#i really like how i drew almond cookie!

[quibbs126]

More stuff I’ve been drawing. Since drawing these guys initially, I wanted to draw more of them just in little sketches, but didn’t have the time. But I remembered earlier this week after saying I didn’t know what to draw that I had these guys I wanted to draw, so I’ve sort of been drawing them on and off for the past week

I was planning on drawing more, but this is what I stuck with. Also sorry most of them are Dark Choco kids

So for some of these guys, I have thought about them more since their initial drawings, but didn’t know how to relay those details, so I’m making these sketches to tell

So first off for Mandel, I wanted to lean more into the “Stanley Parable narrator” angle and so now he has a British accent. However as stated, it’s fake. He does it because he thinks it makes him sound more refined and professional (I’m not too clear what his actual accent is, since I want it to be some sort of New York accent, but also I don’t think Almond or Timekeeper have New York accents. So I guess just, an American accent or something). However, when he gets nervous or shocked, he ends up slipping into his real accent before realizing his mistake and going back to the British. I was going to draw him with that shocked expression and slipping accent, but I couldn’t get the face to look right, so I didn’t

Also Mandel has gone from a weird cryptid to just sort of a weird guy that also controls time at his leisure. I imagine he likes to just mess with people and send them to other timelines just to see what happens, while also being a voice in their head watching from an unknown distance. But also they’re aware he’s just a dude (the people he sends I mean). I imagine the two he spends the most time around (as in the ones he likes to mess with) are Golden Raisin and Gancao, who know he’s not all he hypes himself up to be and just bully him, though not relentlessly. Also I’m considering that he also works for the TBD? But given the time messing he does, maybe not. Though maybe he just does it in his free time in between work and nobody knows. Now I’m imagining a scene where he’s narrating someone’s journey through another timeline, and is like “oh, sorry, it’s time for my shift at work, see you chaps later!” and they’re like “wait what hang on-” and then they hear a door slamming in the distance and he basically just leaves them on their own for 8 hours

Next up I drew Gancao because I just wanted to. I drew her with a licorice servant giving her a health potion for just a bit of energy to not overexert herself. Whether this is her servant (because I remembered that she’s technically licorice flavored and thus would have that power) or her dad’s, giving his daughter a little pick me up, I suppose you can interpret either way

I’ll be honest, I really like Gancao, she is a favorite of mine, but I also feel like I need a different one. Like, first off, her name and design do not match, and she’s the only one to really do so. Either I need to change her name to fit her design, or her design to fit her name. And second (and more what I meant), I feel like I could have done more with a darklico kid. Like, for Mallomar, I gave him mind control powers due to a combination of the Strawberry Jam Sword’s leftover influence and Kumiho’s seduction powers, and I feel like I should incorporate the SJS more into other Dark Choco fankids. And I feel like that’s especially prevalent with a darklico fankid, considering they met and their relationship would likely have started within the Cookies of Darkness, when Dark Choco had the Strawberry Jam Sword (I suppose this is true of any ship with Dark Choco and CoD member, but this is the only one I have so far, so it only applies here). Like, I feel like a kid between these two should be more weird than Gancao; all things considered, aside from her lack of reaction to body horror, she’s a very normal person. So honestly I’m planning on doing another one

I think I may have decided to get this sketch dump out just so I can say that, since I had already drawn her here

Anyways moving on, then we got Turtle Fudge. So you remember how back in his thing, I said that he ended up getting kidnapped by Affogato, and I believe in one timeline he never gets found and rescued? Well this is that timeline’s version of him, now a loyal disciple of Affogato, who reveres him as the one who took him in after his parents abandoned him. Though he might somewhat see him as a father figure, he only calls Affogato “Lord Affogato”, since that’s what Affogato prefers. Basically Affogato and his disciples did brainwashing to the poor kid to make him believe this. In this future, Affogato might return to the Dark Cacao Kingdom to reclaim his throne (or something, I’m not too sure Affogato really wants it, but maybe it’s about being petty and getting revenge), with a new group of disciples, Turtle Fudge among them, but Dark Choco and Caramel Arrow don’t realize it’s him, at least not until some dramatic reveal of his blindfold coming off. At the end of things, he does eventually realize that Affogato tricked him and turns on him, but how mentally stable he is at that point I’m not sure. The version I personally favor is the one where he stands there (possibly without Affogato knowing), Affogato having let slip his true intentions with Turtle Fudge (aka he’s just a pawn he stole from them to get back at them), and he ends up being the one to kill Affogato with a surprise spear throw that not even Affogato sees coming, and afterwards he just collapses on the floor, having a complete mental breakdown as his entire life has been a lie, with him crying and taking off the blindfold, so his parents know it’s him, but he’s been so broken by this that he never really recovers from it, spending years with his parents, but still a wreck from everything that’s happened to him and never really being a stable person again. I recognize the nicer (and more typical) version would be him turning on Affogato earlier, declaring his defiance of him and dramatically taking off his blindfold, and then after he and his parents defeat Affogato and his forces, they have a nice happy reunion, and I recognize the ending of that scenario I present is probably overdoing it, but I like my angst, so let me have this. Or at least everything up to him killing Affogato and having a breakdown afterwards

Anyways so then I drew an older Mallomar, which I’ve been wanting to draw since I first made him. I had the little ponytail envisioned, but I’ll be honest, I half assed the outfit like normal. I swear, I’m just really bad at outfits. I mean it looks fine, but I basically just took this from Dark Choco’s Vestements of Old Memories design, instead of something of my own. Ah well. Also I don’t know where that white streak in his hair came from, I just thought he needed one. Basically the idea with Mallomar when he’s older is that he’s mellowed out from when he was a little kid and is a lot more genuine, if not a bit nervous sometimes. He gets embarrassed easily, I’m sure plenty of it coming from his mom. Also he’s really big like his dad and grandpa

But yeah, some drawings. Hope you like them!

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run oc #fankid #fanchild #almondkeeper #darklico #carachoco #kumidark #mandel cookie #gancao cookie #turtle fudge cookie #mallomar cookie #now I have to go back and add all those tags to their originals #oh yeah also forgot to talk about Turtle Fudge’s design #it’s fine #probably should have done more to hide his looks since his hair streaks are pretty distinct #you’d think his parents would recognize them #my ocs #my art

[failedintsave]

MTLOC week Day 2: best friends

Even when she feels like little more than a footnote, Abigail is reminded that there are people at Mordhaus who care about her.

When You're Not Strong

"Nine more, Abby, c'mon you've got this! Eight, yes girl, let's go!"

Sweat dripped down her neck and over her chest as Abigail drew her elbows back again, a bead sliding over the contour of her breast and along the discolored seam of scar tissue mostly obscured by her sport bra. Her arms trembled, and even her legs felt wobbly as she tugged another rep against the resistance band. It was far cry from her previous personal best, and it had taken months to even get to this point.

"Don't quit on me now!" Vanessa squatted a few steps ahead of her, but Abigail refused to make eye contact, gritting her teeth and flexing her shoulders. The silvery bun piled atop Vanessa's head bobbed as she nodded approval. "Seven!"

Months of gentle exercise, of walking slowly and stretching and leaning on rails and canes when all she really wanted to do was explode and let go of the smoldering anger she'd been using to survive for so long now. Fury she'd been too weak to unleash against her captors and too relieved to turn on Toki's bandmates when they finally deigned to retrieve those they'd left to rot.

"Six. Six left."

Abigail was tired of being forced to move slowly. She was ready to just get on with her life.

Seated on the floor with the trainer's dog curled in his lap, Toki joined the cheering section. "You gots dis Abigails!"

Toki was the only reason she'd spent her recovery at Mordhaus rather than far away at a civilian hospital like any sane person would have done. He'd needed her, during their internment and after, and she couldn't abandon him. She'd grown too fond of him, and he'd dealt with enough of that as it stood. But where Toki found comfort in reconciling with his friends, Abigail alienated herself from the band, the only foolproof way to keep her aggression from burning blue and immolating the men who'd allowed her to become a victim of their in-fighting.

"Down to five!"

Aggression that desperately needed an outlet.

"Last four, baby, you're almost there."

Vanessa may as well have waved a red cape in front of her. Abigail felt the strain in her arms and back leaching into her core, a burn beyond muscle fatigue igniting the nerves once damaged by a steel blade. Physically, her injuries had healed, but there was something tender and frayed left behind, wound up tighter than the rubber bands clutched in her fists.

"Thr—"

"I know how to fucking count!" Finally she lifted her gaze from the floor mat, skewering the other woman with a glare. "I am so sick of being treated like I can't do things!"

Vanessa's almond eyes widened, her brows shooting towards her hairline. Ripping through her final reps at double speed, Abigail drew the bands like a bowstring and released. The ends slapped the floor between Vanessa's rose gold Reeboks, then curled useless into a flimsy ribbon.

As rapidly as the adrenaline rush came, it drained away even faster, taking with it the last of Abigail's pitiful well of stamina and leaving behind only a smattering of black spots across her vision. She heard someone—Toki, maybe—shout her name as she stumbled. Then arms were around her, holding her up under the armpits.

That's gotta be so sweaty, she thought dazedly, breathing through the worst of the head rush. Despite how soaked through her clothes had become, the arms only clutched her tighter.

"I knew you could do it." Ness whispered, her support turning into a fierce embrace. "You're so strong. I never had any doubt."

Those weren't just cookie-cutter words of encouragement from her trainer; Vanessa's voice trembled with more than pride. Behind her, the usual assemblage of workout equipment was organized neatly—jump ropes looped over hanging pegs and rubber-coated hand weights piled in wire crates, a pair of foam rollers leaning against the wall in the corner by a well-used punching bag.

Something Toki had mentioned a while ago came to mind, about his bandmates describing the rigorous training they'd undergone before being able to attempt a rescue. She'd dismissed the comment at the time, it sounded like another empty excuse given to save face. But that meant disregarding anyone else who may have been working behind the scenes to bring them home…the trackers, the intelligence team. The person who would have overseen Dethklok's strength and agility drills, whipping their stubborn asses into fighting shape.

Abigail's molten core cooled to a warm glow, her heavy arms looping behind Vanessa's back. She let her chin drop to her friend's shoulder as stinging tears welled to turn her vision into a watercolor painting.

"I'm sorry for yelling." She choked out before a quiet sob wriggled free of her grasp. Vanessa chuckled and rubbed soothing circles across her back.

"Oh please. Nathan got more upset than that when my fantasy league beat him last weekend."

That earned a giggle. "I love you, Ness."

"Love you too."

Having given them their moment, Abigail sensed Toki standing awkwardly at her side. She peeked up at him with a watery smile.

"Abby, ams you okei?" Toast circled his feet, whining for more belly rubs. Abigail nodded.

"Yeah, Abby are you okay?" Pulling back to catch her eye, Vanessa fought and lost the battle to keep a straight face. She always did. "Are you okay, Abby?"

"Oh my god, shut up." Abigail couldn't help her laughter. "Am I allowed to fire you? Toki, fire her for me."

"Umm.."

"If I go, the dog goes."

"I t'inks we ams stuck wif her, Abigails. Can'ts put Toast out on de streets." Toki grinned as Ness slung an arm around his neck, the other still curled behind Abigail.

She'd spent months holding onto handrails and crutches, moving gently while her body repaired itself. Now she would lean again as her heart healed, on friends who she trusted would move at her pace. No matter how slow.

"You're right. Nobody's that cruel."

#abigail remeltindrinc #vanessa gibbs #toki wartooth #mtlocweek2022 #metalocalypse

[quackspot]

ok i want to talk about my cookie run ocs so i will but below the cut because thats just how it be sdkljklsjklea (im going to TRY not blab out everything i think so then if you want you can send asks)

FROG!! 

ok so hes a liddol baby . he likes to hang out with sand ! theyre best friends and sometimes go to beaches and other places together. he’s very sweet and a little quiet. just a baby.

speaking of sand here they are!!! they dont talk much but when they do it sometimes freaks cookies out due to it being a drippy sand hole like

frog doesnt care about it too much . sometimes he tries to put sticks or something in their mouth just to see what’d happen. sand just eats the stick

rabbit’s foot is ! very lucky to say the least. hes also pretty gullible and easily fall for tricks but due to his luck they never seem to work out. very rarely does something harmful happen to him, though things like disappointing or saddening other cookies can happen. 

SPEAKING of disappointing or saddening cookies... fun dip! he’s often disappointed due to his tricks not working on rabbit’s foot but that only motivates him more. someone once said he looks like he’d be gumballs brother and honestly that’d be a chaotic pair of siblings (while im hesitant about canon relations with ocs..... who cares????). so yeah fun dip and gumball are brothers. 

rabbit’s foot is very much like a young child (though he is aware of a lot of things, he just has a personality alike to a young child. not a brain alike to a young child) and fun dip is a goofball prankster.

almond is very grumpy and they want to be a powerful wizard . honestly if they knew how to contact de or find her they would. also they are very emotional but tend to bottle it up (becuase in their tags on their ref its like “bad boy or crybaby” and i was like ‘’ok both’’). 

they dont hang around cookies often

and now for your local gamer boy. basically mlg jokes all the way around. mtn dew cookie references all that old stuff! theyre likely aware of other things too but theyre like “ah, nah, no thanks bro lolololol” and somehow they have that one robotic male voice? you know  the one in all of cowbelly’s videos that reads the memes? yeah that one. idk how to describe it

they also live off of doritos! besides their pet because it’s kind of obvious that’s a different dorito (plus g4m3r br0 has been existing for a while so it’d taste bad)

(mtn dew cookie is pangender)

garlic cooky! hes a dad and he’s married but that was on ponytown . i made him when me, kiley, and jamie decided to make a lil oc family . kiley made bread cookie his husband and jamie made butter, their daughter. garlic cookie had a very chaotic family when we all actualy messed around on there !

he also adopted some one’s herb pony on ponytown who acted very feral . we joked about dog with a blog because garlic called him the family dog . garlic cookie thinks toe toe (what he named the feral herb) is a dog unironically. like legit. also he’s a vampire ! he’s allergic to himself but isn’t dead yet somehow.

i could talk more about his family but yeah ! 

ravioli ravioli give me the formuoli (this oc was made on ponytown as well ! she acts like plankton) 

she is a gremlin. pretty small. why is there so much evil in you, little cookie? also i was playing with styles in that doodle so like  ? if you want me to draw in that style a bit more then just mention it

ngl i dont like how i doodled corn dog in that one but! corn dog is a baseball player and she’s very much ur classic jock. but nicer. she will want to play with you no matter what you want to play she loves ball games ! considering shipping her with orange cookie for some reason idk why but. if you want corn dog x orange then ig just ask for it sdkljdsljskl ;) i might doodle it too. corn dog x orange x lime? maybe but probably not since it seems like lime would get too jealous too easily

ASIDE from ships i really like how i first drew corn dog

what i struggled with with my doodle was her hair and i need to practice that a bit so i might look up things to practice with that ;-O

birthday cake ! he is chaotic party. very energetic. i completely imagine him whacking his face right into cake at a birthday party like if u gave him the 2nd anniversary cake his message would just be like. “*SPLAT* feels good on my face!” just to make it obvious he threw his face into the cake. also he has eyes he just likes to cover them up. maybe he’s blind but i based the blind fold thing off of terezifjseakljklw jklfjkldjkl jfkljwlkjioKLSJKLFJEKLRwer

gasoline cookie! i only made this character just recently on ponytown. he is very tired and lacking energy and is overall soggy in a sense. party pooper and very serious. i made this guy because i was joking like “if there were a gasoline they’d have a tension with fire spirit thats like ‘’DONT DRINK MY HAIR’’ or something” and then i made him

JAM!!!! they are my baby child and i love them a lot! i even made a blog for them but idk if its still up uhhh @cookiestuckinspace ! send asks there if you’d like i guess? the blog is very dead.  mtn dew is also there! there’s also unicorn cookie but i didn’t draw her.

they are a very sweet cookie who wishes to befriend many aliens! they’ve learned many languages and often mixes things up (as in, like, you know, accidentally saying an alien idiom in english or an english idiom in alien, forgetting words from either language then trying to describe it then BAM remembering. probably said an alien idiom in ANOTHER alien language while speaking in an english conversation). they know plenty of written languages and honestly? they try so hard to make sure every one is heard. theyre not very professional and theyre kinda bad at driving a ship 

whcih is why they let their space buddy drive the ship! yeah their dog, buddy, drives a spaceship. its funky but their dog is literally a spaceship itself.

phoenix!!! i only made him because.... on ponytown there was a mythical beast cult. he likes bugs and orange juice i think? capri suns? i dont know but i think he’s had a drink from a juice box before. theres not much about him but! yeah

RYE COOKIE! hes not really exactly a cookie. more like bread than gingerbread, if you catch what i’m throwing. jam tries really hard to be his friend but he doesnt speak any of hte languages jam knows and jam is trying really hard to figure out what he speaks so they can be friends.

thats all i guess ! please send asks about them or say “would ___ and ___ be friends?” i like to think about the relationships my ocs would have with each other ! 

heres the image i posted earlier with all my ocs with their names! if you read through this then i love you and have a good day <3

#cookie run ocs #ocposting #haha yeah i could talk about my fandomless ocs too ! i have too many object ocs and im not truly TOO much into object shows . not as much as #i used to be #i really like how i drew almond cookie!

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 27: Lessons in House Beneviento

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, hints of trauma

Summary: Juniper takes a visit to the Beneviento house for sewing lessons.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

“It’s not too late to cancel,” Heisenberg pointed out, almost hopeful, as he watched Juniper get ready.

“It is.” She insisted, combing her fingers through her hair.

“Nah, I have a phone right over here!” He strode over to it, “I can give her a quick call in no time flat.”

“Heis.” Juniper’s voice was a warning.

He seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging. “There’s no way to talk you out of it?” He pressed.

“Nope.” Juniper stuck firm, tying her curls back into a poofy ponytail.

It didn’t stop him from trying. He badgered her the whole way through the village, ever worried he wouldn’t be with her. Juniper kept firm, knowing she needed to learn this. His constant pestering didn’t cease until they were at the dilapidated wood bridges. Juniper gulped as she started across. The closer they got to the far side the more the mists thickened. By the time her boots made contact with solid ground again the air was heavy with it.

The path was narrow with overgrown hedges, small garden statues covered in ivys here and there.

Something drew Juniper’s attention. She paused as Heisenberg kept walking, turning to squint for better visibility.

A human stood in the mist, almost obscured from view. As Juniper came closer she could make out everything but the face.

It was a woman, about Juniper’s height and sporting the same ebony curls, but the other woman's hair was mostly tied back into a messy bun.

Juniper sucked in a breath, even without a face the woman pulled at a deeply familiar string of her heart.

The woman’s featureless face looked down, her light almond hands bunched into her floral skirt. She almost made a weeping sound.

“My dear….my angel.” The woman cried softly, “I've missed you.”

Juniper felt frozen, a tear running down her cheek. She wanted desperately to remember her face, her smell…anything.

“I’m sorry.” Juniper’s voice wavered.

She suddenly felt a strong hand on her shoulder, she turned enough to see Heisenberg chin almost on her shoulder.

“They aren’t real, buttercup.” He soothed, whispering into her ear, “Only hallucinations.”

Juniper tried to nod, blinking away more moisture from threatening her eyes.

She shook to clear her head a bit, the other woman fading.

Heisenberg saw his own share of ghosts among the mists, though he did his best to ignore them.

A sturdy outline of a man stepped forward down a fork in the path.

“Du bist so groß geworden, mein Kleiner.” The man smiled.

Heisenberg grimaced. He looked away, ignoring the shadow. It wasn’t who it pretended to be, it was just a cruel twist of his heart.

He led Juniper ever forward through the mists. Eventually their path opened onto a clearing. A mound of stones and flowers occupied the center, while a door stood on the opposite side’s rock wall.

“It looks like a grave…” Juniper frowned, seeing the dolls stacked up around the large stone.

“It is.” Heisenberg trudged forward, around the delicate stones and blooming yellow flowers.

Juniper read the stone:

Claudia

Juniper gulped, picking up her pace to rejoin Heisenberg. They went through the small door, following a cave path to an elevator. It looked out of place but was still alive with electricity.

Boarding it, Juniper looked around. This elevator was much more lavish and comfortable then the ones in the factory, more suited for recreational use.

Leaving the elevator and darkness of the caverns, Juniper gasped in awe.

“It’s beautiful!” She exclaimed.

Before them the old estate sat on a hill surrounded with blooming yellow flowers. A large waterfall thundered behind it, it’s mist coating the valley.

“Mhm.” Heisenberg agreed almost dismissively. His sour mood worsened with every step towards the estate, knowing every boot length was that much closer to not turning back.

Juniper stepped up onto the wooden porch, closing the distance to the heavy door. Before she reached for the knocker she glanced back to see Heisenberg did not step onto the porch himself, instead grimacing at the edge like an old dog.

Juniper turned back to the door, lifting the heavy knocker, drumming it a few times. Almost instantly Donna answered, pushing open the door, Angie close behind. They looked happy to see her, Juniper worried she had kept them waiting.

“Hello!” Angie exclaimed, “We’re so happy you came!”

“Hello.”Juniper smiled.

The sound of a throat clearing drew their attention. The three turned to look at Heisenberg.

“Return my girl in one piece.” Heisenberg spoke with his lips a thin line.

“We will.” Angie nodded.

“And no turning her into a fucking doll or some shit.” His voice was a steely warning.

“We know that!” Angie snapped.

He gave a cold look at the doll, “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” His pale eyes shifted upwards, “Donna I’m serious, take care of her…she means an awful lot to me.”

Donna gave a slow nod before raising a single finger to her chest. She made a little ‘x’ motion over her heart.

Heisenberg nodded back in understanding, mimicking the gesture, “Cross my heart.”

Juniper watched them closely, never seeing him act in such a way with another person before. The small interaction was almost childlike.

Whatever weight that gesture held seemed to be enough for Heisenberg. He tipped his hat to the three before turning back and heading into the mists.

They watched him disappear until Angie started hopping. Her tiny feet made a tapping sound as she happily spoke, “Come on, come on!”

Donna pulled open the thick wooden doors, a warm glow cascading over the porch from within.

Juniper walked behind her as Angie trailed closely. The door seemed to close on its own after they all entered.

“We made cookies!” Angie exclaimed.

“Oh, thank you.” Juniper stammered, being led into the main hall. The estate house was very cozy inside, with ornate woodwork and flowery designs on the rugs.

The air held the smell of spices and herbs, a heavy hanging of dust as well but Juniper was used to far worse.

Where Lady Dimitrescu’s home was a lavish palace, a place of showy status-ship; and Heisenberg’s factory was raw and hazardous, a cesspool of secrecy and honed functionality. Donna’s home was neither.

