#i hope you had an incredible christmas eve and today a wonderful and magical Christmas day! 💖

[tatakaeeren]

Chaotic Fun loving Duo: Power and Denji 😝

↳ AniManga Secret Santa 2022: Merry Christmas Alex! @akikaji , I'm your secret santa! @animangasecretsanta (/≧▽≦)/

[whumpshaped]

im asking more hungary questions today... do u celebrate mikulás day and if not what DO you celebrate? or is it just christmas the way we know it in america?

sorry if this weird, from what i've seen the celebration days seem to vary a lot so im curious!

-@rule-masochism

I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS.

SO mikulás is the hungarian word santa claus for anyone whos wondering. mikulás/santa day in hungary is on december 6th, and it's complerely separate from christmas. kids put their boots out in the window and receive treats and gifts in it! (yes i always put both boots out bc... choccy... i needed as much as possible...)

and u know how bad kids get coal in america or whatever? bad kids in hungary get smth called virgács. its this thing. it gets translated by google as like "rod" or "birch" its basically meant as like "u should be fucken beaten w this thing for being bad". from what ive always seen, most santa day packages have virgács in them lol but like, along w the treats. ive never seen a kid actually just receive that as like a punishment ajdjdk just as im sure not many ppl just receive coal for christmas

now christmas is totally different thats obviously on the 25th (in our household, the 24th, but we're the exception since thats normally just christmas eve) but... if santa came on the 6th then who brings the gifts, u might ask. BABY JESUS. ITS BABY JESUS! baby jesus brings the gifts...

as for some other customs, we dont do stockings as far as i know. santa and the reindeer are a popular motif and stuff but it doesnt quite make sense for christmas? it makes more sense for santa day on the 6th... idk as a kid growing up w hungarian traditions but A Lot of american influence, i kind of associate the reindeer and the sleigh with both holidays, but i also remember mixing them up and thinking baby jesus was going around in a sleigh- idk. weird times. kid brains do Things.

basically we have two separate holidays in december and on the 6th we get some chocolate and maybe some smaller gifts and then the actual big gift stuff comes on christmas. also leading up to christmas we do advent calendars which are also a thing in america i think. i always had so much chocolate in december bc i got TWO advent calendars with chocolate for every day from my parents and grandparents and then me and my brother also had an additional advent calendar that was a cloth thing that we hung up in our rooms with pockets for each day and every day some kinda treat would Magically Appear in it. so much chocolate.

also i have to tell this story- my mom unearthed some incredibly old letter i wrote as a kid to jesus (with my christmas wishlist). and listen... i had no idea where the man lived so i put down the address as heaven street 777... no further comment on the matter

oh also part of advent preparations is the advent wreath! we light a candle every sunday leading up to christmas. the one with the 3 purple and 1 pink candle is the traditional, the pink candle is lit on the third sunday. the colour purple represents fasting, repentance, and reflection. the pink candle is for joy and the virgin mary. separately, the candles in order symbolise faith, hope, joy, and love.

also if ur in church during the holidays (and ur catholic) then u know the priest also wears purple during the advent time (the other time he wears purple is easter and when ur one-on-one confessing). and he wears pink on the third sunday. thats just smth i mention bc i think its neat, i havent been to church in a decade lmao

thats all i can think of!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #397

“you’re my religion, you’re my reason to live  /  you are the heaven in my hell”

Do you think that you’ll always love who you love now? Even if we're never together again romantically, I will ALWAYS love her at least as a best friend. Have you ever made out with a random person? Yeah, no. If you could do your first kiss over, would you? No. I'm lucky that my first kiss was honestly cute as hell. Do you like your country’s president or prime minister? Well I voted for him, so I obviously can't hate him. He seems to be doing fine so far, though take that with a grain of salt seeing as I don't keep up with politics. Even before voting for him, I just did a small bit of researching on his values. What color is your house? Yellow with white accents. Do you listen to Christmas music during the holiday season? No, I don't enjoy it. Man, Jason's mom sure did, though... I loved how in the spirit she'd get and always played Christmas music in the car during that time of year. I miss that woman and I sure as hell hope she rests easy now. Do you like ginger ale? Solely if I have a stomach bug, and I can only ever sip it. What are you listening to? "Electric Sugar Pop" by Jeffree Star. What’s the last thing you watched on TV? The TMS office has the TV on, and the woman who overlooks it (I have zero idea what her position is called) tends to have it either on a cooking channel or a home improvement one. Today was a cooking one. Is your favorite author the author of your favorite book? I don't have a favorite author. Describe someone you find really attractive: M-Mark Fischbach. *___* If you HAD to look like someone else, but could choose who, who would you choose? Hm... maybe my friend Alon. I've mentioned I feel like a million times that she is like, ethereal with how gorgeous she is. Have you ever seen someone get a tattoo done? If so, what was it? Did they cry or were they in a lot of pain? Yeah; it was a watercolor feather with "ohana" written below it. She didn't cry at all, but she grit her teeth a few times. Do you have anything you couldn’t go a day without? Some form of technology. Have you ever gotten caught doing something illegal? No. What’s your favorite flavor of Vitamin Water? I don't even think I've ever tried it. Is there someone you wanna date right now? Yeah. What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? If we're talking the very first, our vast similar interests. How many brothers does your father have? None. Does your best friend have any tattoos? No. Do you like Ben + Jerry’s? Yep. Man, I want their Phish Food ice cream now. Would you ever wish to be the opposite sex? Nah. Do you think you’re attractive? Nope. What is your favorite card game to play? Magic: The Gathering. I really miss my PS3 where I had Duel of the Planeswalkers installed on it, it was really fun. Do you own a globe? I don't think we still do. What is your favorite wild cat? Perhaps clouded leopards. If your bedroom had three portals to anywhere, where would they lead? South Africa, Sara's place, and maybe a nice little cabin in the mountains for when I'm feeling a peaceful getaway. You can ask any author one question about their story. What do you ask? I have zero idea. What’s a place you have a strong emotional connection to? The pond behind the local community college. Jason and I took our first prom pictures there. Do you take yoga classes? No, but I'm actually considering it since they offer those at the YMCA Mom and I now go to. What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? To let Jason go. It's pretty great, my PTSD has been less of a bother lately! Have you ever made any money from a side-hustle? Could you consider being paid to take pictures once in a blue moon a "side hustle" when I don't even have a main job? Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Ugh... it's incredibly painful to wonder how life would be if Jason never left. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Adele's or Amy Lee's, probs. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, hard rock, alternative. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? No. Have you ever been homeless? If so, what led to your homelessness? Technically, yes, because Mom couldn't afford the rent. She, my little sister (who still lived with us at the time), and I each were accepted into the homes of willing, kind people, though. Have you ever been on a ship? No. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? Heath Ledger's Joker is quoted all the time, so probably him. What do you think of the "Healthy At Every Size" movement/philosophy? Before I answer this, I want you to keep in mind that this is coming from someone who is obese, so I would positively love to agree with that for my own self-confidence, but I don't. I believe it's a very dangerous mentality. I think you should cherish your body unconditionally, like it's an amazing machine, but I firmly believe you should have an active interest in becoming what is physically healthy. You couldn't pay me millions to convince me that, say, a 300 lb. person is healthy. What was the name of the first person you ever had a crush on? Why did you like them? I think my first *real* crush was this guy Sebastian my freshman year of high school. I thought he was very sweet, funny, caring, and attractiveness was a bonus. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Sashimi, caviar, raw eggs... Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Bindi Irwin, for one. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Have you ever been bitten so hard that there teeth marks were there after? I mean I've had hickeys before if that's what you're asking. Ever gave one? Oh, I guess you were. Yeah. Do you think its weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? Not at all. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? IF I wanted kids, I'd rather have one myself because I'm well aware I personally need that special connection. Stepkids count, too, because they'd be my partner's and therefore very important for me too. What is the most personal question you have ever been asked? Probably TMI, so here's your fair warning, but I've been asked before if I "touch" myself and I was absolutely repulsed that someone would ask me that. Were you abused by your parents? No. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. Were you one of the smartest in your class? Up to finishing high school, modestly, I was. Where did you meet your first crush? Art class my freshman year of high school. Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah, idc. Who is your favorite little girl? My niece Aubree. She's such a wonderful girl. Does your best friend have kids? No. If you were pregnant, would you want a boy or a girl? Hypothetically, a girl. What place outside of your own home do you spend the most time at? Um, maybe my older sister's house? Have you ever participated in a medical study? No. Do you have any family members who are cancer survivors? Yes, including my mother. Twice. Are you allergic to any medications? None that I've tried. Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license? I don't even have that. If you’re atheist, would you raise you kids believing in God or not? No; I wouldn't intervene with their own spiritual (or lack thereof) journey. They'd learn what they'd learn and decide themselves what they believe. Do you like reading self-help books? No, I just can't get invested in those. What is your opinion on sex change? If you're unhappy with your body, you're more than free to surgically change that with no judgment from me. Do you have any goals for this summer? If so, what are they? Yes, to lose weight. Can you get a strike at bowling? I have before. There was one occasion where my first go was a strike RIGHT after saying I sucked at bowling, hahaha. Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Well, I photograph roadkill, and that's one hell of a sad moment. I actually wouldn't mind broadening my horizons of photographing negative moments (with permission of course), because I actually find these very impactful and even builds empathy. I will never, ever forget this one picture I saw sometime of an emaciated boy huddled in the dirt with a vulture close by watching him... like fuck, it made me want to sob. No one should ever have to live like that, especially a child. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No. I know that sounds contradictory to what I just said, I just wouldn't be able to do it myself. Have you ever held a newborn baby? Once, when my last niece was born. I'm terrified of holding them because they're just so fragile. Do you know anyone who has twins? My friend just had triplets. What is your favorite country in Europe? Germany. Are you thriving in your life right now? BOY HOWDY- Do you remember to water plants? I don't keep plants. Name three YouTubers you aspire to be like. 1.) Markiplier in a vast plethora of ways; 2.) Jeffree Star for his incredible work ethic; and 3.) Shane Dawson for his incredible compassion. Yes. I know the controversy, but regardless, he cares a lot about people. Who is your favorite character from Harry Potter? I wouldn't know, given I haven't read the books or seen the movies. Do you watch PewDiePie? Not anymore; his content doesn't interest me anymore. I watched him religiously back in the day when he was a serious let's player, though. Do you have a Steam account? Yes. Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? No, not personally. I like watching LPs of it and I find the story fascinating, but it's not the kind of game I'd enjoy playing. Have you ever tried Akinator? Yes. I don't think I ever beat it, except maybe once. Are you wearing socks right now? No; unless I'm wearing closed-toe shoes like sneakers, I never do. I hate the feeling of them. Can you twerk? Haven't tried, don't wanna. Do you like dabbing? No, it looks stupid. Do you like fishing? I honestly do think it's fun with all the anticipation and thrill of seeing how big the fish is, however I don't support it anymore unless, like hunting, you genuinely need it for food. The only case where I'd go again was if my dad asked me, because that's always been our bonding experience. Do you have a Spotify account? Yes. Have you heard of Blizzard Entertainment? Well, they're the company behind World of Warcraft, so obviously. Do you like bananas? Yes, but only for a VERY short window of time. I am beyond picky with the ripeness of bananas. Are you addicted to anything? Caffeine and technology. Do you know your phone number? I actually don't. Do you swear in front of children? No.

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Please Have Snow and Mistletoe- Chapter 4

Merry Christmas Eve my deers! I hope that Santa gives you everything that you want! Or just Happy Thursday!  We have a walk in the forest, Christmas Eve dinner, and a goodbye.  Hope you enjoy it~

Summary:  The anticipation, wonder, and magic that Christmas can bring. 

Chapter 4: A Christmas Poem 

**

To kick off their Christmas Eve the Naras would have an annual hike through the surrounding forested area.  Shikamaru prefaced it by saying that there would be a surprise by the end of it.  They were all dressed to the nines in their matching family sweater. 

There was a profound heaviness in Temari’s chest as she packed up her things.  Everything had been a whirlwind and she wished that for just a moment that it could all just slow down.  

Walking in the quiet forest made time stop for just a little.  

Yoshino linked her arm with Temari’s as they continued their peaceful walk in the snow.  Shikaku and Shikamaru were just ahead leading the way. 

“I know you’re leaving tonight but I just want you to know how thankful I am that you’re both here.”  Those now familiar brown eyes were glittering with joy.  

“Was it really that bad?”

Yoshino's eyes took on a contemplative quality.  

“Something changed, coming home for Shikamaru would be such a chore.  He’d show up just on Christmas then would be gone the next day.  Those celebrated traditions we had just tossed to the side.  Even when he was here he’d be on his phone constantly.  It was like he wasn’t even here. The fact that you could make him forget about all of that, even just for a little well Temari, you’re a gift.  I’m proud of my son, he’s intelligent, successful, and has accomplished more than I could have even imagined.  But more than anything I just want him to be happy and you’ve done that.”

It wasn’t fair. They thought her to be some kind of benevolent force but more than anything she was just an actress. 

“He’s made me really happy too. Your son is unlike anyone that I’ve ever met before.”  And that was the honest truth. Yoshino wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You know, I’ve always wanted a daughter.” 

Temari just smiled back the uneasiness in her chest growing. After today she’d never see them again and she began to wonder just what Shikamaru would say. What explanation would he give as to why they “broke up.”  

Would they miss her the same way that she knew that she was going to miss them? 

They finally made it out to a clearing and she watched enchanted as deer seem to appear from nowhere. Drawn to the two male Naras who had brought along food and pellets for the animals. 

“So is this the reason for all the deer printed stuff?”  She asked, amazed while a deer ate from Shikamaru’s hand.

“Yes, since we’ve owned this house and property a herd of deer made it their home too. Feeding them has always been one of my favorite childhood memories.  Give me your hand.”  He placed a handful of pellets into her palm.  Shikamaru stood close behind her supporting her outstretched arm. 

“Just be calm and quiet, they’re not shy but you’re new so it might take a minute to trust you.”  His voice was soft and warm against her ear as she waited with hopeful breath that a deer might come. 

A curious doe with light brown fur and white spots along her side came towards them. Temari bit back a grin at how her wet nose tickled her skin and enjoyed the unique experience. 

“You’re a natural.” 

The longer they were out there the more comfortable the herd became around her. She’d fed various ones and enjoyed just watching them play in the snow. 

“This is pretty magical Mr. Nara.”  Temari sighed, leaning her head against this shoulder as she watched a doe play with her fawn. 

He never imagined bringing someone here that wasn’t family. It was a little too precious and personal to just have anyone come along. He didn’t even think to question Temari’s presence there. 

“Ready to head back?”  

“Just a little more time?” She requested hopefully and it felt like she was asking for more than just time out there. 

“Okay.” 

—

Shikamaru had to remind himself to breathe seeing Temari make her way down the stairs. The dress framed her flawlessly and she was a vision in gold. He met her at the bottom of the staircase and carefully took her hand in his. The dress he’d chosen for her for dinner was perfect.  

“You look incredible Temari.”  There was so much more that he wanted to say but the words felt trapped in his throat. 

“Thank you, you’re quite handsome as well.” She complimented him and pushed his loose hair back.  He caught her hand to place a soft kiss against it.  

She wondered whether he knew just what he was doing to her heart. 

Once they’d returned from their walk in the snow she had more time to pack, organize her gifts, and get ready for Christmas Eve dinner. Shikamaru had surprised her with her attire for the evening. The dress was stunning and any self-consciousness she felt while wearing it disappeared when she saw the look in his eyes. 

“Let’s go.”  He offered his arm but before they could go forward Yoshino interjected. Both of them barely realized that she’d been standing there. 

“Wait, there’s mistletoe! You two have to kiss.” Yoshino demanded with a grin.  They looked up seeing that the ceiling had been covered with boughs of mistletoe. 

Shikamaru was about to protest when Temari’s hand reached up to turn his gaze towards her. 

“It’s okay.” She mouthed.  Taking a deep breath his arm wrapped around her waist pulling her in tight. She tilted her head up, her teal eyes were bright and hopeful. Soft pink lips parted. His eyes fell close as he caught her lips against his and he felt the room spin. Soft and sweet it made him want more. More of her kisses, more of her smiles, just more of her. 

He pulled back and took an unsteady breath. 

“Well, who's ready for dinner?”  They could hear the glee in Yoshino’s voice. 

Temari followed Shikamaru wordlessly into the formal dining room. The Yamanakas and Akimichis already there. 

She was thankful for a chance to sit down and have a glass of wine. A kiss had never made her feel like that. So untethered and free.  But it wasn’t real to him, right?   It was just to perpetuate the lie. To keep the secret going. She didn’t have any more time to spiral as Shikaku stood up to make a speech. 

“Every year I’m thankful that we could all be here together. That our families are as strong and united as ever. The Yamanakas, Akimichis, and Naras in one room always makes this old man smile. Now with the addition of our dear Temari, well it feels like we’re complete.  I’m grateful for all that we’ve been blessed with this year and I look forward to all that the future will bring. So a toast to us and this family.”

They all toasted agreeing with the sentiment. Life wasn’t always easy but they were together and had each other. It was enough. 

Temari tried to enjoy dinner but her eyes kept darting towards the clock. In just a few hours she’d be on her way back home on a flight taking her away from here. That kiss had been a foolish decision but how badly did she want it.  It only solidified what she already knew. 

She had fallen for Shikamaru and just her luck it was almost time for her to leave. She didn’t know when she stopped acting, she didn’t know if she had ever really started.  Everything between them just felt so natural.   What she did know was that her feelings for him and how being here felt were real. 

Temari felt his hand reach over to hold hers in his grasp. Rather than being comforting, it hurt.  A cruel reminder that this was all a doctored fantasy built on a lie.   Her perfect holiday would be shattered soon along with her heart. 

When dinner came to its end Temari shared a tearful goodbye with the Yamanakas and Akimichis. As she became part of the Nara clan she was just as easily integrated into their families. 

“No, no crying. We’ll be together soon okay.” Karui brushed her stray tears away. 

Ino pulled her into a tight hug.  “Yes, sooner rather than later. We’ll go visit you and Shikamaru too.”  

More hugs and goodbyes were shared until they finally had to go.  

Shikamaru held Temari tight as they waved goodbye. It felt heavier than their usual farewells. 

There was one more thing to do and then this would all be over. 

When they returned to their room Temari gleefully picked up the neatly folded clothes on the bed. 

“You can’t be that excited?”  Shikamaru laughed at how happy she was over the set of matching pajamas. 

She grinned fondly tracing over the deer print. After this morning she could understand. “Of course I am! Oh, they’re so soft too. I’m going to wear these on the plane.”  The statement sobered her up and she just took the set wordlessly and went to change. 

When she reappeared Shikamaru had already changed into his matching set.  Despite how handsome he looked tonight dressed in a formal suit she had to admit that she preferred him just like this. 

““That kiss Shikamaru-”  

“It’s okay Temari, I’m sorry my mother forced you into that.”

Her heart dropped.  Of course, that’s all he saw it as.  Just another performance.  “Oh, that’s okay.”  Pushing back her sadness and disappointment Temari took his hand in hers.  

“Let’s go, present time.”

Shikaku and Yoshino had been far too generous towards her and had given her an armful of gifts. The small gifts she’d given them felt like meager offerings but they were beyond grateful for their presents.  They stepped away just a little so that she could exchange her gifts with Shikamaru. He’d already given her another mountain of gifts to take home along with presents for her family. It was a good thing that she was flying on a private jet or her bag fees would be astronomical. She was grateful that she had something to give to him too. 

“Temari? When did you do all this?”  He was surprised as to when she had time to get his parents’ gifts and one for him as well.  

Her eyes sparkled with mischief.  “You’re not the only one with Christmas magic, and I asked the girls for help.  Here I hope you like it.” 

He opened the carefully wrapped box finding a well-crafted watch nestled in the box. It had a dark bezel and green details the Nara family symbol imprinted on the back.

“The watches where I’m from are pretty well known so I knew that this would be perfect for you.”  She explained waiting with bated breath that he liked it. 

“What’s the engraving?”  He asked as his fingers traced over the mix of letters and numbers. 

“It’s the number of the flight I should have been on.  The one that if it had flown then we would have never met.”  She replied softly remembering that fateful encounter. 

“Oh.” 

He just stared at her in disbelief. “Temari, I’m speechless. This is perfect.  Thank you.”

At least even after she was long gone and a distant memory he would have a small reminder of her. “You’re welcome.”

“I have one more thing for you too.” Nothing about him surprised her anymore.  

In the box was a carefully crafted necklace with a dainty deer pendant a single diamond embedded into it.  He took it from her hands before placing it around her neck.   His fingers lightly tracing over the chain. 

His voice dropped to a whisper.  “Just something to remind you that no matter what you’ll always be a Nara.” 

She threw herself into his arms, her eyes shut tight to keep her tears at bay. Maybe in another life, she could admit how she felt about him. And maybe he’d respond that he felt the same way. But for now, this would have to be enough. 

—

As much as Temari tried she couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. She needed to go home. Her bags were already in the car that would take her to the airport. She was thankful that Shikamaru wouldn’t be going with her. She didn’t know if she could handle such a private goodbye. 

“I was a little disappointed that there was no marriage proposal, but there’s always the New Year right?”  Yoshino admitted with a wink. 

“Please come back and see us soon okay?”  Temari held onto her tightly fighting back tears.  In disbelief that this would be the last time that she saw them.  Shikaku and Yoshino stepped away to give her and Shikamaru a little more privacy.  

Shikamaru stood in front of her, his shoulders tense and drawn in.  

“Thanks again Temari. This uhm, well it went better than I could have ever imagined.”  

Temari paused waiting for something more but he stood there silent.   

“You’re welcome Shikamaru. Take care of yourself, and them.” He nodded at a loss of what he should do. 

Temari placed a warm hand against his cheek before drawing him to a soft gentle kiss.  Her lips feather-light against his. 

“Goodbye Shikamaru.” 

She looked back as the car drove forward, taking her away from the Naras, Shikamaru, and the life they might have shared.  Alas, it just wasn’t meant to be.  

Her hand worried the deer pendant that hung from her neck while she fought back tears. 

Their deal was over, that’s all that it ever was.  There was a moment when it looked like he wanted to say something to maybe ask her to stay but instead, he let her go. Despite everything they’d shared his goodbye felt so hollow. And it was the answer she needed. 

Temari didn’t know when she agreed to help him that fateful day that giving away her heart would be part of the deal. 

*

**

Please Have Snow and Mistletoe

Chapter 1: Flight 4XMAS

Chapter 2: A Scene from a Snowglobe

Chapter 3: Sweeter than a Sugar Plum

Chapter 4: A Christmas Poem 

**

How could you let her go Shikamaru?!  Don’t leave anything unsaid! (so if you love me let me know haha) 

So Temari’s gift makes sense but my idea for Shikamaru’s watch came from two things.  The Seiko x Naruto collaboration that just released (the description basically matches the one that they made, picture is on my profile) and also it makes sense for Temari to give him one because it reminds me of the sand timer symbol that Suna shinobi wear! :D

Have a wonderful Christmas Eve or day doing whatever. I know that all these holidays and this week may be tough on people so I hope that you can find some cheer in it all. I wish you all love, light and joy.  One more chapter tomorrow and this baby will be all done.  Love you my dears!

[dansnaturepictures]

24/12/2020-Christmas Eve photos and sightings: Lakeside and home-10 different pictures in this photoset to those I tweeted 

I took the first two pictures in this photoset of a Collared Dove out the back and some more lovely flowers that have sprung up on the balcony lately adding a great bit of colour. It wasn’t quite to be bringing back something I did so much over the summer for one day only and have two walks at Lakeside today with an early Christmas Eve finish, I was in control of my destiny for that a little bit this year but had to balance it against leaving the work I was doing in a good place ready for my initial return next week (ahead of a week’s leave in January for some - tier 4 friendly of course - bird year list building and my birthday to open 2021 for me) so I didn’t finish before darkness fell. I did manage to bring something else I had gotten out of the habit of doing back though and bring both my big lens and macro lens on my lunch time walk with me rather forgetting about my macro the lens that dominated my early working from home daily exercise walks on its own due to not so many flower, insect and mushroom photo opportunities now. My big lens accompanies me on nearly every walk nowadays for convenience mostly as I can still take a landscape on it and then its there if birds or mammals are around to take photos of as my zoom lens for my DSLR. So this was nice. This was mostly down to it being so sunny so just in case I more likely in these conditions found something I wanted a close up with, in the end the macro provided that little bit more width compared to the big lens for landscape shots today. But as predicted in the glorious Christmas Eve sunshine, I used it as a chance to take so many pictures well over 30 again hence the need for exclusives in this photoset. 

Some of which include the third-ninth pictures in this photoset on the way to and at Lakeside this lunch time. I had had a sort of premonition that I would get a chance to photograph birds today, and specifically a young Great Crested Grebe and I did take a picture of one of these today as I tweeted, with alongside the Collared Dove shots of Tufted Duck, Carrion Crow and House Sparrow. I tweeted the ones not included in this photoset on my Twitter Dans_Pictures. I was pleased with these and the amount of bird photos creeping back into my sets the last couple of days after maybe not so many. The Great Crested Grebes I got exceptionally close to a rather sleepy trio of the younger birds which was another brilliant moment this year with them. The Tufted Duck a male looking nice and frequent right now too so this is always great to see. 

As I tweeted a picture of earlier coming back down the northern path today soaking up the sun once more I noticed a green ball thing in a tree. My Mum told me this is mistletoe I did wonder what it was, not something I have seen much of before. So I really learnt something there today I had heard of the plant obviously and how fitting that on Christmas Eve I spotted this quintessential part of Christmas. Another great plant to learn in my year of learning such things and had they not finished posting tonight I would have mentioned seeing and knowing this in my wildlife/photography highlights of 2020 posts.

On the way back along the northern path today I saw some birds flying in an interesting manner they were sort of hanging in the hair making a frantic movement. I wondered if it was a bat weirdly out in the day time, but when it flew into view more I realised it was a Kestrel chasing a small bird. Not something I had often seen before so a quite magical moment seeing a star of my Lakeside walks in 2020 do this. The small bird did appear to get away and the Kestrel disappeared into the barely leafed trees of Lakeside which featured in my photos a lot today. A really intimate wildlife moment and fantastic one which set me up for my afternoon well. I took the tenth picture in this photoset in this photoset of sky this afternoon among another which I tweeted taking another nice one of a waxing gibbous moon just now (into Christmas Day).

Wildlife Sightings Summary: One of my favourite birds the Great Crested Grebe, Tufted Duck, Mallard, Mute Swan, Coot, Moorhen, Black-headed Gull, Robins well, House Sparrow, Starling, Goldfinch, a nice couple of Blue Tits in the garden earlier with Pied Wagtail seen well there too and on the paths out the front, Woodpigeon, Collared Dove, Magpie, Jackdaw, Carrion Crow, Wren and Kestrel. 

As I said to end my highlights post earlier this evening I wish all of my friends on here a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and to your families too! Thanks for all your incredible support in 2020 and I hope you all stay safe and well this festive period. 

[allie1804-fan]

Please Assist Me (Chapter 20)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10 , Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 , Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19

She Said

The spectacle of an entirely speechless Keanu was one to behold when he unwrapped the test. I’d been bursting with the news since the morning before when I got the result so it had been an endurance test for me not to have anyone to share it with for over 24 hours. I knew there were long months ahead to get through but it was lovely to share the joy of this moment with him and go to sleep secure in his arms after almost a month apart.

My mind since finding out had been racing, projecting forwards to how far along I’d be by key dates like the summer holidays, Keanu finishing John Wick 4 filming, the Matrix 4 Premiere …… and I was worried about the immediate future too.  I hadn’t been especially sick with either of my previous pregnancies but I had been incredibly tired. With Eva, I was doing modelling contracts but not every day so, on days off, I remember just sleeping for ages. Obviously with Miguel, I had a toddler to care for so I couldn’t nap unless she did but I sure took advantage of that time whenever I could. I was also worried about the home schooling which was really full on. How was I going to soldier on through that? And by the time Keanu would be home again, I reckoned I’d already be nearly 20 weeks along. I suppose he would at least be there as the strain on my body got greater.

