nina has told her: she deserves to be here, alive, loving her family.
—
“Ugh, could you even imagine moving this toy kitchen set without super-strength?” Brooke asks, the 1am moon glowing through the windows as they arrange Lily’s presents under the tree.
“I just hope Rosie doesn’t make any noise tonight. She a loud little thing,” Vanessa says. They had kept Rosie at A’keria’s for the week, setting the dog up in their bedroom tonight to surprise Lily tomorrow.
“Just like her mama.” Brooke smiles. Vanessa swats at her as she sets down the last of the boxes before they move on to the milk and cookies Lily had painstakingly set out on the coffee table.
“Why did we let her leave out so many cookies?” Brooke groans, taking a large bite of one.
“Tell me about it,” Vanessa mutters. “Next year, I’m telling her Santa wants potato chips.”
They check on Lily one last time. Her arms are wrapped securely around her stuffed elephant, her face calm and peaceful and a reminder of all that Brooke has been given, all she’s grateful for, every dream she never knew she had come true. Vanessa takes her hand, another dream, and they have a few blissful hours of sleep before Lily comes running in at the crack of dawn, somehow hitting Brooke’s hip with one foot and Vanessa’s arm with the other simultaneously.
She and Vanessa trade smiles as Lily pulls them into the living room, shouting and clapping and shredding wrapper paper as the sun rises.
Lily opens the ballerina music box Brooke picked out, and Brooke has to blink away tears when she thinks of the blonde little girl she once was, assuming Vanessa feels the same when Lily squeezes Rosie into a hug.
Brooke knows it’s okay for her to be sad about what she lost and still be happy with what she has. Sometimes you feel a lot of different things at once, Nina had said in one of their first sessions, when Brooke was struggling to process her feelings, and it seems so simple now, but had been so hard to grasp then. She can still be grateful for her present and future while acknowledging the horrors of the past, and she watches Lily smile and sees her big blue eyes shine and Brooke fills with love and hope, holding Vanessa to share it with her.
The others show up at 9 for breakfast, still in their pajamas, sitting on the rug as Lily shows them all her presents, she and Vanessa sitting back on the couch and taking it all in.
“It says turn it clockwise, girl! Clockwise! Ain’t you ever seen a clock?” Silky yells as she and A’keria work on assembling Lily’s toy kitchen set.
“Yvie, if you hit me with that soccer ball one more time–” the rest of Scarlet’s words are cut off as A’keria tells Silky to do the kitchen her dang self, gulping a cup of chocolate milk like it’s hard liquor.
Vanessa nestles closer to Brooke on the couch, resting her head on her chest. Brooke breathes in Vanessa’s coconut shampoo, breathes in the family around her, all the shouts and laughs and love, and thinks that the world has never seemed as bright, the colors as dazzling, as they do on this morning.
She thinks of how fearfully loud and harsh everything was when the drug cloud eased off her, before Nina and proper medication helped her be healthy. Brooke used to think she deserved to suffer, deserved to have loud noises scare her and flashbacks haunt her because of what she had done. She knows that’s wrong now. A bad thing happened to her, a bad thing she didn’t deserve to have happen, and it wasn’t her fault. And she doesn’t deserve to suffer. She deserves the love around her, and she’s going to soak it up as much as she can.
Brooke tilts her head down, looking into the eyes of the woman that started as her enemy years ago and became the person she loves more than anyone, the person that quiets all her fears, the person that makes everything okay.
“This is the best Christmas ever!” Lily exclaims.
Brooke drops her lips down to Vanessa’s, fire and ice meeting in passionate agreement.
#rpdr fanfiction#brooke lynn hytes#vanessa vanjie mateo#akeria davenport#silky nutmeg ganache#scarlet envy#yvie oddly#branjie#lesbian au#superhero au#angst#fluff#mild implied smut#hurt/comfort#have yourself a super merry christmas#s11#athena2#tw ptsd#concrit welcome#submission
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[Ficlet] 4. Ornament | Schneekugel
Short fluffy gercan moment, because apparently this month and a bit of fic are going to be 90% tooth-rotting sweetness.
The snowglobe comes in a box wrapped with silver paper decorated with tiny snowflakes and glitter-lined maple leaves, tied with a bow. Prussia loudly - and insincerely, if the slant of his grin is anything to judge by - expresses his disappointment that last year’s wrapping paper featuring cartoon beavers wearing santa hats and going about stereotypical wintery actions such as building a snowman, ice-fishing, and standing shivering in a line outside a carefully non-branded chain coffee-shop, has apparently fallen out of favour, but gets distracted when Canada’s polar bear carefully pulls out one of the laces in his boots and wanders away with it between his teeth.
Germany can still hear his brother attempting to haggle with the bear (ineffectually. Kumajirou sells his morals at a high price threshold that he refuses to disclose until an offer - for food - has surpassed it by at least five minutes) as he pulls the snowglobe out of its box, the cool weight of glass heavy in his palm.
“I didn’t know what to get you,” says Canada somewhat nervously - as he had said last year, right before Prussia replied ‘cleaning products or a nude photoshoot, your call’ and Germany had had to threaten him with an alcohol-free Christmas before his brother would recant and just disappear from the scene before both Germany and Canada burst into embarrassed flames. “So, um, I thought something personal…?”