It was smaller but looked to be well lived in and even held remnants of a loving family. Juniper had known this house once belonged to Donna’s parents but was very unprepared for it to still hold the shadows of normality to it. Certain things looked to be completely untouched since the time of the previous owners, left to sit as a time capsule to happier days.

Juniper was led into a parlor of sorts, a heavy table set with linens and dying flowers was in the middle. A smaller sitting room lay off to the side. The whole place was covered in porcelain dolls. Not surprising, considering Donna was called the Doll-maker, but Juniper thought she saw one more out of the corner of her eye. She stifled a shiver, wondering if Angie wasn’t the only sentient one.

“Come sit.” Angie instructed, “We’ll get the tea.”

She did as she was told, sitting and waiting as the pair went out the far door.

The manor was eerily quiet, Juniper hadn’t realized how used she was to the constant hum of machinery. It almost made her anxiety thicken.

Was this what Heisenberg felt like whenever he was away?

She thought. He’d been living in the sounds much, much longer then she had.

The sound of an elevator piqued her interest, a small sliver of something familiar.

They returned rather quickly, Donna holding a tea tray and Angie pushing the door open for her. Donna set the tray down, busing herself with preparing three cups.

“Donna makes her own tea!” Angie told Juniper, hopping up in a chair.

“Oh?”

“Yea! She’s really good at it.” The doll gushed proudly.

Donna set a porcelain teacup in front of Juniper, offering her a bowl of sugar cubes.

“Oh, thank you.” She smiled, putting two into her tea before stirring it.

She brought it to her lips almost tentatively, the liquid dancing over her tongue. It was nothing like the prepackaged stuff Heisenberg kept around, no this was fragrant with floral notes and hints of herbs. Juniper took a deeper gulp, smiling.

Donna offered her a plate of cookies neatly stacked.

The cookies were a type of butter cookie, small and crisp with an aftertaste of vanilla. Juniper took a big bite.

“We made them from scratch!” Angie announced proudly. She happily picked up a cookie and began to dip it profusely into a cup of tea. She cackled as tea splashed out onto the lace tablecloth.

Donna seemed not to notice, lifting her cup up. She carefully moved the veil eough to take a sip.

After they enjoyed their tea and cookies, Angie telling Juniper so many random things during, they started to head towards Donna workspace.

They took another elevator, the one Juniper had heard earlier, down to the basement. They led her down a hallway lined with white painted doors before opening one.

The room had dirt floors and a heavier curtain of dust. The walls were lined with heaving shelving, filled with all assortment of fabrics and sewing supplies.

Angie excitedly showed Juniper the rarer fabrics, things the Duke had brought from far off places, as Donna cleaned off the table in the center of the room

The three sat down with a little pile of supplies before each.

Donna nodded, picking up a needle and threading it easily.

It took a while for the woman to find her voice, and when she did it was breathy and strained. Juniper thought it must’ve been a long while since it was used in any stretch.

Donna frequently forgot the proper words for items or techniques, having to stop for a moment to think how to explain things. Juniper was ever patient, just thankful the woman was taking the time to teach her at all.

When she did get going, Donna’s fingers were nimble and quick, making even intricate stitching look simple. She could put a sewing machine to shame.

Juniper tried to keep up, showing her results. It was lopsided and messy, earning a concerned little “Oh!” From Donna. It sent Angie into a fit of giggles.

“Take your time.” The woman instructed, “Make every stitch the same size.”

Juniper nodded, trying again.

“Not like that silly!” Angie pointed to the cloth, “Tinier! Make them cute and tiny.”

“Ok.” Juniper smiled at the doll’s enthusiasm.

“Practice stitching is im-important.” Donna nodded, “Mother made me sew for hours on spare fab-ric.”

“How do you make the clothing for the dolls?” Juniper asked, thinking clothes that size could easily be augmented to fit a baby.

“Are you making dolls?” Angie asked excitedly.

“W-well…” she thought, almost sweating, “I may, there’s not much to do around the factory you know.” She lied.

“How do you deal with living in that grimy old factory?” Angie asked.

“I've gotten used to it.” Juniper shrugged, “Its home now.”

“But what about Heisenberg?” The doll pressed, “He’s so mean!”

“Oh he’s not all bad.” Juniper looked at her hands, cheeks gaining a rosy blush, “He’s just a bit rough around the edges.”

“And loud!”

“He is rather loud.” Juniper agreed, giggling.

“But Donna is super good at making cute outfits!” Angie got back on topic.

Donna nodded, standing to look on the shelves behind her. She pulled a handmade book free, brushing dust or before setting it on the table.

“These are my patterns for the common clothes I make for them.” She opened the book.

Juniper looked it over, seeing many small measurements around the sketches. It reminded her of the schematics Heisenberg made of his Soldats.

She asked little questions here or there. Mostly about how Donna found the correct sizes and how to properly measure an object to make clothing for it.

She soaked everything the quieter woman said like a dry sponge. Even pulling out a sketchbook to make notes. Donna and Angie loved to have someone care so much after so many years of solitude.

~

Eventually Juniper’s eyes caught the clock overhead. She gasped, “Is it that late already?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun?” Angie laughed.

They cleaned up her workspace before heading back up into the estate.

Donna sent Juniper home with a better stocked sewing kit, easy patterns to practice with, a bag of scrap fabric, and a container of cookies for Heisenberg.

“Thank you for taking the time today.” Juniper’s voice was genuine.

“Oh it was fun!” Angie gushed, “Come back soon, ok!”

Juniper nodded, taking the bag thankfully from Donna. It was very sweet for her to provide so many spare materials.

Heisenberg was already waiting on the end of the porch, looking irritated as he smoked the last bit of a cigar.

He dropped it, tamping it out with the end of his boot before he stepped towards the three.

“You’re late.” Heisenberg growled when he was close to Juniper.

“And you didn’t send the Lycans?” She smiled playfully.

He gave a huff.

Juniper handed him the bag, he took it questionably. “What’s all this?” He asked.

“Sewing supplies for me and something for you.” Juniper answered.

Heisenberg glanced into the bag, making a little sound of surprise when he saw the parcel of cookies. He quickly looked up to Donna and Angie, almost embarrassed.

“Thank you!” He stammered, cheeks a bit rosey.

Donna nodded happily, waving them goodbye.

Juniper smiled, taking Heisenberg’s free hand and started the walk back to the factory.

“Not used to gifts, are you?” She giggled, seeing how flustered he was at the simple gesture.

He made a grumbling sound, not entertaining her with a real answer.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 26

Last time, Gold started to suspect that Neal might be his long-lost son. Here's what happened next

[AO3]

-

Belle left hospital the next day, Gideon strapped to her chest in a sling while Gold wheeled the suitcase beside her. The day was pleasantly warm, sun on her face as she walked to the car, and it felt good to be out in the fresh air and away from the hospital, with its hurrying staff and constant noise. She was still in pain, and far more tired than she had expected to be, but she stopped off in the lobby of the apartment building to let Marco coo over Gideon and comment on how much he looked like his father. Gold had a tiny smile on his face all the way up in the elevator.

It was a relief to sleep in what she now thought of as their bed, Gold spooned around her and his scent in her nose. Gideon woke them in the night, but Gold kissed her shoulder and whispered that she should rest. She still lay awake listening anxiously until he got back into bed and assured her that Gideon was fed, changed and sleeping again. There was an urge to go and check on him herself, but she told herself firmly to trust Gold to take care of his son, and her body was tired and sore enough that she soon drifted off.

Gold woke early, just as dawn was greying the sky, and tiptoed from the room to make a pot of coffee and check in on Gideon. Quiet as he was, Belle was stirring when he put his head around the bedroom door, and so he handed Gideon to her to feed before returning to the kitchen to pour out the coffee and make a hearty breakfast.

The first few days were hectic as they tried to adjust to their new life, establishing as much of a routine for Gideon as they could. Gold was enjoying being a father again, and fully intended to do the best job he could. Belle was clearly exhausted, and so he tried to ease the burden as much as possible, letting her nap with Gideon while he cleaned up, made dinner and baked. In between his chores, he dealt with work matters, giving instructions to Mr Dove in relation to rent or enforcement matters, assessing collateral for loans over video calls and countersigning a new tenancy agreement. He got up to feed and change Gideon in the middle of the night, hoping that Belle would get some much-needed rest. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that he, too, needed to rest, but sleep was elusive and his mind far too preoccupied to notice his building exhaustion.

He had been a ball of nervous energy ever since he and Belle had had the conversation about Neal. Getting his family settled into their home held his attention for the daylight hours, but once he was lying in bed, his mind was let loose to agonise over every possible worst case scenario it could dream up. The day after their return he was alert to every noise outside the apartment, every suggestion that a knock might sound and the Cassidys be outside. The knock never came, and over dinner the following evening, Belle mentioned that she had received a text from Emma. Henry had developed a bad cold, and Neal and Emma thought it best that they not visit and run the risk of passing it on to Gideon.

“I’m sorry he’s not well,” said Gold, an odd mixture of despair and relief rippling through him and pricking at his skin. “I’m sure they’ll come over soon. I’ll make a carrot cake this weekend. Maybe some chocolate cupcakes. Just in case they show up.”

Belle gave him a level look, as though she wasn’t fooled by his easy tone. She probably wasn’t.

“This must be hard for you,” she said quietly, and Gold put down his fork, abandoning his pretence at equilibrium.

“I still don’t know what the hell I’m gonna say to him,” he admitted. “How do I even raise the subject? Cupcake, Neal? Oh, by the way, did your mother ever mention that your father was Scottish? Kind of short? Me?”

He grimaced, running his hands over his face, and stilled at the warm pressure of Belle’s hand on his arm. He spread his fingers to gaze out through them into calm blue eyes.

“There isn’t going to be an easy way to do this,” she said gently. “But you could always try talking about your past, see if anything resonates with him.”

The fingers snapped shut, hiding her from his sight, and Gold sighed heavily before dropping his hands back to the table and sitting back.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That seems - more natural, I suppose.”

“You could always ask Archie for advice,” she suggested, and he nodded.

“That’s true. Although we don’t know whether there’s anything there to ask advice about yet.”

“I suppose.”

“If there is…” Gold sat forwards again, threading his fingers together nervously. “If there is, if Neal really is my son, I have a feeling Dr Hopper will be seeing a lot more of my money.”

Belle smiled, squeezing his arm again.

“A worthy investment, wouldn’t you say?”

“If it gets me a good relationship with my family, absolutely.” He gave her a tiny smile, and she beamed, her eyes gleaming.

“It’s already doing that,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you. Facing your pain, your past, your fears… it’s a brave thing to do.”

He smiled, her words making his heart swell with love, even as he endured the discomfort of unexpected praise.

“Well, I have many years of cowardice to make up for,” he said, with an awkward smile.

Belle gave him a somewhat sad smile in return before sitting back, and there was a moment of silence. He picked up his fork again, cutting into the slice of almond cake and spearing it with the tines.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did your father say when he’d be visiting?”

Belle nodded as she cut a piece of her own cake.

“He said next Monday,” she said. “It’s usually a slow day in the shop, so he’s gonna close up at noon after he’s dealt with the flower delivery, and drive down. We’re planning to meet at four-thirty.”

“Ah.” Gold popped the piece of cake into his mouth, enjoying the soft sweetness of ground almonds and the tang of orange zest. “Well, he’s welcome to stay, of course.”

Belle eyed him over her fork, but shook her head.

“He’s only coming down for the day, and to be honest I think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I said I’d meet him at the diner by the park, and I think it’s best if it’s just me and Gideon. I thought we could go for a walk and get something to eat. That’s probably enough contact for both of us at this stage.”

“As you wish,” he said, secretly relieved at not having to play nice with Moe French.

“Depending on how this first visit goes, he might be staying over in future, though,” she added.

“Of course.”

“And you never know,” she said, spearing another piece of cake. “Maybe one day we’ll move back to Storybrooke. You, me, Gid, and - well, we’ll see how things go.”

She gave him a secretive little smile, and for a moment he envisioned entering the pink house with several small children racing past him to fill the place with life and love and laughter. He smiled back.

“That sounds wonderful.”

-

Belle was enjoying motherhood, but she wondered how single mothers coped alone. Gold had been amazing, racing around the house keeping it clean and tidy, cooking delicious meals for the two of them and helping to feed and change Gideon. He insisted on being the one to get up during the night, even as she said they should take it in turns, but she had to admit that it was a relief to get some rest as her body recovered. He made cakes and cookies and brought her breakfast in bed while she fed Gideon, and made sure she wanted for nothing.

She was worried that he was doing too much; she caught him napping on the couch one afternoon with a pile of laundry in his lap, hands buried in Gideon’s sleep suits and head back against the cushions. She had let him sleep, tiptoeing through to the kitchen to make some tea, and made the dinner herself that evening.

As the time drew nearer for her father’s visit, she found herself getting nervous, and Gideon seemed to pick up on it, growing fractious as she dressed him for the trip outside.

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” asked Gold, helping her get him into the stroller, and Belle shook her head.

“It’s fine, really,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay once we’re out and he’s got something new to look at.”

“In that case,” he said. “I’ll make something nice for when you get back.”

“You always do.”

“Well, something special, then,” he said. “What would you like?”

Belle pursed her lips.

“A full night’s sleep and a foot rub?”

He grinned.

“Consider it done.”

“I’ll be eating about five-thirty,” she added. “So I won’t want anything for dinner, but I’ll probably feel like curling up with a glass of wine and something stodgy.”

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

He finished tucking Gideon in, and kissed his cheek before straightening up to kiss Belle. She clung to him a little longer than usual, and he squeezed her tight.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly. “And I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”

She nodded, taking a deep, fortifying breath, and set her hands to the stroller, pushing it towards the elevator. Glancing back over her shoulder, she could see Gold watching her from the doorway, and she gave him a reassuring smile as she pressed the elevator call button, hoping for a positive outcome.

-

The apartment was eerily silent without either Belle or Gideon, and Gold didn’t like it. He busied himself cleaning up, folding a freshly-washed pile of laundry and vacuuming the floors. He also made up a pan of chicken casserole, adding a generous glass of red wine, and set it to a low simmer while he pondered what else to cook. He made some bread, pummelling the dough briskly before setting it aside to rise, and wiped flour-covered hands on his apron before poking through the store cupboard again. Belle had mentioned wanting something stodgy to eat, so he decided to make a pan of brownies.

By the time he had finished mixing the batter and put the tin in the oven, it was a quarter to six. He poured himself a glass of the wine and took a large gulp, one toe tapping on the floor as he wondered how Belle’s dinner with her father was going. He hadn’t received a distressed phone call, so he had to assume she was fine. She was more than capable of standing up to her father, but he hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. Surely not even Moe French could maintain his bad attitude when he got to hold Gideon.

A knock at the apartment door made him start, and he set down his glass, wiping his hands on his apron and grasping his cane to head for the door. Looking out through the spy hole, he paused as Neal’s face glanced up, his figure distorted by the curve of the lens. Gold’s heart started thumping high in his throat, blood pounding, and he swallowed, his throat dry, the handle gripped tight. His hand shook as he opened the door, and he licked his lips nervously as Neal grinned at him, hefting what looked like a leather laptop bag up a little further on his shoulder.

“Hello, Neal,” said Gold, unsure where his calm tone had come from, but relieved that he sounded normal.

“Hey,” said Neal, patting the bag. “Belle asked Emma to pick her up a couple of books from the university library. I said I’d drop ‘em off on my way home, since I was in the area.”

Gold made a decision.

“Please, come on in,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door. “Belle’s out at the moment, but you’re welcome to wait. I could make some coffee. Or I’ve opened the wine, if you’d prefer a glass of that.”

Neal’s eyes brightened.

“Really? Wouldn’t say no, it’s been a hell of a day.”

He stepped into the apartment, and Gold closed the door behind him, following him into the kitchen and trying to calm his racing heart. Neal shrugged off the strap of his bag, putting it on the table with a heavy thump of books and wriggling his shoulder.

“Belle should try e-books,” he said. “Less chance of a dislocated shoulder.”

Gold chuckled at that.

“I offered to get her one, but she prefers the feel and smell of real books,” he said, getting a second glass from the cupboard and pouring a measure of wine. “Not that she’s had all that much time to read lately.”

“No, I guess not. Thanks.” Neal took the wine. “You say she’ll be back soon?”

“She took Gideon to go and meet her father, but I’m expecting her back in the next half hour or so.”

“You didn’t go too?” asked Neal, and Gold pulled a face.

“Let’s just say that the peace between the two of them is new and fragile, and my presence really wouldn’t help that.”

“Yeah, I pretty much heard her dad’s a tool,” said Neal, making Gold grin.

“My opinion of him is fairly low, but I have to say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Guess you can’t choose your family,” said Neal, and took a drink. “Wow! That’s nice!”

“A favourite of mine.” Gold hesitated, turning the glass between his fingers. “How’s Henry?”

“Yeah, he’s a lot better,” said Neal. “Totally snot-free, happy to say. We thought we might come over Friday, if you’re up for having visitors.”

“I’m sure we’d love that.”

Another pause. Gold took a mouthful of wine, feeling his pulse thud in his throat, his skin tingling. He almost choked as he swallowed, and blinked rapidly, his eyes watering.

“You okay?” asked Neal. “Went down the wrong way?”

“Yes. Uh - shall we go through to the lounge?”

Gold gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen door, and Neal wandered off, leaving him to follow on feet that felt as though they were made of steel plates. It was a relief to sit down, and he had to stop himself from tapping his feet restlessly as he turned the glass between his hands and tried to think of something to say. Neal was good enough to break the heavy silence.

“How’s life with Gideon?” he asked, and Gold smiled.

“He doesn’t give us a lot of time to sit and take a breath, that’s for certain,” he said, “But it’s wonderful. I’m incredibly lucky.”

“You’re enjoying being a dad again, huh?”

“Very much.”

“Is it like you remember?” asked Neal, and Gold hesitated. Here, at last, was an opening. An opportunity.

“With my first son,” he said. “I wasn’t there for the first eighteen months of his life. A little like you and Henry.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” Gold looked down at his wine, deep red rippling catching tiny specks of light. “It wasn’t by choice, I might add.”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you weren’t in jail,” said Neal, and he smiled.

“No, not jail. Unless of course you count the one of my own making.”

“Deep.”

“Pompous. Sorry.”

Neal chuckled, and Gold took a drink of wine.

“His mother and I weren’t suited,” he said then. “We were never in a proper relationship, and I wasn’t surprised when she left town. But then she came back two years later, with a child. My child, so she said.”

“You think she was lying?”

“No,” he said immediately. “No, I knew he was mine. At least - at least I thought that I knew. I could - I could feel it.”

He tapped his closed fist against his heart, and Neal watched him silently. Gold gave a tiny shrug.

“Of course I wanted to give him everything I hadn’t - that is - I wanted to do the best for my son as I could,” he said, floundering a little. “I worked hard, earned a good wage - unfortunately, that meant spending more time at work, and less time at home. Milah didn’t appreciate being, in her words: ‘stuck indoors all day with a screaming brat’.”

Neal had gone very still.

“Did you say Milah?” he asked neutrally.

“My ex,” said Gold, wishing his heart would stop thumping so hard. “Anyway, I came home one day, and she’d gone. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at that, but I never thought she’d take him. I never thought…” He cut off, ducking his head. “I never thought I’d lose him.”

Neal took a swallow of wine, and Gold squeezed his glass in an attempt to still his trembling hands.

“What happened?” asked Neal.

“Well, I found out that without being named as his father, I had no right to find out what had happened to him,” he said wearily. “So I had to search alone. She moved around a lot: from Scotland to England, and eventually, to the US. The last place I could trace them to was Social Services in Phoenix. She’d left him there. Said she’d come back and never did.”

Neal shook his head, looking stunned.

“So - so what happened?” he asked. “Did you find him?”

“No.” Gold eyed him steadily. “No, he’d gone. Run away. I was three months too late. I kept searching, but there were no more leads. He knew how to hide, it seemed.”

Neal swallowed hard, and set down his glass.

“You said you weren’t named as the father,” he said. “So his name wasn’t Gold, right?”

“No,” said Gold. “His last name was Bonny, after his mother.”

Neal pushed to his feet in a rush, agitation making his nostrils flare.

“Who told you my mother was called that?” he demanded. “Was it Emma? What did she say? How did you know that?”

“What?” Gold shook his head, an invisible hand squeezing at his heart and leaving him breathless. “I don’t - Emma didn’t tell me anything, I just - well, I remember Milah’s name, of course I do. And - and your name is Cassidy.”

“Because I changed it!” Neal began to pace, running a hand through his hair and looking shattered. “I don’t - I can’t…”

He shook his head, stomping towards the door.

“No, please!” said Gold desperately, pushing to his feet. “Please, don’t go, I just - I need you to listen for a moment.”

“I can’t!”

“Please!” he urged. “Please, my son’s name is Bailey. Bailey Stephen Bonny. He was born on the first of May, twenty-nine years ago, and - and I’ve been searching for him ever since he disappeared, ever since his mother took him from me.”

“This is - this isn’t possible.” Neal shook his head, looking devastated. “This can’t be real. I have to - I have to go, I have to think.”

“No, wait!”

His hand was on the door handle, and Gold had reached out, wanting to touch him, desperate to touch him. He drew back at the last minute, pain clawing at his chest, as though his heart was trying to tear its way out. Neal’s knuckles were white on the handle, his body shaking with tension, and Gold blinked tears from his eyes.

“Is it you, Bae?” he whispered, his voice breaking a little. “Is it really you?”

The name on his tongue seemed to break whatever spell had fallen over them, and Neal wrenched at the door, barging out into the corridor and slamming it shut behind him. Gold sagged, shoulders slumping as he gripped the cane handle to hold himself upright. It’s him. It’s my son. My Bae.

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

[thehaemanthus]

Our Savaged Souls

Trying out a new thing of posting the full chapter on tumblr. You can read from chapter one one AO3 (unless it’s not your thing, and in that case you can send me an ask and I’ll be like! sure! I love to be accomodating! I’ll post full chapters on tumblr :) )

Feyre Archeron is born under the new Wall separating human lands from the Spring Court- her home. She hunts in her forest, forms a friendship with the High Lord's third son, and is introduced to his friend. Then it all goes wrong.

Chapter 6

Tamlin soon forgets his ire about the Suriel. Or at least, he pushes it down far enough and eventually bounces back, dragging her out on more adventures. He manages to swing by for a few hours of her birthday party, and then is required at home for much of the spring. By the time the summer rolls around, Feyre can tell he’s eager to be away from family and make up for lost time.