I also told myself not to get ahead of myself. It was such early days and whilst I’d not suffered a miscarriage myself, I had plenty of friends who had in these early stages. And the spectre of stillbirth was also there because of Keanu’s own experience. Until this baby was here, I was sure neither of us would rest easy.  I didn’t really want to share the news with the kids until the pregnancy was better established. I was pretty sure they’d be pleased but they might worry about the new baby somehow taking priority and if the worst happened, I didn’t want to have to explain about how not all babies make it to full term to an 9 and 7 year old. But I also knew friends who had kept their pregnancies secret, suffered a miscarriage and then felt they couldn’t share the pain of the loss afterwards so maybe openness was the best option with our close friends and family and maybe even the kids. I’d have to add this decision to my list of things to talk about with Keanu.

 He Said

When I woke up the next morning,  my first reaction was to pull the human hot water bottle in front of me into my chest, relishing being together again. And then I remembered. She wasn’t just my partner anymore but also the mother to be of my child.

A big smile spread over my face at this thought. Then worry creased my brow.

Sophia had said she reckoned she was around 8 weeks along - that left 32 roughly for anxiety and things to go wrong!

She’d managed to book a scan for before my return to New York so we’d hopefully get to see the baby, tiny dot that it would be, and get the dates confirmed.

She actually reckoned it was that amazing day in NY that we’d conceived. The dates were right and she remembered someone telling her years ago that your chances were better if the woman also climaxed when the man did as this had the effect of sucking up the sperm further with the contractions in the vagina. Who knows if there’s any truth in that but I certainly remembered the powerful sensation of being sucked into her very well!

32 weeks. Man that seemed like forever. And the dates were a little freaky too. If you calculated by her dates, then the baby was due on New Year’s Day 2021. Ava had been due in early January and was born sleeping on Christmas Eve 1999. Jen and I had conceived after being careless after a Matrix Premiere party. At least this time, there was nothing accidental about this baby and no nagging doubts about the relationship.

We’d have to tell Cheryl in case anything got leaked and then there were the kids and our families to consider. I was cautious but also remembered my therapist’s advice - the one I’d seen in my 40s after years of suppressing the processing of my trauma after Ava & Jen’s deaths. She had tried to get me to accept that worrying about things on your own was never healthy and that being hopeful that good things will come doesn’t jinx things and nor does preparing for bad things to happen stave them off magically. I rationalised that all we could do was take care, have regular check ups and try to enjoy the journey.

I know Sophia was probably more anxious than her first pregnancies, in part due to her age but also due to what had happened to me and Jen. I decided to suggest we hire some help with the home-schooling to ease the daily stresses of her life in the coming months.

And all these thoughts had gone through my mind before Sophia even woke up!

Eventually I felt her stir and she turned in my arms to give me a sleepy morning kiss

“Morning handsome”

“Morning beautiful mama”

She smiled

“Oh you’re not gonna be one of those men who reduces their partner to a mere vessel for their child are you?”

That made me chuckle.

“Naaah, but you’ll let me be a little bit excited right?”  I placed my hand on her belly  again.

“ Right” she said and leaned in to given me a gentle kiss which quickly deepened into something more heated. Then she pulled away and looked over at the clock.

“We don’t have time lover boy”

I groaned, but knew she was right, - it was already 5 to 7

“Hey get used to it! And Don’t worry we have tomorrow to ourselves”

I gave her a quick squeeze and just then Eva and Miguel burst into the room.

“Keanuuu” was their first cry and so the day began!

 She Said

On Keanu’s first day back, it was a school day so he got to witness  the transformation of my dining room into a mini classroom with each kid stationed in front of a laptop with headphones in on an off for a morning with exercises to do in-between. Luckily, although there were 5 kids, they were only spread across 2 year groups so 3 (9 year olds) had one set of exercises and 2 (the 7 year olds) had another. He helped out by listening in to the 7 year old’s lesson while I supported Eva’s year group with theirs. Miguel delighted in bragging that Duke Caboom was helping him with his addition, making Keanu give the teacher a little wave on the zoom screen.

After lunch together, Keanu sent me off for a nap and sat down to read them all  some chapters of the Roald Dhal story we had started and then and got them all playing quiet games like hangman and battleships for a while. When I came in,  they had just started watching “Up”. I tried to suggest an alternative but it was too late and they were all set on it. I mean, I love that movie but I had a feeling Keanu wouldn’t have seen it before and he wouldn’t be expecting one of the early moments. I was proved right when he made a rapid exit to the kitchen when that scene played out and I followed him to make sure he was alright.

He was leaning over the sink, trying to pull himself together and I slipped my arms around him, whispering.

“It will be OK darling, we’ll take all the care in the world to keep this baby safe and well, I promise! We just have to take it one day at a time”

He turned then and held me close and didn’t speak for a few more minutes, stifling a couple of sobs against my shoulder. When he’d got himself a bit more together, he  pulled back and looked at me, eyes a little red from crying.  He let about a shaky breath before speaking.

“Sorry - that just took me by surprise and, it was, it was like all my worries in the few hours since finding out were playing out on the screen and it was “ he shook his head. “It’s just a bit  overwhelming how much I want this baby with you and how horrifying the prospect of losing them is”

“I know sweetheart, me too, me too and I tried to get them to pick another movie but they were already set on it!”

“Yeah, I’d heard good things but I didn’t know the detail.”

“It’s wonderful, you should see it through for the pay off!”

 He Said

That evening as we were both slumped on the sofa, exhausted from the 5 kid day, I told Sophia my thought about getting her some support with the home-schooling. I thought she might be all “superwoman” about it but she admitted to finding it gruelling even today with my support and a little nap.

“I just can’t describe how energy sapping it is being pregnant. It’s not like I’m doing anything out of the ordinary but “

 “Hold it hold it, you’re growing a human being, don’t call it nothing out of the ordinary!”

“You know what I mean! And women have been doing this for thousands of years at the same time as tilling the land or working in a factory. Getting help does seem a bit ridiculous but at the same time, I so want it! What do you think the others will think?”

“What Julie and Miranda?”

“Yeah. I mean are they going to feel I’m cheating or something!”

“Not if you explain why ......”

“Yeah, about that. How do you feel about telling people?”

“Weeeell” I rubbed my chin thinking it over. “There are pros and cons right? I’m probably pro on balance because I think being open is probably better mental health wise. I don’t know about the kids. I mean it would be hard if you told them and ....

“And something went wrong ..... like in ‘Up’?”

“Yeah like in ‘Up’.” I squeezed her hand remembering earlier.

“I mean, actually maybe ‘Up’ is the answer. They’ve watched it before and I think we had a little chat about that scene the first time around so ....”

“Ok, so let’s go for it”

“Ok, Tomorrow if the scan is ok, deal?”

The next day, we drove together to the hospital but I dropped Sophia off first just so we wouldn’t be making an entrance together. We were also both masked up and I wore a beanie so hopefully we’d escaped any opportunist paps.

The wait was brief in the obgyn waiting area thankfully and we went in having a brief chat first to confirm when Sophia’s last period was etc before she was asked to lie down for the scan.

I  gripped her hand - I don’t know which of us was more nervous!

The screen showed a cone shape black area which was the uterus as revealed by the ultrasound waves and then there was a tiny circle which flashed in and out of view  - the doctor explained that was the heartbeat.

We each had tears of joy rolling down our faces.

The doctor left for a few minutes while Sophia wiped away the jelly and got dressed again.  I pulled her up for a kiss, still choked up.

“Thank you”

“No Thank you!” was her reply.

 She Said

After the relief of the scan, we made the next appointment for the end of the first trimester which Keanu was aiming to fly back for. Then we headed home, with me meeting Keanu in the car park rather than walking out together, again hoping to avoid any stalking paps. We picked up some lunch from a deli and headed back home. After our meal, Keanu sent me to take a nap – he had some e mails to catch up on regarding the upcoming shoot schedule and he could see that the visit had taken it out of me. I snoozed for a couple of hours, waking to find Keanu had joined me and was spooning me with his arm slung around me, hand on my belly again. I didn’t mind him being possessive of it!

I stretched and slowly turned round to see if he was sleeping too but he quickly opened his eyes.

“Hey, is that better?”

“uh huh – I needed that thanks”

“How long do we have before we have to fetch the kids?”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly 3”

“OK, well we have an hour and a half”

“time to show you how much I’ve missed you he said in a low voice, while softly stroking my breasts through my t-shirt, that OK?”

“mmmm more than OK”

We had slow, gentle sex and I delighted in the fact that we could vary from the intense, the jokey, gentle or wild when it came to sex, whatever felt right and this soft focus version was just what I needed right then, being in the unenergetic pregnant state that I was with tender breasts and erratic emotions.

Over at Julie’s we left the kids to play in the garden for a while and we embarked on telling her our news and the plan to get a tutor to help me with home-schooling on my days. Luckily she was both delighted at our news and happy with the tutor plan. I promised to keep her and Miranda involved with the process and then we headed home with the kids being the next ones to receive the news once we’d eaten dinner.

 He Said

As dinner plates were cleared away, we told the kids to stay put as we had some news.  Sophia was the one to tell them that she was going to have a baby so they would hopefully have a baby brother or sister in the New Year.

Eva was attuned to the language and quickly asked

“Why only hopefully?”

“Well, right now I’m pregnant, you know that word right? And the baby is very, very small, just developing and growing. And sometimes babies don’t develop right and so there isn’t a baby in the end.  Do you remember that happened to Ellie and Carl in “Up”? Hopefully everything will be just fine and the doctors and Keanu will be looking after me really well but I can’t promise you, OK?

“But I don’t want you to be sad like Carl and Ellie” Eva’s eyes had already filled with tears.

“Me either” Miguel whined.

I could see Sophia’s lip quavering too and swung into action, standing up and lifting first Miguel and then Eva to stand on their chairs which I pulled near to me.

“Come on Sophia, over here for a group hug.”

So we all stood together and hugged them close while I repeated what Sophia had said.

“We all want this little baby to come, I know and like Mom said, I am going to look after her and the doctors and you two too and everything should be absolutely fine, OK so try not to worry and just be super helpers to your Mom while she has all this work to do, looking after you two OK?”

They both solemnly nodded.

“Can we have a brother?” Miguel asked excitedly?

“Now that I definitely can’t guarantee!” I said laughing. You don’t get to choose if it’s a boy or a girl”

“What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter to me one little bit – just a healthy brother or sister for you two.

The mood had lifted at last though I could tell it had been hard on Sophia.

 She Said

 After the kids had gone to bed, the tears I’d had to hold in when we were telling them about the baby flooded out.

“Tough huh?” Keanu said after I’d stopped crying and dried my eyes.

“You know it was less about the baby and more just their loss of innocence. It  reminded me of how I felt when my parents told me they were getting a divorce.  I guess it’s the moment when you realise life isn’t all candy bars and unicorns!”

“Yeah I know but look how strong and resilient you are now -  it was  tough but it will help them in the long run. A dose of reality isn’t necessarily a bad thing”

“Yeah but the look on Eva’s face broke my heart a little bit!”

“I know, but what a lovely, loving little girl - what she said about not wanting you to be sad like Carl and Ellie …..”

“Stop it, you’ll make me cry again!”

“Well that’s not hard!”

“Shudup you, you!”

“What?”

“You gorgeous lovely man, I guess!”

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithk’eanu @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @witty-wallflower @paperplanesandwallflowers @bitchyslut99 @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @fanficsrusz @keanuficfiles @bitchyslut99

[reimagination]

Okay, so this is just a dump of what’s going on in my life. Feel free to pass it.

1) I want to first thank my friend Bobbie for being wonderful despite feeling terrible, and part of me thinks I guilted her, but you know, I don’t think I did completely. So we had our work Christmas party today, and I was allowed to invite somebody if I wanted to, and I invited Bobbie. And she has some chronic health issues, and she texts me this morning saying that she’s not feeling well, but she thinks she will be able to make it. And I was like okay okay, but really I was totally crushed. So during my lunch break I typed her back and was just honest. I was like, I know you’re feeling bad, and I completely understand if you don’t come, and please take care of yourself first, but if you don’t come, I don’t know if I can handle it because I’ve been feeling very alone and unloved lately, and you not coming tonight will just break me. And I’m really sorry, and I don’t want you to come if you’ll feel bad or be sick, but I really really want you to be there. And she sent me screenshots of a bunch of texts that she sent her wife this morning about how much she wanted to come to the party and was pretty much going to go no matter what. And It meant so much to me.

But now to what is making me feel so alone and unloved lately.

2) I had a work colleague who I got really close with. We had great conversations. We hung out a bunch outside of work. We’d send each other music videos and memes. And often text each other until late at night. And she then suddenly quits her job and moves, or at least this is what she told our boss. But she didn’t tell anybody anything. And I’m worried maybe she committed suicide. And also for a Christmas party I was her secret Santa, and I worked several days on a painting to give to her. And I’m like, I thought we were friends. But maybe she didn’t feel we were friends? I am very very worried about her, but part of me also feels betrayed. She told me nothing. We literally were texting eachother the night before she quit. I’m just so worried. I think she’s dead. But, like she didn’t say anything to anybody.

3) I had a friend who was recently hospitalized for a suicide attempt. And now that she’s out, her general attitude is “Y’all made me survive, so I’m y’all’s problem now”. And she’s being a major asshole and incredibly unfair. Like, she got so mad at me because I wouldn’t suddenly leave work to go eat with her at Popeyes. And then when I got out of work, I asked her if she wanted to hang out, and she said she was at home, which I take the bus, and I let her know It’d be an hour and a half, but she said that sounds good, and I should come over. Half an hour later, she says she’s going to sleep. And my plans for the night, which were to make groceries, were just wasted. But like we’re all being super nice to her because we’re afraid if we aren’t she’ll just go kill herself. And I don’t know what to do.

4) So I had mentioned to some people that I went to a Christmas party Friday. And that I was invited to a New Years Eve party. Well, what I haven’t told anybody is the situation behind this. So I belong to a trivia team. But I haven’t been in like three months because I got a new job and work later hours, and wouldn’t be able to make it normally. But, because of my colleague who suddenly quit, I was asked to come in for the earlier shift that day instead. So I showed up to trivia unexpectedly, and they were all kinda... disappointed? So they were talking about a party on Friday, so I asked about it, and I went to that party uninvited. So at the party, they were then talking about the New Years Eve party, and just one person said, “oh, you didn’t reply to the invite.” I said I hadn’t gotten one. She said, “Yeah, it was on Facebook.” Then I magically had an invite a few hours later.

5) I was invited to a Christmas party this Wednesday.But it is a well established fact (that will be confirmed by the host if you ask him) that he simply invites every gay man he knows in hopes he will get laid before the night is over. Also, one of these men who will be at the party is a man who had sexually assaulted me, and I have mentioned several times that I would like to not be invited if he was also invited, and yet no one seems to care.

6) A friend (from the trivia team) had said a blanket question at trivia the other day, “I’m off tomorrow. Does anyone want to hang out?” to which I said, “I’m off tomorrow too. I’d love to hang out.” We then made plans to get coffee and beignets and go to the zoo because she had passes. So we set a time. I arrived at the cafe on time. I let them know I was waiting for someone. Half an hour went by. I texted her to see if she was okay or going to be there soon. She didn’t reply. I went home. She replied back a half hour later saying she had also been there but just didn’t see me. I said I was the only person in the cafe. And I confirmed the address and time just in case I made a mistake. She then admitted that she just didn’t go but said she’d leave now and meet me there. I told her I was already back home, and I was way too embarrassed to possibly ever go back to that cafe again. 

So yeah. That’s where I’m at and how I’m feeling.

[advrik]

What the Nintendo Switch Means to Me

As I sit here in my kitchen in order to keep a close eye on the ground beef and sausage as it browns in preparation for dinner (it's spaghetti night), I have been working it out in my head how and why my gaming habits have changed over the years and how I ended up championing the Nintendo Switch and nothing else.

And then it hit me.

But before that, I would like to delve just a little bit into my gaming past that, at least in my head, makes sense why I am the way I am today.

It started in 1994. My grandmother got me the OG Gameboy+Zelda: Links Awakening bundle for Christmas. Pretty awesome, right? Finally game console that I could call my own. But it didn't end there, for Christmas Eve night my older brother passed on his three year old SNES to me as he was moving out in the new year and wanted it to remain safe. I was ecstatic. Here I was, seven years old and suddenly in possession of a Gameboy AND a SNES. A handheld and console, two separate entities that played two different types of games.

Now leading up to Christmas that year, I was regularly using my brothers (former) SNES and has asked Santa for the Super Gameboy for Christmas, so I could play some of my brothers old Gameboy games that has been lying around the house. I got one and still own it to this very day, but it was reviecing the Gameboy as well that likely lit the flames for what would become my modern day gaming preferences.

Being able to play Links Awakening both on the TV in my bedroom and in the big comfy recliner in the living room was amazing, and while it didn't tickle me as anything more than just playing a video game at the time, in hindsight it was where it all began.

Time went on and the Gameboy Color happened, and while I did enioy the majority of Pokémon Red on my SNES and on the go with the red Gameboy Pocket, I lost out on playing gen 2 of Pokémon and many, many Gameboy Color exclusive titles, including two Harvest Moons, on account of just not being able to get a GBC.

Fast forward to the Summer of 2003. I am in possession of a Gameboy Advance after having received one from my parents for Christmas in 2001, which was just like having a SNES in my hands. It was incredible, but I longed to be able to play the likes of Mega Man Battle Network and the Breath of Fire 2 port on my TV.

Enter the Gameboy Player for the Gamecube.

This thing was a godsend. It played everything! Gameboy, Gameboy Color, Gameboy Advance, you name it. It existing had, albeit satiateing it for the time, form the need for a hybrid console. One that didn't require two components, but was a single piece of hardware that easily hooked up to the television without additional peripherals and consoles.

The Gameboy Player served its purpose perfectly and had seen much use, particularly in those times when I was wanting to watch something on TV or had gone on trips, but didn't want to miss any time spent on my farm in Harvest Moon Friends of Mineral Town.

I have for much of my life been a console gamer. I preferred the console experience over the smaller handheld experiences on account of how scaled back they tended to be in scope and gameplay. But as I aged, and I can pinpoint exactly when this transition started, my preferences in how I played began to change. Namely with the advent of the 3DS which gave console-like experiences in compact form and my getting a job in early 2014. I was finding myself increasingly agitated with the PS3 and Wii U games that I played, leaving many unfinished because I was feeling like I was wasting my time doing just this one thing and nothing else. My time had become limited due to work, and I was falling behind on movies and seasons of TV shows. 

The pick up and play nature of handhelds jived with what I was becoming. I could be watching a movie and put the 3DS down halfway through, then pick it up again towards the end. Not for any particular reason, but just because I could. I didn’t get this ability with home consoles, and it annoyed me more and more as time went on.

Things really hit a low point after I got my PS4 in 2015. I was buying games left and right because, I’ll be honest, it had a lot to offer and catered to my interests. But you know what? I wasn’t finishing anything. At one point I had around 30 games for it, with only a fraction of them having been completed. It was crazy agitating. I couldn’t focus on anything, partly because I was constantly thinking about what I could be doing instead of trying to finish this game. My anxiety was getting worse, not just because of my gaming habits mind you, but they contributed. Here I had this huge stack of games that were unfinished with no desire to play them because I couldn’t focus.

There was a point in 2016 where I went a solid 6 months without playing anything on my brand new PS4, instead choosing to focus on reading outside. I felt enlightened. All the while, I had my New 3DS XL and Animal Crossing New Leaf on me, which I would pick up and play here and there between chapters. It was magical and really made me wonder what my gaming future looked like if designated consoles were on the way out for me. Was I going to give up on gaming entirely? It definitely felt like it.

Enter Nintendo once again.

Being utterly disappointed with the Wii U and feeling like the 3DS had reached its peak. I was unsure of where they were going next, but the rumors of a console that was either to have both a handheld and a console version or design that was hybrid in nature sounded very promising, but with the support Nintendo had lost during the Wii U era, what exactly could I expect on such a device.

October 2016 saw the reveal of the Nintendo Switch; A hybrid handheld home console that could be played at home on the TV or on the go on a big, beautiful 720p screen. It was everything I could have hoped for all these years. A culmination of not only their stellar console exploits, but also their handheld department which had given the world the most therapeutic game in the world. 

Was I finally going to get the console experiences that I craved in a handheld form factor?

I can definitely say yes. Yes. Yes. A million times yes!!

The big reveal event in January 2017 spilled all details, setting the stage for a March 3rd 2017 release. I was ecstatic! I stayed up until 3am to nab a pre-order on Amazon, then headed out to Gamestop the following morning after only 3 hours of sleep to wait in line for the doors to open so that I could be first in line to get a backup pre-order in the event that something happened to my Amazon order.

The wait for the release was agonizing, but when the day finally came and I took off that weekend from work, it was amazing. Spending time with Breath of the Wild and Super Bomberman R are some of my favorite recent gaming memories. 

The concerns over what kind of support it might see didn’t last long, as third party devs saw the success and positive word of mouth revolving around Nintendo’s hybrid machine and started spitting out releases and announcements left and right. I knew I was putting all my eggs in one basket, but I just knew that I was making the right decision. I could feel it, this was going to be big.

I sold off the majority of my PS4 games, and gave the console and the few Resident Evil games that stayed behind to my sister. It was a tough decision in the end, but I don’t regret doing so at all now. Having to keep up two consoles would have just added to the stress and anxiety that just keeping my PS4 around was causing, so I did - as I always do, no matter how painful - what was best for myself, my mental state and my wallet and did away with the PS4.

Now more than two years later, 100+ Switch games finished and my collection growing what seems like weekly with games I never imagined I’d see on a Nintendo console or even re-released in this day and age. To put it lightly, the Switch and its form factor has been an absolute blessing and one I would not give up for anything in the world. Nintendo combining their handheld and home console ventures into one was brilliant idea and one I hope they don’t ever, EVER backtrack on.

In the time since this all unfolded, I’ve modded my dock so that I never have to remove my Switch from the Satisfye Pro Grip, meaning that there’s no extra steps between removing my Switch from the dock and slipping its grip on. It’s magical and has further increased my ability to just pick up and play, something I hadn’t seen since the days of the OG 3DS and its charging cradle.

So thank you Nintendo, and especially thanks to Satoru Iwata for brainstorming this beautiful device that the technical wizards of Nintendo saw through with and made a success, because without it, I can say most confidently that I would not be playing games today had it not happened.

[untemperedwolf]

All that is lost

Written for @doctorroseprompts 31 days of ficmas for the prompts hope, lights and love.

I've been working all December on this and had wanted to post by Christmas day, but boxing day is close enough. I'm incredibly proud of this fic and it's long; just over 8,000 words long.

Rating: T, just in case || Words: 8,300 || Pairing: Ten x Rose || Summary: When the doctor lands in the wrong season on an alien planet, Donna says there's nothing but trouble in store for them. But is there also a Christmas miracle? Reunion fic.

Also on AO3

Enjoy!!

Christmas had always been a human holidays that the Doctor has loved from the moment he heard about it. Humans are forever creating reasons to celebrate something, but there was always something special, to him, about Christmas.

It got a lot more special when it became this body’s birthday. And now, after his loss of Rose, the festive season has gotten a lot sadder.

Even now, when it’s Christmas on this human colony they’ve landed on and not his personal timeline, it fills him with sadness.

Christmas, for him, equals Rose. He supposes it was doomed from the beginning, when her first trip to the past ended up on Christmas Eve. Christmas brought back memories of Rose’s smile, of her laughter, of her joy, leaving him only with a deep pang of bereavement.

Rose loved Christmas. He found that out earlier on in their travels. She loved the holiday spirit, the giving and receiving of presents, the snow, the Christmas carols and decorations. Said it was the one time of year her and her mum truly forgot any problems in their lives and just… celebrated.

There’s a magic in Christmas, Rose had said to him. Looking into her golden eyes, that beautiful smile of hers dancing on her lips, the Doctor had to agree with her. Or maybe that was just Rose.

Rose’s missing presence is reminded to him almost constantly, from little things. There’s never a moment that goes by he’s not missing her; a constant dull ache in his hearts.

The ache feels heavy today, on this planet. Xyaria, the planet’s name. It’s a bit of useless information rattling around the Doctor’s mind, as he tells Donna it, trying with all his might to sound just as enthusiastic as he normally does.

Too much of Donna’s time with him has been spent focused on Rose, even if she tells him it’s good to talk about her (it doesn’t feel good). Donna’s strangely in tune with him, in a way similar but very dissimilar to how Rose was, and he supposes, deep down that’s a good thing. But it’s painful to talk about Rose, and Donna’s very good at getting him to talk– not past his limits; she would never, but rather in a way the Doctor reluctantly admits is helpful.

Still, the Doctor doesn’t like alerting Donna to his more dark moments. She handles the balance between being a good friend, and her own enjoyment well– she is rather brilliant after all (it’s with another deep pang he thinks that Rose would get along swimmingly with her) – but if there’s one thing the Doctor is good at, it’s guilt.

Xyaria is a human colony. It’s not a human only colony, sharing the planet with one main other race; the Grefrians (a humanoid race with light violet skin, who’s native to a neighbouring planet). There’s other races here, too, immigration is open and Xyaria is a hotspot, but humans and grefrians dominant.

Being human dominating means that Xyaria, as a planet, celebrates a lot of human celebrations. Annually, there’s a mix of human cultures celebrations, the humans who colonised this planet being a mix of cultures themselves. There’s also, annually, the Grefrians’ own celebrations they brought over and now is celebrated by the whole planet.

Really, Xyaria is one of the most peaceful and festive planets– and Christmas is one of their biggest events.

And they don’t do things by halves. The town they’ve landed are covered in lights, an array of colours lighting up the town. A huge, heavily decorated tree stands in the centre of the town, and the town’s people are dressed in festive colours.

The beauty, the true Christmas spirit, of the town cannot be captured or described to justice. The Doctor thinks it looks rather magical and that’s what cuts him to his core.

Rose would love this. Rose would absolutely adore this.

The Doctor could picture her, all wrapped up and flushed pink. A huge grin on her face, amazement in her eyes, the lights reflecting in them as she spins around, taking everything in. It’s beautiful! She would say, her voice filled with wonder. A squeal of glee would escape those lips as she presses her foot on the snow and– and then he’d pull her to him to steal a kiss from her lips.

His mind, his big mind with its detailed imagination, can be his greatest enemy; the pain his imagery left him with a reminder of that.

“Wow,” Donna’s voice breaks his thoughts, pulling him back to reality. The Doctor’s hearts twist as the beautiful imagery fades away, leaving only the pain. “Just…wow,”

The Doctor takes a moment in all his misery to revel in that he’s gotten Donna, self-proclaimed hater of Christmas, to be amazed at something Christmassy.

Donna looks at him. “So, then, space man. Where’s the trouble, why are we here?” Just like that, Donna snaps out of her amazed state, ready to advance on their next adventure. The Doctor sighs.

“There’s not trouble everywhere I go,” he tells her, for the hundredth time. Donna shoots him a look, disbelieving.

“You are trouble,” she replies. “So why are we here? I didn’t ask for Christmas, I asked for a beach. Therefore. Trouble,”

“I was aiming for a beach!” The Doctor glances back at the TARDIS. “She’s just a bit…off, that’s all. I was aiming for Xyaria in the summer. And on the other side of the planet,” he defends himself, rather weakly depending his companion. For once, he thinks, it’ll be nice for his ship to work so he doesn’t have to stand somewhere yet again defending himself. Although, he really should start double checking the coordinates.

This time, Donna sighs. “Alright, well then we better get exploring. Do you reckon they have Christmas sales?” She begins to walk off before he could answer and once again, he thinks it’s not only Rose, but Jackie, who would get along nicely with Donna.