The glass sphere of the snowglobe is approximately the size of a cantaloupe in Germany’s hands, with a weighted dark green base. Inside the glass, a storm of glittering snow swirls through water with Germany’s movements, the flurry dancing prettily around a small scene made of painted models in the centre: two very stereotypically snow-covered pine trees at the back, something that looks like a very small chewed-up tennis ball at the front, and, between, the happy, panting figures of three dogs - a daschund, a hovawart, and a german shepherd.
Three very familiar dogs, with the same dopey expressions on their little model faces as they wear in real-life after Germany has looked away from his paperwork and given them the belly-rubs they’d been begging him for.
Germany’s dogs: Aster, Berlitz, and Blackie.
“Holy shit, Lud.” Prussia has looked up from his negotiations - currently at three large bratwurst, two bockwurst, and a tub of polar bear-friendly ‘chocolate’ and caramel ice-cream - to gawk over in Germany and Canada’s direction, Canada gone pink and hands already flailing in mild panic. “Are you crying?”
#Shacha fic#gercan#Ludwig Beilschmidt#Matthew Williams#gilbert beilschmidt#kumajirou#hetalia#Kumajirou occasionally makes a great wingman. Bear. Winganimal.#I had to double-check how big cantaloupes were for this and apparently N.American cantaloupes are different to European ones?#Hopefully they’re still the same size…
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wildblueegg replied to your text post: MAS QUEM DIABOS EH CAETANO VELOSO
Indeed, well said :D
apprenticenanoswarm replied to your text post: I guess I like Lisa/Sam, not so much because I'm sold on Lisa being with Sam (outside of Rogues Rebellion I find him pretty bland) but because I like Lisa having a loving relationship with someone who treats her right. Also I like healthy romance between supervillains and that's usually in short supply in the DC verse. Plus the male Rogues have tended to be sort of Gross when it comes to women, and I don't want Lisa to have to put up with that kind of crap from Sam.
My objection to Lisa/Sam is that it essentially rehashes the Lisa/Roscoe relationship with a thin coat of paint, and if that's the case then why erase Lisa/Roscoe? Why create Lisa/Sam in the first place? DC should have either done the Lisa/Sam relationship very differently, or not erased Lisa/Roscoe. I don't have any moral objection to the L/S relationship and people should feel free to ship whatever they want, including this one. But I do feel slapped in the face by Lisa/Sam for the above reason, and that's why it irritates me so much.
fyeahgoldenvibe replied to your text post: Not just that the one moment we get of Lisa outside of being a Rogue, is immediately taken over by Barry turning to focus on Len. I'm three seconds from posting it on twitter and calling out the writer because its bs.
It seems likely that Len's now back to being considered the leader and the main Rogue, and is thus getting the focus just as Johns gave him...it's a worthwhile issue to bring up with Joshua Williamson, as I’ve never liked the way some writers focus on Len at the expense of the other Rogues.
dulcelino said: @gorogues @ladyrixx Thanks for appreciate my work! One more information about the song: in the original verse of the painel 3 Caetano sings “Me deixa viver (Let me live)”, I changed because is ~reverse~ =P
That makes sense! Thanks for the details :)
secondratevillain replied to your photo post: The Piper one is GOLD
Thank you :) I kind of love that the OP is actually a Flash fan too!
belphegor1982 replied to your photo post: *snorts* oh gosh, they're PERFECT.
Thank you so much :D
tricksterrune replied to your photo post: Those are great!
Thank you! :D
apprenticenanoswarm replied to your photo post: hang on what's in that snowglobe? the pink thing?
It's a polar bear snowglobe. We've seen a similar snowglobe in the Citizen Cold miniseries -- also drawn by Scott Kolins -- but I don't know if it's supposed to be identical (it doesn’t have the interior lettering that the one in the Blackest Night panel has) or if it appears in any more stories. I went poking through a few other Kolins-drawn issues and didn't see it in any others, but didn't do a complete search. Here's the one in Citizen Cold, and the note from his grandpa is a nice touch. You may recall that his grandfather worked at a place called Polar Ice, which had a polar bear logo, so maybe this is a souvenir from the company.
And now that I look at it, the interior lettering inside the other globe says POL CE, with some of the letters not visible. I think it has to be a company souvenir and a gift from his grandfather....it makes sense that Len would treasure that. A nice little subtle touch from Kolins.
lupintyde replied to your photo post: The first time I was glad Piper wasn't around for a fight o_o
Yeah, that fight was ugly. If he’d been there we could have seen him interact with James though, and I was annoyed that we never got that.
lupintyde replied to your photo post: omg the Top one xD
He...has made a lot of mistakes in life :>
lupintyde replied to your photo post: I never thought I'd say that Mirror Master is my spirit animal, but there we go.
He's just so desperate to drink that coffee!
#wildblueegg#apprenticenanoswarm#fyeahgoldenvibe#dulcelino#secondratevillain#belphegor1982#tricksterrune#lupintyde#Captain Cold#words#long post#tw blood
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