The latest outing is a jaunt to a pool of liquid starlight, one that Feyre has visited only a handful of times. It’s one of Tamlin’s favorite places, she knows, and she felt the honor in the first invitation.

Her linen dress brushes just past her knees, only half of her hair pulled back in anticipation of a relaxing afternoon spent lounging in the shade and wading in the water. No boots or tight braid needed today. Her contribution to the picnic is a batch of scones, some ruby-red cherries, raspberry preserves, and roasted almonds. With her bounty and dress, Feyre decides to winnow rather than pick through the forest.

Feyre expects it to be a small party, but she does not know how small it actually is until she arrives.

There are two people there. Tamlin and Rhysand.

Of course. Rhysand. Of course he is here.

“You managed to make it on time!” Tamlin greets her with an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek and takes her basket from her hands, retreating to add it to their pile of food and blankets. The space already looks inviting, dappled in shade. Sweating bottles of lemonade and ice water peak out from a wicker basket full of white porcelain plates with painted primrose borders and crystal glasses. A partially wrapped loaf of bread and hard cheese rests on top, along with a sharp knife and a bounty of fresh fruits.

Feyre scowls. “I was late one time, Tam, it’s not funny anymore.” She glances at Rhysand. It would be impossible to pretend he’s not there. It’s just the three of them. It would be rude to not say anything. It should not be difficult at all to just greet him. She wrangles her expression into something pleasant. “Hello, Rhysand.”

“Feyre darling,” he smirks. “I thought you were calling me Rhys now?”

She actually turns a bit red and fumbles. Thankfully, Tamlin’s big mouth saves her. “When did that happen?”

“A while ago.” Rhysand reclines on one of the picnic blankets, lounging like a cat. He waves a hand. “Won’t you join us, Feyre?”

There’s really no way to refuse. She takes a seat, folding her legs under her. “It’s hard to break a habit. I’ve been calling you Rhysand for a long time now.”

“I’ll have to keep reminding you, then,” he says as he roots through a picnic basket, plucking out a tin of cookies. “Want one?”

“Thank you, Rhys,” she stresses his name, plucking one of the cookies from his hand.

He smiles at her, and the tension seems to melt away.

Has she always looked at him like this, or did the Suriel trigger something in her soul that flipped the world upside down? Feyre wonders how long this feeling, this awareness of him has been growing in her heart, encroaching so slowly and naturally that she has not noticed until someone drew her attention to the blossoming.

For a child of the Night Court, Rhys looks good in the sun. She has always known he is beautiful, but something has changed. As they chat and nibble on the picnic, Feyre observes him. There is something fuller in his laughs, more playful in his smirks today. It would be impossible to forget that he is an Heir— powerful radiates from his body and he approaches every conversation and confrontation with arrogance. He is still guarded. But if his true soul is an impenetrable fortress, Feyre thinks they’ve passed through the gates of one or two battlements.

The sun beats down on them, stronger now that the world has moved and positioned itself in summer. The Day Court is absolutely sweltering, Rhys informs them, and there’s been some problems with heat sickness in Summer. In Spring, Feyre keeps an extra canteen of water and takes frequent breaks when romping about.

Sweat gathers at her brow and pools on her upper lip. Eventually, sipping cool drinks and relaxing in the shade is paltry comfort.

“I’m going for a dip,” she stands. “Anyone want to join?”

The males scramble up after her. It’s some work to unlace her stays, so they end up shucking their clothes and splashing into the pond before her. Feyre finds herself sighing in relief when they don’t look twice or offer to help. It would be well meaning from them, her friends, if not a little playful and flirty. But if Rhys offered…

Mother above. Surely it should take her longer to fall?

“Are you coming?” Tamlin calls from the water, flicking some water in her direction. It glitters like diamonds where it lands on the grass and dirt. It might not actually be water, but Feyre has never known what else to call it.

She scowls. “It takes a little longer for me.” She toes off her slippers, wiggling her feet in the cool grass. In the past, Feyre hasn’t had trouble with stripping down to almost nothing and jumping into lakes and rivers. Now, she keeps her chemise on and tries not to think too hard about it. After tossing her hair pins on the blanket, she wades in.

The pond is cool and refreshing. Sunlight almost blinds her as it bounces off the surface. Feyre glides through the water, slowly acclimating herself. When she dunks her head under and emerges, the liquid starlight clings to her lashes and makes the world look brighter and chaotic. She swipes a hand at her eyes and blinks to clear her vision.

Tamlin floats on his back, golden hair floating around his head like a halo. Rhys lazily swims a circuit around the pond, much like she was. Feyre treads in place for a moment before floating a bit closer to Rhys.

Sensing her presence, he surfaces. Feyre’s breath catches. She’s sure he reads something incriminating on her face, but before he can speak she opens her mouth. “This pond suits you.”

“Oh?” he questions. His feet must reach the bottom, because while Feyre is working to stay afloat at the edge, he is merely holding out his arms to keep himself steady.

“The starlight.” Her eyes roam over his face and dip down to his neck before shooting back up. If she looks too far down she won’t be able to return her gaze to his face. “Son of the Night Court. It all works.” She waves a hand in his face, and he laughs. The starlight clinging to his hair and shoulders and dripping from his chin bring out the constellations in his eyes.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, darling,” Rhys nods at her.

She wishes she had a mirror, if only to try and memorize her own look for a painting later. “Do I?” she asks, leaning back a bit in the water and pretending like his words do not send her heart racing.

Her eyes are on the sky, but when Rhys is silent for too long she propels herself upright. He’s frowning a bit, looking more unsure of himself than she’s ever known him to be. “Rhys?”

“I can show you,” he says, expression much too serious for an afternoon swim.

Feyre laughs softly. “You have a mirror? Where are you hiding that?”

Rhys’s smirk lacks some of its swagger. He brings up a hand and, from nowhere, conjures a hand mirror. “I do have some tricks up my sleeve. But that wasn’t what I was talking about.” As quick as it appeared, it's gone.

Feyre cocks her head. Rhys wants to show her what she looks like, but without a mirror or any reflective surface...and it’s not like he’s an artist…

She gapes a little, swimming closer. Tamlin is still floating on his back, hearing muffled from the water, but she lowers her voice anyway. “You’re daemati?”

It’s the only thing that makes sense. And she would expect no less from Rhys. In addition to being obscenely powerful, to have this as well...he won’t just be a powerful High Lord, he’ll be unquestionably dominant.

His brows lift a little in surprise before his expression settles. “Clever girl. I shouldn’t be surprised that you guessed.”

Feyre bites her lip, torn between being pleased and being concerned. She does not think that Rhys has ever used his power against her. But how would she know? She has heard plenty of stories, has been given plenty of reasons to be wary of the Night Court. Feyre is not so arrogant as to think that she is a worthy target, but just the thought of her thoughts being combed through or someone getting information from her mind is disconcerting.

Rhys— whether by looking at her mind or her face— knows where her thoughts lead her. He moves a little closer as well. “I have never looked in your mind, or Tamlin’s for that matter. I’m not that kind of male.”

“I know.” The words are said without thinking, but they ring true.

He does not look convinced. “If I wanted to use you, I would have hovered in your mind as you hunted the Suriel and asked them a question myself. I would have probed your mind to see what you asked.”

She nods. Part of her knows it to be true, but another part, an animal, instinctual part, shies away from him.

But the Suriel told her to trust Rhysand.

It’s not effortless, but she stays. “You keep it a secret?”

“We keep it quiet,” Rhys admits. “We” probably means his family, his Court.

What does it mean that there is a secret daemati ready to inherit one of the mightier Courts of Prythian?

If she was a good person, she thinks, she would tell someone. But being a good citizen and a good friend are directly opposed at the moment. It does not take Feyre very long to decide which title is more important to her.

“I won’t tell anyone.” She values her friendship with Rhys, trusts him more than she maybe should. Even considering what the Suriel said, she would be a fool to throw herself into his arms blindly.

“Thank you.” Under the water, he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “I know you still aren’t comfortable with this.”

It’s difficult to meet his eyes, so she looks down. Right at the curves of his shoulder, where brown skin and black ink peek from beneath the surface. Her mouth goes dry, but she manages to force words out. “It is...strange. To realize how vulnerable I’ve been.”

There are dangers in Feyre’s life, but she has always known them. She has rules, has trained and armed herself against threats. Don’t stay out too late after night falls in the forest, don’t stray too close to creatures who have young ones to protect. Keep your eyes averted when speaking with the High Lord and try to not attract too much attention, bite your tongue in front of certain people and laugh and gossip in secret circles only.

There is no such defense against Rhys. At least, she assumes so until he speaks. “I can train you to shield your mind.”

Feyre blinks, shocked. “You can?” It’s possible? And he would offer that to her?

A deluge of cool water drenches her. Feyre cries out in shock, whirling to scowl at a laughing Tamlin.

“You two are much too serious,” he says, slapping the surface of the water again to send another splash their way. “What were you talking about anyway?”

“We had a run-in with a daemati in the Night Court a while back,” Rhys says smoothly. In an instant, his cool confidence is back. He swims away from Feyre, closer to Tamlin. She is sure there is a good reason he turns his back and tells herself it does not sting. “I was telling Feyre that I wouldn’t mind offering some lessons on how to shield her mind.”

“Why would you need to shield your mind?” Tamlin asks her.

She scowls. “Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you want to keep your thoughts private?”

“Sure,” Tamlin shrugs. “But it’s not like any daemati would target you.” He is lackadaisical and inattentive, paddling around the pond like a slippery otter. The mere word “daemati” was enough to alter Feyre’s mood, but Tamlin is barely affected.

“She’s been spending time with two sons of High Lords,” Rhys points out, flicking some water into Tamlin’s face. “I’d say that makes her plenty vulnerable. You should learn to shield, too.”

Tamlin nods, finally starting to take it seriously. “You were taught?” He propels himself upright, staring intently at Rhys. It is not hard to see how Tamlin esteems their older friend. Anyone who spends five minutes with the two of them can see how Tamlin might look at Rhys for approval, how he weighs Rhys’s words and commits them to memory. Sometimes, Feyre worries about how reliant Tamlin is, how he has replaced his own older brothers with the Heir to the Night Court. But she hardly has room to talk.

“Almost as soon as I could grasp the concept,” Rhys says. “I’ll give both of you lessons. It’ll be hard to test without an actual daemati, but it’s worth trying.”

You’ll have a bit of an advantage over Tamlin. Feyre gasps as Rhys’s voice echoes in her head. Her limbs freeze. She sinks a little in the water before propelling herself back up, sputtering.

Tamlin glides closer. “Feyre?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, pointedly not looking at Rhys. “I thought something brushed my leg. What lives in this water anyway?”

“Nothing natural,” Tamlin scowls at the opaque surface as if his ire can be translated to whatever dwells below. “Come on, let’s leave before we find out.”

Feyre wades out of the pond, chemise sticking to her skin and hair dripping down her back. She squeezes her hair to dry it as best she can, then moves to gather a fistful of her chemise and wring out the water.

It’s silent for a moment. When Feyre looks up, she sees two males looking at her instead of getting out of the pond.

Emboldened by their attention, Feyre raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Tamlin coughs, looking away and stepping out of the water. He passes her without a comment, even as Rhys continues to look. Her challenge is answered as his eyes rove over her body, from long bare legs to the wet material clinging to her hips and chest. She half expects something flirty to spill from his mouth, but he just keeps the smirk on, looks his fill, and emerges from the water.

It takes a lot of effort not to pay him back in kind, though Feyre does sneak a look at those tattoos and well-muscled chest.

The light breeze chills their damp skin, and the once sweltering heat becomes a comforting embrace. The trio sprawl out. Between bouts of dozing off, they have a contest to see which pair is best at tossing grapes into someone’s mouth. When Feyre’s hair is mostly dry and her fingers get caught in tangles, Rhys slips behind her and braids it back.

She is half awake as his fingers comb through her hair, catching every other word of his explanation that his little sister has now grown old enough to demand all sorts of hairstyles and pampering from her devoted older brother. Feyre hums with a smile, picturing the scene.

There’s a knock on the edge of her mind. One she is better prepared for this time. Rhys slips a memory into her mind, one that is not hers, but his. Through his eyes he sees a head of black hair, a young girl’s bedroom, a reflection of him and a little girl, the former wrestling with a hair brush and the latter rifling through a basket of ribbons. There is a love infused in that memory, a feeling so pure that it nearly brings a tear to Feyre’s eye.

I almost neglected my promise earlier. Rhys’s voice is low and smoky in her mind. A moment later, a different memory. Her grinning face, covered in droplets of starlight.

There is emotion in this memory too, though not the all-consuming devotion Rhys feels for his sister. But it is something, and it makes Feyre smile anyway.

It is the perfect day. Feyre is not naive enough to think that this dynamic, with her two dear friends, can last forever. Rhysand will one day become High Lord, and Tamlin’s own role will likely change when his father passes. But fae are immortal, and she is untouched by death, and the thought of painful change is so far away in that perfect summer afternoon.

She cannot be blamed for thinking peace will last for a good, long while.

--

Being the Lady of the Spring Court is good for little else besides ordering the servants around the house.

Alis can grumble and protest and toss every veiled hint that she can think of, but in the end she cannot prevent Feyre from leaving her bed. Sleep came and went in the night. When the discomfort impeded her peace, Feyre tossed back healing tonics and pain remedies and whatever cocktail of drugs that the healer left on her nightstand.

Her smaller cuts are healed, but her ribs are still tender. The worst bruises are black and blue and impossible to look at. Feyre chooses a boring corner of the room to stare at as Alis dresses her in light fabrics and a dress that laces loosely. Alis picks a gown in an opaque green with a yellow underskirt, as if that will lend color to her pale skin or brighten her gaunt face.

Feyre tells the staff that she and the High Lord will not be entertaining any guests and to send away anyone that might drop by. Not that anyone comes for Feyre unless she specifically invites them.

The only other person in her home besides the servants is Lucien. He clearly did not expect her to leave bed and nearly leaps from his seat when she slips into the dining room. “You should be resting.”

She probably should. There is an exhaustion that has settled in her, infused in her bones and powdered on her skin. Her tongue is weighed down. Feyre has no words for her friend, only enough energy to squeeze his shoulder as she walks past to take her seat. She sees the way his eyes scan her, the way his jaw clenches when he notes how she sits gingerly.

Tamlin’s chair at the head of the table is empty. The space feels like a chasm.

When Tamlin is home, the table usually is weighed down with food. Today, Lucien just has one plate sent up from the kitchen. Feyre gets the same toast, fried eggs, and sausage. No platters of sliced fruit or tureens of gravy or plates of sugary pastries. Lucien pours her a cup of tea wordlessly.

Feyre eats in peace, but Lucien has a stack of papers by him that he leafs through in between bites. With Tamlin gone, his work will be all the more difficult. Lucien cannot make certain decisions, cannot sign off on projects, cannot approve a budget. But there are some things that must get done and emergencies to deal with.

“Anything I can help with?” Feyre speaks her first words of the day.

Lucien’s eyes flick up briefly. “I’ll let you know.” He’s gone a few minutes later, only a squeeze of her shoulder as a goodbye.

There are things Feyre can do, even some things that Tamlin might expect her to accomplish. Ferye thinks of the piles of letters she can respond to and the parties she might plan. The next holiday is never more than a few months away, and Tamlin likes to take any opportunity to celebrate and fill their home with his friends.

She does not do any of that.

The servants push back on some of Feyre’s whims, but they can never outright refuse her. A few months ago, it was a battle to get them to relinquish their gardening tools. Another battle to ask one of the gardeners to teach her, show her, and not do anything beyond that.

But a few months ago she was also a bit more fragile, and so they followed her directions with less protesting than she usually was in for.

Now, Feyre knows where to find the tools she needs. She slips on the gardening gloves that Alis procured and forced on her. While it might be seemly for the Lady of Spring to prune a few roses, cuts and calluses were utterly unacceptable. Feyre can stroll in the gardens, can even kneel in the grass, as long as she has a wide-brimmed hat to shield the delicate skin on her face.

How she longs to rip off the hat, unpin her hair, and sprint through the fields once more.

No one disturbs her as Feyre weaves through the perfectly manicured gardens. She passes tall hedges, venturing deeper until she crosses into a little hidden nook. It is cordoned off by nothing more than a charming wooden gate, but symbolism is strong. No one has ever entered without the express permission of the Lady of Spring.

Feyre let the little space go unattended for years, not caring much for gardening or pretty flowers. Now, the hidden nook is ringed with blooming jasmine. She might add a stone bench in the middle, but for now she is happy to sit on the grass.

A proper gardener might prune and use sophisticated techniques to care for the jasmine, but Feyre likes to see it grow wild. She removes weeds and brushes away dead leaves. In Spring the bushes are almost always flowering, clogging the space with their intoxicating scent. She would have kept blooms in her room, if not for what they symbolized.

Jasmine is a Night Court flower.

Tamlin does not come to her jasmine garden. He either does not know or was informed and has not confronted her directly. Now that she is in the garden, Feyre wonders if this is, in part, what set him off.

The flowers are not for Rhys. Not really. True, they remind her of him, in a way. But she mostly likes the scent, likes that when she smells it she immediately feels at peace. Jasmine is not the most beautiful flower in the world, but it is still pretty. A flower alone cannot make her happy, but it settles something in her soul anyway.

White jasmine is crisp and clean. Pure.

For a while, Feyre had no closure after the loss of her child. These things happened, so the healer ensured she was physically healthy and then sent away. There was no goodbye, no body, no ceremony to send the child off. They were there one moment and gone the next, not having made any mark on the world besides a scar on Feyre’s heart. She does not know if they were male or female, if they had Tamlin’s blond hair or her own darker shade, if they would have had freckles or their father’s straight nose. After they were gone, the child seemed to exist for Feyre and no one else.

So she planted the jasmine.

Now, as she lays on her back in the grass, she can imagine it. A giggling toddler, running circles around her. But not here, not in Spring. The flowers perfume the air and make it all too easy to pretend she’s in another place.

Maybe the jasmine is selfish. Maybe Feyre did have another motive in creating this secret space.

While she is here, she can mourn her child. While she is here, she can pretend that she is someplace else.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction

[five-miles-over]

‘Gladiator’ Characters as Starbucks Drinks

Because let’s have some fun and imagine this lovely cast of characters drinking at the popular coffee chain. Also, I might include a few personal canons of what they might be like in a coffee shop.

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. And if I don’t have an image, it’s because I actually cannot find the drink I’m looking for online - I think almost every character in Gladiator is cool.

As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

Maximus: Tall Decaf Coffee

I’m not even giving this character black coffee because as bitter and dark as it is, I actually really like it. Plus, Maximus’s constant holier-than-thou attitude makes him sound like the person who would constantly be lecturing everyone about the long term effects of drinking too much caffeine. (Or just being a general buzzkill, much like decaf coffee is.)

Lucilla: Grande Vanilla Bean Frappuccino, with almond milk, an extra shot, and very little whipped cream

Just like a frappuccino, Lucilla is a character who may seem sweet on the outside, but is actually cold (and scheming) on the inside. 

Plus, the espresso extra shot would be idea for helping her get to those meetings in ‘dark corners’. However, she wouldn’t be a fan of the whipped cream on top - she thinks it’s a waste of space when there could be more room for her drink.

Marcus Aurelius: Tall Chamomile Tea with a drop of Honey

The philosopher of emperors might enjoy a calming beverage like chamomile tea. With constant war, he would probably be quite weary and just want to have a decent conversation with someone. 

Though he wouldn’t be a regular, he could be found at the coffee shop reading a book or possibly playing with other customers’ children in his lap. And he would definitely ask for some madeleine cookies to go with his tea.

Lucius: Tall Peppermint Hot Chocolate

This little darling is full of energy and hope, and for that I’d recommend a peppermint hot chocolate. It’s sweet and energizing, and not too caffeinated.

Prince Lucius would probably come in before or after his lessons, usually with a servant (or on occasion, his uncle). Sometimes, the barista would give him an extra candy cane or chocolate bar simply because s/he was delighted at the prince’s politeness.

Senator Gracchus: Grande Red Eye

This is basically a cup of regular drip coffee with an extra shot of espresso. In the mind of Senator Gracchus, this is probably the only drink that would keep him level-headed during his meetings in which the Emperor looks inexperienced and the mob is in love with their ruler.

Also, Senator Gracchus -much like all the Senators who complain - would be grumbling about how long the line is and how bad his drink is while still going to the same shop everyday.

General Quintus: A Grande Latte with no foam and a double shot of espresso (and maybe a drop of honey)

General Quintus would definitely want the double shot to keep him alert and focused during his military drills. However, he would want no foam - mainly because he can’t risk embarrassing himself with a “moustache” in front of his soldiers.

And don’t tell anyone, but I’m pretty sure that General Quintus tried to make an inappropriate pass at the barista whom he swore drew a heart on his cup. (It really wasn’t one.)

Proximo: Venti Passion Tea

Proximo seems like someone who enjoys luxurious things, and the color of this bold drink would remind our entertainer about the blood spilled in the arena. Also, he would definitely chuck ice cubes at the gladiators he didn’t think were fighting well enough during training.

Hagen: Tall Dry Cappuccino

A dry cappuccino, as opposed to a “wet” cappuccino, is made with frothed milk instead of steamed milk. The difference is that the dry cappuccino is more bitter (more of the espresso flavor can be tasted) but also the heat of the drink lasts longer.

Hagen’s dry wit and comic relief (I know I emphasize that a lot, but it’s true!) totally carries through some of the dull moments of the film. 

He doesn’t love his coffee, but probably needs it in the morning. Most often, he pairs it with a meaty breakfast sandwich.

Juba: Tall Pink Mango Drink with a little Coconut Milk

He’s a very refreshing character in the film- supportive, genuine, and loyal. Plus, the sunset might remind him of home.

Can always be seen coming in after a long day, having a lovely chat with his friends. He’s also very polite to the barista, and genuinely asks about how they’re doing.

Emperor Commodus

Honestly, out of all the characters in Gladiator, Emperor Commodus seems the least likely to have a single, signature drink. I like to think his order changes with his mood or the activity he’s doing. But it can be said without a doubt that this emperor needs his coffee.

He probably wouldn’t come to a coffee shop unless it’s with his nephew because of his busy schedule, but usually his servant(s) are sent to fetch him coffee.

Senate Meetings: Double Espresso Shot on Ice

Assuming many of these meetings are held in the morning, a double espresso shot might be just what our ambitious and devoted Emperor needs after a long night of...anything but sleeping.