It’s not long before trouble finds them.

It’s to be expected. Trouble seems to find him, with or without him seeking it out. They’ve just finished shopping—or rather, Donna’s finished, because who would he shop for now?—and Donna’s debating which café to go in to have something to eat when they hear the screams. There’s festive music playing, the screams just barely audible over it. The rest of the townspeople doesn’t react, either because they don’t hear it, not tuned in to looking for signs of trouble like they are, or they’re choosing to ignore it.

Donna looks over at him, the same time he looks over at her. She gives him an I told you so look as they begin to sprint in the direction of the screams.

The screams have stopped by the time they arrive where the screams came from– in a cute little alleyway not far from the town’s centre. The Doctor worries that whoever was making the screams would’ve gone completely, but those worries are put away when they find a woman.

She’s in her mid-forties, and leaning against the wall, sobbing. The sobs aren’t just heaves, the Doctor’s ears picking up on sound—a name?—coming from the woman, joining the sobs. That’s not, however, what the Doctor notices first; it’s her dark clothing. Not necessarily unusual, but when the whole town has been dressed brightly and festively, it’s striking.

Donna, for all his legs and her complaining, gets to the woman first, comforting her. The woman accepts the comfort, at first, seemingly unthinking, before pulling away when Donna asks what’s wrong. Alerted that there’s people she doesn’t know here.

Wide eyes stare at them. Fear dancing in the irises. “If you don’t know… think yourself lucky,” the woman’s words leaves him with a chill. How she says them, how sobering her expression is, how collected she became once realising she was with strangers.

The woman edges away from Donna, and that’s when he notices it. She’s holding her hand in what looks to be an uncomfortable position, a scarf draped over it, obstructing him from getting more than a glance. She pulls it closer to her body when noticing his look.

Cautiously, he speaks. “I’m a doctor… would you mind,” the Doctor extends his hand slightly, indicating at the held arm. It could be just a normal injury, unrelated to her screams, but the Doctor’s instincts, his gut, that incredible mind of his, argues otherwise.

The woman stares at him, almost as a challenge. It only lasts a few seconds, and then she’s pushing past Donna and him. The Doctor notes she’s got a limp.

She looks at them both, haunted eyes. “Enjoy Christmas. I know I won’t,” with that, she turns her back onto them and strides off.

It’s silent between Donna and him until she can no longer be seen.

“Well, if that wasn’t creepy,” Donna’s the first to break the silence. “And a little bit rude. All we did was ask if she was alright. After she screamed the place down and everything!” The Doctor hums in response, his eyes scanning the area for any hints or clues as to what made the woman scream. The ground is normally where clues lie, and being that its snow coated, that would be a huge advantage– almost anything shows up on white. He drops down, lowering himself closer to the ground.

Nothing.

Wait.

There was a faint smell, a faint tang of something metallic. Faint, but there. The Doctor sniffs, again, trying to identify what would create such a smell.

“Donna,” he says, looking up. His next sentence is cut off as the woman stands there once again. She’s looking at him, curiously. Still shielded, but curious.

“You said you were a doctor?”

***

The woman leads them away from the town centre, away from the sounds of festive cheer. Still, the streets still give away the importance of this celebration to Xyaria, as the buildings and houses they pass are covered with Christmas lights.

The woman in front of them is jarring to the Doctor; a contradictory image to the one around him. She feels out of place, being so dark, in a place so bright. He supposes he could say the same thing about himself.

They walk in silence, Donna and him respecting her clear wish to not speak. There’s many questions bouncing at the end of his tongue, but his adventures have taught him that speaking when the other does not just leads to getting nowhere.

She stops in front of a house. It’s a terrace house, standing with three windowed floors, but thin. It’s as lit up as all the other house, light-up Santas and reindeers adorning the bricks, but the Doctor sees it for what it is. A disguise. This woman clearly does not want to attract attention, and having a house undecorated in a town like this would do so.

“In,” the woman commands, pushing open the door.

The house inside reflects the woman, than the town. The hallway greeting them is dark, dimly lit merely by a dull lightbulb. There’s a tense atmosphere the moment he steps in, one which only raises his concerns that there is something not right.

The woman shuts the door behind them. It may be worse lighting than before, but the Doctor can see her clearly for the first time. Her expression is guarded, but tired. There’s bags underneath her eyes, tiredness, uncertainty and a little glimmer of something—of hope. And that’s why he loves humans, because underneath everything else, there’s always that little spark, that not all is lost.

“You said you’re a doctor, well I have a patient for you,” The woman says. Her tone is still portrays that harsh edge, a distrust, but willing. The woman indicates to a door on his left, but stops him before he goes in. Uncertainty, and a fire, swims in her eyes.

“It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before; and it’s not. There’s some people who wouldn’t want to see it. But she—my patient—she’s delicate.” The words are warning, a protective edge to the words. The Doctor nods, his expression somber, and the woman—satisfied, opens the door. The Doctor makes a mental note to himself to keep himself in check.

Oh, there’s another pang in his hearts. Rose was good at keeping him in check.

The door opens up on to a living room. This room is more clearly lit than the hallway, but there’s nothing festive about it, impossible to tell its Christmas time. The colour theme, of dark colours, continues to match the woman’s attire. There’s other people in the room, three individuals cuddled up on the sofa, lying underneath a dark blanket. They’re younger than the woman, around late twenties to early thirties. On the floor, at the base of the sofa, sits a child, playing with a toy. Then, to the right of the sofa, just entered from another doorway, stands a young woman, holding a tray of cups. Out of everyone, she’s the only one dressed in lighter clothing.

They all stop what they’re doing, freezing in time, as Donna and him enter the room. They stare at them, eyes wide. Questions bubble in their eyes, the Doctor can see, but in different forms. For the three on the sofa, their eyes are distrustful, guarded—like the woman’s—but the child’s is curious, unguarded. The young woman’s is also curious, and welcoming. The Doctor notes this down. It might be useful for later.

“This man is a doctor,” the woman speaks, her tone authoritative. The words breaks the frozen positions they all stopped in. The Doctor also notes that down, for later. The woman is the one who they follow and trust.

The Doctor smiles, trying to seem unthreatening. Trustworthy. “Hello, I’m the Doctor, and this is Donna,” He introduces them. No one speaks back.

It’s only when the woman shuts the door they came through that the Doctor sees the other sofa, someone lying across it, with around four blankets on top of them. By the raggedy breathing coming from them, the Doctor guesses that’s who his patient is.

The woman walks to the sofa, and the Doctor follows, Donna close on his heels. The person laying underneath is a grefrian, and a very unwell grefrian if the dark violet skin is anything to go by. Her eyes are shut, asleep. Close to death.

“What… what happened?” The Doctor asks, gently, softly, as he kneels down beside the sofa. The woman strokes the grefrian’s forehead, a jarringly gentle gesture from how this woman has been holding herself. The Doctor has only ever seen a few unwell grefrian’s in his time; but never this bad. They’re notorious for their almost impenetrable immune system.

The woman glances back at the others, uncertain. Of what, the Doctor can’t place. Questioning her earlier judgement of if he should be allowed to know, perhaps. Questioning if he’ll—and Donna—believe them.

“I can’t treat her unless I know,” The Doctor says, still keeping his gentle tone.

The woman sighs, tiredly, dejectedly. “We don’t know,” She says. There’s a pause in her voice, and the Doctor waits, waiting for her to continue, like the pause suggested she would.

“Angel went out one day, to get the food, and she. Well, she was taking too long, and since she’s prone to talk to everyone she sees, I decided to go out to look for her. And that’s when I found her. Like this. She’s just continued to get worse and we don’t even know what happened. No doctors can tell us what to do,” the woman finally continues. The Doctor looks back at the grefrian—Angel, he assumes.

“What… before we came in, you told me it’s like nothing you’ve seen before; but this is how grefrians look when ill,” The Doctor tries to be delicate with his words. There’s more, the woman isn’t explaining everything.

The woman kneels beside him, beside his patient. “Angel,” She says, her tone gentle, laying a hand on her shoulder. Angel’s eyes flutter, slightly, but remains closed. She takes a deep breath in, sharper, but other than that, there’s no response. The woman looks back at the Doctor.

“She doesn’t have the strength nowadays to open her eyes. Most days she’s just sleeping—in and out of consciousness,” The woman’s eyes are sad, watery. She blinks the tears away, and the Doctor gets a pang in his hearts. There’s something familiar about the woman’s expression; something he has seen in his own. She turns more to look at Angel again.

“I’ve got a doctor,” the woman tells her, even though she’s probably still out of consciousness. With a gentleness which makes the Doctor wonder if Angel is the woman’s Rose, she pulls back the blankets, and the edge of Angel’s top.

Donna’s slight gasp can be heard as they do so, an appropriate reaction. Across Angel’s chest there’s a darkness. A vine-like pattern, made from intricate swirls, which would be beautiful had it not been a black shade, which emits an unease from it. The Doctor wants to both look away, never to look again, or look at it forever.

The Doctor can see why the woman warned him that not everyone wants to see it.

“Can you help her?” the woman breaks his thoughts. The Doctor looks around at everyone, who’s all watching, still with distrust, but now also hope.

“How long ago did this start?” The Doctor asks. The woman looks at one of the other people on the sofa, a man, quickly, but noticeable to the Doctor, before answering. The Doctor notes that as well in his head.

“A few weeks ago,” The woman answers. “Now, tell me. Can you help her?” The woman’s voice is demanding, an impatience leaking into it.

“I don’t know for certain,” The Doctor, if Angel is indeed this woman’s Rose, doesn’t want to give her false promises, especially when she isn’t telling him everything he needs to know to be sure. “But I can try and help.” The Doctor tells her.

“What do you need?” The woman asks.

 “So, you know what Angel has?” Donna recaps, when they’re alone in the kitchen of this house an hour later. They stand leaning against the counter beside each other, Donna drinking some grefrian apple juice.

“I might,” The Doctor says. “There’s still…something they’re not telling me. They don’t trust us, that’s understandable, but I need to know,” The Doctor tells Donna, tilting his head down and lowering his voice so that they can’t overhear him.

“How are you going to find out?” Donna asks, mirroring his lowered voice. He nods his head in indication to the young woman. The potential weak spot; the most trusting. With that, he pushes himself of the counter, and towards the young woman.

“Here, let me,” The Doctor offers, taking a tray of her. She smiles up at him, thankfully, and the Doctor gets another pang in his hearts. If Rose was here, she would’ve already befriended her, and not just to get information.

“What’s your name, then?” The Doctor asks, trying to push back thoughts of Rose, and concentrate on the objective at hand.

“Jemima,” She tells him, then looks curiously at him. “Can you help her—Angel? Can you really help her?” She asks. The Doctor places the tray down, letting out a deep breathe.

“I can try.” He looks at her, letting his own curiosity come out. “How do you all know each other, all of you?” He inquires, something he’s been curious about since stepping into this house.

“Well Lorna—she’s the one who brought you here—she’s my aunt. Before all this started, we lived here. Me, Lorna and Angel. Also, Harriet, and David, with little Samuel. Samuel’s the little boy. David was mostly at work, so he had a flat closer to his work, so it was more that they lived here part time. Samuel was here almost all the time.” Jemima tells him.

“Harriet and David—those are two of the others on the sofa,” The Doctor asks. Jemima freezes, her eyes wide and not unalike a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh…no,” Jemima answers. “That’s Roger, Ruby, and Pia,” Curious.

“Where’s David and Harriet, then?” Jemima’s body tenses, slightly, and he can see reluctance and uncertainty in her eyes. A conflict, but underneath it all, he can also see a want to tell him.

“Jemima, I can’t help if I don’t know everything,” The Doctor gently encourages.

“They’ve gone,” Jemima says, her voice now a whisper, frightened. “Harriet—she was one of the first to go. And David, he went a week back now. Poor Sammy, he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t know where his parents have gone. We don’t understand, but at least we’re adults. He thinks it’s his fault. He won’t talk to us anymore, scared that we’ll go if we do,” Jemima’s voice is filled with sadness, prominent amongst the fright.

“What do you mean, they’ve gone?”

“I don’t know. They go out, and then they go. I don’t understand what’s happening. Lorna won’t tell me. All I know is ever since it happened more and more people are coming here, and then they go. And now Angel’s ill, and I don’t know if she’ll survive. I don’t know what Lorna will do without her, if she doesn’t. My aunt’s never been the same since my mother died; my mam was the last of her family left, part from me,” Jemima’s shoulders sag.

“I just want it to be happy again. Christmas is always a happy time for us. Even Lorna loves it, especially since she met Angel,” Jemima looks up at him, sadness in her eyes.

“Jemima,” his voice is serious. “When you said ever since it happened I need to know; ever since what happened?” He asks. Jemima opens her mouth, but sound comes from behind him.

“I’ll tell you,” The Doctor turns around, to see Lorna standing there. From next to him, he hears Jemima mutter an apology. Lorna shakes her head.

“No, dear, I should’ve told him from the start. It’s just, you don’t know who to trust. Already people in town think we’re mad; they only believe us when it happens to them. Then they come here.” Lorna says, before indicating that they move out of the kitchen and back into the other room.

When all seated, Lorna begins to talk.

“A few months back, we—Roger and I—we came across something strange. A darkness, in the field, at the edge of the town. We didn’t do anything, we just left it. I thought it was the crops dying. But that’s when it started.” Lorna pauses.

“People started disappearing. First it was Roger’s wife, Breena, he said she went out one day, and didn’t come back. We filled a police report, at first. Of course. But then Harriet, she disappeared. Only, this time, Roger and I, we saw it. When Roger’s neighbour disappeared, that’s when we decided to warn people, especially when we noticed the darkness on the field had gotten closer. Not bigger, just moved.” Lorna takes a breath, shaky.

“People didn’t believe us. No one else could see the darkness, only us. But it’s there, and it’s taking people. It took Cole today, that’s what you heard—that’s why I screamed. It took another in front of me. It’s how I hurt my arm, trying to grab him back, but it, it burnt me. It left no mark, but it hurt. And it’s taking more people, no one else can see it, but it doesn’t spare them. Not even being inside helps,”

The Doctor leans forwards. “How does it take people—you said it took them in front of you, how?” he asks.

“It’s a darkness. It’s in the shadows, but it’s darker. It’s black, and then, in a wisp of smoke, it takes you. You can’t stop it. It looks like…” Lorna trails off, looking at where Angel lies. “It looks like Angel’s chest, but a physical form,” She looks back at the Doctor.

“I don’t understand it, Doctor. Why Angel has been infected by it like this, why it isn’t taking her like the others,” Lorna gets up from where she sits, and perches on the arm of the sofa Angel lies across, grabbing Angel’s hand in hers.

The Doctor’s hearts constrict, a burning pain in them, at the gesture. At the softness in Lorna’s action, at the tears in her eyes and the sadness in her voice. There’s no denying it, from this and what Jemima said; Angel is Lorna’s Rose.

And that makes him more determined than ever to fix this.

Especially now, he knows for certain that he knows what’s happening to Angel. He doesn’t get it, but he knows. And he will heal Angel. And maybe—just maybe, if luck was on his side, he’ll be able to save all those who have been lost. He could do with a miracle.

He doesn’t want to tell people bad news, not on Christmas, not when Rose isn’t by his side. She always made difficult moments better; a comfort, a hand to hold.

The Doctor gets into action quickly. Time is of the essence, as Angel has been sick for a few weeks now, which means he doesn’t have long.

“Take me to the field,” He says to Lorna, determination in his voice. Lorna stands up.

“Why?” She asks “You won’t be able to see it, no one else has,”

“I’m not just like anyone. And I need to see if I’m right, and if I am, I can save all the people who are lost.” He tells her. Lorna glances down at Angel. “Angel, too,” He adds on, which is what spurs her into action. The Doctor thinks that makes sense.

He explains his theory on the way, to Lorna, and Donna—and Jemima and Roger who have come along with them.

The Doctor has an extensive knowledge of a lot of aliens, and illnesses, across time. He had recognised it, from books as he has never seen it in person, on Angel. Grefrian Shade. Long time ago, from where they are now in Xyaria’s – or rather Grefri, it’s twin planet—history, the grefrian’s developed an illness, airborne, that would infect them, and kill them within a month.

It had been plaguing them for months, killing off many, many of their kind, before a doctor from Xyaria found the cure—simply, a plant native to Xyaria. This plant was from the same strain of a plant of Grefri, but where’s Grefri’s grew in plentiful, a weed, Xyaria’s was rare. Luckily, only a leaf mixture was needed to cure one person, so soon everyone was cured.

The disease, as a result, died out, and alongside it, the weed.

“But how is it infecting Angel then?” Jemima asks, as soon as he takes a break from his explanation. “And how does it explain the missing people?” She adds on, the others murmuring in agreement.

“I believe the dark patch on the field is a rip in time—from ancient grefri to present day Xyaria. From a time where this disease still existed. That’s how it infected Angel.” He says.

“But Angel hasn’t been by the field, I wouldn’t let her. And if it was airborne—shouldn’t all the other grefrians in town be suffering, because they’re not. Angel has been the only one—not even any other grefrians have been taken.” Lorna protests. He sighs.

“Angel hasn’t been by the field—but you have. You left the dark spot alone, yes, but you breathed in the air around it. Then you went home, and had close contact with Angel, which infected her. It hasn’t done much damage as fast because she hasn’t had direct contact with it.” He explains further.

“But what about the people—my wife?” Roger asks.

“This disease, it’s never met humans. It doesn’t know what to do, it forces it to, for a few seconds, become coloured. It’s why it was so deadly, because it was airborne, except there was always dark patches on the crops. Its form is dark, and that’s what you’ve seen when it’s taking people, it becomes visible because humans confuse it. It can’t infect you the way it does the grefrian’s, so it sits in your throats, and one day, it attacks. Only it still can’t infect you, and that’s when I think the rip drags the disease back—see, the universe can’t prevent time rips, but it’s given it a defense, an ability to try and pull whatever comes through it, back. And it detects the escaped disease as soon as it attacks the human, but it’s sloppy. It pulls the human back, too,” They’ve reached the field now, and three pairs of eyes stare back at him.

“But doesn’t that mean they’re in the past? And how come I and Lorna haven’t been taken yet?” Roger questions.

“They’re in a bubble, hopefully. Between this time and the past. The time rip would understand that they’re not from the past, but the shade in them would stop it from leaving them here, so therefore, it creates a bubble. And you two haven’t been taken yet for the same reason you can see the dark patch—I suppose you both were born exposed to time in some way, which let you see the dark patch, but also protects you,” The Doctor answers, before approaching the said dark patch on the field.

The Doctor turns to look at them, manic grin on his face.

“Now, watch me do something clever,”

He turns back around, and prays for a miracle. He could do with a miracle.

One of the things the Doctor has always liked about Christmas is the magic of it—how people wish for miracles, and when good things happen, for a moment, even sceptics believe it’s a miracle. The Doctor is blessed with three miracles.

He manages to save the people, close the time rip and find the rare Xyaria plant to cure Angel.

All in a day’s work. Still, as joyous he feels at getting to make sure this is another successful day, at being able to make sure another person doesn’t lose their Rose, he can’t help but feel lacking. If he was going to have a miracle today, why couldn’t it be Rose?

 ***

“That ship of yours, it really does take you to places where you’re needed,” Donna says, after finishing her meal. It is a few hours afterwards; he would’ve already gone from this town, but Donna wanted to stick around to finish her shopping and eat something first.

They’re sitting on a bench, outside a nice little café, opposite each other. Donna’s empty plate sits in front of her, and his drink, barely touched, sits in front of him. Donna’s bags sit around them both– “for protection”, she had said as if anyone in this nice town would rob visitors.

“If you think about, we always end up getting into trouble– but trouble you fix.” She shifts her body so she’s looking more at him. “Maybe you’re not a bad driver,” her tone soft.

The Doctor can’t help but smile at that. This day truly is full of miracles. “You reckon?” He says.

“Now, don’t be getting all smug, spaceman. I still want to go to the beach, and you and that ship of yours better get it right this time.” She continues, giving him a look he can only describe as her or else look. “Still. That must be why the TARDIS decided to land here instead.”

The Doctor looks around, thoughtfully. Donna is correct, his ship is stubborn but she does take him where he needs to go. But, somehow, the Doctor feels she’s not quite correct in saying the Grefrian Shade was why they landed here today.

There’s something else.

Or maybe that’s just him. Never rested, always alert.

“This town is nice, though.” Donna’s eyes join in him in looking around.

“It’s beautiful,” the Doctor says, his tone low, a breath of sound. He speaks mostly to himself, his thoughts from earlier coming to the front of his mind again, dragging the accompanying pain with it.

It really is beautiful.

The café is located in a peaceful place, not far from the town centre. It’s not too crowded, however, a peaceful atmosphere encasing around them. Away from the hubble of the town centre, with only the carol music still being able to be heard, faintly, drifting down from the town’s centre, it almost feels like it’s in its own bubble.

It overlooks a lake, frozen, glimmering, and the buildings are alight with the same adorning lights as before.

Its late evening, now, and the suns of Xyaria are setting, creating a warm glow which reflects of the lake.

Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it.

It’s too beautiful. It feels wrong being in such a place, a place he knows Rose would love– a place he had plans to take Rose for their next Christmas.

Being here, it feels like a mistake, a wrongness crawling up his body, creeping over him like the shade on Angel.

Yes, he was aiming for Christmas on Xyaria, but that’s neither here or there now he’s here.

But not with Rose. Never will he look at any beautiful sights again with Rose, and that knowledge, hits him deep, punching him in his hearts.

She’s lost.

“Look at you, saviour of the day again, beautiful scenery before you, and still, you’ve got that face,” Donna’s voice, loud, startles him. He looks at her, saying nothing, but he’s still lost in his own mind, in his thoughts of Rose at the forefront of his mind. His startlement gave him no opportunity to hide his pain, and he thinks it shows, in his eyes, in his face.

Donna’s face softens immediately. “Doctor,” her voice is gentle, almost pitying, but this is Donna; Donna doesn’t do pity. It’s what he likes about her.

“I was–” the Doctor’s voice breaks, and he curses himself. Donna tells him it’s good for him to talk about things, and before her, Rose did– and Martha was evidence of what happens when you don’t– but even still, the Doctor hates being so vulnerable.

“I was going to take Rose here. For her next Christmas, with me.” The Doctor continues, this time with a stronger voice. “She loved Christmas,” he adds on, but quieter, his voice low, sad.

“I’m sorry,” Donna says, and from anyone else, the Doctor would hate the word– he says it a lot, but the word sorry should be erased– but when Donna says it, it says more than enough. She reaches across the table, to rest her hand gently on top of his– a gesture, in the less morose of times, she’s emphasized strongly is not a sign of romantic affection, with a shiver accompanying the words– but he moves his hand away, into his lap.

He appreciates the gesture but it’s the wrong hand. It adds to the wrongness he already feels, being here, adds to pain in his hearts and the emptiness in his hand. Rose’s hand should be tucked into his, in her cute pink mittens she loved. But it’s not. Because she’s not here.

She should be telling him that they need to go closer to the lake, that they need to see all of nature’s wonders up close. She should be convincing him oh-so-easily to skate with her. She should… The Doctor could think of a million things she should be doing, but she’s not because she’s not here.

The Doctor sighs, running a hand through his hair, as he takes one last, longing look at the lake and the image of Rose skating on it, huge smile on her face. He imagines grabbing her hand, spinning her around, feeling, underneath her glove the ring that he had hoped to give her.

Pain clutches at his hearts again, a deep sorrow, and the Doctor decides it’s time to go home. Donna has done all that she needs to do, and even though the Doctor feels a reluctance to go back to the TARDIS—be it because he feels, for whatever reason, that they’re not quite done here, or because there’s no place he feels the heaviness of Rose’s missing presence than on the TARDIS—if he stays on this planet any longer, he feels as if his hearts may just stop from pain.

Donna, as if sensing what he was about to say, grabs her bags. The Doctor looks at her, a tight smile on his face, and he’s about to offer his assistance, when he pauses.

His ears, if he does say so himself, are rather magnificent, even if they aren’t as big as they were this time around. And through the faint caroling sound, through the faint hustle of people, the Doctor hears a laugh.

Not any laugh, no, he’s been hearing loads of laughter today. Not anyone’s laughs, her laugh.

The Doctor’s ears are magnificent, but they’re also cruel. They play tricks on him, as do his eyes, so he has no reason to believe the sound they’re hearing. It’s not like he hasn’t imagined her laugh before.

But, maybe it’s because it’s Xyaria, maybe it’s because they’ve had a day of miracles, and a day of reminders, but the Doctor’s body is frozen at the sound. Frozen, until it starts moving, moving towards the sound.

He moves silently, wordlessly, his expression frozen, his thoughts all but paused. He faintly acknowledges that Donna is following him, calling his name, but her words are muffled. His ears only focused on the laugh, his mind only focused on the hope that’s building as he gets closer and it gets louder.

Hope is a dangerous thing, he thinks, as he approaches the corner of the building, about to turn in the direction the laugh is coming from. He tells himself last chance, last chance to turn back, to not do something which would inevitably break his hearts.

He turns the corner.

There’s kids playing, in the snow, looking like they’re having fun as their parents watch. But that’s not what he sees, not really. His eyes are immediately drawn to one person and one person only; a blonde playing in the snow with the children. Smiling wide. Beautiful.

The Doctor’s hearts stop, and his breath catches in his throat.

Rose.

Her laugh hits his ears again, and he nearly falls over. Shock overrides his body, and he can’t breathe and his hearts aren’t working, and a numbness of disbelief washes over him. His only thought is Rose. Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose.

His mind is chanting, and he opens his mouth, to say what he’s thinking, but nothing comes out. Words, oxygen, blood, all these functions are pointless to him, but he panics, because he can’t call to her.

Then, she looks up.

She looks up from the children, her smile fading, slightly and he can see her pain in her eyes, and oh, he wants to call to her. But it doesn’t matter, because she’s looked up, and she’s looking at him.

She’s looking at him.

Her expression shifts, showing the shock that he’s feeling. Her mouth drops open, slightly, and he wonders if her heart stops like his did, or if it’s beating as fast as it is doing now.

He wonders if her breathe catches in her throat at the sight of him.

She takes a step back, shocked. Her eyes, wide, disbelieving. He watches as her head, moves, slightly, shaking, unbelieving.

A hand to her chest.

He wants to go to her, he wants to call to her, he wants to do anything but stare, but he’s frozen in his spot.

Children are playing around them, Donna is beside him, calling his name but all he can see, all he can think, all he wants to look at is her, his light, his queen, his Rose.

Rose, Rose, Rose.

His mind chants again, and then his legs are moving, oh they’re moving, needing to get closer, and so is hers. They’re only a short distance away from each other, but they’re running, moving as quickly as they can until finally– finally– they’re in each other’s arms.

Her body hits his, the momentum almost hitting him over, but he steadies himself, leaning back on one foot as he lifts her up, his arms wrapped securely around her. Keeping her in place. Holding her against him.

He rolls back on the foot, placing them both flat on the ground, straight, but not letting her go. Never letting her go.

Her body is warm against his, and he can feel her heart beating, fast, fast, fast. Before Canary Wharf, before he lost her, he’d be filled with concern at the rate, but now, now all he feels is happiness.

There’s no denying that he can feel her heart racing, no denying that she isn’t really here. She’s alive, she’s found, and she’s here.

She still smells the same, and he breathes it in as he holds her tight to him, and she squeezes him back, and they both say nothing but say everything.

Her shampoo smell is different, no fancy alien shampoo where she’s been, yes, but underneath it all, there’s the same smell he’s been addicted to since day one, the smell of Rose.

He rests his face on her head, millions of questions of how, how, how, running through his mind, but he pays it no attention. Wanting to let this just be a Christmas miracle. He can worry about the questions later.

Because she’s here, she’s in his arms, she’s home.

“Rose,” The Doctor finally speaks, his voice hoarse and he’s surprised at how quickly tears appear in his eyes, although he really shouldn’t be.

“Doctor,” she says, too, her voice soft, filled with emotion. She nuzzles at his shoulder, at the crook of his neck, before looking up at him, their eyes connecting. “Doctor,” his name comes out her lips as a half sob, and his arms instinctively squeeze her more tightly.

“Rose,” he says, again, his own voice sounding like hers. “Rose, Rose, I love you,” he tells her, his voice choked, one hand touching her face, her soft face.

“I love you, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve said it,” now he’s broken his silence, he never wants to stop talking, but his vocabulary is limited to only Rose, and I love you and I’m sorry. It’s all he finds necessary; long, winding words mean nothing to him, not now.

“I should’ve, Rose, oh my Rose, I should’ve never–” he cuts off, his voice breaking, the true extent of his heartbreak, the pain, the remorse, everything he’s felt since she’s been gone coming out, flourishing in his voice, in his expression.

Rose’s eyes look into his, filled with her own pain and heartbreak. They’re watery, but oh-so filled with such emotion.

“Doctor,” Rose’s voice is quiet, a whisper. His name, spoken with pain, and love, always love. One of her hands moves from its place on his back, snaking around his neck and touching, gently, the edge of his chin.

“That, none of that, matters now– I,” Rose breaks off, as well, blinking as a two tears run down her cheeks. She takes a shaky breath in. “I found you,” she says, her voice still shaky, but strong.

She smiles, letting out a breathy laugh filled with disbelief, but joy. “I found you,” she repeats, with wonder in her words.

She lets a grin over her face, wide, happy, joyful, and the Doctor allows himself to do the same. Allows himself to laugh, happily in disbelief, alongside her.

Allowing themselves for the first time in years to be happy. To enjoy no longer having that arching weight on his hearts. To revel, in this moment, of this Christmas miracle.

They’ve reunited, at last.

They grin at each other, stupidly. And then, he doesn’t know who, but then they’ve leaned towards each other, and their lips are meeting, and they’re kissing, they’re kissing again, he’s finally feeling her lips against his, and, and it’s all too much and not enough and–

She’s here. Rose, she’s really here.

The Doctor never wants this moment to end. He wants to live in this weightless bubble, of happiness and joy, of miracles. This bubble of just Rose, Rose, Rose.

Rose pulls back, only slightly, her hands playing with his hair, a smile dancing on her lips he so badly wants to kiss again. She tastes exactly the same; the most wonderful and addictive taste in the universe.

“My Doctor,” Rose says, breathlessly. “I found you,” she lets out a giddy laugh and he, yet again, returns it.

“Hello,” he says, laughing at the absurdity of saying so after five minutes of her being in his arms. Then, he leans down, and steals another kiss from her. There is, after all, mistletoe hanging from the tree nearby.

Rose, and him, reunited again, at Christmas, on Xyaria.

All miracles are is science, really, everything can be explained; that’s what he thinks. But, in this moment, in this glorious, glorious moment, all he can think is that miracles do exist. That the universe, for once, is on his side.

Or maybe, Rose is just that brilliant. That she was right when she said the universe will never split them apart. They’re like magnets, drawn together, belonging together.

The dull ache in his hearts is gone, instead thumping with such love, love for the human in his arms.

“I missed you,” the Doctor murmurs, quietly, from where he rests his head upon hers, having broken the kiss. He holds her to him, a contentment he hasn’t felt in a long time gently washing over him. He could stay like this forever.

Rose, from where her head lies against him, fitted snug, murmurs her reply; “missed you too,” with a content sigh.

He feels her shoulders relax, as if a weight has been lifted from them, and the Doctor’s shoulders do them same. Indeed, a weight has been lifted and he feels weightless, a relief.

Her body fits against his almost as if she has never gone, nothing feels any different, but yet, she was gone. They can feel that, as they hug, as they lean against each other. Their weightless, but it’s a heavy hug, a hug filled of all that was lost which is now found.

For the Doctor, it’s been a day of finding lost people. A day of reuniting other people’s Roses. And now, his Rose has been reunited with him, and he thinks that’s, perhaps, which also adds to the heavy relief of this hug.

The feeling that he could’ve gone back to the TARDIS, without her, but having her in his mind, after a day of seeing other people get their Rose back.

There’s a lot to dissect, still the questions of how exactly is Rose here bouncing around the back of his mind, but they live in this weightless, heavy hug. Content.

“Not to interrupt what I’m sure is a lovely hug, but have you noticed it’s started to snow. Heavy.” Donna’s voice breaks into the bubble he’s found himself in.

He turns his head, slightly, but his chin is disrupted, as Rose moves, pulling her head up to look at Donna. The Doctor’s arms instinctively hold her body tighter, not wanting her to move away from him completely. Unwilling to have her away from him. Not this soon.

“And I can’t help but notice that you both are as underdressed as each other– although my concern is mainly for you, not him, he’s insane,” Donna carries on, ending the sentence by looking more at Rose. The Doctor would feel insulted, if it wasn’t Donna.

The Doctor looks around, only now processing Donna’s words. It is, indeed snowing, his and Rose’s shoulders coated with a layer of snow. He notices how snowflakes sit in rose’s hair, a light film of snow sugaring her. A snowflake sits on her nose.

The Doctor’s hearts twist, at the sight. Rose’s face, aware of the cold even if they weren’t, is a light pink shade, and the Doctor thinks she looks beautiful.

The most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“Hey, lover boy,” Donna captures his attention again, and he drags his eyes away from Rose, although he doesn’t want to, to look at Donna again.

“What did you call me?” His brain catches up with him. From the corner of his eye, the Doctor sees Rose smirk, amused.

“Lover boy.” Donna repeats. “Now, if you can stop giving Rose those eyes, its cold, we need to go back to the TARDIS.” Donna commands.

“Wait, how do you know my name? I haven’t introduced myself,” Rose asks, looking between them.

“Well, I was rather hoping you was Rose. I mean, surely, there can only be one person who’s actually into this skinny piece of nothing,” Donna answers, in the most Donna-like fashion. Yet again, a running theme with Donna, he doesn’t know if he should be insulted or amused.

“And there was only going to be one person who could turn him into a deaf zombie and make him look so, so lovesick, and that’s you,” Donna adds on.

Rose looks up at him, an emotion the Doctor can’t quite place swimming in her eyes. “You mentioned me?” She says, her voice oddly quiet. The Doctor’s hearts constrict, wondering how she could think he could not mention her when he loves and missed her so much, but knowing why she does.

“Yes, he did. And if he ever made you think he wouldn’t, well he’s an idiot. But you can talk about that after we get into warmth,” Donna speaks again, and they both look at her. “TARDIS,” she commands, authoritivly beginning to walk off.

With a shared smile, the Doctor and Rose follow her, the Doctor grabbing Rose’s hand, tight in his own.

Back where she belongs.

Christmas had always been a human holidays that the Doctor has loved from the moment he heard about it. Humans are forever creating reasons to celebrate something, but there was always something special, to him, about Christmas.

It got a lot more special when it became this body’s birthday. And now, after his loss of Rose, the festive season has gotten a lot sadder.

Even now, when it’s Christmas on this human colony they’ve landed on and not his personal timeline, it fills him with sadness.

Christmas, for him, equals Rose. He supposes it was doomed from the beginning, when her first trip to the past ended up on Christmas Eve. Christmas brought back memories of Rose’s smile, of her laughter, of her joy, leaving him only with a deep pang of bereavement.

Rose loved Christmas. He found that out earlier on in their travels. She loved the holiday spirit, the giving and receiving of presents, the snow, the Christmas carols and decorations. Said it was the one time of year her and her mum truly forgot any problems in their lives and just… celebrated.

There’s a magic in Christmas, Rose had said to him. Looking into her golden eyes, that beautiful smile of hers dancing on her lips, the Doctor had to agree with her. Or maybe that was just Rose.

Rose’s missing presence is reminded to him almost constantly, from little things. There’s never a moment that goes by he’s not missing her; a constant dull ache in his hearts.

The ache feels heavy today, on this planet. Xyaria, the planet’s name. It’s a bit of useless information rattling around the Doctor’s mind, as he tells Donna it, trying with all his might to sound just as enthusiastic as he normally does.

Too much of Donna’s time with him has been spent focused on Rose, even if she tells him it’s good to talk about her (it doesn’t feel good). Donna’s strangely in tune with him, in a way similar but very dissimilar to how Rose was, and he supposes, deep down that’s a good thing. But it’s painful to talk about Rose, and Donna’s very good at getting him to talk– not past his limits; she would never, but rather in a way the Doctor reluctantly admits is helpful.

Still, the Doctor doesn’t like alerting Donna to his more dark moments. She handles the balance between being a good friend, and her own enjoyment well– she is rather brilliant after all (it’s with another deep pang he thinks that Rose would get along swimmingly with her) – but if there’s one thing the Doctor is good at, it’s guilt.

Xyaria is a human colony. It’s not a human only colony, sharing the planet with one main other race; the Grefrians (a humanoid race with light violet skin, who’s native to a neighbouring planet). There’s other races here, too, immigration is open and Xyaria is a hotspot, but humans and grefrians dominant.

Being human dominating means that Xyaria, as a planet, celebrates a lot of human celebrations. Annually, there’s a mix of human cultures celebrations, the humans who colonised this planet being a mix of cultures themselves. There’s also, annually, the Grefrians’ own celebrations they brought over and now is celebrated by the whole planet.

Really, Xyaria is one of the most peaceful and festive planets– and Christmas is one of their biggest events.

And they don’t do things by halves. The town they’ve landed are covered in lights, an array of colours lighting up the town. A huge, heavily decorated tree stands in the centre of the town, and the town’s people are dressed in festive colours.

The beauty, the true Christmas spirit, of the town cannot be captured or described to justice. The Doctor thinks it looks rather magical and that’s what cuts him to his core.

Rose would love this. Rose would absolutely adore this.

The Doctor could picture her, all wrapped up and flushed pink. A huge grin on her face, amazement in her eyes, the lights reflecting in them as she spins around, taking everything in. It’s beautiful! She would say, her voice filled with wonder. A squeal of glee would escape those lips as she presses her foot on the snow and– and then he’d pull her to him to steal a kiss from her lips.

His mind, his big mind with its detailed imagination, can be his greatest enemy; the pain his imagery left him with a reminder of that.

“Wow,” Donna’s voice breaks his thoughts, pulling him back to reality. The Doctor’s hearts twist as the beautiful imagery fades away, leaving only the pain. “Just…wow,”

The Doctor takes a moment in all his misery to revel in that he’s gotten Donna, self-proclaimed hater of Christmas, to be amazed at something Christmassy.

Donna looks at him. “So, then, space man. Where’s the trouble, why are we here?” Just like that, Donna snaps out of her amazed state, ready to advance on their next adventure. The Doctor sighs.

“There’s not trouble everywhere I go,” he tells her, for the hundredth time. Donna shoots him a look, disbelieving.

“You are trouble,” she replies. “So why are we here? I didn’t ask for Christmas, I asked for a beach. Therefore. Trouble,”

“I was aiming for a beach!” The Doctor glances back at the TARDIS. “She’s just a bit…off, that’s all. I was aiming for Xyaria in the summer. And on the other side of the planet,” he defends himself, rather weakly depending his companion. For once, he thinks, it’ll be nice for his ship to work so he doesn’t have to stand somewhere yet again defending himself. Although, he really should start double checking the coordinates.

This time, Donna sighs. “Alright, well then we better get exploring. Do you reckon they have Christmas sales?” She begins to walk off before he could answer and once again, he thinks it’s not only Rose, but Jackie, who would get along nicely with Donna.

It’s not long before trouble finds them.

It’s to be expected. Trouble seems to find him, with or without him seeking it out. They’ve just finished shopping—or rather, Donna’s finished, because who would he shop for now?—and Donna’s debating which café to go in to have something to eat when they hear the screams. There’s festive music playing, the screams just barely audible over it. The rest of the townspeople doesn’t react, either because they don’t hear it, not tuned in to looking for signs of trouble like they are, or they’re choosing to ignore it.

Donna looks over at him, the same time he looks over at her. She gives him an I told you so look as they begin to sprint in the direction of the screams.

The screams have stopped by the time they arrive where the screams came from– in a cute little alleyway not far from the town’s centre. The Doctor worries that whoever was making the screams would’ve gone completely, but those worries are put away when they find a woman.

She’s in her mid-forties, and leaning against the wall, sobbing. The sobs aren’t just heaves, the Doctor’s ears picking up on sound—a name?—coming from the woman, joining the sobs. That’s not, however, what the Doctor notices first; it’s her dark clothing. Not necessarily unusual, but when the whole town has been dressed brightly and festively, it’s striking.

Donna, for all his legs and her complaining, gets to the woman first, comforting her. The woman accepts the comfort, at first, seemingly unthinking, before pulling away when Donna asks what’s wrong. Alerted that there’s people she doesn’t know here.

Wide eyes stare at them. Fear dancing in the irises. “If you don’t know… think yourself lucky,” the woman’s words leaves him with a chill. How she says them, how sobering her expression is, how collected she became once realising she was with strangers.

The woman edges away from Donna, and that’s when he notices it. She’s holding her hand in what looks to be an uncomfortable position, a scarf draped over it, obstructing him from getting more than a glance. She pulls it closer to her body when noticing his look.

Cautiously, he speaks. “I’m a doctor… would you mind,” the Doctor extends his hand slightly, indicating at the held arm. It could be just a normal injury, unrelated to her screams, but the Doctor’s instincts, his gut, that incredible mind of his, argues otherwise.

The woman stares at him, almost as a challenge. It only lasts a few seconds, and then she’s pushing past Donna and him. The Doctor notes she’s got a limp.

She looks at them both, haunted eyes. “Enjoy Christmas. I know I won’t,” with that, she turns her back onto them and strides off.

It’s silent between Donna and him until she can no longer be seen.

“Well, if that wasn’t creepy,” Donna’s the first to break the silence. “And a little bit rude. All we did was ask if she was alright. After she screamed the place down and everything!” The Doctor hums in response, his eyes scanning the area for any hints or clues as to what made the woman scream. The ground is normally where clues lie, and being that its snow coated, that would be a huge advantage– almost anything shows up on white. He drops down, lowering himself closer to the ground.

Nothing.

Wait.

There was a faint smell, a faint tang of something metallic. Faint, but there. The Doctor sniffs, again, trying to identify what would create such a smell.

“Donna,” he says, looking up. His next sentence is cut off as the woman stands there once again. She’s looking at him, curiously. Still shielded, but curious.

“You said you were a doctor?”

***

The woman leads them away from the town centre, away from the sounds of festive cheer. Still, the streets still give away the importance of this celebration to Xyaria, as the buildings and houses they pass are covered with Christmas lights.

The woman in front of them is jarring to the Doctor; a contradictory image to the one around him. She feels out of place, being so dark, in a place so bright. He supposes he could say the same thing about himself.

They walk in silence, Donna and him respecting her clear wish to not speak. There’s many questions bouncing at the end of his tongue, but his adventures have taught him that speaking when the other does not just leads to getting nowhere.

She stops in front of a house. It’s a terrace house, standing with three windowed floors, but thin. It’s as lit up as all the other house, light-up Santas and reindeers adorning the bricks, but the Doctor sees it for what it is. A disguise. This woman clearly does not want to attract attention, and having a house undecorated in a town like this would do so.

“In,” the woman commands, pushing open the door.

The house inside reflects the woman, than the town. The hallway greeting them is dark, dimly lit merely by a dull lightbulb. There’s a tense atmosphere the moment he steps in, one which only raises his concerns that there is something not right.

The woman shuts the door behind them. It may be worse lighting than before, but the Doctor can see her clearly for the first time. Her expression is guarded, but tired. There’s bags underneath her eyes, tiredness, uncertainty and a little glimmer of something—of hope. And that’s why he loves humans, because underneath everything else, there’s always that little spark, that not all is lost.

“You said you’re a doctor, well I have a patient for you,” The woman says. Her tone is still portrays that harsh edge, a distrust, but willing. The woman indicates to a door on his left, but stops him before he goes in. Uncertainty, and a fire, swims in her eyes.

“It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before; and it’s not. There’s some people who wouldn’t want to see it. But she—my patient—she’s delicate.” The words are warning, a protective edge to the words. The Doctor nods, his expression somber, and the woman—satisfied, opens the door. The Doctor makes a mental note to himself to keep himself in check.

Oh, there’s another pang in his hearts. Rose was good at keeping him in check.

The door opens up on to a living room. This room is more clearly lit than the hallway, but there’s nothing festive about it, impossible to tell its Christmas time. The colour theme, of dark colours, continues to match the woman’s attire. There’s other people in the room, three individuals cuddled up on the sofa, lying underneath a dark blanket. They’re younger than the woman, around late twenties to early thirties. On the floor, at the base of the sofa, sits a child, playing with a toy. Then, to the right of the sofa, just entered from another doorway, stands a young woman, holding a tray of cups. Out of everyone, she’s the only one dressed in lighter clothing.

They all stop what they’re doing, freezing in time, as Donna and him enter the room. They stare at them, eyes wide. Questions bubble in their eyes, the Doctor can see, but in different forms. For the three on the sofa, their eyes are distrustful, guarded—like the woman’s—but the child’s is curious, unguarded. The young woman’s is also curious, and welcoming. The Doctor notes this down. It might be useful for later.

“This man is a doctor,” the woman speaks, her tone authoritative. The words breaks the frozen positions they all stopped in. The Doctor also notes that down, for later. The woman is the one who they follow and trust.

The Doctor smiles, trying to seem unthreatening. Trustworthy. “Hello, I’m the Doctor, and this is Donna,” He introduces them. No one speaks back.

It’s only when the woman shuts the door they came through that the Doctor sees the other sofa, someone lying across it, with around four blankets on top of them. By the raggedy breathing coming from them, the Doctor guesses that’s who his patient is.

The woman walks to the sofa, and the Doctor follows, Donna close on his heels. The person laying underneath is a grefrian, and a very unwell grefrian if the dark violet skin is anything to go by. Her eyes are shut, asleep. Close to death.

“What… what happened?” The Doctor asks, gently, softly, as he kneels down beside the sofa. The woman strokes the grefrian’s forehead, a jarringly gentle gesture from how this woman has been holding herself. The Doctor has only ever seen a few unwell grefrian’s in his time; but never this bad. They’re notorious for their almost impenetrable immune system.

The woman glances back at the others, uncertain. Of what, the Doctor can’t place. Questioning her earlier judgement of if he should be allowed to know, perhaps. Questioning if he’ll—and Donna—believe them.

“I can’t treat her unless I know,” The Doctor says, still keeping his gentle tone.

The woman sighs, tiredly, dejectedly. “We don’t know,” She says. There’s a pause in her voice, and the Doctor waits, waiting for her to continue, like the pause suggested she would.

“Angel went out one day, to get the food, and she. Well, she was taking too long, and since she’s prone to talk to everyone she sees, I decided to go out to look for her. And that’s when I found her. Like this. She’s just continued to get worse and we don’t even know what happened. No doctors can tell us what to do,” the woman finally continues. The Doctor looks back at the grefrian—Angel, he assumes.

“What… before we came in, you told me it’s like nothing you’ve seen before; but this is how grefrians look when ill,” The Doctor tries to be delicate with his words. There’s more, the woman isn’t explaining everything.

The woman kneels beside him, beside his patient. “Angel,” She says, her tone gentle, laying a hand on her shoulder. Angel’s eyes flutter, slightly, but remains closed. She takes a deep breath in, sharper, but other than that, there’s no response. The woman looks back at the Doctor.

“She doesn’t have the strength nowadays to open her eyes. Most days she’s just sleeping—in and out of consciousness,” The woman’s eyes are sad, watery. She blinks the tears away, and the Doctor gets a pang in his hearts. There’s something familiar about the woman’s expression; something he has seen in his own. She turns more to look at Angel again.

“I’ve got a doctor,” the woman tells her, even though she’s probably still out of consciousness. With a gentleness which makes the Doctor wonder if Angel is the woman’s Rose, she pulls back the blankets, and the edge of Angel’s top.

Donna’s slight gasp can be heard as they do so, an appropriate reaction. Across Angel’s chest there’s a darkness. A vine-like pattern, made from intricate swirls, which would be beautiful had it not been a black shade, which emits an unease from it. The Doctor wants to both look away, never to look again, or look at it forever.

The Doctor can see why the woman warned him that not everyone wants to see it.

“Can you help her?” the woman breaks his thoughts. The Doctor looks around at everyone, who’s all watching, still with distrust, but now also hope.

“How long ago did this start?” The Doctor asks. The woman looks at one of the other people on the sofa, a man, quickly, but noticeable to the Doctor, before answering. The Doctor notes that as well in his head.

“A few weeks ago,” The woman answers. “Now, tell me. Can you help her?” The woman’s voice is demanding, an impatience leaking into it.

“I don’t know for certain,” The Doctor, if Angel is indeed this woman’s Rose, doesn’t want to give her false promises, especially when she isn’t telling him everything he needs to know to be sure. “But I can try and help.” The Doctor tells her.

“What do you need?” The woman asks.

 “So, you know what Angel has?” Donna recaps, when they’re alone in the kitchen of this house an hour later. They stand leaning against the counter beside each other, Donna drinking some grefrian apple juice.

“I might,” The Doctor says. “There’s still…something they’re not telling me. They don’t trust us, that’s understandable, but I need to know,” The Doctor tells Donna, tilting his head down and lowering his voice so that they can’t overhear him.

“How are you going to find out?” Donna asks, mirroring his lowered voice. He nods his head in indication to the young woman. The potential weak spot; the most trusting. With that, he pushes himself of the counter, and towards the young woman.

“Here, let me,” The Doctor offers, taking a tray of her. She smiles up at him, thankfully, and the Doctor gets another pang in his hearts. If Rose was here, she would’ve already befriended her, and not just to get information.

“What’s your name, then?” The Doctor asks, trying to push back thoughts of Rose, and concentrate on the objective at hand.

“Jemima,” She tells him, then looks curiously at him. “Can you help her—Angel? Can you really help her?” She asks. The Doctor places the tray down, letting out a deep breathe.

“I can try.” He looks at her, letting his own curiosity come out. “How do you all know each other, all of you?” He inquires, something he’s been curious about since stepping into this house.

“Well Lorna—she’s the one who brought you here—she’s my aunt. Before all this started, we lived here. Me, Lorna and Angel. Also, Harriet, and David, with little Samuel. Samuel’s the little boy. David was mostly at work, so he had a flat closer to his work, so it was more that they lived here part time. Samuel was here almost all the time.” Jemima tells him.

“Harriet and David—those are two of the others on the sofa,” The Doctor asks. Jemima freezes, her eyes wide and not unalike a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh…no,” Jemima answers. “That’s Roger, Ruby, and Pia,” Curious.

“Where’s David and Harriet, then?” Jemima’s body tenses, slightly, and he can see reluctance and uncertainty in her eyes. A conflict, but underneath it all, he can also see a want to tell him.

“Jemima, I can’t help if I don’t know everything,” The Doctor gently encourages.

“They’ve gone,” Jemima says, her voice now a whisper, frightened. “Harriet—she was one of the first to go. And David, he went a week back now. Poor Sammy, he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t know where his parents have gone. We don’t understand, but at least we’re adults. He thinks it’s his fault. He won’t talk to us anymore, scared that we’ll go if we do,” Jemima’s voice is filled with sadness, prominent amongst the fright.

“What do you mean, they’ve gone?”

“I don’t know. They go out, and then they go. I don’t understand what’s happening. Lorna won’t tell me. All I know is ever since it happened more and more people are coming here, and then they go. And now Angel’s ill, and I don’t know if she’ll survive. I don’t know what Lorna will do without her, if she doesn’t. My aunt’s never been the same since my mother died; my mam was the last of her family left, part from me,” Jemima’s shoulders sag.

“I just want it to be happy again. Christmas is always a happy time for us. Even Lorna loves it, especially since she met Angel,” Jemima looks up at him, sadness in her eyes.

“Jemima,” his voice is serious. “When you said ever since it happened I need to know; ever since what happened?” He asks. Jemima opens her mouth, but sound comes from behind him.

“I’ll tell you,” The Doctor turns around, to see Lorna standing there. From next to him, he hears Jemima mutter an apology. Lorna shakes her head.

“No, dear, I should’ve told him from the start. It’s just, you don’t know who to trust. Already people in town think we’re mad; they only believe us when it happens to them. Then they come here.” Lorna says, before indicating that they move out of the kitchen and back into the other room.

When all seated, Lorna begins to talk.

“A few months back, we—Roger and I—we came across something strange. A darkness, in the field, at the edge of the town. We didn’t do anything, we just left it. I thought it was the crops dying. But that’s when it started.” Lorna pauses.

“People started disappearing. First it was Roger’s wife, Breena, he said she went out one day, and didn’t come back. We filled a police report, at first. Of course. But then Harriet, she disappeared. Only, this time, Roger and I, we saw it. When Roger’s neighbour disappeared, that’s when we decided to warn people, especially when we noticed the darkness on the field had gotten closer. Not bigger, just moved.” Lorna takes a breath, shaky.

“People didn’t believe us. No one else could see the darkness, only us. But it’s there, and it’s taking people. It took Cole today, that’s what you heard—that’s why I screamed. It took another in front of me. It’s how I hurt my arm, trying to grab him back, but it, it burnt me. It left no mark, but it hurt. And it’s taking more people, no one else can see it, but it doesn’t spare them. Not even being inside helps,”

The Doctor leans forwards. “How does it take people—you said it took them in front of you, how?” he asks.

“It’s a darkness. It’s in the shadows, but it’s darker. It’s black, and then, in a wisp of smoke, it takes you. You can’t stop it. It looks like…” Lorna trails off, looking at where Angel lies. “It looks like Angel’s chest, but a physical form,” She looks back at the Doctor.

“I don’t understand it, Doctor. Why Angel has been infected by it like this, why it isn’t taking her like the others,” Lorna gets up from where she sits, and perches on the arm of the sofa Angel lies across, grabbing Angel’s hand in hers.

The Doctor’s hearts constrict, a burning pain in them, at the gesture. At the softness in Lorna’s action, at the tears in her eyes and the sadness in her voice. There’s no denying it, from this and what Jemima said; Angel is Lorna’s Rose.

And that makes him more determined than ever to fix this.

Especially now, he knows for certain that he knows what’s happening to Angel. He doesn’t get it, but he knows. And he will heal Angel. And maybe—just maybe, if luck was on his side, he’ll be able to save all those who have been lost. He could do with a miracle.

He doesn’t want to tell people bad news, not on Christmas, not when Rose isn’t by his side. She always made difficult moments better; a comfort, a hand to hold.

The Doctor gets into action quickly. Time is of the essence, as Angel has been sick for a few weeks now, which means he doesn’t have long.

“Take me to the field,” He says to Lorna, determination in his voice. Lorna stands up.

“Why?” She asks “You won’t be able to see it, no one else has,”

“I’m not just like anyone. And I need to see if I’m right, and if I am, I can save all the people who are lost.” He tells her. Lorna glances down at Angel. “Angel, too,” He adds on, which is what spurs her into action. The Doctor thinks that makes sense.

He explains his theory on the way, to Lorna, and Donna—and Jemima and Roger who have come along with them.

The Doctor has an extensive knowledge of a lot of aliens, and illnesses, across time. He had recognised it, from books as he has never seen it in person, on Angel. Grefrian Shade. Long time ago, from where they are now in Xyaria’s – or rather Grefri, it’s twin planet—history, the grefrian’s developed an illness, airborne, that would infect them, and kill them within a month.

It had been plaguing them for months, killing off many, many of their kind, before a doctor from Xyaria found the cure—simply, a plant native to Xyaria. This plant was from the same strain of a plant of Grefri, but where’s Grefri’s grew in plentiful, a weed, Xyaria’s was rare. Luckily, only a leaf mixture was needed to cure one person, so soon everyone was cured.