Longer Meeting: Venti Caramel Macchiato, Skim, Extra Shot, Extra-Hot, Extra-Whip, Sugar-Free

Yes, I know it looks high-maintenance, but so is trying to remain calm while too many Senators badmouth your ideas and make insolent jokes.

Walks in the Garden: Iced Green Tea Latte

Calming enough for the Emperor to enjoy his walk in the garden, regardless of his company (or lack thereof), but also enough caffeine to be...well, purposeful.

Spending Time with his Nephew: Grande Cinnamon Dolce Latte, with extra spice

With a flair for drama, and a sweet side mostly seen with his nephew, this might be the perfect drink as the emperor reminisces on his own boyhood while playing with Prince Lucius.

Late Night Work: Nitro Cold Brew with a secret drizzle of honey

#commodus thirst squad #gladiator 2000 #commodus headcanon

[banana-boomboom]

oh how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

For  @adrinetteapril 2020 -   Posted to AO3 & FFN - (Chapter 1 is here)

Sorry I’m so late guys. I got distracted by bideo games. What can ya do?

Rated G

Day 17: Life Swap

Summary: Adrien tries to bake Marinette something to win her heart.

“This is impossible!” Adrien threw his flour caked hands in the air.

“Well, what’d you expect?” Plagg mocked from the corner of the kitchen. “You’ve never cooked in your life, much less baked.”

Adrien threw him a scowl. “Not. Helping.”

Plagg rolled his eyes and moved to hover over the recipe book. “Alright, what can I do?”

“Can you tell me what ‘soft peaks’ means?”

Plagg stared at him. “Kid, the only thing I know anything about is cheese.”

Adrien hit his head against the kitchen counter. “Why on earth did I think I could do this? The video made it look so easy.”

Plagg gave him a sympathetic look and pat his shoulder. “Maybe you could try making something easier?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe cheese balls? I’m sure any other dessert you try to make would be easier than macarons.”

“True,” Adrien pondered for a moment. “What if I made cookies? I think my mom had a recipe.” He flipped through the recipe book to find the dessert section and surveyed the guide. “Almond cookies, baked Alaska, carrot cake…. Aha! Chocolate chip cookies!”

Adrien read through the ingredient list before rushing over to the pantry, his inspiration reignited.

“Hey, kid?” Plagg called out over the ruckus. “Why are you so set on baking her something anyway? Doesn’t she live in a bakery?”

“I thought it could be a way to get to know her better,” Adrien reasoned. “I mean, if I show her what I made, I could ask her for advice and then we’d go to her house and bake together and she’d get dough on her cheek and I’d brush it off with my thumb and then she’ll kiss me and then we’ll get married and I can model for her super successful fashion empire and raise our children and then we’ll get a dog and maybe a hamster and we’ll name it—”

“Whoa, Adrien!” Plagg drew him out of his daydream. “I get it, but let’s just start with showing her what you made. Ok?”

Adrien blushed. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Plagg didn’t mention Adrien’s weird tangent again while the cookies were finishing baking, which he was very happy about. Also, the cookies turned out really good.

Although, Plagg was impressed by them, which made Adrien question whether or not they tasted how they were supposed to.

“Alright, then,” Adrien said as he sealed the last of the cookies into a container. “I really hope she likes them.”

“Me too,” Plagg muttered. “Then I can stop hearing about how amazing she is.”

“Oh hush, Plagg,” Adrien teased back. “I have to listen to you talk about cheese almost all day long, so I think you’re going to be fine.”

Plagg smiled to himself as they made their way to their room. If only Adrien knew he’d been talking on and on about the exact same girl for the past year. The kwami snickered to himself. Oh, the irony.

#adrinetteapril2020 #adrinette #oh how sweet it is #adrinetteapril #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #plagg

[cb-143]

Love and a Piece of Cake - Felix x fem Reader

a/n: this was written for my good friend, which doesn’t mean that any character is based off her, but simply that I wanted her to read and enjoy some quality Felix fluff. w.c.: ~4k warnings: fluff, so nothing c: but this is somewhat a coffee-shop au hhh

The tablecloth in her hands was of a white, very soft cotton. She stared at it, at the flowery pattern which decorated its surface.

It was the first week of the new year. In just a few months, they'd be celebrating their fifth anniversary – and he had gotten her a tablecloth for Christmas.

Naturally, she pretended to like it. It was not a case of her not liking it. It was indeed quite pretty. However, after so many years, was a tablecloth really all that he could find?

He hadn't put much care into choosing this present, much less any thought.

These days, Omar only watched TV and barely lend her any of his attention.

Y/N's hands fell down to her lap. Her legs had begun to hurt from the stiff position of her kneeling on the ground, but she was so immersed in the realisation of her failing marriage and love, she simply failed to notice.

"I'll be going out for a bit." She announced, stretched after standing up straight. Like a little puppy, she shook the ache out of her legs.

"Bring me some crisps on your way. We're nearly out." Omar asked of her. Y/N put on her coat.

The cold air rushed to her cheeks the second she stepped outside. She greatly welcomed it. Though she hadn't felt much warmth recently, this paining, sudden rush of cold was different and much needed.

Y/N looked left and then right. Which way should she go? It had been quite some time since she'd last taken a walk. She took out her phone to check the time and put on some music. At quarter to four, she pressed play on a slow, indie song and began to move.

She walked by trees that had grown a lot and houses that looked different since she'd last paid any attention to them. Her good friend used to live only five minutes away. Perhaps she could visit them? When did they lose contact?

As she crossed the street at a random street corner, memories filled her of the songs she was listening to. Just a few years ago, before her wedding, before their child, she'd always listen to this song – together with her neighbourhood friend and the smile that she seemed to have lost.

Walking along, she traced the brown brick wall to her left, as she always did. It had always been an ugly, run down wall. Something that made the entire town she called a home ugly, small, unattractive.

However, right this moment, more so than ever, this wall felt familiar, its cracks all the more charming. Her little town appeared to flow in all its detailed memories she'd made there.

Right by the end of the wall, where there used to be path to go down and enter the park, there now lay a small, new little shop. Omar always drove along this road to get to work. He never once mentioned it. Perhaps out of his hatred for her home town.

YN went to check it out.

Upon entering the shop, YN found herself in a café – one taken straight from a feel good novel, or a cheesy romantic film. A bell rang above her head as she opened it. Along with that sound came a hug of warmth from inside the shop.

It wasn't too warm, though meant to keep the people inside cosy and comfortable.

The café was a fairly small one. There was a counter to look at the different cakes, muffins, other baked goods. Next to that, it connected with a small shelf and a cash register on top. Behind that was the 'bar' with a very big, black coffee maker, other equipment for tea, and multiple beverages in glass bottles.

On a second glance, YN noticed that there wasn't just that one table on the left by the window, looking out to the wall, but two more in the open of the room. As well as that, a flight of stairs to the right of her lead to a handful of more tables.

The café was not as modern as the white, well-kept outside let her to believe. There were old oriental looking rugs on the floor, vases on the shelf and the windowsill. The furniture, too, was made of the same dark wood you'd find in your grandparent's house.

YN walked up to the before mentioned counter. There were croissants, cookies, pretzels, all kinds of buns – and of course, the cake.  All the cakes looked lovely. YN could see that they had each been made with care, attention to detail, and love.

There was one which YN was particularly drawn to, it looked chocolatey and sweet.

When she looked back up, she met the big, dark eyes of another woman. The woman was smiling; her hair was a wild, big ball of very pretty black curls. YN thought she looked very kind and instantaneously took a liking to the woman with the frizzy hair.

“Hey there,” the woman spoke with a bubbly, yet also gentle tone, “My name's Cherry Redgrave. Welcome to my little bakery.

“Hello, Cherry.” YN said, “This is such a lovely bakery.”

“Are you new here?” Cherry asked her, “I haven't seen you around before.” YN shook her head.

“I've lived here all my life. My name is YN. I suppose I just don't get to go out a lot.” She let out a nervous, shy chuckle. YN herself regretted that she lost so much of what her life used to be.

Cherry was about to answer when a boy came out up to the two of them – Y/N didn't notice him approach – and joined Cherry behind the counter.

“Can you make a parfait? Mrs Nicholson wants her usual.” As he spoke, Y/N had time to take a closer look at him. He looked a few good years younger than Cherry, his hair was dyed an orangey colour and there were freckles all across the space of his eyes. Just like Cherry, this boy had dark and very pretty eyes.  However, his were rather almond shaped and, judging by his Australian accent, he wasn't originally from this region. “I'll take care of this customer.” he finished and Cherry disappeared behind doors which Y/N noticed only now. When Y/N looked back at the boy, he was already looking back at her.

“I'm Felix. I heard your name is Y/N? I really like it.” Felix smiled, a smile that nearly blinded Y/N.  

“Th-thank you.” She answered quietly.

“So, Y/N, what can I get you? If I had to recommend anything I'd go with the chocolate cake – it's my favourite.”

“That's exactly what I was going to go for.” Y/N admitted. Her answer caused a sparkle in Felix's eyes. Y/N thought it came from her reply, though she wasn't sure. His eyes seemed to naturally carry a happy glow with them. It drew Y/N in – it made her want to look him in the eyes whenever he spoke to her.

“An excellent choice.” While Felix was preparing the cake (along with a generous amount of whipped cream), Y/N also asked for a coffee. Felix brought both to the empty table by the window and surprised Y/N by sitting down together with her. Only then did she see the second for in his hand.

“Forgive me for my intrusion, but,” Felix began as he pushed the coffee cup towards her. Next to the vase on the table stood the sugar and creamer, ready for her to make use of, “I'm curious. How does someone live here, for years, and go unnoticed, in a city as small as this?”

Y/N closed her hand around the sugar-cup. As she poured one, then two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee-cup, she tried to formulate an answer.

“After I married, I didn't find the time to go out anymore.” She answered truthfully, though short. For some reason, she felt that she could trust Felix with the story of her life – something within his eyes told her that he was alright. “I gave up my job when we had a child – surprisingly, I had even less time for myself, then. I gave up everything for the household and the baby.” Felix's eyes were searching for hers, though by now she was staring deeply into her cup. She asked herself, now, when and why it all changed so drastically.

Felix listened to her well, he understood, and felt what she felt.

“And your husband,” he began, but was interrupted by Y/N.

“He doesn't seem to care. These days, I'm lucky if he does so much as look at me.” she scoffed.

“I'm very sorry to hear that, Y/N.” Felix said, “I'm sorry he doesn't appreciate you for everything you do.” He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting over the nicely decorated table. She gave up her life for her husband and this is how he treats her? “All I can say is that you're always very welcome here. Both Cherry and I, we love to interact with the town's citizens – get to know the new ones. This is a safe place, for them and for us.” Y/N looked around the room. She had noticed upon entering that this café was far from normal. Looking at the other customers there, an elderly lady bantering happily with Cherry, a mother and her two little children by another table. The atmosphere was friendly, everyone seemed to connect. Y/N felt out of place. Shuffling in her seat, she reached for her fork on the table.

“If you want to, we can chat more later, after you're done?” Felix offered. He sensed that Y/N felt overwhelmed, even slightly uncomfortable.

Y/N separated the first bite of cake with the side of her fork, but then she hesitated. She weighed out her options – would it make Felix uncomfortable to sit with her? Wouldn't she look out of place rejecting his kindness?

“I'm not sure I can eat all this cake alone..” Her voice sounded fragile, more unsure and even fake than she had anticipated. When did she become this weak?

“In that case, I'd love to stay and help you out.”

Felix and Y/N ate the – very chocolatey, as Felix had promised – piece of cake together. It was an experience filled with a comforting silence, little bits of conversation here and there, as they told each other about their lives.

It was an hour later; Y/N had waited for the end of Felix's shift. He had briefly exchanged 'hello's with the next worker. His name was Jisung and it appeared that Felix got along very well with him, as he did with everyone else. Y/N didn't talk much to Jisung, it was the time after work for most office workers, and so the café filled up quite quickly.

Felix and Y/N went outside then; Felix had offered to walk her home and after just a tad bit of discussion, she accepted his offer. It was mostly dark outside now, the street lamps already having been turned on. Y/N found the town to look absolutely wonderful at this time of the day. She reminisced about the times that she sneaked out with her friends as a teenager.

The big, charmingly ugly wall was now accented beautifully by the gentle,yellow glow of the street lamp. As they walked past, Y/N's gaze kept wandering to the wall and to the memories.

“Oh,” Felix stopped, his eyes were directed upon the sky, his plumb lips stretched into a smile that showed off his white teeth, “It's gonna snow.” Y/N followed where he was looking. The sky looked blue and slightly too bright for this time of the day, during winter, but she didn't see any snow. Felix must have sensed her doubts, as his next words were a cheeky, yet mysterious: “Trust me.”

They marched on.

“I haven't been here as long as you,” Felix spoke calmly, “but I've loved this little town ever since I came here. It's small, there's not a lot to do. No clubs, or theme parks, or anything. It's such a beautiful town though, even if it isn't obvious. The people I've met are all kind, we have local shops with honest and sincere people leading them.” Y/N looked at Felix very briefly – she had a habit to trip over nothing – but she wanted to look at him, listen to him intently.

“I know that not everyone thinks this way, more so people my age. I just find beauty in all sorts of things.” Felix continued. Y/N stayed silent to listen to him pouring out his thoughts. “It keeps me happy, it makes this world a better place... It's really not that I'm trying to make it nice. I just try to keep a positive mindset, and the pretty things come to me, just like that. They find me and I embrace them, just like you earlier.”

Y/N tried to swallow, but felt her throat closing up. His words moved her, she felt empathetic and understood how he felt.

She used to think similarly when she was his age... when, and how, did the negativity enter her life?

“However,” Felix spoke again and she realised that she had failed to give him an answer, “I know very well that not all things in life are great. I've seen bad things, I saw trouble and I know how hard some people have it.”

“Whether someone experiences hate, neglect, love – people aren't easy to understand, we influence each other even without knowing.” Felix explained himself. “Your words, even if said lightly, can affect and hurt another person a lot.” Y/N nodded.

“I wish I'd known that sooner...” He paused for a moment, in which Y/N grabbed his hand. She squeezed it. It was a reassuring gesture that came naturally to her. How odd, she thought, with Felix, everything seemed familiar, trustworthy, came natural.

“It might mean that it's not necessarily out of the person's own volition to hurt you. But it means, more so than that, that sometimes, you have to use your own words, too. Not to hurt them, but to let them know that you are hurt. Make yourself heard.” His words resonated within her. She failed to reply once more. His honesty, the way he cared and felt for her after only a few hours, the way they seemed to understand and read each other easily... Y/N felt stunned. It was the magic of this place, or no, the magic that Felix brought along with him. Felix brought back all the memories of the good times to her; he empowered her to get it back, to get her life back together.

“Often times, I wouldn't speak up. I was so scared of conflict, scared to ruin it all, you know? I thought if I just put up with it, maybe it'd get solved on its own. But it didn't... and now I regret it.” Felix stopped once more, at a moment they stood perfectly below a street lamp. His eyes were clearer, glowing. “Y/N,” his small, petite hand grabbed hers – the one that wasn't already intertwined with his. She noticed now, how soft they were, compared to her own ones. Hers were so rough from taking care of various chores and the acidic cleaning products she's had to use. “Please, speak up – stand up for yourself. You might not be ready for it yet – but now, you have me. I am your friend, I'll support you, always. Cherry, too. Y/N, everyone in this town would support you and acknowledge you.”

Her eyes burned, as if tiny papercuts were all over them as Felix's face became blurrier. Her heart felt heavy. Felix was right, she realised, she had to take action. It felt difficult, she wasn't sure how Omar would react. Yet when she searched in Felix's eyes, all she found was support and determination.

So starved of proper love and contact, Felix's closeness, his warmth, they felt sudden, yet so familiar. She was scared, but her knees felt weak, as she wanted to give into him.

The sob that was approaching was knocked out of her when Felix hugged her. Y/N blinked and the tears rolled down her cheeks. With her vision clear, she could see small, white stars fall from the sky.

Snow.

By the time they arrived at the front door of her house, the snow was falling more evenly and frequent. A small, thin layer covered the ground, all the way up to the “welcome” matt under her boots, which now felt anything but welcoming.

She took in the sight of Felix, the snowflakes in his dyed hair, the warm, friendly smile, and then, she understood how he was able to sense the snow. She stared at, and connected Felix's own little snowflakes that decorated his face and made him who he was.

“Thank you for today.” Y/N said. The keys in her hands, though icy, felt hot and way too heavy. She didn't want to go inside, to meet Omar. The child was probably sleeping by now and she feared to be alone. She didn't want to let go of Felix.

“You're always welcome to come by again.” Felix said. One last time, they hugged. This hug had less of an impact as the previous one did. However, it felt just as sincere and warm.

All of Felix did, she thought, as she watched him walk away from her. Y/N stood there, below the falling snow, until she could see him no more.

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #kpop #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kim woojin #bang chan #cb97 #lee minho #leeknow #seo changbin #spear b #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #j.one #felix lee #kim Seungmin #yang jeongin

[lady-harrowhark]

A Spoonful of Sugar

Happy Royai Day everyone! A special update in honor of the occasion! Thanks to everyone who has been reading and sending such kind comments and reviews. I’m still baffled and thrilled that people enjoy and are excited for my little daydream world! Summary: Since her father’s death several years ago, Riza has dedicated herself to keeping Hawkeye Bakery afloat. When Roy Mustang opens a coffee shop next door, Riza finds herself getting more than just a caffeine fix. They’ve got their hands full managing custom cupcake orders, exploding espresso machines, and eccentric employees, but this new partnership just might be the best thing that’s ever happened to either of them.

Chapter Three: Vanilla Latte

Word count: 2691

first chapter  | read on ao3

-

“They want to have it when?” Riza asked incredulously.

“Tuesday morning,” Olivier said without a single trace of apology in her voice. “I’ve let them know what an awful inconvenience this is for you,” she drawled sarcastically. “And money’s no object here. You can charge whatever you want. Tasting fee, appointment fee, short notice fee, booking deposit.” Riza could almost see Olivier waving her hand dismissively on the other end of the line. “You would not believe the budget we’re working with.” I definitely would, Riza thought to herself, knowing the kind of clientele Olivier had cultivated.

Riza thumbed through her planner, pages thin and crinkled, finally landing on the upcoming week. “I literally cannot do before eleven if they want a full tasting.” She tucked the phone against her shoulder and pulled down a worn binder from the shelf. She flipped through the pages, each with a different cake recipe. “What are you thinking?”

“Bride says she wants something exotic but will end up going with almond. Tell her it’s “French Amaretto” or something and she’ll be completely on board. Do a couple of more out-there flavors to satisfy her and then your regular wedding selection.”

“Have you discussed decorations?”

Olivier scoffed. “Have I discussed it with the bride? No, but I drew up a diagram of what we’re doing and it’s in your email already.”

Riza shook her head, still amazed after all these years at how Olivier’s imperious demeanor hadn’t landed her in hot water yet. Quite the opposite, in fact. Her no-nonsense attitude and uncompromising nature ensured her weddings were always the height of taste and class, and her services were in high demand. And with that demand, came a steep price tag. “I’ll look at it in a few hours. Will I need anything unusual for it?

“No, florist is doing most of it. Not your problem.”

“That is my favorite design.” Riza pulled a sheet of paper from the tray of a printer perched precariously atop the bookshelf that served as the bakery’s “office.” Binders and folders of various paperwork filled the shelves, and a file cabinet with tax and employee information sat next to it. It wasn’t fancy, but it was a system that worked. She shifted a few papers, looking for a pen. Snagging one from beneath a stack of delivery receipts, she started jotting down a few flavor ideas. “Any flavors completely off the table?”

“No lemon. It’s ‘common.’” Riza quickly scratched out ‘lemon lavender.’ Nevermind.

There was a muffled shout in the background, and Olivier made a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl. “I’ve got to go, but just as a heads up, the groom’s mother will be accompanying them. Expect a bloodbath.”

The line went dead. Riza stared at the handset for a moment before returning it to the cradle. She’d figure out what that meant later.

With several events happening in town that weekend, the store had been exceptionally busy, and customers had been exceptionally cranky. It was barely early afternoon and Riza was already concerned at their dwindling supply of baked goods. That is, when she had a moment to think about it, between constantly refilling the displays and switching out batches from the oven. She’d enlisted Jean’s help to crank out some more single-serve products - muffins, cupcakes, cookies - while Falman continued to prep for the next day. Seeing the register total climb higher and higher each hour was a temporary balm for her nerves, though that was rather cancelled out by the frenetic pace of the day. It would be a long day, and so would the next, now that she had to prepare a custom tasting for Olivier’s couple (and the soon-to-be mother-in-law).

Out front, Sciezka had been running herself ragged, serving customers, manning the register, cleaning tables. Busy days were especially hard on the young woman, a natural introvert who, given the choice, would prefer to spend her weekends at her university’s library rather than working food service to afford her student loan payments. They had made it through the post-lunch rush, and color was high in Sciezka’s cheeks, her normally messy hair in even more disarray than usual. But for the moment, the shop was blissfully empty.

Riza grabbed a rag and began wiping down the front counter. “Why don’t you go take your lunch, Sciezka? I’ll handle any customers for now.”

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you.” Sciezka was already untying her apron, hurrying towards the back room. She scooped a creased paperback and a granola bar out of her backpack and jogged outside to one of the two small cafe tables. Riza was always fascinated to see how quickly the girl could lose herself in a book - she wished she could switch gears like that, although part of her suspected that Sciezka never fully disengaged from her fictional worlds either.

Riza got to work swiftly cleaning down the countertops, refilling napkin dispensers, and sweeping crumbs from beneath the tables. After a morning spent making messes in the kitchen, there was something satisfying about cleaning them in the front.

Just then, a clatter rang out from the kitchen. Riza squeezed her eyes shut, imagining all the different catastrophes that could have made that sound. “What was that?” she called.

Jean’s disembodied voice responded. “I’m going to clean it up!”

She sighed. “That’s not what I asked.”

Jean strode into view, his broad chest blocking the doorway to the kitchen. “I know. But I figured you’d like that better than the real answer.” He braced his hands against the doorframe, barring her from peering around him. Riza cocked her head, her mouth a firm line as she fixed her eyes on his. He winced. “Fine, it was the cupcake tins, and yes, it went everywhere. BUT one tray survived and they’re going in the oven before I can destroy them AND I was just about to mop anyway. So it’s fine, actually, and you should just stay out here until I’m done mopping.”

Riza eyed the mess splattered across the bottom of his apron and remembered the four trays of yellow cupcake batter she’d left on the table for when the current batch came out of the oven. “For everyone’s sake,” she said levelly, “I am not going back there right now, but I will when Sciezka gets off her break, and at that point the floor will be spotless.”

Jean nodded solemnly before backing around the corner. Riza heard water running in the mop sink and the squeak of the plastic mop bucket wheels. I need a drink, she thought, then stopped herself. Things weren’t that bleak. Maybe just a cupcake when they’re ready, she amended. She pushed a hand back through her short hair and inhaled deeply, eyes closed. She exhaled and reached for the broom again.

A moment later, the phone rang. Riza glanced at the caller ID, praying she wouldn’t see Olivier’s number twice in the same day. Relieved to see a number she didn’t recognize, she answered.

“Hawkeye Bakery, this is Riza. How may I help you?”

“Oh good, Riza. Hi.” Despite having spoken to him only twice before, Riza recognized his voice. “This is Roy from next door.”

“I know.” Riza cringed, aware of how that must sound. She didn’t normally blurt things out like that.

Roy chuckled on the other end. “Did it come up on caller ID?”

“No,” she admitted after a brief hesitation. “I just recognized your voice.” She leaned her hip against the counter, gazing out the window towards the street outside. Sciezka was still reading at the table, and the shadows were just beginning to lengthen.

“Oh.” He sounded somewhat bemused. “The reason I called was that we’ve got our equipment up and running and most of our stock in, and I’m hitting kind of an afternoon slump. I thought you might be too. What’s your drink?”

She definitely was hitting an afternoon slump, but she wasn’t sure how to answer him. “My drink?”

“Yeah. Like, what do you order when you get a coffee?”

Riza glanced at the coffeemaker on the back counter, which had just an inch or two of coffee left in the decaf pot. “Well… when I make coffee for myself here, I take it with milk and sugar. I don’t really order coffee anywhere else.”

“Hmm, okay. Tell you what, I can bring you just a coffee with milk and sugar, or I can take my best guess and make you something else, and if you don’t like it, I’ll try again tomorrow. What do you think?”

“You don’t have to make anything fancy for me, really.” Riza imagined Roy analyzing her, attempting to craft the perfect beverage using some mystical barista divination. The thought was endearing but made her feel incredibly self-conscious for reasons she couldn’t quite name.

“First of all, making fancy coffee is literally my job.” Riza laughed. She did have to concede that point. “And second of all, I owe you for all the pastries and things you brought over the other day. So if it’s okay with you, I’ll be over in a few minutes, hopefully with something you don’t hate.”

Outside, Riza could see Sciezka closing her book. As soon as she got off the phone, she was going to have to make good on her ultimatum about the backroom floor.

Reluctantly, she responded. “It is okay with me, but really, don’t feel obligated.”

The satisfaction was evident in his voice. “I’ll be over in a few!”

-

Riza was attempting to diffuse an irate older woman when Roy slipped in the door.

“I don’t want cupcakes,” the woman said slowly, as if Riza were having trouble understanding her. “I need a full size cake for a birthday. Is there another bakery nearby that DOES carry cakes?”

Riza shook her head. “The only other bakeries I know of close early on Sundays. The supermarket bakery section would have some though.”

“I don’t like cake from the grocer’s. If I wanted that I would have gone there already.” The expression on the woman’s face clearly showed that she thought she was being extremely patient with a ridiculous situation. Sciezka stood just a step behind Riza, watching with saucer eyes.

“I’m sorry ma’am. If you’d like to place an order for the morning, I can give you a discount, but I won’t be able to have a cake ready for you today.” Riza’s lips pressed together tightly, signaling the end of the discussion.

The woman slung her handbag over her shoulder and leaned in towards the counter. “This is not the kind of support I expect from local businesses. I don’t know what I’m going to tell my family.” She turned on her heel and hustled out the door.

Riza pursed her lips, watching as the door swung shut. “Happy Sunday, everyone.”  She reached out, touching Sciezka’s arm lightly. “If she comes back, I’ll take care of her. I don’t want you to have to deal with that again.”

Catching Riza’s eye, Roy lifted the mug in his hand. “Looks like you could use this.”

“I really, really could. Thank you.”

After brokering introductions between Roy and Sciezka, Riza gestured for Roy to follow her into the back. Jean leaned back from the sink at the other end of the room long enough to nod a greeting before returning to rinsing dishes, and Vato called both a greeting to Roy and a goodbye to Riza as he left for the day.

Roy’s gaze wandered around the kitchen. Space was at a premium, but at this point in the day, everything was mostly clean, and the floors were indeed spotless. “Are you guys open for much longer?”

She shook her head. “Just until four thirty. I don’t normally stay ‘til close on Sundays but we’ve been so busy…”

“Hopefully this helps a little.” He held out his offering: a wide, heavy mug on a saucer. It was filled with something creamier than her usual coffee, and topped with a swirl of foam reminiscent of something floral.

Riza took the mug and lifted it towards her, inhaling the scent. “What is it?” she asked.

“Just a vanilla latte.”

She was acutely aware of his eyes on her, scrutinizing her reaction, as she took the first sip, pausing a moment to appreciate the flavor. “It’s really good.” She took another sip.

“I figure it’s a good starting point until you figure out what you really like.”

“I think I like it just like this.” She smiled and lifted the cup to her lips again as if to prove her point.

“You flatter me. You can check out the full menu next time you’re over.” Riza was surprised to find how good it felt for him to assume there would be a next time. Despite the newness of their acquaintance, there was an easy rhythm between them, a casualness that she so rarely felt with others, and rarer still so quickly. “How long have you had this place?”

Riza made a vague hand gesture. “Technically about seven years. But I’ve always worked here. My father started it so I grew up here, and when he died, it became mine.”

She knew it was coming before he said it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize about your father.”

A small smile flickered across Riza’s face, more in acknowledgement of his obligatory condolences than anything else. “Thank you, but it’s been a long time now. This was place was everything to him.” Sometimes she felt him here more than she would admit, could sense his disapproval at sloppy kneading and overbaked loaves, his pride in the structure of a perfect croissant. And other days, like today, he didn’t even cross her mind. Those days felt good and bad all at once, and Riza wasn’t sure how much she wanted to prod that particular hornet’s nest today. “Hawkeye Bakery’s been around longer than I have, that’s for sure. Almost thirty years now.”

Roy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thirty years? That’s incredible. I can’t even imagine how much you guys have put into this place.”

He probably can’t, Riza thought. She grew up in this very store, standing on overturned crates to see over the table, working before and after school when she was old enough. “But what about you? Have you always been a… coffee person?” She sipped from her mug, an eyebrow raised at him.

“Yes and no… I grew up a few towns over, came here for college and worked in a coffee shop the whole time for beer money. Poli-sci, thought I was going to go to law school. And I did, for a year. And I hated it and spent every second wishing I was back in that casual little shop, making coffee and hanging out with our regulars. So I left. Spent a couple of years working my way up into management at another place and I finally decided I’d rather be my own boss and start my own place. So here I am.”

From law school to food service. She’s sure he’s heard it all about that particular choice, so she doesn’t ask. “Here you are,” she repeated.

He shrugged. “I don’t usually tell people I’m a law school dropout. They’ve always got something to say about it, but,” he gestured around them at their current surroundings, “I figured you’d get it. I’m sure you could be doing anything, if you wanted, and here you are as well.”

Riza looked down at the cup in her hands, rotating it slowly. “Now it’s my turn to be flattered. This is all I’ve ever known.” And besides, she thought, the time for that had passed long ago.

Looking back up at Roy’s easy grin, though, the tension she’d been holding from this hectic day was starting to drain away. The looming thought of staying until closing didn’t seem so daunting. Today was just another day in the bakery, just like the years and years before it, but somehow, with his arrival, it didn’t feel like the days she’d always known.

It all felt brand new.

-

-

-

Notes: I’ve been asked to start a taglist by @heavymetalhauswife :) If you are interested in being added to the taglist, please message me. You can also follow on ao3 (linked above) to receive email alerts when i post new content.  Also, I’ve been posting here and on ao3, but do many of you use ff? If so, I can look into starting to post there as well, but I figured I’d ask before I added another step. Let me know!

#royaiweek19 #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #royai #royai ASoS #fanfiction #my writing

[thebarsondaily]

Rediscovering Christmas

for @r-o-s-e-h-i-p-s

Title: Rediscovering Christmas Author: theofoof Rating: T Summary:  Sequel to ‘The Rediscovered Country’. How do Rafael, Olivia and Noah celebrate their first Christmas as a family? A/N: I don’t think you need to read ‘The Rediscovered Country’ to enjoy this but I’d love it if you did.

Chapter 1: Thursday (12 days to Christmas…)

When Rafael Barba was growing up, his grandmother used to take him to the ice-skating rink in Bryant Park every Christmas. They’d bundle up and get the subway to Times Square, before making the short walk to the park, enjoying the sights and sounds of the season along the way. Once a young Rafael had exhausted himself skating, they would get hot chocolate and cookies from one of the two vendors who were set up next to the rink, to replenish his energy.

Over the years, the number of vendors had increased, and it was now a full-blown Christmas market, with over a hundred stalls selling one-of-a-kind gifts and crafts. The selection of food and drink wasn’t bad either. From German sausages and gingerbread to sugared almonds and spiced wine, it was a wonderland of festive treats. The sounds, smells and sheer volume of people could be overwhelming though, with families, work groups, tourists and couples getting into the Christmas spirit.

The Bryant Park Christmas market had been a tradition he’d shared with his abuelita from almost as soon as he could walk until a few years before her death when she’d declared she just couldn’t cope with the walking or the crowds anymore. He hadn’t been since then; it was hard to get into the Christmas spirit when you were alone. But he wasn’t alone anymore. Now he had a family. And he planned on sharing the magic of the Christmas market with his girlfriend and her – no, their – son.

It had been a hard year with lots of trials, but luckily, they’d come out the other side stronger, closer than before. After being tried for mercifully ending the life of terminally ill baby, Drew Householder, Rafael had resigned from the DA’s office and left New York to hide out in Miami and put his life back together. He’d almost lost Olivia in the process – not wanting to bring her down with him – but, thankfully, she’d fought for him; for them. They’d moved forward with their relationship, despite the physical distance between them, until he’d finally returned to the city for Noah’s birthday back in July.

He’d moved in with them immediately, much to the delight of Noah – who had been calling Rafael ‘Dad’ since visiting him on the boat over Father’s Day – but it had soon become clear that the two-bedroom apartment wasn’t going to be a feasible, long-term option for them. So, they’d bought a three-bedroom brownstone, with a small yard, just to the north of Manhattan. Luckily, the previous owners were moving into an empty house, so the buying process had been quick, and they’d been able to get moved in and settled before Christmas, although Thanksgiving had come and gone in a blur of bubble wrap and packing boxes, with a late dinner at Lucia’s. The stress was worth it though, to be able to spend their first Christmas together as a family in their new home.

Rafael climbed the stairs to their bedroom and knocked lightly on the door to the en-suite.

“You’ve not fallen asleep in there have you?” he asked through the door.

There was a light chuckle from the other side. “Not quite, no.”

He opened the door a crack and peered around. She was reclined in the bath, body buried beneath a blanket of bubbles, only her head visible. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, but you’re not getting in here. I’ve worked too many hours this week to even think about sharing.”

It was his turn to laugh as he pushed the door open fully. “Not even when I’m bearing gifts?”

She opened her eyes and rolled her head to the side to look at him. He was leaning nonchalantly against the door frame, dressed in jeans and an open-necked black shirt, holding a glass of scotch for him and a glass of Cabernet for her.

She lifted an arm out of the bubbles. “Are my chances of getting that wine dependent on my answer?”

“I’m not that cruel.” He pushed off the door frame and stepped fully into the bathroom. As he approached the bath and handed her the glass of wine, he noticed – now she was free of make-up – just how much of a toll the last week had taken on her and began to reconsider their plans for the next evening.

Christmas was always a busy time for SVU. The number of parties and the amount of alcohol consumed made December in Manhattan a hotbed of sexual assault. And this year was no exception. She’d worked almost sixty hours this week and that, combined with parenting a boisterous six-year-old who was becoming increasingly excited about Christmas, meant she was almost dead on her feet.

“Look, if you want to give tomorrow night a miss, I don’t mind.” It was a little white lie, he’d been looking forward to taking Liv and Noah to the Christmas Markets and sharing with them some of the joy he’d shared with his Abuelita. However, he cared about Olivia’s wellbeing more.

“I’ll be okay,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine. “I know how important it is to you.”

Rafael perched on the edge of the bath, near Olivia’s head. His hand went to her hair, his fingers carding through her chestnut locks.

“I know,” he told her, his voice low, “but you’ve had a tough week and I care more about you than some Christmas tradition. We’ve got our whole lives to make Christmas memories together.” His fingers brushed the skin at the base of her neck and she let out a small, groan of approval, closing her eyes to continue enjoying his ministrations. “Or,” he continued, “I could take Noah and you could have a quiet night to yourself.”

“As tempting as that is… no. This is our first Christmas together, I want to go with you and Noah.”

“Okay,” Rafael agreed, returning his hand to her head and dragging his nails gently across her scalp. He recognised that tone. She was determined in her plan and nothing would be able to dissuade her. Which, if he was honest, warmed his heart. He’d just have to do his best to make the evening as fun, easy and stress-free as possible for her. 

Chapter 2: Friday (11 days to Christmas…)

As Rafael walked through the Christmas Market, hand in hand with Olivia and Noah, he sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving, grateful to God or fate or whatever higher power had brought them together again after he’d almost ruined everything. They’d explored around half the stalls already, making a few purchases. As they rounded the corner, Noah, who was holding tightly to both adults’ hands to ensure he didn’t get lost in the crowd, gasped. He pulled out of Rafael’s grip and pointed at the large carousel that stood at near the exit.

“Can we ride the carousel?” he asked when he had the full attention of both his parents.

“Providing the line isn’t too long,” Olivia said. “It’s been a long week.” She glanced up at Barba, smiling. “Right, Dad?” Even six months later, she couldn’t help but smile when she referred to Rafael as Noah’s father.

“Right,” he agreed. “Come on then, mijo, let’s go scope out the length of the line.” He tugged lightly on the boy’s hand and he followed obediently, his hand slipping out of his mother’s grip.

Olivia caught them up quickly and, trusting Rafael to keep a tight hold on their son, fell into step next to him, hooking her arm through his. She curled her body in closer to his as they walked, drawing on his warmth to fend off the frosty chill in the air.

They ambled through the crowds, stopping to look at several stalls, Olivia pointing out things that she thought Amanda or Lucia would like. They bought Noah a light up windmill from a street vendor to help pass the time before they arrived at the carousel, and the boy waved it excitedly as they made their way through the market. As they progressed along the row of wooden huts, the music that had been drifting through the crowds began to increase in volume. Rafael wrinkled his nose.

“Well, that’s an obnoxious noise,” he commented, leaning in so he was close enough to be heard over the music.

Olivia nodded in agreement. “I wouldn’t mind if they were at least playing Christmas songs.”

“You mean you’ve not had enough of ‘Fairy-tale of New York’?”

She rolled her eyes in response. Carisi loved Christmas and had been playing that blasted song at least twice a day since the beginning of November. As far as her detective was concerned, once Hallowe’en was over, it was time for Christmas.

“It was Christmas Eve, babe,” Rafael crooned in her ear.

“Don’t. Please don’t,” she begged. “If I never hear that song again it will be too soon.”

Rafael merely smirked and shrugged innocently. He reached over and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, noticing for the first time that her ears looked quite red.

“You need a hat.”

Olivia looked at him, brow furrowed. “I have tons of hats.”

“Yet here you are, out in the cold, without one. Your ears are cold,” Rafael explained. “They’ve gone all red.”

Her hands instinctively touched her ears and, not for the first time, she cursed herself for leaving her hat at the precinct in her rush to meet Rafael and Noah. “They are a little numb.”

“Right then, that settles it.” He grabbed hers and Noah’s hands and tugged gently, leading them back in the direction they’d just come.

“But Daaaaaaad!” whined Noah. “The carousel’s that way.” He pointed towards the colourful, spinning ride.

“I know, mijo, but your mom needs a hat before her ears fall off.”

Noah giggled and went willingly with his parents. They stopped at a stall selling all sorts of woollen accessories; hats, scarves, gloves, snoods. Rafael pointed at a selection of hats. “What about those?”

Olivia followed his gaze and turned back to him, eyebrow raised as she realised what he was suggesting. “Antlers? Really?”

“Well something festive, at least.” Rafael picked it up and handed it to her. “You’ll make Carisi’s day if you turn up in that tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “Yes, because I live to make Carisi happy,” she drawled.

“Go on Momma. Try it on,” urged Noah.

“Yeah, go on Liv.”

Olivia shook her head at the two of them teaming up against her. They’d always done it, but the frequency had increased since Rafael had moved in with them. “Okay, okay. I’ll try it on.”

At Noah – and Rafael’s – behest, she tried on a number of different ones; the antlers, a snowman, a Christmas cake, and Mrs Claus, complete with fake plaits, before deciding enough was enough. Plucking an elf hat from the rack, she plonked it on Noah’s head.

“Oh, that is just too cute!” Olivia cooed. “We should buy that for you to wear to the Christmas party.”

“I wanna see!” Rafael lifted the boy, so he could look in the mirror. “Yes! Can we?” he asked, laughing at his reflection. “Please?” When Olivia nodded, the boy turned to Rafael. “Which one are you going to choose, Dad?”

Rafael reached out and fiddled with the long, white plaits of the Mrs Claus hat that Olivia still wore. “If you buy this for the party, it’ll make my decision easier.”

“Oh, how’s that?”

“Well, if Noah’s an elf and you’re Mrs Claus,” he plucked a hat from behind her and pulled it onto his own head, “then that means I must be Santa.”

Olivia’s breath hitched. Was he implying that they should get married? Yes, they were living together, and co-parenting Noah but they hadn’t talked about marriage. But now she thought about it, she realised she wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. Quite the opposite actually.

Rafael cursed inwardly for not taking the time to think about his words before speaking them. He thought about the small, black, velvet box that was hidden in the back corner of his underwear drawer and tried to think of a way to protect the surprise he had planned for Christmas day.

He leaned in so Noah wouldn’t hear. “I mean, it’s probably my turn to play the role at the party, right? Fin, Carisi, Nick – hell, even Dodds – have all done it. Probably about time for me to don the red suit, no?”

“Well, yes except that I’ve already arranged for Cragen to play Santa, as well you know.” They’d had an entire conversation about it the previous week. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if he was being entirely honest.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Rafael said. “Oh well, maybe next year.” He cleared his throat. “We should pay.”

Olivia rummaged in her purse, to hide the momentary disappointment that Rafael really was only talking about playing Santa for the squad’s children. The three hats were purchased, wrapped and bagged before Rafael remembered the reason they’d come to this stall in the first place.

“You still need a hat to wear tonight. Do you see anything you like?”

“I have hats at home,” she protested. “I wore one to work today. I was just foolish not to remember to bring it with me.” But she was already reaching up to where the fluffy red one hung. She tried it on.

“Suits you,” Rafael said.

Olivia looked critically in the mirror. “It is nice and warm,” she said decisively. She reached for her purse again, but Rafael stilled her hand. She looked up to see him shaking his head.

“My treat.”

***

Noah’s gazed at the brightly lit carousel as they approached, spellbound by the intricate, colourful horses. He glanced to the entrance and then back to his parents, trying to gauge whether the line would be short enough for him to be able to ride. When he couldn’t tell from their faces, he put on his best puppy-dog expression.

“Go on then,” Olivia told him with a smile, sipping the coffee that Rafael had just bought her. “But straight home afterwards. Okay, mister?”

Noah nodded eagerly. “Okay, Momma.”

He took her hand and led her towards the line but stopped when he realised Rafael wasn’t following. Turning back, he found him stood in the middle of the path, a far-off look in his eye, as he gazed over at the families enjoying the ice rink.

“Come on, Dad!” he called.

Noah’s voice pulled Rafael from his reverie. Shaking his head lightly, he walked over to join his family.

“Memories?” Olivia asked, stroking his arm.

Even after six years, he marvelled at how well she could read him. He had been thinking about his grandmother, and the many Christmas evenings they’d spent here. “Yeah, but good ones.” He reached for her hand as they followed Noah into the line for tickets. “Now it’s time to make some more.”

Chapter 3: Saturday (10 days to Christmas…)

“No.”

“But Daaaad!”

“No,” Rafael repeated.

“Please! You did say I could pick.”

“I know. Pick another one.”

“But I want this one. It’s perfect.”

Rafael sighed. When he’d said Noah could pick out the Christmas tree – as part of the negotiation to get the boy to get ready that morning – he hadn’t foreseen it being a problem. He was quickly beginning to realise how wrong he had been. “Noah, it’s too big. We’ll never get it through the door.”

“But…”

Olivia knelt down in front of her son. “Your Dad’s right, Noah. There won’t be enough room – we’d have to chop the top off to make it fit. It wouldn’t be so perfect then, would it?”

Noah considered his mother’s words. “No,” he pouted.

“I think I saw some smaller trees over by the reindeer pen,” Olivia told him. “How about we look over that way?”

“Yeah!” Noah agreed exuberantly, his disappointment quickly forgotten at the thought of seeing the reindeer. He skipped off ahead, Olivia calling after him not to go too far.

They wandered through the rows of trees, following Noah. Olivia was surprised by the size and quality of the selection. She’d assumed, given that it was only ten days before the big day, that all the good ones would have gone. Apparently not. Every so often, a tree would catch Rafael’s eye and he would stop, strip off a glove, and run his fingers over its branches, checking its freshness. Olivia inhaled deeply, enjoying the sharpness of the cold air and the fragrance of the pine trees. She wasn’t normally a fan of winter weather, but somehow, it was different today. Refreshing.

“Thanks for helping me out back there,” he said. “I thought for a moment we were actually going to have to take that tree home.”

“I did try to warn you,” she reminded him. “What you need to remember about children is, they don’t yet realise that bigger doesn’t always mean better.”

“Is that so?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

Seeing the twinkle in his eye, Olivia realised the double meaning her words could have. She stopped walking and turned to him. “Well, of course, size is important, but it isn’t the only thing that matters,” she replied, leaning in to whisper in his ear, trailing a hand down the centre of his chest. “Knowing how to use it counts for a lot too.”

Rafael wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “Oh?”

“Don’t worry Rafa, you’ve got nothing to worry about… in either department.”

He leaned in to kiss her when Noah’s voice echoed up the path. “Momma! Dad! I’ve found it!”

The couple sprang apart to see him running back towards them, beckoning them to him. “I’ve found the tree!”

They quickly caught him up, and he led them to the second tree he’d chosen. Olivia had to admit it was a beautiful tree. Pulling off her glove, she reached out to touch the needles and was surprised by the softness of them.