The disease, as a result, died out, and alongside it, the weed.

“But how is it infecting Angel then?” Jemima asks, as soon as he takes a break from his explanation. “And how does it explain the missing people?” She adds on, the others murmuring in agreement.

“I believe the dark patch on the field is a rip in time—from ancient grefri to present day Xyaria. From a time where this disease still existed. That’s how it infected Angel.” He says.

“But Angel hasn’t been by the field, I wouldn’t let her. And if it was airborne—shouldn’t all the other grefrians in town be suffering, because they’re not. Angel has been the only one—not even any other grefrians have been taken.” Lorna protests. He sighs.

“Angel hasn’t been by the field—but you have. You left the dark spot alone, yes, but you breathed in the air around it. Then you went home, and had close contact with Angel, which infected her. It hasn’t done much damage as fast because she hasn’t had direct contact with it.” He explains further.

“But what about the people—my wife?” Roger asks.

“This disease, it’s never met humans. It doesn’t know what to do, it forces it to, for a few seconds, become coloured. It’s why it was so deadly, because it was airborne, except there was always dark patches on the crops. Its form is dark, and that’s what you’ve seen when it’s taking people, it becomes visible because humans confuse it. It can’t infect you the way it does the grefrian’s, so it sits in your throats, and one day, it attacks. Only it still can’t infect you, and that’s when I think the rip drags the disease back—see, the universe can’t prevent time rips, but it’s given it a defense, an ability to try and pull whatever comes through it, back. And it detects the escaped disease as soon as it attacks the human, but it’s sloppy. It pulls the human back, too,” They’ve reached the field now, and three pairs of eyes stare back at him.

“But doesn’t that mean they’re in the past? And how come I and Lorna haven’t been taken yet?” Roger questions.

“They’re in a bubble, hopefully. Between this time and the past. The time rip would understand that they’re not from the past, but the shade in them would stop it from leaving them here, so therefore, it creates a bubble. And you two haven’t been taken yet for the same reason you can see the dark patch—I suppose you both were born exposed to time in some way, which let you see the dark patch, but also protects you,” The Doctor answers, before approaching the said dark patch on the field.

The Doctor turns to look at them, manic grin on his face.

“Now, watch me do something clever,”

He turns back around, and prays for a miracle. He could do with a miracle.

One of the things the Doctor has always liked about Christmas is the magic of it—how people wish for miracles, and when good things happen, for a moment, even sceptics believe it’s a miracle. The Doctor is blessed with three miracles.

He manages to save the people, close the time rip and find the rare Xyaria plant to cure Angel.

All in a day’s work. Still, as joyous he feels at getting to make sure this is another successful day, at being able to make sure another person doesn’t lose their Rose, he can’t help but feel lacking. If he was going to have a miracle today, why couldn’t it be Rose?

 ***

“That ship of yours, it really does take you to places where you’re needed,” Donna says, after finishing her meal. It is a few hours afterwards; he would’ve already gone from this town, but Donna wanted to stick around to finish her shopping and eat something first.

They’re sitting on a bench, outside a nice little café, opposite each other. Donna’s empty plate sits in front of her, and his drink, barely touched, sits in front of him. Donna’s bags sit around them both– “for protection”, she had said as if anyone in this nice town would rob visitors.

“If you think about, we always end up getting into trouble– but trouble you fix.” She shifts her body so she’s looking more at him. “Maybe you’re not a bad driver,” her tone soft.

The Doctor can’t help but smile at that. This day truly is full of miracles. “You reckon?” He says.

“Now, don’t be getting all smug, spaceman. I still want to go to the beach, and you and that ship of yours better get it right this time.” She continues, giving him a look he can only describe as her or else look. “Still. That must be why the TARDIS decided to land here instead.”

The Doctor looks around, thoughtfully. Donna is correct, his ship is stubborn but she does take him where he needs to go. But, somehow, the Doctor feels she’s not quite correct in saying the Grefrian Shade was why they landed here today.

There’s something else.

Or maybe that’s just him. Never rested, always alert.

“This town is nice, though.” Donna’s eyes join in him in looking around.

“It’s beautiful,” the Doctor says, his tone low, a breath of sound. He speaks mostly to himself, his thoughts from earlier coming to the front of his mind again, dragging the accompanying pain with it.

It really is beautiful.

The café is located in a peaceful place, not far from the town centre. It’s not too crowded, however, a peaceful atmosphere encasing around them. Away from the hubble of the town centre, with only the carol music still being able to be heard, faintly, drifting down from the town’s centre, it almost feels like it’s in its own bubble.

It overlooks a lake, frozen, glimmering, and the buildings are alight with the same adorning lights as before.

Its late evening, now, and the suns of Xyaria are setting, creating a warm glow which reflects of the lake.

Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it.

It’s too beautiful. It feels wrong being in such a place, a place he knows Rose would love– a place he had plans to take Rose for their next Christmas.

Being here, it feels like a mistake, a wrongness crawling up his body, creeping over him like the shade on Angel.

Yes, he was aiming for Christmas on Xyaria, but that’s neither here or there now he’s here.

But not with Rose. Never will he look at any beautiful sights again with Rose, and that knowledge, hits him deep, punching him in his hearts.

She’s lost.

“Look at you, saviour of the day again, beautiful scenery before you, and still, you’ve got that face,” Donna’s voice, loud, startles him. He looks at her, saying nothing, but he’s still lost in his own mind, in his thoughts of Rose at the forefront of his mind. His startlement gave him no opportunity to hide his pain, and he thinks it shows, in his eyes, in his face.

Donna’s face softens immediately. “Doctor,” her voice is gentle, almost pitying, but this is Donna; Donna doesn’t do pity. It’s what he likes about her.

“I was–” the Doctor’s voice breaks, and he curses himself. Donna tells him it’s good for him to talk about things, and before her, Rose did– and Martha was evidence of what happens when you don’t– but even still, the Doctor hates being so vulnerable.

“I was going to take Rose here. For her next Christmas, with me.” The Doctor continues, this time with a stronger voice. “She loved Christmas,” he adds on, but quieter, his voice low, sad.

“I’m sorry,” Donna says, and from anyone else, the Doctor would hate the word– he says it a lot, but the word sorry should be erased– but when Donna says it, it says more than enough. She reaches across the table, to rest her hand gently on top of his– a gesture, in the less morose of times, she’s emphasized strongly is not a sign of romantic affection, with a shiver accompanying the words– but he moves his hand away, into his lap.

He appreciates the gesture but it’s the wrong hand. It adds to the wrongness he already feels, being here, adds to pain in his hearts and the emptiness in his hand. Rose’s hand should be tucked into his, in her cute pink mittens she loved. But it’s not. Because she’s not here.

She should be telling him that they need to go closer to the lake, that they need to see all of nature’s wonders up close. She should be convincing him oh-so-easily to skate with her. She should… The Doctor could think of a million things she should be doing, but she’s not because she’s not here.

The Doctor sighs, running a hand through his hair, as he takes one last, longing look at the lake and the image of Rose skating on it, huge smile on her face. He imagines grabbing her hand, spinning her around, feeling, underneath her glove the ring that he had hoped to give her.

Pain clutches at his hearts again, a deep sorrow, and the Doctor decides it’s time to go home. Donna has done all that she needs to do, and even though the Doctor feels a reluctance to go back to the TARDIS—be it because he feels, for whatever reason, that they’re not quite done here, or because there’s no place he feels the heaviness of Rose’s missing presence than on the TARDIS—if he stays on this planet any longer, he feels as if his hearts may just stop from pain.

Donna, as if sensing what he was about to say, grabs her bags. The Doctor looks at her, a tight smile on his face, and he’s about to offer his assistance, when he pauses.

His ears, if he does say so himself, are rather magnificent, even if they aren’t as big as they were this time around. And through the faint caroling sound, through the faint hustle of people, the Doctor hears a laugh.

Not any laugh, no, he’s been hearing loads of laughter today. Not anyone’s laughs, her laugh.

The Doctor’s ears are magnificent, but they’re also cruel. They play tricks on him, as do his eyes, so he has no reason to believe the sound they’re hearing. It’s not like he hasn’t imagined her laugh before.

But, maybe it’s because it’s Xyaria, maybe it’s because they’ve had a day of miracles, and a day of reminders, but the Doctor’s body is frozen at the sound. Frozen, until it starts moving, moving towards the sound.

He moves silently, wordlessly, his expression frozen, his thoughts all but paused. He faintly acknowledges that Donna is following him, calling his name, but her words are muffled. His ears only focused on the laugh, his mind only focused on the hope that’s building as he gets closer and it gets louder.

Hope is a dangerous thing, he thinks, as he approaches the corner of the building, about to turn in the direction the laugh is coming from. He tells himself last chance, last chance to turn back, to not do something which would inevitably break his hearts.

He turns the corner.

There’s kids playing, in the snow, looking like they’re having fun as their parents watch. But that’s not what he sees, not really. His eyes are immediately drawn to one person and one person only; a blonde playing in the snow with the children. Smiling wide. Beautiful.

The Doctor’s hearts stop, and his breath catches in his throat.

Rose.

Her laugh hits his ears again, and he nearly falls over. Shock overrides his body, and he can’t breathe and his hearts aren’t working, and a numbness of disbelief washes over him. His only thought is Rose. Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose.

His mind is chanting, and he opens his mouth, to say what he’s thinking, but nothing comes out. Words, oxygen, blood, all these functions are pointless to him, but he panics, because he can’t call to her.

Then, she looks up.

She looks up from the children, her smile fading, slightly and he can see her pain in her eyes, and oh, he wants to call to her. But it doesn’t matter, because she’s looked up, and she’s looking at him.

She’s looking at him.

Her expression shifts, showing the shock that he’s feeling. Her mouth drops open, slightly, and he wonders if her heart stops like his did, or if it’s beating as fast as it is doing now.

He wonders if her breathe catches in her throat at the sight of him.

She takes a step back, shocked. Her eyes, wide, disbelieving. He watches as her head, moves, slightly, shaking, unbelieving.

A hand to her chest.

He wants to go to her, he wants to call to her, he wants to do anything but stare, but he’s frozen in his spot.

Children are playing around them, Donna is beside him, calling his name but all he can see, all he can think, all he wants to look at is her, his light, his queen, his Rose.

Rose, Rose, Rose.

His mind chants again, and then his legs are moving, oh they’re moving, needing to get closer, and so is hers. They’re only a short distance away from each other, but they’re running, moving as quickly as they can until finally– finally– they’re in each other’s arms.

Her body hits his, the momentum almost hitting him over, but he steadies himself, leaning back on one foot as he lifts her up, his arms wrapped securely around her. Keeping her in place. Holding her against him.

He rolls back on the foot, placing them both flat on the ground, straight, but not letting her go. Never letting her go.

Her body is warm against his, and he can feel her heart beating, fast, fast, fast. Before Canary Wharf, before he lost her, he’d be filled with concern at the rate, but now, now all he feels is happiness.

There’s no denying that he can feel her heart racing, no denying that she isn’t really here. She’s alive, she’s found, and she’s here.

She still smells the same, and he breathes it in as he holds her tight to him, and she squeezes him back, and they both say nothing but say everything.

Her shampoo smell is different, no fancy alien shampoo where she’s been, yes, but underneath it all, there’s the same smell he’s been addicted to since day one, the smell of Rose.

He rests his face on her head, millions of questions of how, how, how, running through his mind, but he pays it no attention. Wanting to let this just be a Christmas miracle. He can worry about the questions later.

Because she’s here, she’s in his arms, she’s home.

“Rose,” The Doctor finally speaks, his voice hoarse and he’s surprised at how quickly tears appear in his eyes, although he really shouldn’t be.

“Doctor,” she says, too, her voice soft, filled with emotion. She nuzzles at his shoulder, at the crook of his neck, before looking up at him, their eyes connecting. “Doctor,” his name comes out her lips as a half sob, and his arms instinctively squeeze her more tightly.

“Rose,” he says, again, his own voice sounding like hers. “Rose, Rose, I love you,” he tells her, his voice choked, one hand touching her face, her soft face.

“I love you, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve said it,” now he’s broken his silence, he never wants to stop talking, but his vocabulary is limited to only Rose, and I love you and I’m sorry. It’s all he finds necessary; long, winding words mean nothing to him, not now.

“I should’ve, Rose, oh my Rose, I should’ve never–” he cuts off, his voice breaking, the true extent of his heartbreak, the pain, the remorse, everything he’s felt since she’s been gone coming out, flourishing in his voice, in his expression.

Rose’s eyes look into his, filled with her own pain and heartbreak. They’re watery, but oh-so filled with such emotion.

“Doctor,” Rose’s voice is quiet, a whisper. His name, spoken with pain, and love, always love. One of her hands moves from its place on his back, snaking around his neck and touching, gently, the edge of his chin.

“That, none of that, matters now– I,” Rose breaks off, as well, blinking as a two tears run down her cheeks. She takes a shaky breath in. “I found you,” she says, her voice still shaky, but strong.

She smiles, letting out a breathy laugh filled with disbelief, but joy. “I found you,” she repeats, with wonder in her words.

She lets a grin over her face, wide, happy, joyful, and the Doctor allows himself to do the same. Allows himself to laugh, happily in disbelief, alongside her.

Allowing themselves for the first time in years to be happy. To enjoy no longer having that arching weight on his hearts. To revel, in this moment, of this Christmas miracle.

They’ve reunited, at last.

They grin at each other, stupidly. And then, he doesn’t know who, but then they’ve leaned towards each other, and their lips are meeting, and they’re kissing, they’re kissing again, he’s finally feeling her lips against his, and, and it’s all too much and not enough and–

She’s here. Rose, she’s really here.

The Doctor never wants this moment to end. He wants to live in this weightless bubble, of happiness and joy, of miracles. This bubble of just Rose, Rose, Rose.

Rose pulls back, only slightly, her hands playing with his hair, a smile dancing on her lips he so badly wants to kiss again. She tastes exactly the same; the most wonderful and addictive taste in the universe.

“My Doctor,” Rose says, breathlessly. “I found you,” she lets out a giddy laugh and he, yet again, returns it.

“Hello,” he says, laughing at the absurdity of saying so after five minutes of her being in his arms. Then, he leans down, and steals another kiss from her. There is, after all, mistletoe hanging from the tree nearby.

Rose, and him, reunited again, at Christmas, on Xyaria.

All miracles are is science, really, everything can be explained; that’s what he thinks. But, in this moment, in this glorious, glorious moment, all he can think is that miracles do exist. That the universe, for once, is on his side.

Or maybe, Rose is just that brilliant. That she was right when she said the universe will never split them apart. They’re like magnets, drawn together, belonging together.

The dull ache in his hearts is gone, instead thumping with such love, love for the human in his arms.

“I missed you,” the Doctor murmurs, quietly, from where he rests his head upon hers, having broken the kiss. He holds her to him, a contentment he hasn’t felt in a long time gently washing over him. He could stay like this forever.

Rose, from where her head lies against him, fitted snug, murmurs her reply; “missed you too,” with a content sigh.

He feels her shoulders relax, as if a weight has been lifted from them, and the Doctor’s shoulders do them same. Indeed, a weight has been lifted and he feels weightless, a relief.

Her body fits against his almost as if she has never gone, nothing feels any different, but yet, she was gone. They can feel that, as they hug, as they lean against each other. Their weightless, but it’s a heavy hug, a hug filled of all that was lost which is now found.

For the Doctor, it’s been a day of finding lost people. A day of reuniting other people’s Roses. And now, his Rose has been reunited with him, and he thinks that’s, perhaps, which also adds to the heavy relief of this hug.

The feeling that he could’ve gone back to the TARDIS, without her, but having her in his mind, after a day of seeing other people get their Rose back.

There’s a lot to dissect, still the questions of how exactly is Rose here bouncing around the back of his mind, but they live in this weightless, heavy hug. Content.

“Not to interrupt what I’m sure is a lovely hug, but have you noticed it’s started to snow. Heavy.” Donna’s voice breaks into the bubble he’s found himself in.

He turns his head, slightly, but his chin is disrupted, as Rose moves, pulling her head up to look at Donna. The Doctor’s arms instinctively hold her body tighter, not wanting her to move away from him completely. Unwilling to have her away from him. Not this soon.

“And I can’t help but notice that you both are as underdressed as each other– although my concern is mainly for you, not him, he’s insane,” Donna carries on, ending the sentence by looking more at Rose. The Doctor would feel insulted, if it wasn’t Donna.

The Doctor looks around, only now processing Donna’s words. It is, indeed snowing, his and Rose’s shoulders coated with a layer of snow. He notices how snowflakes sit in rose’s hair, a light film of snow sugaring her. A snowflake sits on her nose.

The Doctor’s hearts twist, at the sight. Rose’s face, aware of the cold even if they weren’t, is a light pink shade, and the Doctor thinks she looks beautiful.

The most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“Hey, lover boy,” Donna captures his attention again, and he drags his eyes away from Rose, although he doesn’t want to, to look at Donna again.

“What did you call me?” His brain catches up with him. From the corner of his eye, the Doctor sees Rose smirk, amused.

“Lover boy.” Donna repeats. “Now, if you can stop giving Rose those eyes, its cold, we need to go back to the TARDIS.” Donna commands.

“Wait, how do you know my name? I haven’t introduced myself,” Rose asks, looking between them.

“Well, I was rather hoping you was Rose. I mean, surely, there can only be one person who’s actually into this skinny piece of nothing,” Donna answers, in the most Donna-like fashion. Yet again, a running theme with Donna, he doesn’t know if he should be insulted or amused.

“And there was only going to be one person who could turn him into a deaf zombie and make him look so, so lovesick, and that’s you,” Donna adds on.

Rose looks up at him, an emotion the Doctor can’t quite place swimming in her eyes. “You mentioned me?” She says, her voice oddly quiet. The Doctor’s hearts constrict, wondering how she could think he could not mention her when he loves and missed her so much, but knowing why she does.

“Yes, he did. And if he ever made you think he wouldn’t, well he’s an idiot. But you can talk about that after we get into warmth,” Donna speaks again, and they both look at her. “TARDIS,” she commands, authoritivly beginning to walk off.

With a shared smile, the Doctor and Rose follow her, the Doctor grabbing Rose’s hand, tight in his own.

Back where she belongs.

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Red Queen Secret Santa 2018 for Rhia @redqueenfandom <3

A/N: A modern AU, a sequel to the ones I wrote before. I wanted to place this in Paris at first, but then I thought I should rather write about a place where I’ve been to – although my memories aren’t that perfect^^° I’m sorry for eventual inaccuracies.

A New Place

Growing Up

The Dinner

Roman Holiday

The Wedding

FInd this on Wattpad and on AO3

Roman Holiday

Mare POV

It’s eleven in the evening when I can call it a day on christmas eve. I put away my apron and slip into my coat and scarf and step outside of the café and onto the streets of Rome, bright with lights, filled with people, bells sounding over me.

Astounding that I hardly need the coat, despite the time and season. But this is a warm place, making it even more of a magnet for tourists coming to flee the winter or to experience christmas surrounded by supposedly more holiness than at home, wherever it is.

I’m not sure whether I should call myself one of them. I’m still a foreigner like them, frequently overwhelmed by Rome’s grandeur and age and visiting its endless sights. But then again, I make my living by serving tourists currently.

Four months into my gap year, I’m spending the winter in Italy, working as a help or assistant in various institutions, first in the cheaper countryside, now in the capital. I was tempted to see the festive spectacle, to be honest, that I’m putting up the higher costs of coming here. Fortunately, my room is affordable enough, but nothing I’d like to stay in for longer than a few days for that price. I knew what I was getting into, I guess, so I’m here to make an experience of it.

Truly, it is one. The ancientness of the city, the marks of history and art everywhere, often pull at my suspension of disbelief until I can take it for real. The more I stay, I’m starting to wonder if I’ll normalize the marvels one moment, no longer able to take it all in as much as it deserves. But I don’t intend to stay that long. I’m here to travel and see the world, and my next stations are waiting. Because for all its greatness, Rome’s also tiring, exhausting me.

There’s a price for a year of travelling, and that is hard, ever-shifting, and often boring work. It isn’t difficult to find jobs when you’re a native English and Spanish speaker in places full of tourists. Interpreters are good to have and I’ve a talent for languages, so my Italian improves by the day. The café I currently work at seems to have mostly foreign customers talking English, but to encounter the barriers of languages, from one foreigner to another, leaves a strange impression. Words get jumbled and guesses have to be made all the time and I try to smile away the stress. I hope that eases the work as well as raise my tips.

Although I’ve understood the processes of applying and have some reserves at hand by now, a consequence of the gap year is a constant worry of having nothing when I wake up next. It can eat at you no matter what, having to rely on yourself alone this much, but then again, it’s also the freedom I’ve craved. Whatever I do, I achieve it by myself. I can be proud of that. Doesn’t that mean I can manage everything?

Yet, it also means that often, I’m terribly alone. To be here, I’ve left behind my home, my friends, and my family. Now I’m meeting strangers every day, of whom each might become a new friend if I gave them the chance. It’s hard, the enduring newness of people and everything else. I can’t open myself up to them all the time, re-introduce myself and every part of me, can’t bring up the energy to translate all of their conversations in my head to take part in them. Thus, I frequently fall into myself and rest alone at the end of a long day full of work.

Tonight is such a time, or could be. It’s still christmas, but the loud and lively shift has destroyed pretty much of my festive mood. This is nothing like my little girl christmases and their inherent childhood magic. This is noise and exhaustion and unfamiliarity. It’s a feeling pulling me off the ground and I’m not willing to give in to it.

The streets around me roar as I scout for a quieter spot where I can sit down. Not easy to find here, as many are already taken, or dirty, or prohibited so traffic isn’t disturbed. But finally, I find a free building block close to the Pantheon. I get down on it and take a deep breath of the night air, letting my body relax as good as possible.

It’s not far from St. Peter where the greatest crowd will celebrate and if I weren’t so tired, I might go there to watch them, to get my own image of it. Shade would be offended to hear about this, as he’s always keen on calling out the catholic church and the pope especially. But I’d welcome his rant if I saw him in person again, like the rest of my family. I miss them so much, and curse once more my decision to stay abroad during christmas. The loneliness is cruel on this day, and the only thing I can do is getting my phone out and looking over their pictures and messages again. I do so every day and send replies back, but I delayed this today, hoped not thinking about them and being unaware about what I’m missing would make my shift more tolerable. That didn’t really work out. I just had a bad day that went to waste while everyone else around me is having fun.

So now I can be lonely while watching my family celebrating christmas. Tramy sells christmas trees and presents the fairy tale-like winter wonderland of the garden center he works at. Bree is with his girlfriend, both grinning and likely slightly inebriated, when Kilorn crashes their photos. Shade, despite his atheist statements, put outfits on his baby daughter Clara that make her look like an elf of Santa Claus and he stands arms in arm with Clara and Diana under a mistletoe that hangs over their door. In another, Diana, seriously studying an important-looking book, wears a silly blinking cap on her head, and in a second photo she hugs Clara besottedly as if in ignorance of a photo being taken.

Mom and Dad are similarly in love with their first grandchild and have tons of pictures with her, of Dad keeping her from crawling into the Christmas tree, or of Bree holding her up to pull on a pinata.

Gisa shines in these photos, too. Even on casual days, her outfits leave me so awed and envious of her style full of details and perfection achieved by her own ideas and efforts. One time, she’s wearing a black dress, a ball dress I almost think, and she looks so gorgeous in it that I don’t know whether to adore her or to be scared of her.

I sniff and swipe tears from my eyes. When I look back to the screen, my contacts are shown. My fingers must’ve slipped and I scroll back to find my family again, as I still have to send greetings and wishes. It’s christmas after all, and since it’s still afternoon over there, it must the perfect time for messages. Maybe even a call. Yes, I should make a call. Yet I stop searching when I see another name on the list.

Cal.

His profile photo seems to smile at me, and I feel myself smiling back at him automatically. At the boy I dated a few times back in the States. The silly, rich, hot and kind Cal who’d muttered something about christmas in Italy back then. How decadent, I thought. And now I’m actually here. I can’t resist the temptation and text “hey” to him.

“Merry christmas!” he texts back. “My parents wanted to visit the holy night in Rome and now we’re watching from our hotel balcony. Can you believe?” Added is a photo of the crowd on St. Peter.

I can’t help grinning like an utter fool.

“Guess what …” I write to him.

I drop hints for him about where to find me, not really expecting him to show up. Why should he, when he’s with his family on christmas eve? And yet, between messaging my family and joking with Kilorn about food, I glance over my appearance in more than one mirror or window to make sure I have nothing in my face.

I’m right at replying to Kilorn’s snarks when I almost bounce into someone. I’m fast enough to get out of reach, but make myself ready to rant back if necessary.

Light falls on his face, and I, silly me, recognize him as Cal, who’s really come to meet with me in the middle of the holy night.

“Merry christmas again, Mare,” he says.

I hesitate. I tuck my hair behind my ears nervously and chew on my lip as I look for words and my composure. But when I see his face, beaming with excitement, I laugh out loud and he laughs along with me. I go to him and in a blink, I stand before him and give him a hug. A friendly one, like I’d hug everyone, yet I don’t let go, and neither does he. I pull him closer, my hands pressing into his back as I step on my toes to kiss his – stubby – cheek and whisper “merry christmas,” into his ear.

He returns the kiss on the cheek.

And then he kisses me on the mouth.

It’s a surprise for both of us, but we don’t stop. Does it mean anything? Or is it just fun? He might be drunk although I’m not, only tired and in need of warmth and a familiar human body close to me.

We pull apart to draw breaths and don’t know what to do afterwards. We grin and laugh again. “We can ... walk a little?” he prompts and I agree and take his hand. With him at my side, I don’t feel so tired and lost. We’re two people enjoying christmas together in a beautiful city, and that changes everything.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” I say.

“Same here,” he replies. “Well, you said something about being in Italy during winter, and when my parents talked about travelling on Christmas, I put in an option or two …” He shrugs.

I elbow him softly. “Stalker,” I jest.

“Hey! It was still a surprise,” he objects and smirks. “And you called me.”

That’s true, but I’m unsure whether to tell him how needy I felt an hour before. It’s good as it is, should I dive deeper? We’re strolling through this ancient quarter, two people who might be in love during a lush night, like millions of other people must’ve done before. It doesn’t make me feel small, but incredibly connected and right where I belong tonight. Cal especially seems to fit in here perfectly. With his handsome face, the contrast of light skin and dark hair illuminated by the moonlight, he could be a mystical apparition rising from the ruins.

Oh god, I can never tell him that. He’d never shut up about it, and the idea is way to pagan for this night. Shade would be proud.

“What?” Cal nudges me and I shake my head a little too long just to win time. He frowns.

“You’re her with your family?” I ask eventually. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“I …” Bingo. “Ugh, right, that must sound ridiculous to you.” He’s completely flustered and it’s very endearing. “You’re here on your own,” he continues, “and I came here on a family trip like a big baby.”

I incline my head, the corner of my mouth twitching. He doesn’t offer me a chance to reply though.

“However, it does mean something to me.” His hand squeezes mine, possibly inadvertently, as his voice gains a serious edge. “My parents often went on trips with me, of course. But this is the first my half-brother is with us.”

I stand still.

“Mare?” Cal asks. I don’t react. “Mare, your mouth’s open till the Alps,” he says.

A shiver washes over me and I look up to him. His confused face likely mirrors mine. “Mare, didn’t I tell you about my brother? Who’s lived with his mother?”

I nod gravely.

“You see, as I’ve told you, we met at the same college. And somehow, we got along surprisingly well. I was so glad, you know? I think Maven is, too.”

“That’s great.” I smile faintly.

“Indeed, so after a few months, we decided to go on vacation together, as a family. And Maven loves Rome.”

I can easily imagine him, standing in a museum or on the capitol hill among paintings and statues and looking like a mischievous fallen angel himself. “Oh, absolutely,” I say aloud. Only that that deeply puzzles Cal, because he doesn’t know that I know Maven personally, that we were friends and a couple for years. I’ve only learned by accident that he’s Cal’s half-brother.