Olivia had always had a fake tree, ever since she’d had her first one aged twelve. Her mother had never really bothered with Christmas but when the elderly couple next door had been upgrading their old, plastic three-foot tree, they had offered it to Olivia. She kept it in her room and, although it was sparsely decorated at first, it brought a little bit of joy at a time of the year when her mother sought more solace than usual in the bottom of a bottle.

Never having experienced the magic of a real tree, she’d never understood the appeal, preferring to avoid the mess of pine needles she assumed would end up on her living room floor. But when they’d moved, Rafael had declared they wouldn’t need her fake tree anymore. It was real ones all the way from now on.

“Good choice, mijo,” Rafael told him, after finishing his inspection of the tree. “What do you think, Liv?”

Olivia nodded. “I think that’s the one”

***

Back at home, Olivia plunged her arms between the fragrant boughs, holding the tree steady while Rafael secured it into the stand. They had spent the latter part of the morning feeding the reindeer, taking Noah to visit Santa and shopping for new lights and decorations. Standing in the store, they’d had a rather animated debated the merits of coloured tree lights versus white ones.

That battle had been won by Olivia, claiming the coloured ones were more exciting for Noah. Rafael had conceded with a small nod and dropped a couple of boxes into the cart. They let Noah choose a new ornament for the tree; an ice-skating reindeer, before grabbing lunch and heading home.

“Is it straight?” Rafael called from where he was sprawled on the floor, the upper half of his body buried beneath the tree.

“Yeah,” Noah called, his Christmas word search discarded, as he watched his parents with interest.

Rafael began to tighten the stand around the trunk and, once the tree was secure, Olivia gingerly lowered herself from her stool to the floor. She stepped back to eye the tree critically.

“Yup, you’re good to go,” she told Rafael, so he could tighten the holding screws fully.

He emerged from under the tree and appraised it himself. Nodding, he turned to find Noah edging towards the boxes of decorations stacked in the corner. He couldn’t resist teasing him. “Right, that was hard work. Time for a coffee break.”

“Nooooo!” came Noah’s frustrated cry.

“What?” Rafael asked innocently, trying his best not to laugh. At Noah’s pout, he relented and opened the first box allowing him to dive in.

***

An hour later, the three of them were covered in tinsel and glitter. The tree was nearly finished; Rafael had strung the lights and Olivia and Noah had followed with the tinsel and beads before they all contributed to placing the other decorations. There were baubles, bells, ornaments that had been collected over the years, as well as some home-made creations from Noah.

Now the only things left to add to the tree were Noah’s newly purchased reindeer and the star that would sit atop it. Olivia retrieved Noah’s reindeer, and, after a few moments of consideration, he hung it carefully on the tree about half way up. With that done, they stood back and admired their work.

“It’s perfect,” Olivia whispered.

Rafael slipped his arm around her and nodded his approval. “Just needs the star on it now.” He turned to Noah. “You ready, mijo?”

Noah nodded emphatically and reached for the star that was lay on the coffee table.

“Okay,” said Rafael, kneeling down. “Climb up on my shoulders.” Noah climbed on, slipping a leg either side of his father’s neck. “Right, prepare for take-off. We’re going up, up, up in the sky.” Noah clung on, squealing in delight as Rafael stood, raising him into the air.

“You have to put it right at the top,” Olivia reminded him. “Can you reach?”

“Yes.” Noah carefully placed the star on the top bough; Olivia and Rafael watching on, caught up in the excitement of a child’s simple pleasure.

***

Late that evening, with Noah tucked up in bed, Olivia and Rafael were relaxing on the couch, drinks in hand. The room was lit only by the twinkling Christmas tree that stood in the corner. A bit of quiet time was just what was needed after such a hectic day. Rafael’s arm was stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers playing gently with the ends of her hair. He moved his hands to her neck, kneading the tight muscles there. Olivia gave a small sound of appreciation at his actions.

“That good?”

“Mmm.”

He shifted their positions slightly, so he could reach both her shoulders but suddenly the room was plunged into darkness, the lights on the tree going out with a slight fizz and bang.

Rafael cursed under his breath and fumbled to switch on the nearest lamp. Once light had been restored to the living room, he stood to inspect the tree. He located the fuse bulbs in each set of lights, pulled them out and examined them closely. “Hmm, they’re all fine,” he remarked as he reinserted them and continued to search for the problem.

He crawled under the tree and unplugged each plug from the three-outlet extension cord, testing them by plugging them into the wall socket, one by one. Each set worked, meaning the problem was in the plug of the extension cord. Leaving Olivia on the sofa with her wine, he popped to their utility room returning a few moments later with a screwdriver and new fuse and, a couple of minutes later, the lights were back in full working order.

Rafael emerged, his hair ruffled and his face a little sweaty from the exertion of fixing the lights.

Olivia placed her wine on the table, and rose slowly from the sofa, eyeing Rafael’s dishevelled form with a hungry look.

“Looks like Santa came early this year. And he left exactly what I wanted under the tree.”

Rafael recognised her tone, and a satisfied smirk spread across his face. “I’ve never been someone’s Christmas wish before,” he whispered, standing and approaching her.

“That’s not quite true. You were mine last year, you just didn’t know it,” she replied with a blush. She lifted her hand to brush some errant pine needles from his hair, and he leaned in, his lips moving gently over hers.

The kiss deepened quickly. Hunger traced the movements of their mouths as they opened onto one another, tongues dancing and exploring.

Rafael’s mouth eagerly explored Olivia; her lips, cheeks, jawline and, with a gentle nibble of her earlobe, he felt her shudder. He trailed kisses down her neck, murmuring her name over and over and when he reached the collar of her jumper, he pulls it aside trying to reach even more of her skin.

His hands grazed over the soft cashmere, travelling lower until he reached the hem at the bottom. He edged a hand underneath, higher and higher until he captured a breast through her lace bra, gently kneading her soft flesh.

Olivia’s hands weren’t idle either. One of her hands pushed up the back of his T-shirt and she felt the scrape of his skin underneath her nails as she stroked them up and down his spine. As she raked them over his denim-clad buttocks, he grabbed her hip and pulled her to him. They were now touching from chest to thighs and Olivia could feel the effect that she was having on Rafael. Stepping back, she allowed herself a moment to catch her breath before taking his hand and whispering in a sultry voice,

“Maybe we should take this upstairs and you can unwrap one of your presents early.”

Chapter 4: Sunday (9 days to go…)

“This Christmas is turning out to be the happiest I’ve had in years,” Lucia remarked to Olivia as they stood in the elder woman’s kitchen, washing their brunch dishes. Since their reconciliation, Rafael and his mother met for brunch every Sunday, Olivia and Noah joining them whenever possible. Most weeks, they went to their favourite diner, but occasionally, Lucia would offer to host.

As they continued their chores, Lucia’s gaze was drawn to her son and grandson, who were engaged in some pitching practice in her back garden.

“When Rafael left back in February… after the way I treated him… I thought…” Lucia trailed off, stilling her scrubbing as emotion threatening to overwhelm her.

Olivia reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You know he’s forgiven you.” It had been a hard road, but the two of them had made good progress in the months since Rafael’s return.

Lucia nodded, drying her hands on a towel. “Because of you. I don’t know if he’d ever have come home if it wasn’t for you.” She managed a watery smile. “You’ve given him a family, Olivia. You’ve given me a family. Thank you.”

Olivia shook her head. “No need to thank me.”

“There’s every need,” Lucia insisted, grasping Olivia’s upper arms gently. “His eyes light up with a happiness I haven’t seen in a long time. You saved him.”

She smiled softly. “He saved me too. He gave my son a father and…” She paused, biting her lips. “I never thought I’d find someone to spend my life with,” she admitted. “Before Rafa, I didn’t have the best track record with relationships. And then, after Noah came into my life…” She shrugged. “Well, who wants to date a single mom pushing fifty?”

“One as beautiful as you, mija? I’m surprised men weren’t breaking the door down.”

Olivia scoffed. “I can always rely on you to boost my self-esteem.”

Lucia waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense! But I guess it’s good for Rafi that all the other men in New York are blind and stupid. For you too. I can see the joy on your face, too. You and Rafi share a love that’s everlasting.” She paused. “You complete each other.”

“We do,” nodded Olivia, her eyes becoming misty with unshed tears.

“Abuelita? Are the cookies ready to ice yet?!” Noah’s voice announced his arrival before he burst through the door of the kitchen, followed by Rafael. Once she’d found out Noah had claimed Rafael as his father, she’d insisted he call her ‘Abuelita.’

Lucia tentatively touched the Christmas-shaped cookies that were cooling on the counter with the back of her hand. “Almost, nieto. Almost.” She looked him up and down, smiling to himself at his muddy shoes and grass-stained clothes. “Why don’t you go and wash up. I’m sure that, by the time you’re clean they’ll be cool enough.”

Noah moved to exit the kitchen, but Olivia stepped forward to block his path. “Not so fast, mister.” She looked pointedly at his mud-soaked sneakers, thankful they’d brought a change of clothes for him.

Noah toed off the offending footwear by the back door, Rafael following suit.

“Go on up, mijo,” he told him. “Your bag is in your room.”

Technically it was Lucia’s spare room, but Noah had claimed it and Rafael swore he saw his mother furtively hiding away colour charts and paint swatches – he had a feeling she was planning on redecorating for the boy.

As Noah scampered off, his stocking feet sliding comically on the wooden floor of the kitchen, and Rafael padded over to the sink and washed his hands, Lucia began to gather the supplies for icing the cookies. She’d bought small tubes of icing to help Noah with the finer decoration, but she still believed in making the bulk of the icing herself.

By the time the boy returned, Lucia had set up an icing station at the kitchen table. Five large bowls of differently coloured icing – a rainbow array of melt-in-the-mouth deliciousness that called to the six-year-old, perhaps even more than the cookies themselves – as well as sprinkles and sweets.

Noah joined his parents and Lucia at the table and they began to frost the cookies. Rafael pulled up his Christmas playlist on his phone and soon the four of them were humming or singing along. Rafael refused to skip Fairytale of New York, but Lucia overruled him – reminding him of the bad language and little ears that were present. They’d iced almost half of the treats when Lucia’s phone rang. Rafael watched through narrow eyes his mother as she excused herself to take the call. Was she blushing? He turned to Olivia, eyebrow raised in question, but she just shrugged. Whatever was or wasn’t going on in Lucia’s life was none of their business.

Rafael shook his head at her apparent obliviousness and his eyes landed on Olivia’s partially decorated cookie.

“What exactly is that supposed to be?” he asked with a smirk.

She flashed him an indignant look. “A Christmas tree,” she responded, matter-of-fact.

Rafael rolled his eyes playfully. “I know that, but what’s that all over it?” he teased.

She pursed her lips in amusement. “Decorations,” she replied.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “I don’t know who taught you to decorate a tree, but those are not like any decorations I’ve seen,” he said around a smile that crinkled his eyes and sent a spark through Olivia. “Here, I’ll show you how to trim a tree,” he began, but suddenly the icing tube squirted too much icing with the resulting red blob marring Olivia’s creation. Rafael leaned back over to his own seat in an attempt to hide his amusement.

Noah eyed his mom, waiting to see her reaction with bated breath. Was she going to shout at his dad for ruining her cookie?

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Olivia feigned outrage before picking up the green icing tube and squirted her own blob onto the star Rafael had been fastidiously decorating. Noah joined the two as they erupted into laughter that only quietened when Lucia returned to the kitchen.

“What is going on in here?” she asked before glancing at their over-iced cookies. “And what happened to those cookies?”

“Tube malfunctions. Don’t worry, we’ll fix them,” Rafael replied, holding back his laughter. “And if not, well, they’ll taste just as good.”

The two of them managed to behave themselves for the rest of the cookie decorating session and did succeed in making the two ruined cookies look presentable again. Lucia packed up several batches of cookies – one for home, one for Noah to take to school for his teachers, and two others for Olivia and Rafael to take to their respective workplaces – and the three of them made their way home.

As the car pulled away from the sidewalk, Rafael glanced at Olivia. “Mami was very furtive about that phone call, no?”

Olivia shrugged. “She’s a grown woman, Rafa. She’s allowed a private life. I hardly think she’s running a drug cartel.”

“Hmm.” Rafael narrowed his eyes as he merged into the traffic. Olivia’s words did little to reassure him. Something was going on with Lucia Barba and he wouldn’t rest until he knew what it was.

Chapter 5: Monday (8 days to go…)

“What are you doing?”

The lights were off, but the glow from the Christmas tree illuminated the living room and kitchen. The lights sparkled happily and chased away the shadows of the room. Olivia had been on her way to the kitchen for a drink when she spied his legs sticking out from beneath the tree. Her brows drew together, confused and a little mystified. Why was he laying on the floor at almost ten o’clock at night?

Rafael rolled his head to one side. He gazed out from beneath the edge of the tree’s bottom branches, a smile slowly curving his face.

“Lights,” he shrugged, as though the answer was obvious, before turning his gaze back to the sparkling glow overhead. His feet stretched, and he crossed his legs at the ankles, resting his hands atop his stomach. The floor was smooth, hard and cool beneath him. Above, the shifting twinkle of the lights was reflected in the ornaments that decorated the tree.

“Why?” Olivia walked over, stopping nearby and gazing down. “You’re lying on the floor. You know that, right?”

“Didn’t you ever do this?” He looked out at Olivia again. “When you were a kid? Didn’t you ever lay under the tree and watch the lights, dream of Christmas morning, and imagine the lights were stars that you could wish on?”

“Not really,” she shrugged. “We never really had a tree when I was a kid. I think I was twelve when I inherited our neighbours old one and that was only three-foot tall.” She looked at the tree for a moment before looking down at Rafael again. “You do this a lot?”

“Often.” Rafael patted the floor beside him. “Come on. Try it. It’s kind of fun.”

Olivia’s gaze swept over the length of the tree again. After another moment, she walked over and took a seat on the floor nearby. Slowly she lay down and then slid beneath the tree so that her head and shoulders were laying beneath the curtain of the green, decorated limbs. The sparkle of the tree lights enhanced the light, warm flush of her cheeks. “Okay,” she said slowly. From this angle, the lights did look a little different, but she didn’t really see what all the fuss was about.

“Just wait,” he lifted his gaze to the dancing Christmas lights again. “I used to do this when I was little.” His lips curled with the memory. “My abuelita taught me.”

Shifting on the floor to find a more comfortable position, Olivia chanced a look at him from the corner of her eye.

“When I was really little, we’d lie under the tree. We’d wish on the lights. Just the two of us.” Even when his mother and father were around, it was something he did only with his grandmother. There were other traditions he’d learnt from his parents. And other memories he held. Both good and bad. He felt a chill go through him as he recalled the worst parts of his Christmases past. But the warmth of the tree settled him. It was an abstract feeling, one created by the glow the tree was giving off, but he felt at home with it. “Abuelita would tell me stories about when she was little; celebrating Christmas in Cuba.”

Olivia reached for his hand and gave it a slight squeeze. She tried to imagine a young Rafael, excited for Christmas, lying next to his grandmother, listening intently to the stories she was telling. The image brought a smile to her face.

“It sounds lovely.” She stretched her legs out and let her ankles cross. “And it is kind of pretty from this angle.”

“Well, it works better with white lights,” he teased, referencing their debate at the store the previous week. “Easier to imagine they’re stars.”

Ignoring him, Olivia asked, “So what am I supposed to wish for?”

Rafael’s lips pursed for a moment. “Anything you want. It’s about hopes and dreams. When you watch the lights, you’re supposed to think about what makes you happy. Then you wish for that.” He slanted a look at her. “I should warn you though. The Christmas of my freshman year in college – after my roommate dropped out - I wished for a new roommate who was kind and considerate. I got Rita. The lights don’t always listen,” he smirked.

Olivia snorted, and Rafael found himself laughing with her. They were still giggling when the soft padding of feet on the carpet drew both their attention.

“What are you doing?” Noah’s words echoed those of his mother’s minutes earlier as he crawled under the tree, wriggling between them with Eddie under one arm.

“Wishing on lights,” Rafael explained. “What are you doing out of bed?”

He shrugged. “I woke up. I heard you laughing.” He looked up at the lights. “Can I make a wish?” he asked quietly.

“Of course, mijo.”

“Can it be the same thing I asked Santa for?”

Rafael and Olivia shared a look. “I don’t see why not,” she told him.

“Never hurts to make ‘extra’ sure,” Rafael agreed. They’d seen his list, and he hadn’t asked for anything too extravagant, so was likely to be a very happy boy come Christmas morning.

Noah squeezed his eyes tight shut and made his wish. “Done,” he announced a few seconds later.

“Yeah, what did you wish for?”

Noah’s eyes widened. “I can’t tell you that, Momma!”

Rafael agreed, a similarly askance look on his face. “Surely, you know if you tell your wish it won’t come true, Liv?”

Olivia shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“You’re silly Momma!” Noah declared.

The three of them lay there, quietly watching the lights until a soft snore broke through the silence. Olivia and Rafael glanced down to find Noah dozing lightly, his head resting on Rafael’s arm. Olivia reached across and gently moved an errant curl from the boy’s forehead, meeting Rafael’s eye as she did.

“So, this whole light gazing thing?” she asked. “Do you do this every year?”

“I used to, but erm… it’s been a while,” he admitted. He cleared his throat and sighed. In his slumber, Noah rolled toward him and Rafael curled an arm around his boy. “It’s kind of ironic really. The past few years when I was sitting alone in my apartment, pining for you, I didn’t do it. But now, here I am, lying on the floor when I already have everything I could ever wish for.”

There was, of course, the matter of his proposal but, while he’d be disappointed if she said ‘no’ he’d still have her and Noah. And that, he vowed, would be enough.

Olivia gazed at him for several moments, a soft smile on her face. When she finally looked away, it was to lift her eyes toward the sparkling lights above them. She watched the play and dance of the sparkling lights and the way the ornaments and bulbs reflected the different colours. When she glanced back from the corner of each eye, she saw that Rafael was also once again gazing at the tree.

Closing her eyes and drawing in a silent breath, she made her wish. More nights like this one, simple joys and quiet laughter, with Rafael and Noah beside her.

Chapter 6: Tuesday (7 days to go…)

Rafael shuffled nervously from foot to foot as he waited outside the school for Noah’s class to be dismissed. He’d unexpectedly got out of the office early. He was supposed to be meeting with Rita - he had taken on the immigration case of one of her clients who was being accused of assault, but she’d come down with a heavy cold and had gone home to recuperate. So, he’d taken the rest of the afternoon off, without telling his new assistant, Emma. As far as she knew, he was still at Rita’s office. He didn’t like lying to his assistant, but he hadn’t known her for long and wasn’t sure if she could be trusted to stand up to Olivia and keep the information from her, should the need arise. His girlfriend could be rather intimidating when she wanted information that wasn’t forthcoming!

The reason for his subterfuge was that he wanted to speak to Noah about his plans to propose to Olivia at Christmas. He’d been trying to get the boy alone for the past few days but every time he had been about to bring up the subject, Olivia had appeared. He had been beginning to think he’d never get the opportunity, but then Rita’s assistant had called. Emma had been on a break and he just happened to have been walking past her desk and recognising the number of Rita’s firm on the caller ID, he’d answered it. As he listened to the polite, young woman explain that Rita had fallen ill so he wouldn’t need to trek the eight blocks to her office, it had seemed too good to be true. But he’d jumped at the opportunity that had fallen into his lap.

Rafael turned towards the door as the bell rang out and watched for Noah to emerge. When he did, the boy looked around for Lucy, frowning for a moment when he didn’t see her.

“Hey, mijo!”

Noah’s head snapped in the direction of his father’s familiar voice.

“Dad!” He ran over and wrapped his arms around Rafael’s waist. “What are you doing here? Where’s Lucy?”

“My meeting got cancelled, so I thought I’d pick you up and you and I could go for ice-cream.”

“Ice-cream?!” Noah repeated, a smile spreading across his face.

“Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah!” he replied, taking his hand and tugging him away from the door.

Rafael stood firm. “Hang on, mijo. I just want to speak to Mrs Rozniak.”

Noah sighed but waited patiently as his father spoke to his teacher.

“Mr Barba.” She held out a hand. “So nice to see you again. Thank you for the cookies.”

Rafael smiled and shook the teacher’s hand. “You’re welcome, although it was all Noah’s idea. I thought I’d take advantage of a quiet work day and come and pick Noah up. Has he had a good day?”

She nodded. “Yes. No problems. We had our first dress rehearsal today and Noah looked very smart in his costume.”

The school’s Christmas program was in three days and they had been asked to provide dark trousers, a Christmas jumper and a Santa hat for Noah to wear during the performance.

“You’ll be here on Thursday, yes?” Mrs Rozniak asked.

“Yes,” confirmed Rafael. “I’ve had my assistant clear my schedule. My…” he trailed off as he realised he’d been about to call Olivia his wife. “Noah’s mom has booked the time off too.” Lucia had also arranged to be there – luckily, Noah’s event didn’t clash with the one at her school. And Lucy was planning to attend too.

“Great. Well, I’d better let you go. I know better than to come between a first grader and his ice-cream,” she said with a light chuckle. “See you on Thursday. See you tomorrow Noah.”

“Bye, Mrs Rozniak.” Noah gave her a wave as he skipped off with Rafael.

***

Rafael settled Noah into a booth, with his recommended reading, while he went to the counter to order. He didn’t need to ask what Noah wanted. This was a usual haunt for them and Noah had the same dish every time.

As he queued, he kept glancing back towards Noah checking on him. It had been over a year since Sheila Porter had snatched the boy, but the scars still remained. He could still remember the terror that had engulfed him when he found out the boy was missing, the helplessness he’d felt as he stood in Olivia’s office. He never wanted to experience that again.

He placed his order and, once he had their drinks, he hurried back to the table. Noah was happily reading, so Rafael scooted in opposite him and let him continue, periodically asking him questions to check his understanding. They continued reading until the waitress set their sundaes down in front of them, at which point Noah, unsurprisingly, lost interest in the book.

He dived right into his ice cream, eating so quickly Rafael was surprised he didn’t get brain freeze. As he watched his son eat, Rafael considered the best way to start the conversation. He didn’t want to just blurt it out, but he if he wasn’t direct, Noah would more than likely change the subject. The boy could jump from topic to topic like no one Rafael had ever known.

“You’re not eating your ice cream, Dad,” Noah observed. “It’s gonna melt.”

Noah’s words drew Rafael back to the present, and he picked up his spoon. “Sorry, mijo. Lost in my thoughts.”

“About the people you’re helping at work?”

Noah was always interested to hear the stories of the people Rafael was helping to stay in America. He didn’t really understand the reasons they’d had to leave their home countries and why they weren’t allowed to just stay, but he liked to hear about them, nonetheless.

“No, actually. I was thinking about Christmas.”

“Are you sure Santa will find us at the new house?”

Rafael smiled. Noah had been excited about moving but he had been very concerned that his presents wouldn’t arrive. “You told him we’d moved in your letter, and when you saw him at the store last week.”

“But he has lots of children to remember.”

“And that’s why he has elves.” Rafael put down his spoon and held Noah’s gaze. “Trust me, mijo. Santa knows we’ve moved, and he’ll deliver your presents.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Speaking of presents,” he continued, absentmindedly stirring his ice-cream, “I wanted to talk to you about a gift I was going to give your mom.”

“Okay,” Noah said around a mouthful of ice-cream.

“Now, this is a surprise, so I need you to promise you won’t say anything to your mom about it, okay?”

Noah met his gaze. “I promise.”

“So…” he took a steadying breath. He didn’t remember ever being this nervous about anything. “How would you feel if I asked your mom to marry me?”

Noah’s eyed his father curiously. “Did you talk to Santa?”

Rafael’s brow furrowed. “No. Why?” he asked carefully.

“Because I asked Santa for you to marry Momma, so you’d be my Dad properly.”

“You asked Santa for…” Rafael trailed off as Noah’s words registered. “Wait, what do you mean, be your Dad properly. I am your Dad. We agreed on that back in Miami.”

“I know. But Billy Slater said you weren’t really my Dad because you’re a Barba and I’m not. I told him that he was stupid and to get lost but…” Noah shrugged. His classmate’s words had had more of an impact that he’d wanted to admit.

“Noah, mijo,” Rafael’s throat clenched with emotion. “I am, and always will be, your Dad. Whether I’m married to your mom or not. Being a Dad isn’t about who you’re married too, it’s about loving your children and taking care of them.”

“But I want to be a Barba, like you,” he said quietly, looking down at his melting dessert.

Rafael reached across the tabled and took Noah’s hand. “Nothing would make me prouder than you becoming Noah Porter Barba,” he said, blinking back tears. “But even if your mom says ‘no’ to marrying me, or ‘not yet’, I’ll still be your Dad and nothing – especially not Billy Slater – will change that. Okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded before shovelling a couple more spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth. “When Mrs Rozniak got married, she got a sparkly ring,” Noah commented.

“That’s right. I have one for your mom.” He reached for the ring box in his pocket. Placing it on the table, he opened it, so Noah could see. “Think she’ll like it?”

Noah regarded the ring for a moment. “It’s pretty but it looks old.”

Rafael couldn’t help but laugh at the boy’s honesty. “That’s because it is, it was my abuelita’s,” he explained. “She died a few years ago, but she’d have loved your mom… and you. She’d want your mom to have it. But, if your mom wants a new one, I’ll buy her a new one.”

As Noah polished off the rest of his ice cream, Rafael considered Noah’s words. What he had told Noah was true; he would always think of Noah as his son, no matter the answer to his proposal. He had assumed that if Olivia accepted, his adoption of Noah would be the next step, but maybe he needed to be a bit more proactive about the situation, to give everyone a little more clarity.

He glanced at Noah who, ice cream now finished, had gone back to his book, and pulled out his phone. He quickly typed out a text and hit send.

Hey Rita. Fancy dipping your toe back into family law? I need a favour. R x 

Chapter 7: Wednesday (6 days to go…)

“Noah, sweet boy!” Olivia called from the sofa through to the kitchen where Noah was putting his empty glass in the dishwasher.

The boy came running at the sound of his name, his socked feet skidding on the laminate floor. “Yeah?”

“There’s a letter for you.”

Noah’s brow furrowed. “Me?” he asked. “But I never get mail unless it’s my birthday.”

“Well, today must be your lucky day.” Rafael pulled out a bright red envelope from the pile of mail he was holding and passed it to Noah. “Go on, open it.”

Snatching the proffered envelope from his dad’s hand, he tore it open and unfolded the piece of paper that was inside.

“It’s from Santa!” he gasped.

“Wow! What does it say?” Olivia asked, pulling him onto her knee so they could all look at the letter together.

Noah read the words carefully, only needing to check with Olivia on a few that troubled him. 

Dear Noah,

With Christmas only a week away, things are very busy here at the North Pole, but I wanted to write because one of my elves told me you were worried that I wouldn’t find you at your new house. Please don’t worry. I have a very big book which lists all the children’s addresses and whenever a child moves to a new house it updates magically.

I promise I know where to find you on Christmas Eve and your good behaviour this year has ensured you are at the top of the nice list. There are still six days to go though, so make sure you keep it up. I got your letter and I’m sure you’ll get everything you asked for.

Don’t forget to hang up your stocking on Christmas Eve and please make sure you’re in bed early, as I can’t visit any houses where children are still awake. Oh, and if you could leave a mince pie and a carrot out for me and Rudolph, we would be very grateful.

Love from

Santa Claus

When he finished reading, Noah dropped the letter into his lap. “Santa wrote to me?” he whispered, awe and wonder lacing his tone.

“I told you Santa would know where we lived,” Rafael said.

“Yeah, you said his elves helped him, but you were wrong, he has a magic book,” Noah replied, playfully. He always liked it when he knew something his Dada didn’t. He picked up the letter in his hands. “This is so cool! Can I take it to school tomorrow to show everyone?”

Olivia smiled. “Sure. Why don’t you go and put it in your bag, so you don’t forget?” she suggested.

Noah jumped down off the sofa and ran into the hallway, where his bag hung on a hook by the door. Rafael, who was on bedtime story duty that night, called after him.

“Go and do your teeth and I’ll be up in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.”

A few seconds later, Olivia and Rafael heard the sound of his feet on the stairs.

“That was a really sweet thing you did for him,” Olivia commented, snuggling into his side.

“What?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “The letter from Santa.”

Rafael feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you mean. That letter came directly from the North Pole. Look at the postmark.” He pointed to the discarded envelope.

Olivia giggled. “Yeah, with a little help from a well-dressed elf, I’m sure.” 

Rafael shrugged and flashed her a half-smile as he stood from the sofa. “I’d better get up there. Hopefully, I won’t be too long and then we can get the rest of his presents wrapped.”

***

Rafael poked his head around Noah’s door. “Have you chosen a book, mijo?”

Noah nodded and held out the book. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas!” It had been the gift he had received from the mall Santa when they paid him a visit, but Noah had wanted to finish the final Harry Potter book before reading anything else.

“Dr Seuss? Well, it’s been a while, but I’ll give it a shot.” He perched on the edge of the bed. “Budge up.”

Noah obliged, and Rafael shifted, putting his arm around Noah’s shoulders. He lifted his legs onto the bed, stretching them out along the length and opened the book. Clearing his throat, he began.

Every Who Down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot… But the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did NOT! The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason.  It could be his head wasn’t screwed on just right. It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight. But I think that the most likely reason of all, May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

Whatever the reason, His heart or his shoes, He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Whos, Staring down from his cave with a sour, Grinchy frown, At the warm lighted windows below in their town. For he knew every Who down in Whoville beneath, Was busy now, hanging a mistletoe wreath. “And they’re hanging their stockings!” he snarled with a sneer, “Tomorrow is Christmas! It’s practically here!”

“I don’t understand how anyone doesn’t like Christmas,” Noah declared. “It’s the best.” He grabbed his favourite stuffed elephant – who had been adorned with a tinsel collar - from the bed next to him. “Right, Eddie?”

Eddie nodded (with a bit of help from Noah, of course) and Rafael realised that a short and sweet story time was not to be. Noah was in one of his talkative moods, where he would interrupt the story with comments, questions and observations.

Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming, “I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!” For tomorrow, he knew, all the Who girls and boys, Would wake bright and early. They’d rush for their toys! And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! That’s one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then the Whos, young and old, would sit down to a feast. And they’d feast! And they’d feast! And they’d FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! They would feast on Who-pudding and rare Who-roast-beast. Which was something the Grinch couldn’t stand in the least! And THEN They’d do something He liked least of all! Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small, Would stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing. They’d stand hand-in-hand. And the Whos would start singing!

“I don’t like singing.”

“But you’re singing tomorrow in the holiday programme,” Rafael reminded him.

“I know, but only cos Mrs Rozniak says I have to, and she said if we all do a good job, we can have extra recess.”

Rafael chuckled to himself. If only the deals he’d used to make at work had been that easy. “Well in Whoville, everyone loves to sing, without the promise of extra recess,” he told Noah, continuing with the story.

They’d sing! And they’d sing! And they’d SING! SING! SING! SING! And the more the Grinch thought of this Who Christmas Sing, The more the Grinch thought, “I must stop this whole thing!” “Why, for fifty-three years I’ve put up with it now!” “I MUST stop this Christmas from coming! But HOW?” Then he got an idea! An awful idea! THE GRINCH GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

“I know just what to do!” The Grinch laughed in his throat. And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Grinchy trick!” “With this coat and this hat, I look just like Saint Nick!” “All I need is a reindeer…” The Grinch looked around. But, since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found. Did that stop the old Grinch? No! The Grinch simply said, “If I can’t find a reindeer, I’ll make one instead!”

So he called his dog, Max. Then he took some red thread, And he tied a big horn on the top of his head. THEN He loaded some bags and some old empty sacks, On a ramshackle sleigh and he hitched up old Max. Then the Grinch said, “Giddap!” And the sleigh started down, Toward the homes where the Whos Lay asnooze in their town. All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air. All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care.

Rafael paused as he noticed Noah looking at Eddie, his head tilted slightly to one side. “You okay?”

“I wonder if Eddie would like some antlers?”

“I don’t know, he’s already got that very long trunk, antlers might be a little bit much.”

Noah contemplated his father’s words as he looked at Eddie. “Yeah, maybe.”

When he came to the first little house on the square. “This is stop number one,” the old Grinchy Claus hissed, And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist. Then he slid down the chimney. A rather tight pinch. But, if Santa could do it, then so could the Grinch. He got stuck only once, for a moment or two. Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue. Where the little Who stockings all hung in a row. “These stockings,” he grinned, “are the first things to go!”

Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant, Around the whole room, and he took every present! Pop guns! And bicycles! Roller skates! Drums! Checkerboards! Tricycles! Popcorn! And plums! And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Grinch, very nimbly, Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney! Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Whos’ feast! He took the Who-pudding! He took the roast beast!

“The Grinch is a meanie!” Noah commented.

“He certainly is.”

“You’d put him in jail, wouldn’t you, Dad?”

Rafael nodded. It was a long time since he’d sent anyone to jail. His job now was about helping people. Noah knew that but he had a rose-tinted view of how things used to be when he and his mom caught the bad guys together. “I would, mijo. For a long, long time.”

“Yeah, cos you’re the best.”

Rafael, feeling slightly emotional at Noah’s words, had to clear his throat before continuing.

He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why, that Grinch even took their last can of Who-hash! Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee. “And NOW!” grinned the Grinch, “I will stuff up the tree!” And the Grinch grabbed the tree, and he started to shove, When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove. He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who! Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was not more than two.

The Grinch had been caught by this tiny Who daughter, Who’d got out of bed for a cup of cold water. She stared at the Grinch and said, “Santy Claus, why,” “Why are you taking our Christmas tree? WHY?” But, you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick, He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick! “Why, my sweet little tot,” the fake Santy Claus lied, “There’s a light on this tree that won’t light on one side.” “So I’m taking it home to my workshop, my dear.” “I’ll fix it up there. Then I’ll bring it back here.”

“You shouldn’t lie. Lying is wrong.” Noah commented. 

“It is. But liars always get their comeuppance,” Rafael assured, “Shall we see what happens to The Grinch?”

Noah nodded, lying his head against Rafael’s shoulder.

And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted her head, And he got her a drink and he sent her to bed. And when CindyLou Who went to bed with her cup, He went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up! Then the last thing he took was the log for their fire!. On their walls, he left nothing but hooks and some wire. And the one speck of food that he left in the house, Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse.

Then He did the same thing to the other Whos’ houses Leaving crumbs much too small for the other Whos’ mouses! It was quarter past dawn… All the Whos, still a-bed, All the Whos, still a-snooze When he packed up his sled, Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings! The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings! Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mt. Crumpit, He rode with his load to the tiptop to dump it!

“PoohPooh to the Whos!” he was grinchishly humming. “They’re finding out now that no Christmas is coming!” “They’re just waking up! I know just what they’ll do!” “Their mouths will hang open a minute or two, Then the Whos down in Whoville will all cry BooHoo!” “That’s a noise,” grinned the Grinch, “That I simply MUST hear!” So he paused. And the Grinch put his hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low. Then it started to grow.

“It’s Christmas! The Grinch didn’t ruin it!”

Rafael smiled at Noah’s sleepy enthusiasm. “No, he didn’t. Christmas Day came anyway and the Whos celebrated, even though they didn’t have presents.”

“They celebrated without presents?”

“They did. Listen…”

But the sound wasn’t sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn’t be so! But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared down at Whoville! The Grinch popped his eyes! Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise! Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small, Was singing! Without any presents at all! He HADN’T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME! Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so? It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!” And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before! ‘Maybe Christmas,’ he thought, ‘doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more!’

And what happened then? Well…in Whoville they say, That the Grinch’s small heart Grew three sizes that day! And the minute his heart didn’t feel quite so tight, He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light, And he brought back the toys! And the food for the feast! And he, HE HIMSELF! The Grinch carved the roast beast!

Rafael glanced down as he felt Noah’s weight grow heavier against him. The boy’s eyes were closed, and his breathing had evened out. He was out.

Gently, Rafael laid Noah down and pulled the covers up to his chin. He shifted slightly in his sleep, tightening his hold on Eddie.

As he watched his son sleep, Rafael considered the words of the poem’s penultimate verse. He’d been doing a lot of reflection on Christmas recently and he knew for sure that the best things about Christmas definitely didn’t come from a store.

Chapter 8: Thursday (5 days to go…)

Rafael stood in the elevator, eyes fixed on the display, watching the numbers creep up. He took a deep breath as it flicked to nine. Since his resignation, he’d been here only a handful of times. It hadn’t been in his plan for today either; Olivia was supposed to come home for lunch and they would make their way to Noah’s school for his Christmas program from there. But they’d caught a major case – a Senator’s son had been accused of raping of a girl at a party the night before – and she’d text him, apologising that she wouldn’t be able to make their lunch date. They’d agreed to meet at the school, but the more Rafael thought about it, the more he wanted them to arrive together. It was their first Christmas together as a family and he wanted to experience everything with her.

So, he decided to surprise Olivia by picking her up at the precinct. It had seemed like a great idea at the time; they could still eat lunch together and then make their way to the school, but now, now he wasn’t sure. Even though he’d only been here a few times, each time he entered the squad room, he was assaulted by memories of his time working with SVU, of everything he had lost. The place was full of ghosts.

The elevator arrived at the floor with a ‘ding’ and Rafael took a steadying breath as the doors opened. He may have lost a lot, but he had gained so much more.

He strode down the corridor and turned the corner into the squad room to come face to face with Amanda.

“Barba. We weren’t expecting you.”

“Plans changed so I thought I’d surprise Liv.” He nodded towards her office. “She busy?”

“Not with anything important,” Amanda replied with a shrug.

Rafael wondered at the strangeness of her tone and as he neared Olivia’s office and began to make our snippets of a conversation she was having, he understood.

“My gut says he’s guilty, Peter.”

“Well, unfortunately, your gut isn’t grounds for getting you a warrant.”

Rafael stopped just shy of the doorway. Stone. She was in there with Stone. He had managed to avoid him ever since returning to New York, timing his few visits to the precinct with times Liv said he’d be in court and hiding in their bedroom on the one occasion he had called round to the apartment to see Olivia.

He edged forward, peering into her office. She and Stone were stood in front of the window into the Conference Room. It shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise – he was her ADA after all, but seeing the man who prosecuted him, standing where he once stood stung just a little. No matter how much he may have gained by pursuing a personal relationship with Olivia, he still missed their professional sparring.

Gathering all the courage he had, he rapped his knuckles against the doorframe and they turned simultaneously to face him, although, he was pleased to note, not quite as in-sync as she used to be with him.

“Rafa! What are you doing here?”

“I know we agreed to meet at the school, but I figured since you were so busy, you wouldn’t have had time to stop and eat, so…” He shrugged, holding up the small paper bag bearing the name of her favourite deli.

She smiled at him as she approached, touched by his gesture. And with how well he knew her. She hadn’t eaten – time had gotten away from her as it often did when working big cases.

“Thank you.” She smiled as she took the bag from him and noticed where it was from. “Chicken Club?” she asked.

“Of course.” It always had been her favourite. Knowing he couldn’t ignore Stone forever, he forced himself to glance behind her and give him a nod. “Mr Stone.”

“Mr Barba.” Peter returned the nod before turning back to Olivia. “You need more. I simply cannot get you a warrant based on what you have.”

Olivia let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I will get Carisi and Rollins to go back over the witness statements and Fin will call you if they find anything.”

“You mean you’re not going to be overseeing the investigation?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised.

“Not directly.” She shook her head. “I have the afternoon off.”

“The mayor’s office has already been on the phone three times this morning. Come on Liv, we’re talking about the Senator’s son here!”

Rafael bristled at hearing Stone use the familiar nickname for Olivia. “And we’re talking about our son,” he told Peter. “It’s his Christmas Program at school this afternoon.”

“I… I didn’t know,” Peter stuttered. He’d heard on the grapevine that Rafael had returned and that he and Olivia were involved, but he hadn’t realised the three of them were so much of a family. She didn’t share much of her personal life with him, and now he understood why. He’d prosecuted the man she was in a relationship with.

“That’s okay,” Olivia said. She’d not mentioned it to him, preferring to keep their relationship as professional as possible. “But you understand why I can’t stay. Fin is more than capable of holding the fort for a few hours, even with a big profile case. He’s worked here nearly as long as I have.”

Peter nodded. “I will leave you two to your lunch.” He stopped in front of Rafael. “Nice to see you back in New York, Mr Barba.” He held out a hand.

Rafael eyed the younger man, trying and failing to gauge the sincerity of his statement. The man would be a great poker player, he thought. Despite the animosity between them, Rafael shook the ADA’s hand. Manners first, as his abuelita would say. Even if he wanted to crush the man’s pitching hand.

As Olivia saw Stone out and briefed Fin on what they needed, Rafael unpacked their lunch and set it on Olivia’s desk. When she returned, he was stood by her chair, which he pulled out for her.

“Madam, your table is ready.”

***

Rafael and Olivia enjoyed a leisurely walk through the park, stopping occasionally to steal kisses from each other. One kiss led to them getting particularly distracted and resulted in them having to jog the final leg to the school. They entered the auditorium with moments to spare, Lucia staring at them quizzically as the lights dimmed. They sat patiently through the kindergarten section of the program, watching as the youngest children performed several songs. Once they’d finished and filed off stage, the first graders took their place. They sang, ‘Santa Claus is Coming Town’ before several children – including Noah – stepped forward.

A girl with auburn curls cleared her throat. “First Grade presents, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’ by Clement Moore. Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…

The children took it in turns to recite a verse of the poem as Olivia, Rafael, Lucia and Lucy listened intently as they waited for Noah’s turn. As the poem neared the end, Noah scanned the audience, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Rafael gave him a reassuring nod and smile, not dissimilar to the ones he and Liv once shared in the courtroom. Noah returned the gesture and stepped toward the microphone. Puffing out his chest, he took a deep breath and began,

“He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose! He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, ‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!’”

All the first-graders joined in for the last line, but Noah wasn’t finished with his part. “And now, to conclude our section of the performance, we will sing, ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’.”          

The children produced antlers and red noses from the floor of the stage and put them on, before singing with gusto. They finished to rousing applause – Lucia leading a standing ovation – and took their bows.

The program continued with performances from the other grades – a selection of songs, poems and dramas – as well as a staff song that had all the children in giggles. The final act of the show was a whole-school rendition of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’, followed by another round of thunderous applause.

The lights went up and the children shuffled impatiently in their seats, keen to greet their parents. When the first graders were finally allowed to get up, Noah bounded over to his family.

“Hi sweet boy,” Olivia greeted as she embraced him. “You were so good up there!”

He pulled back from the hug. “Really?” He looked to Rafael.

“Definitely. We could hear every word.” He ruffled Noah’s hair. “Well done, mijo.”

Noah beamed at his father’s praise and turned to his grandmother. “Did you like it, Abuelita?”

“Like it? I loved it.” She patted her handbag and whispered conspiratorially, “I might even have stolen some ideas for my school for next year.”

Noah giggled as she flashed him an exaggerated wink.

Olivia smiled as she watched the two of them. After all the drama with Sheila Porter, she was glad Noah had a grandmother he could rely on. “Do you want to join us for dinner, Lucia?”

“Thank you mija, but I can’t. I have… other plans.”

“Anything exciting?” Rafael asked.

She patted him on the arm. “Nothing that you need to concern yourself with, mijo.” She kissed his cheek. “I will see you on Monday. Let me know if you need me to bring anything.”

She turned on her heel and left the auditorium before Rafael could ask any further questions. He merely stood, watching his mother’s retreating form with his mouth slightly agape.

“That’s our topic of conversation at dinner tonight then,” Olivia whispered to Lucy, with a roll of her eyes. “I don’t suppose you would like to…?”

“I think I’ll give it a miss,” she smiled.

“Traitor,” Olivia retorted.

“Who’s a traitor?” Rafael asked, his attention now back on his family.

Olivia shook her head. “Never mind.” She linked her arm through his and took Noah’s hand. “Come on, let’s get our future Oscar winner home.”

Chapter 9: Friday (4 days to go…)

It was 8 pm and the Christmas party at the 1-6 was in full swing. The 1-7 were covering their shifts – it was a reciprocal arrangement that had been going on for several years – and everyone was glad for a night off to decompress and forget about the awful things they dealt with in their jobs and just to enjoy the holidays.

The table in the conference room was littered with trays of hors-d'oeuvres and cookies, as well of bowls of punch and eggnog. Holiday music was blaring out of the Bluetooth speaker on Fin’s desk. Olivia had put him in charge of the music, save Carisi put Fairytale of New York on repeat. Noah and Jesse, along with the children of several other officers, were showing off their dance moves while they waited for Santa to arrive.

Olivia leant on the doorframe of her office, absentmindedly stroking the white plaits of the Mrs Claus hat Rafa had bought her and smiling as she watched Noah, dressed in his elf hat, teach Jesse how to floss.

“I don’t know where he gets his energy from,” commented Rafael as he approached, two glasses of punch in hand.