Now I have no idea how to tell Cal this so late. Seems like Maven didn’t tell him either. I wonder if he figured out who Cal is meeting tonight.

Cal still isn’t enlightened and I take both of his hands and know I have to confess. I look into his beautiful eyes, golden like fire, like light. “I’ve been friends with Maven for a long time,” I say. More than friends. “Until last year.”

If I leave it at this, I’ll never be able to finish. So I go on. “We were together for a while,” I say quietly, and speaking feels like lifting a ton. “As a couple.”

Cal gasps for words. I Iay a finger on his lips. “But that’s over. I’m just glad, really happy, that he is doing well and getting along with you.”

Relief washes over Cal and I’m sure he’ll have to digest this for some time. His hands wriggle in mine, loosen, and wander over my arms to my shoulders. He rubs them and I don’t want him to stop and he doesn’t, as he’s still at loss for words.

I stretch to give him a light kiss. He chuckles. “And I thought about asking you to come with me tonight …”

“Oh, how scandalous.” I tease back, hands on my hips.

“Yes, it’d be awkward for several reasons.”

I shake my head. “Not tonight, “I say with a sigh, a promise ringing in my voice.

He catches the note and smiles. His palms remain a caressing, welcome presence on my back, and I take the final step to embrace him. He pulls me even closer, bending down to my ear. “I’d say I’m looking forward for another time, Mare,” he mumbles, turning my name into a tender touch. “But whenever I let go of you and say ‘goodbye for now’, you vanish in a flash, fast as lightning.”

“I – ”

He kisses the top of my head. “I want to meet you again. I want to get to know you – for real.”

His eyes burn with intensity, his arms feel like a home. So under an infinite black sky, bells tolling around us in a city of legends, I whisper a time and place into his ear. “I’ll be there, I promise.” My hand rests on his cheek. “It’s my christmas present to you.”

@merrymareshmallow @clarafarleybarrow @inopinion @lilyharvord @elliemarchetti (gosh I just hope I did get Italy mostly right) @eurydicel @sarcasm-and-procrastination @marecalrandomstuff @calmareforever @choosemarecal

[squilliamnylander]

all the small things | auston matthews

Note: I wrote a thing and here it is?? I’m kinda nervous to post this so any and all feedback is appreciated - whether it’s positive or constructive criticism. 

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: some nsfw y’all, but not a lot

“Bub, have you seen my game-day hoodie? I thought I left it in the bathroom but It’s not there.” Auston calls from your shared bedroom, voice growing clearer as he makes his way down the stairs. He thumps down each step, slow and deliberate and you know he’s just woken up from his nap. You set down your copy of Jane Eyre as a sleepy Auston stumbles into the living room, clad in grey sweats and an old ZSC Lions tee shirt. The shirt was well-worn - the colours are faded and there's a small hole near his naval. As he approaches the couch, you sit up from your cave of blankets to kiss the patch of skin showing through, and he offers you a small smile. 

“It smelled a little gross so I washed it,” you reply, “Sorry, shoulda told you. In the laundry room, I think it’s near the bottom of the bin.” 

He looks down at you, still smiling over your small show of affection, and crinkles his nose. 

“Buuuub,” he draws out his nickname for you so it sounds almost like a whine, “I told you not to do my laundry. You’re not a housewife,” and he winks at you, “yet…” 

You roll your eyes, but a giggle escapes and you take his hand in yours. 

He continues: “Seriously, we have staff for this. Thank you, I appreciate you, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to take care of me.” 

You tug on his hand and he gets the memo, sliding onto the couch, far enough away so as not to disturb your elaborate blanket set-up, your book still lying propped open on your lap.   

“You’ve been tired and stressed Aus - more tired than usual. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Your bin was overflowing, so I thought I’d help. It’s really nothing, I don’t mind.” You reach up and run your fingers through the mop on his head, untangling as you go, lightly pinching his ear in reassurance. 

“Besides, we can’t have Auston Matthews warming up without his lucky hoodie, and it really was disgusting. Zach and Willy won’t go near you if you show up smelling like ass-sweat.” 

You thought he would laugh - you were going for a laugh, hoping it would ease the tension he was holding up in his shoulders, but he just looks at you instead, and it’s so full of love and reverence, you think your heart is going to burst. He leans in, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. He doesn’t deepen it, just holds you there for a second, before moving his mouth to your earlobe.   

“It’s not nothing,” he whispers. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

..........

“Tomatoes, garlic, onion, red peppers, green peppers, chilli peppers, mango, corn chips, avocados… I think I got everything.” Auston mumbles, walking into the kitchen, carefully balancing two very full grocery bags on his shoulders. You start to stand up. try to reach out to take them off his back, but he spins, dodging your grasp the way he always does to opposing players on the ice.

“Relax, I’ve got it.” He places the bags on the floor, pulling out the items you asked him to pick up on the way home from the rink. A few nights ago, Auston had confided in you that he missed his mom’s homemade Mexican food, and that his cache of homemade hot sauce just wasn’t cutting it. A lifetime of hockey meant to more nights eating out than in, and it was pretty obvious - he was horrible in the kitchen. The most he knew about cooking was how take leftovers out of the plastic takeout containers before reheating, and there were no genuine Mexican places in his UberEats delivery zone. So, you offered to make him the one dish you knew how to make - a recipe you had mastered in the early, broke days of freshman-dorm living - salsa. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

“Oh, and I grabbed you these.” He pulls a small black box out of the grocery bag and puts it on the counter, before moving to put away the produce. You pick it up, inspect it, wondering why your boyfriend decided to meander down the feminine hygiene aisle of your local Sobeys while shopping for salsa ingredients. He must sense your confusion, because he shuts the fridge, turning to look at you. He places his hands on the counter, leaning over it to kiss the crease between your scrunched eyebrows. 

“Borrowed your toothpaste this morning ‘cause I left mine in my suitcase and while I was in your side of the vanity, I saw you were almost out. Figured you’d forget to restock before it was too late.”   

You mouth an inaudible ‘aw’ and stand up, walking around the countertop to latch your arms around his middle. His arms immediately circle around you, pulling in you in. He smells like sweat and hockey tape and his deodorant - like Auston - and you squeeze him back tighter.   

“Love you,” you speak into his chest, voice muffled by the sweater he’s wearing, but he hears you anyways. Auston always hears you. He laughs quietly, a breathy laugh you can feel as his chest rumbles against your cheek.   

“It’s just tampons bub, no big deal.”

..........

“Matthews, get in here for a sec. I got something for you.” 

Auston gets off his bed, padding barefoot through the hotel room’s connecting door into Mitchy’s room. They’re in Niagara for pre-season training camp, and it’s the first night of two weeks away from home for the boys. Mitch is holding a small box, wrapped in blue tissue paper, and Auston immediately knows it’s from you. You had wrapped all of his presents for him last christmas - he was hopeless, couldn’t even figure out how to cut enough paper, and you chided him for wanting to have a store attendant wrap his own mother’s gift - and he recognizes your signature corner folds. Mitch smiles a big toothy smile, before handing Auston the box. 

“She made me promise not to give it to you until your birthday, which is technically not for another hour, but I’m hella tired and I want to catch some actual shut-eye before morning skate tomorrow - knowing Babs, we won’t get much this trip. So yeah, here.” 

Auston laughs at his teammate’s comment, and takes the box.

“She’s a keeper, brother. Gave this to me over a week ago and texted me everyday to make sure I didn’t forget. A pain in the ass, but a keeper.” This earns Mitch another laugh from Auston, knowing very well how persistent his girlfriend could be. 

“Believe me, I know,” he says, “Thanks for doing it.” 

“Not a problem.” Mitch replies with a yawn, “Now get out, I’m going to bed. Goodnight Auston - and happy almost birthday.” 

Auston heads back into his room, closing the connecting door for some privacy, before getting back into bed with the box. He opens it, tries not to tear the paper to shreds, wants to save everything his girlfriends gives him, and finds a note.   

‘For my boy’ it reads, written in blue ink because she knows it’s his favourite colour, knows that even though it’s a simple thing it makes him happy, and he already wants to call her and tell her he loves her just for remembering that. But it’s late, past eleven at night, and he doesn’t want to wake her, not on a Sunday night when she has to be up early for class the next morning. So he sits alone with the box and the note, traces his fingers over her neat printing, before breaking the seal and reading what she wrote for him.   

“Happy Birthday, Aus. I wish I could be there with you today to celebrate your incredible life. I loved you at 20 and I’m going to love you now at 21 too. Call me sometime if you can - I promise I won’t sing over the phone. I love you, and I hope you like your gift. Xoxo.”

He doesn’t even need to open the it the rest of the way to know he loves it. She knows him, knows his favourite colour, knows he likes to stay up till midnight on the eve of his birthday, knows which of his teammates would remember his birthday too - anything she bought for him would be perfect. And while the Bon Jovi tour tee, the blue baseball cap and the key to her apartment she had included in the box were certainly appreciated, he finally understood what people meant when they said it was the thought that counts. He would wear the shirt and cap tomorrow, had the perfect pair of black skinnies in mind to match, he was most looking forward to calling her in the morning to thank her for always thinking ahead, for always thinking of him.

..........

“Can I offer you anything else, ladies? Some more champagne?” The waiter asks, approaching your group. A chorus of ‘no’s’ and ‘no thank you’s’ is heard from around the table, and you join in quietly, shaking your head and offering a polite smile.   

The venue is enchanting, with high ceilings and crystal chandeliers that shimmer in the candlelight, and you try to focus on the beauty of the moment instead of your persistent hunger. You’re here to celebrate your friend’s marriage, and although you love her, would never survive hockey season without her, you kind of want to kill her for choosing lobster as the main dish. Maybe it’s because you grew up in a city, away from coastal towns and seafood diners, or maybe you just have reasonable taste, but the buttery smell is stuck in your nose, every whiff triggering your gag reflex, and choking down the fingerling potatoes was not enough to quell the uneasiness in your stomach. You’re lost in the art on the walls, pushing food on your plate like some kind of toddler, when you feel a blunt jab to your side. Trailing down, your eyes find Auston’s elbow as the culprit, you angle towards him, meeting his eyes. He looks amused, gives you a knowing look - knowing that you despise seafood, knowing that the smell makes you want to vomit - and you can’t help but offer a small pout in return. After all, he can’t stand lobster either, so he’s probably feeling as nauseated as you are. He looks both ways - at William sitting next to him, at the Bozaks across from you, like he’s about to pull some sort of magic trick, and once satisfied no one was paying attention, he picks up his plate and scrapes his potatoes and bread onto yours with a wink and a half-smile.   

You’re feeling equal parts grateful and guilty, because as hungry as you are, your boyfriend just gave you the only food he’s going to get for the next five hours or so. 

You lean towards him to whisper, “What are you gonna eat?” Auston just shakes his head before replying. “I ate a big lunch, I’m good, go ahead.”   

Placing your hand on his thigh, you give a small squeeze to show your gratitude before taking a too-big bite out of his dinner roll, which elicits a chuckle. The rest of the night flows beautifully, and by the end of the meal, you’re satisfied enough to drag your boyfriend to the dance floor. The song is melodic and slow, and Auston’s got you wrapped in his arms so your head is resting on his shoulder.

“You know,” he murmurs, lips grazing the crown of your head, “When we get married, I think we can pick a much better dinner menu.”   

His grip around you tightens, his body stiffening. If he hadn’t been holding on to you, you might have dropped right in the middle of the dance floor. The two of you had never talked about marriage before, choosing to focus on the more immediate future, like bye-week and playoff trips and off-season. You never expected him to bring it up either - before you, Auston had been a serial dater, never holding on to a girl for more than a few hours or at most a few nights. And yet, here he was, talking about the real future, at his teammate’s wedding of all places, and he was clinging on tighter than ever. You turn your head to look up at him, and he looks scared. You’ve never seen his eyes like this, not even before game 7 of the playoffs, not when he was faced with the possibility of surgery, not even when he had first asked you to move in with him. So, you press a light kiss to his shoulder, trying not to stain his suit with your lipstick, and bury your face back into the crook of his arm before saying,

“I think so too, I think our wedding will be so much better. Although, I really do like this ballroom. The chandeliers are stunning. Maybe we could steal them right from the ceiling for ours.”   

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling, can feel him relax his body back into yours. He sways you to the music, and just for a moment you imagine this to be your wedding day. Dancing with Auston, surrounded by your favourite people dancing in celebration of your love, you realize it’s all that you want. Well, it’s almost all you want, you think, holding back a laugh when you hear Auston’s stomach grumble. Ideally, you’ll both like the food at your wedding. Ideally, he wouldn’t have to give up his food to keep you full. But he’s Auston, the boy you know yore going to marry someday, and you know that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you full and happy and dancing for the rest of your lives together.

..........

You wished more than anything you could be there to welcome him home. The boys had played an incredible game; a stellar, unexpected win that, with playoffs right around the corner, had everyone buzzing. The team and friends and girlfriends were all headed back to yours and Auston’s shared home to celebrate, but you had a flight out of Pearson that night, and not only missed the game, but missed your chance to give him a celebratory kiss - an easy tradition you had picked up early on in your relationship. 

As the boys stumbled through the door, followed by their already-tipsy girlfriends, Auston was struck by how quiet and cold the living room felt without you home. The fireplace, which was usually on, was dark, and the windows were all shut even though you normally kept them open, a fan of the fresh air and the city sounds from outside your downtown home.   

He makes his way through the house, turning on the lights and the stereo, as his teammates and friends fill up the place. There’s chatter and music and the sound heels clicking on the hardwood, and it’s not you, but it’s better than being alone. He finally makes his way to the kitchen, heads for the fridge to grab a beer, when he notices something on the kitchen table you normally kept bare. It’s a tin, a christmas tin complete with cartoon Santas and reindeers with red noses, with a post-it note sitting on top. 

In your always-neat printing, it reads: “Sorry I couldn’t be there to welcome you home. Hope this is enough of a substitute for my congratulatory kiss (for now xoxo). Love you, I’m so proud of you.” 

He opens the tin, smiling a real, eye-crinkling smile when he sees what you’ve left him. Your homemade fudge brownies were a fan-favourite, never lasting more than a day whenever you made them. You weren’t a special occasion baker, your philosophy being that it was never not time for brownies, and he certainly wasn’t going to complain. Except this time, you adorned each brownie with a Hershey’s kiss, and the cheekiness of it all has Auston laughing, nodding his head as if you could see that yes, this was enough for now, enough to make him feel like you were there supporting him. He’s about to take out his phone to check your flight status, to see if he can call you to thank you, when Travis comes bouncing into the kitchen, and whether he was buzzed about the game or on wine coolers, Auston wasn’t sure.   

“What are you.. woah did she make us brownies? I fucking love her brownies, dude. Bring em out!” 

Travis grabs Auston’s arm, and he’s too tired, too blissfully happy to resist, happy about the win, happy about the brownies, happy that his teammates have welcomed you in so lovingly, so he allows himself to be pulled into the group, and as he joins in the celebrations, he knows you’re right there with him. You always are, and you always will be.

..........

He’s got his hands hooked under your legs, grasp unforgiving as you squirm beneath him. His touch is liquid fire, each finger spreading heat through your belly as he digs into the soft flesh of your hips. You’ll bruise tomorrow, and he might wake up to a bald patch with how tightly you’re pulling on his hair, but you can’t really think about it, can’t really think about anything when Auston’s mouth is on your pussy.   

You groan as his tongue juts into your folds, and it only encourages him to pull your body even closer to his face. You’re really wet, cum dripping down the junction of your leg, right onto Auston’s chin, and it dribbles down, soaking the bed sheet beneath you.   

“Aus,” you murmur, “I’m not gonna last if you keep this up.”     

He had been relentless in his teasing all night. Fingers wandering up your thigh, sneaking under the hem of your little black dress, hidding by his professional demeanor and the white table cloth. As he walked to the podium to accept his award, the applause of the crowd drowned out the flithy things he had murmured into your ear on his way up. 

“The only prize I want is your pussy wrapped tight around my cock when we get home tonight.”   

His comment had left you with goosepumps on your limbs and a throbbing between your legs that hasn’t subsided since. This is how you ended up here, both naked and needy between the sheets of Auston’s California King. Only he wasn’t taking what you thought he wanted, wasn’t stretching you out and slamming his hips into yours the way he usually did on nights like these. It was his night - his big night, his award, his achievement - and he deserved an easy orgasm. You were more than willing to give it to him, to oblige him in any way he wanted. You were prepared to do most of the work. Instead, he head you spread out, spread open for him, propped up on pillows, about to cum for the the third time in a row, and he hadn’t even touched or let you touch his leaking cock.   

“Aus,” you repeat your earlier plea, only this time it comes out as a whine - he’s got you past a point of no return and you know that you’ll come again whether he fucks you or not. 

“It’s okay bub, you can come again. Fuck, I need you to come.” 

Everything is heightened as he pulls you a little closer, spreads your legs a little wider, sucks you into his mouth a little harder. It’s enough. Stars cloud your vision and there’s a tingling in your tummy and your legs shake around his head and you collapse back into the pillows in a state of tired bliss.   

You feel the mattress dip, and Auston places a wet kiss to your temple before stumbling into the bathroom. You watch him walk, focusing on the curve of his bum and the dimples in his back as he disappears behind the door. Water runs down the sink, and he’s back a moment later with a damp washcloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Placing the cup on the nightstand, he takes his time with you, swiping the cloth up your thighs, cleaning you up, careful to avoid your sensitive mound. When he’s done, he exchanges the cloth for one of his t-shirts off the top of the hamper, passing it to you before dropping back into bed.   

Hands still shaking from your high, you reach over for his upright cock. You know he can’t be comfortable right now, and you want to get him off, want to watch him fall apart in your fingertips - but he stops you. He grabs your wrist and pulls it and you to his chest, bringing the blanket up to cover both of your bodies.

“What about you?” you ask, voice still hoarse, “Tonight was supposed to be about you.”   

“No baby,” he says, voice thick and heavy, his throat still coated in your cum, “all you. Couldn’t have done it without you. Wanted to thank you, wanted to thank you for always supporting me, even when I’m on the other side of the country. Can’t do this -“ he pauses, trailing his fingers back down to your thigh, fingers curling into the hair between your legs, and his touch combind with his sultry, fucked-out voice is almost enough to bring you back to the edge for the fourth time, - “when I’m on the road, which really blows, because I’m so much better when I’m with you.”   

He leans in to kiss you, soft and slow and he tastes like you and his toothpaste and as his tongue swirls into yours, you know that you’d rather have him like this sometimes than never at all.

..........

You know things aren’t good - no, they’re bad, really bad - before they even carry him off the ice. Your boyfriend is tough to break, a stone-cold wall who doesn’t fight back, doesn’t get emotional, but he had taken the chirping a bit too far tonight, and it had earned him a brutal hit. Your chest tightens, hands shake, and Sydney takes the wine glass from your hand before you spill it all over her carpet.   

“I’m sure he’s fine - just fine.” She offers, but it doesn’t reach you. If he was fine, he would have gotten up. If he was fine, he would have been back on both skates, watching the asshole who jumped him head for the penalty box. Instead, his face was in his hands, helmet somewhere across the ice, and there are too many people covering him and you can’t see if your boyfriend is okay - he has to be okay. Everyone in the room is holding their breath, watching the Leafs staff carry their star centre off the ice. It’s a familiar feeling to most of the women in the room; hockey is a contact sport, a dangerous, violent sport and you know it’s the nature of the game, know that it was bound to happen at some point to someone in this series, but you didn’t think it would be Auston. Didn’t think you would have to be the desperate, pitied girlfriend of an injured hockey player.   

He’s off the ice and play is resumed, but you can’t even see the game - only Auston lying on the ice, the camera panning out to Babcock’s worried face, the staff coming and going from the tunnel, whispering, covering their mouths from the camera. It only takes about fifteen minutes, though it feels like hours, for the call to come in. You’re so out of it, so caught up in a downward spiral of “what ifs” that you don’t even realize Christina is talking to you until she puts your phone in your hand.   

“Yes, she’s right here, hold on.”   

You take the phone, bring it up to your ear, and there’s an instant sigh of relief when you hear your boyfriend’s voice. 

“I’m okay,” is all he says, and though you know he’s lying for your comfort, it works, because he’s speaking and he’s conscious and he remembers you and that’s all you needed to hear to stop yourself from completely dissociating. “Just a small fracture, maybe a mild concussion, they don’t know for sure yet, but I’m okay. Just wanted to call you in case you were watching, in case you saw it.”

You suck in a breath. The pain in his voice his obvious, his breathing uneven, but it doesn’t sound nearly as bad as it could have been. You know he’ll beat himself up mentally for the break he’ll have to take, for not being able to help out his teammates, more than anyone on the ice ever could physically. “Of course I was watching. Do you want me there?” You ask, hoping he says yes. You think you might need to see him more than he needs you, need to press your palm to his heart to make sure that fucker is still beating, need to flick him for scaring you so badly.   

“You don’t need to-“ 

You don’t let him finish. “Not what I asked. Do you want me there? With you?” “I always want you here.” He replies, and it’s quiet, a whisper - he’s never been very good at being vulnerable, and you know that even admitting to you that he’s been injured was not an easy thing for him to do.   

“Then I’ll be there,” you say simply, like Boston isn’t 1000km away, like you’re just going to run a quick errand to the drugstore. 

“I love you,” you say, already on your way to your bedroom to pack a bag.  

“I love you,” he says, and his voice doesn’t sound as shaky, as panicked, as it did just a few minutes ago. You were showing up for him, just as you always did. 

..........

It’s not their usual locker-room talk. It’s eleven in the morning, half-past the end of a regular Tuesday morning skate. Mitch is in the middle of the room, trying to teach Matt how to do some ridiculously elaborate handshake, while Curtis and Kappy talk to Coach about some power play drills they had run through. Naz is lying on the therapy table getting his hamstring worked on, and Travis is shuffling through a Drake playlist that blasts from the speaker on the wall.  Willy is wandering through it all, lost in his own world with his ass on full display, looking for his other skate. The rest of the boys bustle around, trying to pack up. It’s chaotic, really chaotic, but for once Auston appreciates the noise. It allowed him to slip out unnoticed, Patty following closely behind.   

When they’re finally alone, the door shut behind them, Auston pulls the small velvet box from his pocket and hands it to his teammate. Patrick takes the box, opening the lid to look at the ring. He’s the first person to see it - the first person Auston has decided to tell - and he doesn’t take that responsibility lightly. He knows how proud of himself Auston must be, knows the nervous excitement, the effort it’s taking him to squash his rising fear of rejection. Patrick reaches out, his firm grip clasping down on Auston’s shoulder. Giving a light squeeze and a few finger pats, encouraging the boy to stop bouncing, he embraces the fatherly role he’s taken on. “I’m impressed, kid. I always knew you had it in you.” 

Auston looks at Patrick in surprise. “You did?”   

“Absolutely, Although, you know, to be honest, I didn’t think it would be this soon. Not that it’s too soon, but, you know, I just meant that I didn’t think you’d find your perfect match right away. I thought there would be a few more ’almost’ is all. ” He’s rambling now, trying to find the right words to calm the clearly anxious boy.   

Auston smiles at that. “Me n’either, man.” He replies, and he smiles, the bright, beautiful, toothy smile usually reserved only for his girl.   

“How’d you know?” Patrick asks, wanting to know exactly what’s running through Auston’s head. He wants to include it as an anecdote in his wedding speech.   

It’s a loaded question, the answer a bullet capable of ripping through even the most solid relationships. Why do you pick the person you think you want to spend a lifetime with? It’s the biggest commitment he’ll make in his lifetime, but Auston doesn’t hesitate when he answers.

“It’s the little things, man. It’s laundry and tampons and eating out and birthdays and kisses and singing in the car. All the little things. The big things, the hard things, aren’t so bad because with her, the little things are everything. She’s everything.”

[inactivesimblrr]

get to know me tag!

tagged by @literalite (thank u lamer clone!) n im not tagging anyone bc.............. every1 i think i know has already been tagged so thats calm, there r 125 questions below!

1. WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME? Pat[REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED]

2. WHAT IS YOUR NICKNAME? pat

3. BIRTHDAY? 23rd of nov!!!!! <3 (2001)

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BOOK SERIES? hmhmhnnnn,,,,, lotr, the hobbit, harry potter, anything from the grishaverse,,, idk man i like books a lot,,, the raven cycle,,, hnmgmg,,

5. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ALIENS OR GHOSTS? aliens 100% i believe in them! ghosts? i mean... i half kind of do half dont but my kind of ghost aint the same as the usual idea of a ghost yanno? mine r nicer <3

6. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE AUTHOR? leigh bardugo, tolkien, i would say j.k rowling but shes trash! her books r good tho ://

7. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE RADIO STATION? ??? idk so im gon pretend this means podcast and in that case im listening to the black tapes rn! 

8. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ANYTHING? matcha or strawberry!!!!!!

9. WHAT WORD WOULD YOU USE OFTEN TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING GREAT OR WONDERFUL? thats swag (i began using it ironically but now i cant stop)

10. WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT FAVORITE SONG? uhhh eve or the wonderful world by mark joshua! orrr shiloh by little chief!! 

11. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE WORD? grinned

12. WHAT WAS THE LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO?  walking back to georgia by jim croce

13. WHAT TV SHOW WOULD YOU RECOMMEND FOR EVERYBODY TO WATCH? honestly.... drop dead diva... im sorry.... but tbh i dont watch tv all that often!! ACTUALLUY HECK i would def recommend merlin the bbc tv series and ofc sherlock the tv series but keep in mind both those recs will rip out your heart MULTIPLE times,

14. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE TO WATCH WHEN YOU’RE FEELING DOWN? .......... im down all the time lolol but tbh all the harry potter films + the 1st fantastic beasts movie, all the lotr films and all the hobbit films AND sherlock both the rdj and jude law films and then the bbc sherlock christmas special the abominable bride

15. DO YOU PLAY VIDEO GAMES? yah! my all time favourite game is tes oblivion!! it has been my fav since i was 6!

16. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR? my life not working out the way i want to!! i want my life to be happy and long and spent with the people i love and not having 2 worry abt money or health!!!

17. WHAT IS YOUR BEST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? i think maybe my ability to find everything funny??

18. WHAT IS YOUR WORST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? my temper is beyond vicious honestly like im not kidding my temper is.... disgusting

19. DO YOU LIKE CATS OR DOGS BETTER? birds

20. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON? winter

21. ARE YOU IN A RELATIONSHIP? nah!

22. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU MISS FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD? im still a kid im only 17!!! and uh,, i miss the innocence!! i miss being oblivious!!

23. WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND? i dont have one!

24. WHAT IS YOUR EYE COLOR? brownn w/ a bit of green!

25. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR? dark brown!

26. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU LOVE? my parents and my family!

27. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU TRUST? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

28. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN? jude law, sebastian stan, emma stone

29. ARE YOU CURRENTLY EXCITED ABOUT/FOR SOMETHING? back to school shopping!! also i get to eat fried chicken and cheesecake tonight because even tho my birthday was yesterday im celebrating it today!!!!

30. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST OBSESSION? stationery??? video games?? FOOD??

31. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW AS A CHILD? jane and the dragon!

32. WHO OF THE OPPOSITE GENDER CAN YOU TELL ANYTHING TO, IF ANYONE? i dont know what a male is sorry

33. ARE YOU SUPERSTITIOUS? a baby bit only

34. DO YOU HAVE ANY UNUSUAL PHOBIAS? n’aw i dont think so!

35. DO YOU PREFER TO BE IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA OR BEHIND IT? i mean... if i weren’t as ugly as i am id love to be in front of a camera doing fun acting stuff or whatnot! but bc i am ugly im usually behind the camera + i do film at school!

36. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE HOBBY? lettering/calligraphy!

37. WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? what if its us by becky abertalli + adam silvera (its so cute but the ending was.... not satisfactory...)

38. WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald!!!

39. WHAT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? used 2 play piano, accordion, and violin! but i dont do tht anymore!

40. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ANIMAL? bird!! 

41. WHAT ARE YOUR TOP 5 FAVORITE TUMBLR BLOGS THAT YOU FOLLOW? too many 2 pick from !!! im srry!

42. WHAT SUPERPOWER DO YOU WISH YOU HAD? gdgs all of them!!!!! maybe the power to warp reality bc i could do anything then?? a reality where im married to jude law or emma stone? done, a reality where i have all the powers in the world? done

43. WHEN AND WHERE DO YOU FEEL MOST AT PEACE? a cliff somewhere where its cold and the water is vicious underneath!

44. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE? babies, animals, happy couples, pregnant people, old people, a lot of things really!

45. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? i used 2 do karate but now i dont do sports!

46. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DRINK? idfsng idk! strawberry milkshake maybe?? matcha boba??? milk!!

47. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A HAND-WRITTEN LETTER OR NOTE TO SOMEBODY? last week!!! i love handwriting!

48. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? nah!

49. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? ppl who r rude for no reason and also ppl at school who just pick on other ppl for no reason looking at you rahni teagan and the other f*ckheads!!! hope u die literally i know thats a horrible thing to say but you all deserve it

50. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO A CONCERT? i went to two twenty one pilot concerts!! the first one was in the forum in melbourne and then the other one was a few years or one year later and it was in a sold out stadium!! both were in the mosh! and then idk if this counts as a concert but i went to and did the meet and greet for dan and phil’s first tour! i dont like them anymore tho ! ://

51. ARE YOU VEGAN/VEGETARIAN? no way in HELL!!!!

52. WHEN YOU WERE LITTLE, WHAT DID YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GREW UP? a lot of things!!! famous actress, spy, war general, prime minister, pro wrestler, explorer, cartographer, filmmaker, architect, interior designer, dragon, PIRATE

53. WHAT FICTIONAL WORLD WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE IN? i know this is a bad idea but honestly the harry potter universe PROVIDED i had magic!! bc like,,, yah

54. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU WORRY ABOUT? a lot of things! my future mainly lol :(

55. ARE YOU SCARED OF THE DARK? no but i gotta say sometimes in the middle of the night when i wake up and the undefined shape my clothes sitting on my desk chair looks like That i get a bit worried yanno it looks like a demon im not gonna lie

56. DO YOU LIKE TO SING? ya but i dont htink im any good at it!

57. HAVE YOU EVER SKIPPED SCHOOL? only due to sickness, funerals, or holidays!

58. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE ON THE PLANET? my house! OR the cliffs of moher :o)

59. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE? in some old old old european castle in the middle of nowhere on a mountain and next to the sea

60. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? nuu :( but i do feed a lot of birds that come to my house and ive named them and love them even if the lorikeets dont love me back which is fine!!!! :(

61. ARE YOU MORE OF AN EARLY BIRD OR A NIGHT OWL? early bird i guess

62. DO YOU LIKE SUNRISES OR SUNSETS BETTER? sunsets??

63. DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DRIVE? yes! but i dont have my full lisence only my learner’s permit!!

64. DO YOU PREFER EARBUDS OR HEADPHONES? headphones (noise cancelling!!)

65. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES? yup!! they were green!!

66. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC? soft rock, indie folk, indie-everything mainly except for indie-rock,,, country music dont hate my i love country music as long as its certain country music!! aint having none of this keith urban rubbish in my house!! we only listen 2 the james taylor brand of country music in this house!!! so i guess country folk. folk music in general is my jam!!! i love ballads as well and ofc blues!! theres so many more jbdsgjbas but i cant possibly list all of it!!!

67. WHO IS YOUR HERO? the idea of me living out the future i want if that makes sense!

68. DO YOU READ COMIC BOOKS? yah!!

69. WHAT MAKES YOU THE MOST ANGRY? a lot of things honestly!!!! 2 many to list im really passionate!

70. DO YOU PREFER TO READ ON AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE OR WITH A REAL BOOK? real book but i read more on electronic devices bc its easy and i dont have to worry about lights !!

71. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? idk!!!!!!!! maybe history!

72. DO YOU HAVE ANY SIBLINGS? nup!! im an only child thanK GOD

73. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT? movie tickets to crimes against grindelwald last night!!

74. HOW TALL ARE YOU? i think im like 176cm??

75. CAN YOU COOK? only if i have a recipe! but i can make really good drinks (non alcoholic ofc!!)

76. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU LOVE? rainy weather, good literature, my family

77. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU HATE? hubris, wrath, pococurantism

78. DO YOU HAVE MORE FEMALE FRIENDS OR MORE MALE FRIENDS? female

79. WHAT IS YOUR SEXUAL ORIENTATION? ?????????? who knows

80. WHERE DO YOU CURRENTLY LIVE? australia!!

81. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TEXTED? my group chat

82. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? my birthday yesterday lol

83. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE YOUTUBER? dont want youtube tht much anymore tbh

84. DO YOU LIKE TO TAKE SELFIES? nah

85. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE APP? procreate

86. WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR PARENT(S) LIKE? incredibly close with both parents but fight with my dad like cats n dogs

87. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOREIGN ACCENT? irish or strong strong american or posh english also scottish

88. WHAT IS A PLACE THAT YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO, BUT YOU WANT TO VISIT? israel, republic of ireland, and so many more places like nksgskbgs i cant list them also all the nordic countries

89. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 3

90. CAN YOU JUGGLE? no

91. ARE YOU RELIGIOUS? nah 

92. DO YOU FIND OUTER SPACE OF THE DEEP OCEAN TO BE MORE INTERESTING? both!!!!!! 

93. DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF TO BE A DAREDEVIL? daring in terms of i like to do things that could potentially kill me for the adrenaline rush but not daring in terms of introducing myself to other ppl lol

94. ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO ANYTHING? nah thank GOD

95. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? oui

96. CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR EARS? non

97. HOW OFTEN DO YOU ADMIT THAT YOU WERE WRONG ABOUT SOMETHING? ill happily admit i’m wrong provided the other person wasnt a douchebag about it but even then ill admit im wrong! aint no shame in recognising ur wrong ma dude

98. DO YOU PREFER THE FOREST OR THE BEACH? dont like the beach but i love the sea?? so forest i guess bc i dont like sand

99. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIECE OF ADVICE THAT ANYONE HAS EVER GIVEN YOU? "two things stand like stone, kindness in another’s trouble, courage in your own” - adam lindsay gordon

100. ARE YOU A GOOD LIAR? an excellent one, but i dislike lying and value honesty so!!

101. WHAT IS YOUR HOGWARTS HOUSE? ssssss slytherin!

102. DO YOU TALK TO YOURSELF? ya

103. ARE YOU AN INTROVERT OR AN EXTROVERT? cop out answer here but it depends on the situation

104. DO YOU KEEP A JOURNAL/DIARY? yes

105. DO YOU BELIEVE IN SECOND CHANCES? depends

106. IF YOU FOUND A WALLET FULL OF MONEY ON THE GROUND, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? try and find the owner and track em down but if i cant ill hand it in to the place where it was lost

107. DO YOU BELIEVE THAT PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF CHANGE? yes

108. ARE YOU TICKLISH? yes

109. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A PLANE? yes

110. DO YOU HAVE ANY PIERCINGS? ears but theyre closed up!!

111. WHAT FICTIONAL CHARACTER DO YOU WISH WAS REAL? thorin oakenshield

112. DO YOU HAVE ANY TATTOOS? nah

113. WHAT IS THE BEST DECISION THAT YOU’VE MADE IN YOUR LIFE SO FAR? ? idk man

114. DO YOU BELIEVE IN KARMA? no, too many bad people are living good lives right now

115. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES OR CONTACTS? nope! perfect vision here my dude!

116. DO YOU WANT CHILDREN? in the future i want 1 child only

117. WHO IS THE SMARTEST PERSON YOU KNOW? my little cousin

118. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING MEMORY? a Lot

119. HAVE YOU EVER PULLED AN ALL-NIGHTER? a few times only, but i value sleep

120. WHAT COLOR ARE MOST OF YOU CLOTHES? black and green

121. DO YOU LIKE ADVENTURES? hell ya !

122. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON TV? audience member for the xfactor!

123. HOW OLD ARE YOU? 17

124. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE QUOTE? “so comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings.” -tolkien OR “always seek the giant.”

125. DO YOU PREFER SWEET OR SAVORY FOODS? savoury

[vasilinaorlova]

Letters from the Depths of Solitude. Embrace

I saw a very bright, very green ray sifting through blinds, as the sun hit one of the highest mirror skyscrapers in the sunset Austin; it was not a beam itself but its reflection ricocheting off of the window frame.

It overshone the Christmas tree that we put in front of the window in the living room this year. My child said that the wooden railroad we constructed under the Christmas tree reminded him of the time when he was a baby. "That brings me to the time when I was a baby." (I think he's gotten the railroad for his 4th New Year celebration).

It is astounding to me how children perceive reality. I am never able to predict, with all the ways my thought might run, what my child will say next. They pause before they say anything. They think before speaking. They have few automatic reactions compared to adults reproducing learned behaviors.

If only we were capable of providing our children with safety, comfort, and joy that they deserve. The planet could be beautified over the course of several generations. To give them an opportunity to learn dance, music, languages, math, physics, art, the way they like it—not hate it... But we fail at that, and our children grow up into mere versions of us.

And us, who is us? Are we happy? If so then not with a shallow happiness of reliance on others. I cannot be happy but I can be content. Happiness is as elusive as any other feeling and equally torments one as longing does with its feeble inconstancy. Perhaps the way to be happy in the world is the way to abandon hopes that are too lofty and dreams that soar too high.

Why can't we remain children forever? Why can't we preserve the feel of the time that promises miracles, gifts, travels, adventures, encounters, findings, surprises? In the shimmer of the New Year's eve dim lights, one realizes with an undeniable poignancy that one is no longer a child and has no big hope for oneself or for the world. Yet there are still things to be charmed by and to look forward to.

My lack of happiness strikes me as a lack of gratitude to something. In a pagan or Christian, or any other spiritual perspective, this equation is perfectly logical and makes wonderful sense. There are always supranatural forces that are benevolent or evil and that require sacrifice or pacifying, as well as the gratitude and humility at failures. But my world is devoid of beings on this level of abstractions. Without engaging in any progressivist talk, spiritual realm no longer makes any sense to me and frankly, it is too boring (and gets you nowhere) to even speak in these terms.

The other day, I observed a collection of stromatolites--petrified structures that colonies of photosynthesizing bacteria leave. Texas is an incredibly rich land. I became something of a patriot of celestial Texas over my seven years of living here. (On a side note, I never ceased to be a patriot of celestial Russia.)

I like to visit the stone store "We Rock" near I-35 in Austin. It is a showcase for the overabundance of Texas soils and caverns. But even there, I've never seen stromatolites before. And then I saw them: the sandlike texture of circles; heavy, compact structures. The bacteria that form sandlike concentric rows, are dead for possibly billion years. These fossilized objects are the realms, kingdoms, and countries of tiny creatures. (Perhaps, nation-states, with their own patriots, so to speak.) These are universes, considering that the bacteria in one of these fossilized sedimentations are likely more numerous than all the human population the world has seen, including those human beings who are dead. Despite their damaging influence on the environment, human beings are comparatively few on this planet. One will unavoidably contemplate the scarcity of human population, observing the world's overabundance. Stones make one think about the fleeting quality of life, the scale of worlds unfolding and collapsing in front of our eyes. Stones are memory objects that are not objects, and also have no memory in a sense that it is us interpreting them and trying to penetrate them who can speak of memory at all. Their memory is devoid of memory, nor does it need to memorize itself. It is memory objectivized, petrified but fleeting; palpable, visualized, vivid, textured. These sculptures are memorials to the effervescent and the ephemeral.

Somehow petrified objects--particularly once-living beings or their whole colonies--seem to be more content with their existence than you are, a fickle human, always fidgeting. But in the evening, I read a striking confession of the Austin artist, with a penchant to all things magical, and a practicing taro reader herself (not unlike the one I saw in that stone store, asking a client: “So, what are we discussing today? Ah, you’re getting the new job. I see.”

The artist wrote that a year ago, on the solstice, she fully and wholeheartedly embraced celibacy; she irrevocably decided to end a damned circle of searching to love, understanding, deep connection that is sustainable, abandoned even the thought of trying, and returned to herself that she had been neglected for too long. Not only did she mean to mend her wounded, broken, and re-broken heart, but to un-grasp the clasp on the very idea of sharing her solitude with someone. She wrote, she needed her solitude, for herself and for her writing. She said longing, wishfullness, wishing, desire, its griefs and failures, the deep dissappointments of love, passion’s absurd hopes, enchantment’s self-abduction, no longer resonated with her. She did not wish to experience any of those any longer. No further wanted she love someone who, she felt, too often took advantage of her. She has taken a vow of celibacy for herself, herself the only witness, and in one year she talked about how much of deadends and loopholes in her previous passions she came to understand with clarity.

I sensed such an abyss of aloneness in her writing. It was more than a human solitude; it was a solitude of a fossilized object in the endless wild, spacious void of the indifferent planet. The winter embraces the glass body of a petrified being, buries it under brown, discolored leaves and snow; the sun licks the glass eye of the deer. Silence is descending upon the city and the park, the forest and the lake. Sounds are muffled; voices muted. The winter solstice; the shortest day, the longest, darkest night to survive: to sleep away, to breathe away, to talk away, to write away, to forget like many such nights. Let the only witness be a stone nautilus, a prehistoric bone, somewhere far away, in dunes, under the wind, offering itself like a flute if the bone is hollow, or if solid, washed with sand grains, lost feathers, hair wisps, paper shreds where letters, if printed, are already always indiscernible. The stars will look at the face of the earth, a tiny dot of it in a constellation of worlds--Cassiopeia, Perseus, Pegasus, Hydra, Corona Borealis, all observing, at an unimaginable distance, our little human mournings and joys.

(Written on a taro master’s ad.)

[rauliskafan]

A Hard Lesson in Miracles: Chapter 5

Authors’ Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, wonderful readers!!! To close out this festive day, here is the final part of our latest story!!! Will Natalia and Maggie reunite? Will Rafael have the perfect gift for his hermosa flor? Read on for more!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you enjoy, and we cannot thank all of you enough for taking our story to your hearts!!!

“This is the worst. The absolute worst ever,” Maggie whined. The traffic was so incredibly heavy that she swore they remained in the same spot for the past forty-five minutes. “Who had the genius idea to travel today? Oh, wait… you, did counselor.” Maggie’s brown eyes narrowed at her brother-in-law. 

“Apologies, Maggie,” Rafael said. “But you were my only hope.”

“Just call me Obi Wan Kenobi,” Maggie said, focusing on the traffic that moved just a tiny bit, but it did nothing to calm her impatience.

Along with the anxious energy trickling down from the top of her head to her tapping hand on account of the holiday…

 …and other things.

“I’d rather you and your sister call a truce,” Rafael said. “How much longer is this going to go on?”

After a few moments of silence, Maggie spoke.

“Before I knew that Natty was family, really family, I wished I had a sister.” Memories of her life with Diana and the days of loneliness invaded her thoughts. “Desperately,” she continued. “But now---” She was interrupted by an obnoxious horn blaring behind them.

“Where am I supposed to go?” Maggie screamed, looking over her shoulder, Rafael touched her arm, but she gritted her teeth and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Maybe this was the wrong call,” Rafael admitted.

“Think I have the monopoly on those,” Maggie said as a single tear ran down her cheek.

“Maggie, please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. I wanted to be the one Natty turns to. Because I want to turn to her. Especially…” Her voice trailed off, and when her tears intensified, Rafael released a heavy sigh.

“Maggie, pull over.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, please,” he said firmly.

She grumbled some words incoherently but nonetheless obeyed Rafael’s sudden change in course and managed to make it to the side of the road without too much of a fuss.

“Okay, care to tell me what this is about?” Maggie unbuckled her seat belt and turned to fully face Rafael who peered into her eyes.

“This has to stop,” he started. “The distance between you and Natalia… even the girls are suffering, Maggie.” He paused when fresh tears pricked the corners of her eyes, burning while the sun began to set.

“I don’t… I never want that,” Maggie said.

“I know,” Rafael assured her. “Look, you have to understand that none of this was meant to hurt you. This was me… this was all of us trying to protect you.”

“And a part of me gets that,” Maggie finally said. “I just feel like I’m in this thing too deep now. Like I can’t get out.”

“Stop that,” he said, gently grabbing her shoulders. “There’s always a way out of a bad time.” For one moment, he seemed distant. Was he recalling his younger days? Or was it still the nightmare of his most recent past? “And… and through it all, Natalia helped me heal. Helped me not to feel alone. Let her help you, too. Better yet, do it together.”

Biting her bottom lip, Maggie sighed. “I really miss the way things were, Rafael.”

“We can get it all back,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Natalia wants it. So do the girls… Maggie, I want you back in our lives.”

And slowly she laughed through her tears. “That is indeed saying something.”

Chuckling, Rafael still held her fast. “Then what do you say? Will you come to the party tonight?”

She started to speak but suddenly pulled him into a warm hug. Rafael happily returned the embrace and patted Maggie’s back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased.

“Yes, I---”

Another horn blared frantically, but it seemed to magically do the trick, and the traffic began to flow steadily.

“Think we can still make it to that shop on time?” Rafael questioned with a glance at his watch.

“Watch me fly,” Maggie said, buckling up once again and merging into traffic without any hassle. “First the candy, and then… then I’m going to talk to my sister.”

Her voice trembled some, but there was no turning back now.

           “Hey! Need any help in here?”

           Natalia double checked the ziti to make sure that every cheese was nearly melted.

           “No thanks, Sonny,” Natalia said, pouring the rest of the gravy into the boat and starting to grate some Parmesan. Still, the detective lingered.

           “You sure?” he asked. “I’d be more than happy to lend a hand.”

           “Are you doubting my pasta-making abilities?” Natalia playfully challenged. “Do we need to have another cook off?”

           “I’d be game for that,” Carisi said, turning his head to the sound of Rollins’ laughter emanating from the other room.

           “That’s good to hear,” Natalia said, abandoning the cheese for a second to squeeze Carisi’s hand. “You must be happy to have Amanda back.”

           “Yeah.” Natalia’s smile widened when Carisi blushed upon meeting her eyes.

           “In the squad room,” he continued. “That’s… that’s what you meant, right?”

           “Sure, Sonny,” Natalia said, pecking his cheek.

           “Nice to be back here, too,” he said, obviously trying to change the subject. “Didn’t know if I’d ever get another dinner invite from you.”

           “Why would you think that?” Natalia asked.

           “Well, I… I mean the last date I brought by left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.”

           She couldn’t help but cringe at the memory of Eve Selby and all that the woman left in her wake. Truth be told, she should still be furious. But Natalia shook her head and gave Sonny a quick hug.

           “We’re not wasting another moment on her,” Natalia said. “Let the past lie. And here’s to better things in the New Year.”

           “I like the way your mind works,” Carisi said, his head turned once more at the sound of Jesse calling out for him.

           “Go,” Natalia said. “It’s a party. Enjoy yourself.”

           He headed out, leaving Natalia to put the finishing touches on her main course, and Ashtonja appeared.

           “Want me to take the starters out?” she asked, gesturing to the marinated mushrooms and olives, the stuffed artichokes and the fried calamari.

           “I got it,” Natalia smiled. “Having fun?”

           “It’s… different.”

           Flashing back to the moments when they decorated the tree, Natalia envisioned Ashtonja in her lonely apartment, her mother lost, her grandmother seeking her own pleasure with no thought for the girl.

           “But better I hope,” Natalia said. She held Ashtonja’s hand, saw the girl’s face a blank slate.

           “The best, Natalia,” Ashtonja said. “I don’t know if I ever told you… cause I am like really grateful that you took me in.”

           “Stop,” Natalia said. “I’m grateful to have you here. The way you are with Violetta… that makes me smile every day.”

           Ashtonja almost looked as if she could cry when she picked up one of the platters with a smile.

           “She’s a cool kid,” Ashtonja said. “Guess she gets that from you.”

           Everything said even as so many things remained unspoken, Ashtonja left the kitchen.

           “Ash! Help me pick the music.”

           The older girl set the plate down, and scooped Violetta into her arms. Contented by the sight, Natalia’s brow still furrowed at the clock on the kitchen wall.

           Where was her husband?

           Wandering towards the window, she saw Brenna Harker standing with Fin. Trevor made a point of showing off his new gloves as Alessia and Rollins looked on.

           “And you should have seen this one on skates at Rockefeller Center!” Harker said, tickling Fin’s side and making him laugh. “He tried to play the novice, but I think we have a solid shot at the Olympic Pairs team.”

           “Who you gonna skate for?” Rollins asked, jutting her chin in the air.

           “IOC flag,” Fin said. “We’re a world unto ourselves right here.”

           “God, you are so bloody beautiful, Odafin!”

           Harker wasted no time seizing his face and kissing him full on the mouth, Rollins whistled, and Trevor applauded. As much as Natalia wanted to join in the scene, her thoughts kept turning to Rafael when there was a knock at the door…

           …and she swung it open to see Liv holding Noah with two Dodds at her side.

           “Merry Christmas!” Liv said, hugging Natalia as Violetta raced forward.

           “Noah! Look! This mistletoe! You have to kiss me every time we stand under it.”

           Now Natalia understood why her sweet pea had asked Ashtonja to braid the brand of holly into her hair, and when Noah leaped from his mother’s arms, Violetta gave chase.

           “Sorry,” Natalia said.

           “At least I know she comes from good stock,” Liv said as the Chief helped her off with her coat, and Natalia faced the younger Dodds.

           “Merry Christmas, Mike,” she said.

           “Natalia, I am so happy to see you.”

           He hugged her, and she felt as if she would cry when she swallowed the sadness back and faced him head on.

           “It’s been awhile,” Natalia agreed. “Is Maggie with you?”

           “She had something to do out of town,” he said.

           “She… so she’s not coming?” Natalia asked.

           “Your guess is as good as---”

           “Both of you can relax,” Liv promised, accepting a glass of wine from Trevor. “I have a feeling that she’ll be by soon enough.”

           Dying to know what the lieutenant meant, Natalia said nothing when the lights from a car neared the curb. She raced out the door and stood in the cold, blowing on her hands.

           “Atticus! Where have you---?”

           Her speech stopped short when Maggie emerged from behind the wheel. She seemed so small, hanging her head. But Rafael gently nudged her ribs.

           And Natalia held her breath as her sister ascended the steps, avoiding her eyes.

           “Hi,” Maggie whispered, her voice meek.

           “Hi, yourself,” Natalia said. Blinking against the chill of night air, she descended another step. Raising one hand, she nearly touched Maggie’s cheek when her sister leaned away.

           “I… I mean I know you said I was invited,” Maggie said. “Was that just lip service? Wouldn’t blame you after the way I acted.”

           “Maggie, I---”

           “Cause I… see I guess I kind of liked you turning to me for help,” Maggie continued. “Sharing secrets. Without that, I didn’t know what to… but it’s no excuse for---”

           “Maggie, I’m sorry,” Natalia quickly said. “It never felt right keeping you in the dark.”

           “So… can we be sisters again?” Maggie hopefully asked.

           “And friends,” Natalia confirmed. “The best of.”

           Extending her arms, Natalia gasped when Maggie flew into her arms, clinging tightly to her neck. She heaved a sigh of untold release to have her sister back, and as Rafael came closer, she mouthed a quick thank you.

           “You are more than welcome, mi hermosa flor.”

           Dodds commented on the cold, and the sisters finally headed inside, the room erupting at Maggie’s appearance.

           “Tia Maggie!”

           Violetta dropped her pursuit of Noah as she held Maggie’s legs and rattled on about all the steps they had taken to prepare for the party.

           “It looks amazing,” Maggie commented.

           “Are you staying, Tia Maggie?” Violetta hopefully asked. Maggie shot her sister a quick glance and sighed as Dodds helped her out of her coat.

           “Of course. Family’s everything on Christmas.”

           Violetta tugged Maggie towards the table as Lucia and Alessia played with the twins. Natalia’s thoughts turned to her ziti when Rafael pulled her into another room.

           “Atticus? What are you doing?”

           “A moment of your time, hermosa,” he said. “So, let me get the bad news out of the way first.”

           “Bad news? What do you---?”

           “I don’t come bearing gifts.”

           Looking like he had committed some unforgivable crime, Natalia moved fast to stroke his stubbled cheek and nuzzle his nose.

           “Atticus, you’re here,” Natalia started. “You’re home. That’s my gift. Don’t you know that?”

           His chin dropped to her shoulder, and Rafael pulled Natalia closer, his kisses peppering her hair. Holding her for several long seconds, the strains of Jingle Bells morphing into Rudolph and Violetta’s voice the loudest of all, Rafael finally, slowly drew back.

           “Only because you stuck by me,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

           “You silly man,” Natalia teased. “Where else would I ever want to be?”

           Their lips locked, and Natalia ran her hands up and down his arms until her fingers captured his.

           “So no sad faces, okay?” she said.

           “But I feel so… I had such a fabulous idea. Chocolates from Katie’s Kandy Kastle.”

           “How did you find out about that?” Natalia asked.

           “From you mother,” Rafael admitted. “But then the delivery got screwed up, and I had to head out there.”

           “That’s why you called on Maggie,” Natalia said, connecting the dots.

           “Place was sealed up tighter than a bank vault,” Rafael confessed. “All that candy in the window… almost like it was mocking us.”

           “Bite your tongue!” Natalia teased. “Chocolate is never wicked.”

           “Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to.”

           “The love of your life?” Natalia asked.

           “In all her Christmas splendor.”

           He kissed her again, his tongue tangling with hers until he sighed against her skin.

           “I still wanted to give you something more.”

           “You gave me my sister back, Atticus,” she said, her lips drifting towards his ear. “My gift pales in comparison.”

           “Hermosa, you don’t have to give me any---”

           “But I’ve been looking forward to it all day, Atticus!” she said, bouncing from one foot to the other, leaving his side for a split second, and returning just as quickly with a slim package in hand.

           “Merry Christmas, Atticus,” Natalia said, presenting him the gift and biting her lip as he smiled and tore the silver paper aside.

           “Oh! This was my… how did you…?”

           He struggled for words as he flipped through the storybook of black and white photographs. Edith, the Lonely Doll, stood in still frames on the city streets, imagining a world where she could never go home again. Until a certain Mr. Bear…

           “Abuelita always read this to me,” Rafael said. “I… so many times I felt like this lost doll. Can thank my father for that. He hit my mother. And Abuelita…”

           “Atticus.”

           She hugged him, her head on his shoulder, and together they looked at the book.

           “Who wouldn’t want somewhere safe to land?” she said.

           Fearing that she had brought up too many bad memories, Natalia was about to take the book back, say that it could wait for another day when Rafael focused on her eyes.

           “Lucky I have that now,” Rafael said. “Mi final de libro de cuentos.”

           Smiling, Natalia kissed him and murmured against his lips.

           “And you’re my storybook ending, Atticus,” she said. “Te amo.”

           “Te amo por siempre.”

           Kissing him, savoring his taste, she whimpered when he left her lips but listened to his voice.

           “And I want all of us back,” he said. “Maybe you and me on New Year’s? Can I take you somewhere special?”

           Excited for him and for herself, she hugged him and tousled his hair.

           “It’s a date, Atticus. But tonight, we have a party to host.”

           “At your service, hermosa.”

           They started back into the main room and saw Alessia and Lucia showing the twins two tiny plush toys.

           “Baby Harolds!” Natalia declared. “But how did they know?”

           Rafael smirk told the tale as the Chief approached them.

           “Great party!” he said.

           “Glad you could come,” Natalia replied.

           “Glad to be asked,” the Chief said. “And look… I need you to keep this under your hats, but word is that you’ll be back in the DA’s office after the first of the year.”

           “Really?” Rafael asked, his voice beyond hopeful as Natalia held his hand.

           “Hear there’s going to be a new man at the helm,” the Chief said. “Could be good news for all of us.”

           With a wink, the Chief moved back to Liv, and Rafael embraced his wife.

           “Hermosa, I…”

           “I’m happy for you, Atticus.”

           They nearly kissed when Maggie and Dodds joined them.

           “Food’s great, Natalia,” Dodds said.

           “Thank you, Mike.”

           “We have to do this again,” Rafael said. “Soon.”

           “Can you make it next week?” Natalia asked. “Some time after the first?”

           “Of course!” Maggie squealed. “I’ve missed being here. And since we’re not keeping each other in the dark anymore…”

           Her eyes began to well up. Natalia hugged her sister and kissed her cheek.

           “No more tears,” Natalia said. “This is a happy night.”

           “I know,” Maggie agreed. “But see the thing is… these aren’t sad tears.”

           Exchanging a quick glance with her husband, Natalia saw Rafael shrug his shoulders before looking back to Maggie.

           “I’ve been with her all day, and I have no idea,” Rafael said.

           “What aren’t you telling us, Maggie?”

           The ballerina’s pearly white teeth surrounded one nail, and Dodds wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

           “Timing seems right,” he said.

           “Timing seems perfect,” she stressed, reaching for one of Natalia’s hands and one of Rafael’s. “So… my Christmas gift for my sister… and my brother… how do you two feel about becoming an aunt and uncle?”

           Rafael’s jaw unhinged, and Natalia gasped, her hands at her mouth before she extended her arms and pulled Maggie in for another hug.

           “Are you serious?” Natalia exclaimed. “How long have you known?”

           “It’s barely a month,” Dodds admitted. “But everything looks good.”

           “Let’s see if you say that when I’m as big as a house,” Maggie quipped.

           “Are you kidding?” Dodds shot back. “I’m looking forward to working more pizza into our menu.”

           “Just hold off on those desserts of yours,” Rafael quipped, and Maggie slapped his arm.

           “Oh, you’re going to head back to the Kandy Kastle on your own and keep me in chocolate for the next eight months,” Maggie said.

           He started to object when Natalia smiled at him from her sister’s side.

           “Wish granted,” he said. “You deserve nothing less.”

           He shook Dodds’ hand, and the four of them embraced as Judy Garland’s voice poured through the speakers. Natalia snuggled deeper into Rafael’s chest, and Violetta danced with Ashtonja. Trevor kissed Alessia; Harker made the same move with Fin. Liv and the Chief sang with Noah as Carisi and Rollins harmonized with Jesse. And Lucia played with the twins. After a long year their little family was intact once again, about to add another member. Natalia smiled at her husband as the snow started to fall outside.

           And everything was right in the whole wide world.

[gracewithducks]

Wonder (Luke 2:1-7) - Sunday School Stories #13, preached 12/1/2019

Almost a year ago, one of my husband’s friends told Mike about the great deals his family had found at Niagara Falls in Canada over American Thanksgiving. Because it’s out of tourist season, and because Canadian children and workers don’t get a break for an American holiday, the prices and the crowds are both pretty low. Mike said, “Why don’t we go to Niagara Falls for Thanksgiving next year?”

 I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. I may have laughed in his face. Because Niagara Falls – in November – with children… all I could imagine were all the ways things could go wrong. It could be frigidly cold. It could rain the whole trip. We could get snowed in and not be able to go at all. Our kids might look at the waterfalls, shrug their shoulders, and say, “Meh. What else you got?” - - and we might not have a good answer.

 But Mike was persistent. Our girls were, at that moment, fascinated with waterfalls; they’re growing quickly, to the point where we no longer have to travel with strollers or plan around naptimes. We looked at prices. We discovered all kinds of indoor back-up options. And we booked a hotel we would never, ever, ever have been able to justify splurging on without the off-season deals – a hotel overlooking the Falls. We made a countdown calendar, and our kids have been crossing off the days until our trip ever since before Labor Day.

 Finally, finally, it was time to go. Our girls were nervous about crossing over into another country, only to find that Ontario, Canada looks an awful lot like Michigan. We drove past farms and forests, and lots of wind turbines, and strange foreign restaurants and shops with names like “Home Depot” and “McDonalds.” Our ten-year-old was pretty excited when we saw our first sign for Shoppers, the store mentioned in the musical Come From Away, and our five-year-old was excited with every Canadian flag we saw.

 And finally we started seeing signs for Niagara Falls. We could see the towers of hotels rising on the skyline. We could see the mist rising from the Falls, and the girls rolled down their windows to see if they could hear the water’s roar. We checked into our hotel, rode the elevator to the tenth floor, walked into our room, and the girls immediately ran to the window.

Their jaws dropped. There really is no way to prepare yourself for the Falls: they are just so big; there is so much water, rushing, pouring, constantly, unendingly, more and more and more. And the mist gives a sense of magic and wonder to it all.

 Our oldest looked. And looked. And looked. She excitedly pointed out to her sister the Horseshoe Falls, and the American Falls, and the little Bridal Veil Falls in between; she pointed to the Rainbow Bridge, and the wrecked ship which has hovered above the falls for over a century. And she said, with a contented sigh, “I don’t think I could ever get tired of that view.”

 And then she said, “Can I watch something on the iPad?”

 And we all started laughing. It became a joke this week; every time we returned to our room, one of us would look out the window, and say, “I’ll never get tired of that view… I wonder what’s on TV?”

 There we were, on the brink of one of the wonders of the world – there we were, with all the people we loved most in the world – there we were, in a place people travelled from the world over to see – in a place where explorers would fall down and pray in terror – in a place where kings and queens have walked, where daredevils dreamed the impossible – there we were, and it was amazing… but it was also amazing how quickly we just got used to that beautiful site.

 “I don’t think I could ever tired of that view… I wonder what’s on TV?”

 How quickly we lose our sense of awe; how quickly we take even the most incredible wonders for granted. I remember the first time I ever heard of electronic mail; I was amazed by the idea that I could send a message to someone and they could see it immediately. But now many of us use email daily without a second thought. I remember when our family got our first remote control for the television, and I was intimidated by the idea that you could change the channel without even standing up. And I remember our first VCR, the novelty of being able to record a program and watch it later. These days, my husband can set the football game to record on our DVR from his touchscreen pocket telephone; we don’t have to be in the house or even in the country at the time. And speaking of phones, when I was a kid, video phones were science fiction right out of the Jetsons or Star Trek – and now it stuns me to realize that my children will never remember a world where video phone calls weren’t a thing.

 And we just take it all for granted. We don’t think twice about the once unimaginable wonders around us. Machines that wash our dishes and dry our clothes. Groceries delivered right to your door. Flying machines and even a car that could travel hundreds of miles in a day were once inconceivable.

 I don’t think I could ever get used to those wonders, we say… and then we turn around and ask, what’s next?

 And nowhere do we see it more than every year at Christmastime. And I’m not even talking about the kids who count down the days until Christmas morning only to be bored with their new toys after five minutes and forget them entirely after five days… no, I’m not just talking about stuff. I’m talking about the story of Christmas itself.

 We hear the story every year; we know it so well that we take it for granted:

 In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken… and everyone went to their own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David… He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn child, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

 We know the story: a Caesar, and a census; a little town, a man, a woman, and a baby in a manger. We wait for weeks every year to hear the story again; to sing the carols, to light the candles, to bask in the glow – and then we walk away, asking, “What’s next?”

 We know the story; we know it so well, maybe too well – so much so that we can shrug our shoulders, and say, “I’ve been there, and seen that; I wonder what’s on TV?”

 We can become numb to even the most amazing wonders – and this story is one. This is no ordinary story. This is the story of God entering into the world. This is the story of a God who so loved the world that God just could not stay away. This is the story of God entering into the world – not with fireworks and fanfare, but so quietly that, if you blink, you might miss it. This is the story of a God who surprises us, the story of a God who shows up in the lives of people who are being buffeted and shaped by kingdoms and powers out of their control.

 While everyone is looking at Caesar, God is looking to the ordinary people. While everyone is bustling to arrive first, God is looking towards the latecomers, the ones who show up when there seems to be no more room.

 There is a lot on our to-do lists for the month to come: shopping, wrapping, decorating, baking, travelling, taking pictures, sending cards, making calls… But my hope and my prayer is that we will take some time to enjoy the view, to remember what it is that brought us here in the first place. The story of Christmas isn’t about the presents or the decorations: it’s about a God who surprises us, who shows up in the times and the places we least expect it. Where is it, that God would surprise us today? Where are the mangers, where children have no bed? Who are our neighbors, whose lives are thrown into disarray by governments and laws beyond their control? Who are the strangers, looking for shelter, looking for a friendly face? Who are the people outside, longing for a place to belong?

 Do we see them? Do we look? And do we believe that Christ is still being born, that God is still showing up, in humble and surprising ways today? We tend to associate this story with Christmas Eve candlelight services, but the story of Christmas is about as far away from stained glass and organ music and new clothes by candlelight as you can get. The story of Christmas is about a God who shows up in real life, in the messy and difficult stuff of our every day.

 I want to encourage us to make a different kind of to-do list this year. And put on your list things like: smile at your cashier; over-tip your server on purpose, even if they’re having a bad day; donate to the giving tree; give non-traditional presents;

volunteer in the community; bake a pie for your neighbor; buy coffee for the person behind you in line; make it a point to compliment someone every day; donate pet food or old towels or blankets to the animal shelter; offer to babysit for some exhausted parents; visit a nursing home; donate new socks and underwear to those in need; volunteer to serve meals to those who are hungry; bring new coloring books and crayons to the children’s hospital; shovel your neighbor’s walk, or if you hire somebody to plow you out, ask them to do the rest of the street while they’re there; write another letter or make another call telling our leaders to stop separating families and get kids out of detention camps this Christmas; ask a family with a loved one in the service how you can help make their season brighter; pay for someone else’s groceries; invite your neighbor to share a meal with you – do whatever you can each day to find a way to show God’s love and bring hope into the world.

 The good news is, just like the waterfalls which never stop, which keep flowing and flowing, noticed or unnoticed, appreciated or not, night and day, season after season, year after year – God’s love keeps flowing and flowing, and God keeps showing up; hope keeps being born into the world. The good news of Christmas isn’t just about a story that happened long ago; it’s the good news that God is still being born into the world in unexpected and surprising ways.

 My hope and my prayer is that we won’t grow numb, that we won’t grow weary, that we won’t look away. May we have eyes to see Christ in the world this holiday season, and may we have hearts that never tire of seeking God’s presence and sharing God’s love.

  O God, let your love roll over us like thundering waters; let your justice pour out around us, and your grace flow through us. Teach our hearts to be still this holiday season, to bask in your presence, to gaze on your grace. And help us to remember that being present is so much more important than buying presents;

help us to follow your lead, and to show up in the most humble and unexpected places. May we show your love to struggling families, to immigrants and refugees, to neighbors and strangers, to the hungry and the homeless – to all those looking for a place to find rest. In your peace, by your peace, for your peace we pray; amen.

[aflowerandapolarbear-blog]

Losing My Light -Chapter 4

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

“Hah?” Bella was about to complete the folders arrangement when the bell stocked her and dropped the styrofoam cup in her hand. She leaned forward as the blanket around her shoulder fell to the bottom of the chair.

“Do you want me to get that for you?” a voice came from behind her

“Huh? Oh, no. Thank you, Lena” Bell turned to answer the woman. “I got it,” she gave her a smile as she placed the cup of coffee onto the table then got up.

“Alright, just get me if you need help.”

“Thanks,” Bella nodded and started down the hall. What the hell!! She thought She put her call light on?, again, She couldn’t believe it. After agreeing to take the night shift with Lena sHe had this patient for almost twelve hours now and not once has she put her call light off, let alone say more than a couple of words to her. Bella walked up to the door and gave a quick knock before pushing the door in. “How can I help you ma'am?” She asked in Korean.

The old Women was sitting up in her bed. Her face was red.

“What’s wrong?” Bell quickly went up to the side of the bed. “Are you hurting?”

“I.. Just give me a glass of water and you can leave,” she demanded.

Bell stared at the woman in disbelief. She was able to put together what was going on now. Of course she’d be in pain. The woman had refused all her oral pain pills and refused any IV medication. “Ma'am!” She wasn’t going to let it go on. This woman was her patient, she had the job to help her. “You will take the medication and there’s no way out of it!” She told her plainly. “If you’re going to stay in this hospital you will have to follow the doctor’s orders!”

The woman turned to look at bell.

“If you want to do this to yourself then you shouldn’t be here,” Bell explained.

“You’re going to kick an old lady out of the hospital in the middle of the night?” her voice had it’s usual stiffness but at least she was speaking to her now.

“Of course I wouldn’t do that to you. That’s not only illegal, but it’s also against what I believe in. I’ll set up transport for you to be transferred to another hospital,” she explained.

The woman was silent.

Bell shook her head at the sight. She has had enough. There was no way that she’d stand by and watch as the lady suffers . She turned around and headed for the door.

“Wait,” the lady voice called. “Fine, I’ll do as you say. If you want to give me medicine, I’ll take them,” she gave in but it wasn’t because of the pain, it was mainly because of this young Bella words. After all she was patient and kind with her, how could she see her as a threat?

Walking out of the room she thought “I guess it’s this time of the year that scares people of me” .Meeting people at Christmas Eve never brought anything good with it to Bella, she was always in a nonchalant and depressed mood around this time which tends to scare people away. It was weird how much she changed once Christmas came , she was always open and warm, drawing people in with her charms, even in her work as a Nurse, patient will always demand her attention because she was that kind of a worm talented and kind person. But once late December came She’d transform and morph into a cold and closed person; completely undesirable to know. Sure some guys found her cold aura attractive, sexy even She’ve heard but they often gave up talking to her when She wasn’t showing any interest. It was embarrassing for them to keep talking to a closed book. Especially when people kept staring at them for daring to even make eye contact with her.

This is one of the reasons she would always choose to work a night shift in this time of the year,knowing that other nurses have much more of a life to enjoy. Sighing she arranged the tray of the medicines. “Is everything alright.” Lena asked looking at her. “She finally agreed to take the medication” Bella replied without making an eye contact, “well…it’s you after all the beauty of all” she winked at Bella making her smile.”yeah yeah, well wish me luck” Lena waved back to her as she went back to the hallway to the room.

……………………………

“The IV will work fast, you should be pain free in seconds,” Bella explained as she pushed a few buttons on the pump beside the patient’s bed. “I’ll also have the pharmacy to renew the oral meds,” she gave her a smile. “Rest up, you must be tired.”

The old woman took a glance at the patch on her arm where the syringe was taped down into her arm.

“I’ll just be outside, if you need me just put your call light now,” Bella told her then turned around.

“Hold on,” the woman’s voice stopped her.“Were you really going to send me away?”

“Hah?” Bella had forgotten the threat she had given the woman earlier. “Oh, that. You’re willing to receive the medications that are ordered so there’s no need to think about that anymore,” she walked up to the bedside once again. “I’m sorry for speaking in such a manner towards you,” she added.

“It’s alright,” she cut her off before she could give her a bow, which was a tradition in Korea. “If you hadn’t said those things I would still be in pain,” she explained.

Bella nodded as she realized that what she said was in fact true. “Why did you refuse the medication in the first place? Didn’t the doctor explain to you that you’d be in pain if you didn’t take them?” She asked out of curiousity.

The woman looked down to the IV site once again. “I wanted to feel the pain that the people I loved the most inflicted on me,” she said it with fire in her eyes.

Bella was shocked, and felt her own heart was squeezed as she herself is in pain “Someone she loved most hurted her? Bella thought, she couldn’t understand why someone would do such a thing to another human being.

“Do you know how it’s like to have your own flesh and blood betray you?Your own flesh and blood? Could she possibly be talking about the granddaughter that left after sending her into surgery?

Bella walked down the hall towards the desk thinking of what the woman had asked. “How could she do such a thing? What kind of a granddaughter is she?”

“Bella!”

“Oh Cindy,” she stood up straight and greeted the woman.

“I brought cupcakes for everyone, do you want one?” she offered.

“Thank you! I’ll have one later, I’m still attending patients ,” she explained.

“Okay, you better hurry before everyone takes one,” she beamed a smile as she entered the room down the hall.

“Bella, I assigned Mrs Jung to you again, is that okay?” the charge nurse came up to the desk with her clipboard.

“Of course, that’s fine,” Bella gave her a smile.

“I’m glad. She had asked for you,” she explained.

“Huh? She did?”

“She asked about you since the first hour, and she asked again now when I checked on her. I guess patients also love you too,” she pointed out.

Bella smiled picked up her report sheet and looked down the hall to room twenty were the old lady is sleeping.

………………………………

“The nurses here are all nice. Too bad I can’t understand them,” the elderly lady was sitting up in bed as if waiting for Bella.

“Yes, everyone here is wonderful,” Bella agreed. “How are you feeling today? Do you have any pain?” She walked up to the bedside and sat down in the chair next to her.

“I’m awefully tired of this bed, do you think I can get up for a walk?” she asked.

“Walk?” Bella repeated as if not wanting to believe what she had just heard.

“Yes, walk,” she nodded. “I won’t recover if I don’t get up and walk around, you said so yourself,” she reminded her. It’s been a couple of days now 1 week or more, and the lady seemed to recover fast while also she got really attached to Bella.

“Of course you can get up. Just hold on, let me go grab you a walker,” Bella got up and ran to the corner where the walker was kept, she grabbed it and came back to the bed and helped the woman up.

“Agh,” she let out a grunt.

“Are you alright? Where does it hurt?” Bella asked immediately.

“It’s okay. A little pain is okay,” she told her. “I don’t want to be all numbed up. I wouldn’t be able to feel my own feet,” she completed. Bella nodded as she helped the woman walk towards the door.

“You know back then we didn’t have all these advanced medicine that could magically take away all our pains,” she mumbled as her legs slowly moved. Bella listened as she held onto the woman’s arm and pulled the IV pole with her other hand.

“It’s odd though, no matter how advanced medicine is, no matter how incredible it is that a small pill can cure my physical pain, men still hasn’t created a medicine for me to take away the pain that’s in my heart.”

The woman’s words made Bella look over to her face. This woman had far more pain than she thought. How she wished that she could cure her pains, but who was she to even think of helping her? She was just a nurse that happened to meet her as a patient. The person who should be here, consoling her was her granddaughter. The one that left her. Maybe she thought that she was sending her off to die on the surgeon’s table? Was she hoping to use the surgeon’s hand in murdering her own grandma? There was nothing more despicable.

“The snow here is prettier than the snow in South Korea,” the woman looked out the window.startling Bella from her thought,they already walked till the window of the room. “How could that be? I didn’t know snow was different in each country,” Bella asked.

“Of course, to me it is,” she told her.

“How so?” She walked over and sat down on the chair when the old lady asked her to walk alone by herself. “Have you ever seen red snow?”

“Red snow? I never knew there was such a thing! Is the snow in Korea red?” She asked. “When it’s splattered with blood it is red,” her answer shocked Bella.

“Mrs Jung,” Bell called her name. “I’m okay child,” she turned to her. “I’m old, you’ll have to forgive me when I say some things,” she told her.

What has this woman been through? Bella wanted to know. Day by day, watching this woman, the more she thought she was understanding her, the more surprises she gives her. But at the end of the day, she could only blame one person for all of this. That heartless granddaughter!” Little did Bella know that for the first time she was healed from her own pain, she no more think of her own pain when people talks about there own, is it because of the woman mysterious words?, or is it because of the different language? She really didn’t know, but somehow she also grow closer and caring to that old lady, maybe because no one was around her like herself they both were lonely and left alone by the most close people, but in different circumstances. ………………………………

“Her granddaughter hasn’t come back for her yet?” Bella took a look at the report sheet in his hand.

“No one,” the other nurse shook her head.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” Bella asked.

“The translator set up a hotel for her to stay in until she gets picked up by her family,” she explained. It have been four weeks now since the surgery and the old lady finally was discharged from the hospital .“Hotel? How can she stay in a hotel room by herself? She doesn’t know anyone here, she barely understands a word of English,” Bella shook her head in disbelief. What was that granddaughter heart made of?

“We kept her here longer than we should have had already. The doctors won’t keep her here anymore,” she explained. It was true. They had kept her in the hospital for over four weeks when normally someone who has a similar surgery would stay for no longer than six days. “I suppose we can’t do anything else,” Bella accepted the facts. She took her cup of coffee and walked down to the desk. She set her coffee down and turned towards room twenty. She had to go make sure she was dressed and ready to leave.

“Hello Bella,” the woman greeted him with a smile.

“Hello,” she walked in and shut the door behind her. “I hear that you’re all well now,” she put on a smile.

“That’s what the doctors say. I told them I could leave since the first week but no one believed me,” she brought her purse from the night stand and dug through it.

“We just wanted to make extra sure that we’ve done everything for you,” she explained. “Well, I see you’re all dressed. I’ll have the escort to come and pick you up in a few minutes. And they’ll take you to the main entrance, and there should be a taxi waiting for you down there,” she explained.

“Thank you for all your help,” she told her. Bella nodded. She didn’t know what else she could say. Should she ask about when her granddaughter was coming to pick her up? Should she ask if there are any other family members that could come get here? She just didn’t feel right to send her to a hotel, not knowing when anyone would come for her. Does she have enough money to stay in a hotel room before someone came for her? Questions she wanted to ask, but feared it would be crossing the line. That wasn’t her job, if anything of this sort was to be brought up it was to be brought up by the patients themselves. And even then it wasn’t her that could deal with it, she would have to get a social service worker on the case.

“Bella.”

“Huh?” She looked down to see the woman standing in front of her. “Yes, ma’am?” She didn’t know when the woman had walked over from the other side.

“Here,” she brought up a card. “This is my granddaughter phone number,” she told her. “You’re granddaughter ?” Bella brought up her hand to receive the card. “Did you want me to call her?”. ”After I leave, can you please call her and tell her which hotel I am staying in?” she asked. “After you leave?” Bella asked to make sure.

“Yes, it’s three in the morning in South Korea right now. I don’t want to bother her. But later at night can you please call her and let her know which hotel I am at?” she asked again.

She thought for a moment. It seemed weird to her that she didn’t want to bother her granddaughter at this hour. If I was the granddaughter , I’d want to know right away, no matter what time of the day or night it was in the world. But it was her request after all, not something she could decide.

“Just let her know where I’m staying and she’ll know what to do from there,” she told her. Bella nodded. “Did you want me to call you after I call her?”

“If you could that would be wonderful,” she smiled.

Bella left the room feeling a bit better. At least she could inform that granddaughter that her grandma was still alive.

…………………………………

“Hello, is this Ms.Jung? Kimmy Jung?” a soothing sweet voice came to her ear.

“Yes, this is she,” it was awkward for her to switch to English all of a sudden.

“Hello miss, my name is Bella. I’m a nurse at the St. Mary’s Hospital here in London ,” she informed. “I’m calling on behalf of Mrs Jung, your Grandmathor ” she added.

“Grandma,” Kim sat up. Her eyes wide awake when she realized what the caller was talking about.

“Don’t get excited, I’m just calling to let you know that Mrs Jung has fully recovered and has been discharged to a hotel. She asked me to give you a call after she left,” Bella smirked a bit as she looked up to the wall clock. It was about five in the morning in South Korea and she knew it. That granddaughter deserved to be disturbed she told himself.

“Oh,” Kim watched her words, she had to be safe. “Thank you for the call.”

“Umm, Ms.Jung,” Bella took in a big breath of air before continuing. “I know you’re in South Korea , but I was just wondering when you’d be free to come get your grandmother? She’s alone at the hotel until someone comes to get her,” Bella thought she should inform her in case the woman didn’t know any better.

Kim thought for a few seconds. She knew her grandma was alone. It pained her that she couldn’t be there with her, but she knew she had made the right choice by leaving her.

“Ms.Jung?” Bella called to make sure she was still on the line.

“Yes, thank you for informing me. If that is all then I’ll let you go,” Kim answered.

Is this all she can say? Bell pulled the phone away from her face as if wanting to take a look at the face of a heartless woman. She wanted to give the woman a piece of her mind. “She’s at the Belmont Hotel by herself until someone comes to get here,” Bella made sure to emphasize the ‘alone’ part again.

“Thank you for the information,” Kim expressed again.

Is that all? What about when you’re going to come get here? Don’t you care? Bella wanted to shout out loud but she knew she’d be out of line. “I’ll let you go, thank you for your time,” Bella put the receiver down in disgust. Is there anyone or anything more disgusting than this woman?

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh Cindy,” She looked up to find her co-worker standing in front of the desk. “I just called that granddaughter ,” she explained.

“Oh, really? What’d she say?” she dashed around the desk and pulled out a chair to sit next to her.

“She said thanks for informing her,” Bella looked at her in disbelief.

“What? Did she ask how she was doing? Or when she was going to pick her up?”

“No,” she shook her head.

……………………………………………..

“What’s going on?” Kim walked down the stairs to find her relatives sitting in the living room. She hadn’t gone back to sleep after the phone call about her grandmother,Instead she spent the time thinking of a way to safely bring her back to South Korea. Then a few hours later the housekeeper had come knocking at the door to inform her that her uncles and aunts had come to the house demanding to see her.

“There she is,” one of the aunts pointed towards Kim.

“Kimmy,” the uncle gestured for her to come over to the group. “You might want to sit down for this,” he explained.

Kim looked around the room before walking over to sit at the chair his grandmother normally sat in.

“We were worried about grandmother,” the uncle started. “So I took the job to try and track her down…,” he looked towards the others before turning back to face Her. “The last known activities of grandmother were in London, where she purchased a bus ticket,” he explained. “I was frustrated when nothing came up about here afterward so I called the bus line that she had taken….,” his eyes grew red as he uttered the next few words slowly. “It turned out that the bus she had taken was in an accident. No one made it out alive.”

Kim turned to look at the man. How she wanted to punch him for even saying such a thing.

“She’s gone Kimmy. She’s never coming back to us,” the man added.

Kim gripped the side of the chair, hoping to release some of the anger towards these people. “I won’t believe it without seeing her body,” She stood up from the seat, startling everyone in the room.

“You can’t lie to yourself like this. You have to admit the truth that she’s gone. As much as it pains you, it pains all of us just as much. We have to accept this truth,” he repeated.

Kim turned back to face her uncle. “There will not be an official announcement until I see her body. Don’t forget that grandmother left me in charge when she left,” Kim reminded them all once again.

“How can you still hold onto her words when she’s not here anymore?” the man shot back.

“So if she’s gone from this world, everyone will disobey the last words that she has left with us?” Kim didn’t care anymore if the people in front of her were her elders. She had to make sure that none of them get out of line.

“It’s not that we’re disobeying her, but we’ve all talked about this before you came down. We want to all move on so that the pain in our heart will be mended quickly,” the man explained.

“And how do you suppose we mend our pains?” She asked.

“Well…,” the older man once again turned back to glance at his brothers and sisters. “Before father passed away he said that everything was under mother’s control. Leaving all of us out in the cold. These last few years have been terrible on all of our companies, if we could get financial help then we’d be able to at least ease some of the pain,” the man pointed out.

Kim knew from the start what all of this would lead to. In the end it was all about the money.

“Yes, this would give us a chance to give mother a grand funeral. Without the inheritance we won’t be able to do anything,” one of the other uncles spoke up.

“My children aren’t able to go to a nice school because of financial issues, if I can send them overseas they’d do a lot better,” another one spoke up.

Kim looked around the room. At that moment a thought came to her head. If she could distract everyone in this room for a couple days she could safely have her grandmother return to South Korea. She turned to her uncle. “I see where everyone is going with this,” she nodded as if admitting defeat. “Give me a couple of days to speak to the family lawyer.”

The group of people in the room turned to look at each other with a much happier face. The stubborn Jung Kimmy had finally given in to their play.