“It’s the excitement,” Olivia told him, taking the glass he offered her. “Plus, I suspect Carisi has been sneaking him candy.”

“So, Fin and Rita?” He nodded to where her sergeant was talking with his date. “Did you know about that?”

Olivia shook her head. “Not a clue.” She had been just as shocked as everyone else when Fin had taken a phone call, disappeared for a few minutes and then returned with the defence attorney, who seemed to have recovered from her cold, in tow and introduced her as his girlfriend. “But you know Fin, he’s doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve. Rita didn’t say anything to you?”

He shook his head. “Not a word.”

Olivia watched as Rita laughed at something Fin said, her hand gripping his upper arm. “Strange as this may sound, I think they might be a good fit,” she commented, lifting her drink to her lips. She took a sip and recoiled, starting at the strong alcoholic taste.

She turned to Rafael to find a similar expression on his face.

“Someone spiked the punch?” he asked, with a despairing shake of his head. “Spiked punch. People dating outside their allotted cliques. What is this? High School?”

Olivia threw her head back and let out a laugh, noticing for the first time the sprig of green that hung in her doorway. “Huh.”

Rafael followed her gaze. “Is that… mistletoe?”

“It appears to be, although I swear it wasn’t there half an hour ago.” She glanced around the room, noticing every doorway had been adorned with the festive plant. “It seems we’ve had a visit from an elf.”

“Interesting. Did you know,” began Rafael, “that, according to Norse legends, the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe arose from a mistake involving the Goddess Frigga? Her son, Balder told her that he had dreamt that he was to be killed. To save him, she ordered every animal and plant not to harm him. She specified that Balder could not be hurt by anything that grew on the earth or under the earth, but the mistletoe was exempt. An enemy of Balder realised this and had him killed by a spear of mistletoe. Frigga resurrected her son and then made the mistletoe a sacred plant that brings love to the world by insisting that any couple standing under it must kiss each other.”

“Is that so?” she replied with a smile, tilting her head.

Rafael nodded, taking another – smaller – sip of his punch. “It is.”

“Well, we don’t have to…” Olivia didn’t want him to feel pressured. While most of the people at the party knew they were a couple, overt public displays of affection had never been something either of them had been comfortable with.

“I disagree,” Olivia’s eyes shot up to meet his and he smirked. “We wouldn’t want to annoy the Norse gods now, would we?”

He stepped into her, closing the gap between them. Their lips were mere centimetres apart – they could feel their breaths mingling – when the jingling of bells sounded in the corridor accompanied by a shout of, “SANTA’S HERE!” from the children.

Olivia and Rafael jumped apart and turned towards the door, to see Don Cragan – in full Santa regalia enter!

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!”

***

In the hours that followed, Olivia and Barba found themselves under the mistletoe several more times, but never with each other. Fin, Carisi and Cragen all placed gentle kisses on Olivia’s cheek and Barba bestowed similar on Amanda and Melinda.

Every time they had tried to catch each other in a doorway, someone else had appeared or one of them had been needed to deal with something else. Rafael was beginning to think they were cursed, and he would never get to kiss her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Olivia entering her office, Noah in her arms. The boy had been practically falling asleep on his feet, so he assumed she was taking him to lie down on the sofa. This was it, he thought, this was his chance. He would meet her in the doorway on her way back into the squad room.

It was the perfect plan. Except for the fact that Stone was also heading her way and was a hell of a lot closer than he was.

Rafael clenched his jaw. ‘Oh no, not again. And certainly not because of him,’ he thought as he strode across the office.

He had just reached Amanda’s desk when he heard Carisi call his name.

“Barba! Can I ask you something, counsellor?”

Rafael barely held in his eye-roll, preparing himself for whatever inane legal question the younger man had.

“Is Die Hard a Christmas film? I say yes, Rollins says no. We need a deciding vote.”

“Not now, Carisi,” he growled as he continued to race Stone to Olivia’s office.

There was no way he was going to make it in time. Stone was nearly at the corridor that led to the interrogation rooms and he was still in the middle of the squad room. Short of running across the room – and looking like a desperate, jealous idiot – he was at a loss for what to do.

***

Luckily, Rita Calhoun was an observant soul. She could easily while away many hours sitting in a coffee shop, people watching – much to her new boyfriend’s consternation. She’d been watching her old friend all night as he tried and failed to get a kiss from Olivia and she saw this latest opportunity arrive. She knew Rafael had seen it too, if his determined stride across the office was anything to go by. It was only when she saw the panicked look on his face, did she realise that he was heading for another flunk out. All thanks to Peter Stone.

God, how she hated that man! He’d tried to send her oldest friend to prison. While she didn’t agree with Rafael’s actions – and the less said about him hiring Dworkin rather than her to defend him, the better – he had acted out of mercy and hadn’t deserved the witch-hunt that had followed. She hadn’t had much to do with the new ADA, but it seemed it was time to introduce herself. To fall on her sword for the sake of her friend’s romance. It wouldn’t do to have someone who was due to propose in 4 days to be getting into a jealous sulk.

Running a hand down Fin’s arm, she excused herself and stepped forward. “Excuse me, Mr Stone? I’m Rita Calhoun, of Petersen, Calhoun and Ross. I wonder if you have a moment…”

***

Rafael watched, mouth wide, as Rita stepped in and rescued him from having to make a complete fool of himself and made a mental note to add a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka to her Christmas present.

With Stone distracted, he picked up his pace a little, grateful for the reprieve but unsure how long it would last. The gods of Christmas must have been looking down on him favourably because he arrived in Olivia’s doorway at exactly the same moment she was leaving.

He lifted his eyes to check the mistletoe was, in fact, still there. It would be just their luck that it had magically disappeared. Not that he needed an excuse to kiss her, but it was their first Christmas together and a kiss under the mistletoe was a tradition that just had to be adhered to. Upon seeing the sprig of green still hanging there, Rafael’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“Finally,” he sighed, eliciting a smile from Olivia.

“My sentiments exactly,” she agreed, curling her fingers around one of his suspenders. 

He met her halfway, cupping her cheek as he captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Lingering. Unhurried. It was with some reluctance that they parted, but this was not the time or place to be getting carried away.

“Merry Christmas, Rafa,” Olivia whispered, pulling away and resting her forehead against his.

“Merry Christmas, Liv,” he replied, before stealing another quick kiss.

Chapter 10: Saturday (3 days to go…)

Olivia stirred slowly, blinking against the light streaming through the gap in the curtain. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was almost nine. It was unusual for them to sleep this late; the late night at the party must have taken its toll on Noah, putting paid to their early morning wake up call. It wouldn’t long until he would be awake though.

Olivia threw back the covers and shivered at the chill in the air. She grabbed her robe from the back of the chair and pulled it on to shield herself from the cold as she padded over to the window. She let out a gasp at the sight that awaited her. Snow was falling heavily and mixing with a strong wind creating a world filled with a swirling, disorientating, almost blinding whiteness.

“Liv?” Rafael called groggily from their bed as he sat up.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay. How’s the weather?” The forecasters had been predicted snow, but there had been differing predictions about how much.

“Take a look for yourself.” She stepped back from the window, pulling the curtain far to one side so he could see.

“Wow. It’s a veritable blizzard out there. Guess our plan for the park is out of the question.”

Olivia nodded. “Today is definitely an inside day.”

Rafael swung his legs over the side of the bed and joined Olivia by the window. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Good morning.” He ghosted his lips across her cheek. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm.” She smiled. “Morning.”

“I’ll go and start breakfast,” he offered, giving her a little squeeze before crossing the room. “I might have promised Noah pancakes this morning if he was good last night.”

“Not too much sugar,” she called after him. “Not if we’re spending the entire day cooped up inside.”

On entering the kitchen, Rafael switched on the coffee maker before gathering the supplies he needed and setting to work. He was just whisking the batter when Noah wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

Rafael put the whisk down and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

“Morning.” As Noah lifted his head to speak to his father, he noticed the weather outside. “Awww. Mom said we could go to the park today.”

“I know, but it looks like the weather is too bad. The forecast is advising people to stay indoors, for the morning at least.”

Noah shuffled to the table and sat down, his elbows on the table and his hands cupping his face. The pout on his face was one Rafael recognised well.

“I know it’s disappointing, but when the weather settles down there’ll be lots of snow to play in. In the meantime, how about you help me make breakfast, huh?”

Noah turned his head and his eyes widened as he spotted the bowl in his dad’s hands and the familiar ingredients on the counter. A smile spread over his face. “Pancakes?”

“Well, you behaved really well last night, and I did promise.”

“Can we make them into Christmas pancakes?” Noah asked, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look at the progress his dad had made.

“Christmas pancakes?” Rafael turned to face him, his brow furrowed. “How do we do that?”

“With chocolate chips and Christmas cutters,” Noah replied as if the answer should have been obvious.

“Of course.” He poured the first batch of batter into the pan. “Well, if you can find the cutters, it’s a deal.”

Olivia had unpacked the kitchen and Rafael was still getting to grips with where she’d put everything. He was able to locate the items they used on a regular basis, but he hadn’t seen the box of cookie cutters since they moved in.

Noah, of course, found them instantly and presented them to Rafael with a triumphant smile.

“Great job mijo. So, when they’re done, I’ll put them on the cutting board and you can cut them, then put them on the plate, okay?”

Noah nodded and began sorting through the cutters, pulling out the Christmas shaped ones and laying them on the table. A tree, a snowman, a stocking and a star.

“What shapes do you want, Dad?”

“I think I’ll have a snowman and a star.” He flipped the first pancake, smiling too himself when it landed back right in the middle of the pan. “You should choose two shapes for your mom too.”

Noah looked around. “Yeah. Where is she?”

“She’s in the shower, but we can keep hers warm in the oven if she takes a while.”

“Here we go,” Rafael announced, carrying the pan to the table. “First pancake is up.” He slid it onto the wooden chopping board and Noah picked up the tree-shaped cutter.

The two worked together to make a variety of festive pancakes and by the time Olivia emerged, fully dressed, with her damp hair left to dry naturally, breakfast was ready.

“I thought I said not too much sugar,” Olivia lightly chastised Rafael as she watched Noah squeeze several tablespoons of syrup onto his pancakes.             

Rafael shrugged. A bit of sugar couldn’t hurt that much, could it?”

***

The morning went by relatively quickly and smoothly. Noah was kept occupied by making Christmas cards for Lucia, Lucy and his honorary aunts and uncles from the squad. Rafael covered Noah’s hand in white paint and Olivia helped him make prints in the middle of the blue cards. While they were drying, Noah watched a festive episode of Paw Patrol, before collecting his markers and returning to the dining table. On each of his fingers, he drew a different snowman. Different shaped hats, different coloured scarves, different facial expressions. Once that was done, Rafael helped Noah with his writing as Olivia made lunch.

After finishing his soup, Noah began to get antsy. It started innocently enough. Fidgeting, distraction, excessive talking and giggling, until he was careering around the room, in a superhero cape, swinging Eddie around by his trunk. Rafael was running around after him, trying to get him to sit and work a puzzle or read a book. Noah wasn’t having any of it and Rafael was becoming increasingly frustrated. The last straw came when Eddie flew out of his hand and knocked a photo of Rafael’s abuelita off the mantlepiece. It crashed to the floor, the sound of the glass smashing echoing in the room.

“Noah Porter Benson!”

The harsh tone of his father’s voice broke through Noah’s sugar rush and his bottom lip began to wobble. Tears came shortly after, loud, penitent sobs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it.” He dashed towards the shards of broken glass intending to help clear up but skidded to a halt as both his parent’s shouted.

“No!”

Olivia approached him and crouched down. “I know you want to help, but the glass will be sharp, sweet boy. Your Dad and I only shouted because we didn’t want you to get hurt. Do you understand?“

Noah nodded, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Go and sit on the couch, while your Dad and I clean this up.”

With another sniffle, Noah trudged over to the couch and flopped down on it. He was still sobbing when Rafael walked past him to get a dustpan and brush. When he returned, he handed the brush off to Olivia and sat down next to Noah, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry if I scared you by shouting, mijo.”

Noah looked up. “You were mad at me.”

Rafael paused, considering his words. He never wanted Noah to feel even a fraction of what he himself had felt at the hands of his father, but he was afraid it was too late. “I was upset at the fact that the photo got broken, not at you. I know you didn’t mean to do it.”

“Am I going to be on the naughty list now?”

“No. Oh, Noah.” He reached out and gathered the boy to him. He rubbed soothing circles on his back. “It was an accident. You shouldn’t have been running around like that, but you didn’t deliberately break the frame. However, I do think Santa would appreciate it if we sat down and did something quiet for a bit.”

“Will you watch a movie with me?”

“Of course, in fact, why don’t we all watch? Did you have a film in mind?”

“Muppet’s Christmas Carol.”

Rafael smiled. “Of course.” They’d only watched it ten times since Thanksgiving. Rafael was fairly confident he could recite over 80% of the dialogue. Oh, and the songs. Once they were in your head, there was no getting them out.

As Rafael found the movie on Netflix, Noah shuffled back on the sofa. “Can we have ice cream?”

Rafael shook his head. “I think we should lay off the sugar for a bit, mijo. How about some milk and some apple slices instead?”

“Okay, Dad.”

A few minutes later, the three of them were snuggled up on the sofa, watching as Ebenezer Scrooge was visited by three ghosts in a last-ditch attempt at redemption. By the time the Ghost of Christmas Future arrived, Noah had crashed down from his sugar high. He was fast asleep, head pillowed on Olivia’s knee, the plate which had contained his apple slices sliding out of his hand.

Rafael dropped his head back and let out a sigh. “Y’know, in hindsight, perhaps chocolate chip pancakes and syrup weren’t a good combination,” he mused.

Olivia reached over and patted his knee. “It would have been fine if it hadn’t been for the weather keeping us inside,” Olivia assured. She picked up her phone and scrolled to the weather up. “Thankfully, the forecast for tomorrow is better, Rollins and Carisi should be able to get him and Jesse to the park for a bit.”

The two detectives were taking Jesse to see Santa and had offered to take him as well, to give Rafael and Olivia some time alone during the festive period. Noah had been eager to go – not wanting to miss a final opportunity to remind Santa that they’d moved to a new house and to amend his Christmas list, now he knew that his Dad was going to ask his Mom to marry him. Olivia and Rafael had taken full advantage of their offer and vowed to return the favour at some point over the holiday period.

“And we should be able to get to our destination. I love Noah, I do and the time the three of us spend together, but I’m not going to lie, it will be nice to spend some time alone, just the two of us.”

“Will you tell me where we’re going yet?” Olivia asked. Almost as soon as Olivia had told him about the detectives offer to babysit, Rafael had taken it upon himself to plan something for them, and he was being annoyingly tight-lipped about it.

He shook his head and replied with a smirk, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Chapter 11: Sunday (2 days to go…)

It was a clear, crisp day as Olivia and Rafael drove north. He had planned for them to spend the day exploring Harriman State Park. They both loved living in the city, but recently they had, on separate occasions, bemoaned the length of time it had been since they had been out in the fresh air. Rafael was just thankful that the weather hadn’t hampered his plans.

The snowfall the night before had actually been a blessing. It had created a beautiful, picturesque winter wonderland just for them to enjoy as they explored one of the winter trails. The view as they walked hand in hand through the park was magnificent; the trees all covered in a lustrous blanket of snow and the scenery competed with anything in any cheesy Hallmark movies.

They were walking back to the car when Olivia spied two rabbits ahead in the clearing. They stopped and watched them for a while, afraid that if they moved the animals would be frightened away. Olivia watched the rabbits race around, kicking up snow with their hind feet. Rafael watched Olivia. The winter wind had added hints of red to her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her eyes were bright as she watched the creatures play.

Rafael noticed the snow-covered branch directly over her head and his hand, of its own volition he was certain, reached out and firmly shook the branch. Mounds of snow from that branch as well as the two above it fell upon her.

She gasped both from surprise and the shock of the coldness of the snow now covering her hair, sticking to her eyelashes and running down the back of her neck. Olivia slowly turned to face him. When her eyes met his and he viewed the promise of revenge he saw there, he did what any self-respecting man would do in the same situation – he ran.

He hadn’t gotten very far away from her when he checked over his shoulder to see if she was pursuing him. His world exploded into painful whiteness as the first snowball hit him in the face, and the second between the shoulder blades. The third, hit him square in the chest when he turned, taking the offensive, and began to chase after them. He heard Olivia laugh as she ran, and he took delight in the sound until she ducked under a low branch, pushing it forward so that it was his turn to be sprayed with snow when it snapped back. He stood, covered with snow, unable to help thinking that although he had started this little battle in the snow, he was getting his ass kicked.

Another snowball brushed past his ear and he set out after her with determined intent. Olivia lost her footing and she slipped on a patch of ice. She twisted her body so that she landed hard on her butt in the snow. Still laughing, she laid back in the snow so that her arms were next to her sides. Rafael walked up to her and watched as she moved her arms and legs out and back.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a snow angel.“ She pointed to a clear patch of snow close to her. "You should try it.”

Rafael eyed the snow with disdain. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t want to make a snow angel?” Her voice reflected her disappointment.

“Nope.” He smiled as he answered, then he dropped down trapping her beneath him. “I’d rather make out with an angel in the snow.” He whispered softly before kissing her tenderly.

She squirmed beneath him, and not taking his mouth from hers he captured both of her hands in his and pinned them above her head. He deepened the kiss and she responded in kind, but she also raised one of her legs to gain some leverage beneath him. Rafael shifted slightly to the side, making it impossible for her to move.

He bent his head so that his lips merely tantalized hers before descending to her jawline. His lips and tongue blazed a trail to just below her ear. The feather-like movements tickling and exciting her beyond words. She attempted to free her hands, but he held on tightly, keeping them above her head.

He nipped softly at her earlobe where it poked out from underneath her hat before nosing her scarf out of the way to run his tongue along the sensitive spot on her neck. Rafael lifted his head and looked into her brown eyes. He saw there the effect his movements were having on her; they were wide with desire.

“Rafa.” Her voice was deep, raw with passion. “Take me home. You can make out with an angel on the sofa in our living room, in front of that giant fireplace you insisted on having. If we stay out here much longer the explanation as to why my ass is frostbitten is going to be embarrassing.” She smiled up at him coyly.

He took her hand and pulled her up from the snow before leading her the short distance back to the car.

***

The teasing continued on the journey home. Once she was suitably warmed up, Olivia paid Rafael back for his actions in the snow by laying her hand on his thigh, tracing patterns in the denim of his jeans. Her fingers had risen higher and higher until they were teasing the now prominent bulge in his trousers.

By the time they arrived home, the tension between them was palpable. Olivia fumbled with the key in the lock as Rafael pressed up against her back, his breath ghosting over the skin of her neck.

He steadied her hand with his and together they got the door open. They barely made it inside before they were kissing. He kicked the door closed behind them and she pushed him back against it. Several minutes later, Olivia pulled away breathless. She stepped back from him and, with a smouldering smile, offered him her hand. He took it without hesitation and allowed her to lead him through the hallway.

The afternoon was growing late, and Rafael left her side only for a moment to switch on the tree and light the fire.

When he returned, their kisses grew more urgent. Rafael’s tongue began to tangle with hers more aggressively as she felt the fierce tension in his body escalate; his arousal pressing into her belly. His hands stole up under her sweater to caress across the skin of her back, causing her to arch against him as goose bumps broke out everywhere.

He dragged his mouth away from hers to trail it open along her chin and began to kiss and suck his way down her neck as she tilted her head back to give him better access. One large hand smoothed its way lower to cup and squeeze her rear. He bent her back over his arm slightly to reach the hollow of her throat, just above her collarbones. First, his nose nuzzled, and then his tongue dipped into it, giving testament to his fascination with this spot.

He nipped a titillating path across her collarbone, then gently nibbled his way up the side of her neck. Her breasts warmed and swelled, and her nipples tightened almost painfully in response to the sweet torture he was working on her exposed neck.

One of his hands was now under her sweater, resting on the side of her ribcage, his thumb making slow, wide sweeps from her waist to the edge of her bra. His other arm was effectively holding her upright and against him, as she had long ago lost all sense of balance. The hand attached to that arm was still stroking and squeezing her bum.

She ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, cradling his head as he began to run the tip of his tongue around her ear. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, causing a riot of sensations in her core.

She felt his fingers around her ribs tighten and his hand on her rear gave a slightly more gripping squeeze and held him against her. She felt his body give a little shudder.

“Liv,” he breathed against her ear. It was both a prayer and a plea. The teasing was fun, but he couldn’t take much more. He needed to make love to her.

Recognising the desperation in his tone, she tucked her head into the curve of his neck and whispered, “I think it’s time we christen our living room.”

Chapter 12: Christmas Eve

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining It is the night of our dear Saviour’s birth Long lay the world in sin and error pining ‘Til He appeared, and the soul felt its worth A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices! O night divine, O night when Christ was born; O night divine, O night, O night Divine.

Truly He taught us to love one another; His law is love and His gospel is peace Chains He shall break, for the slave is our brother; And in His name, all oppression shall cease Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we Let all within us praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever His power and glory evermore proclaim! His power and glory evermore proclaim!

Olivia held Rafael’s gloved hand as they followed Lucia up the steps to the large, stone church. Sacred Heart. Snow crunched under their boots, their breath fogging in front of them. It was a clear, frigid night; the stars shining brightly in the dark sky. Olivia shivered and hunkered deeper into her wool coat.

“Dad?” Noah tugged on Rafael’s other hand. “Abuelita said it’s going to be really, really late when we leave church. Do you think we’ll see Santa?”

Olivia threw a disbelieving look at Rafael over the top of the boy’s head, and he had to bite back a grin. They’d been following the NORAD Santa tracker all night at Lucia’s and he’d heard Olivia tell Noah at least twice that Santa was still very far away from North America. However, true to form for a six-year-old, when he was told something he didn’t want to hear, he asked someone else.

“Sorry, mijo. I don’t think Santa will be here for a while yet.” At Noah’s frown, Rafael continued. “But you don’t want to see him anyway.”

“Yes, I do,” the boy insisted.

“No, you really don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you see him the magic’s gone and he disappears.”

Noah’s eyes widened – he was now listening to every word his father said. “So, I wouldn’t get any presents?”

“Nope. The presents come with the magic.”

“Oh…” Noah sounded a bit shocked by that news. “Then I’m gonna keep my eyes closed all the way home.”

“Good idea,” Olivia agreed.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it,” Lucia said as they reached the top of the steps. “If they’re anything like Rafi when he was little, he’ll be sound asleep by the time we leave church.”

Rafael opened the large, oak door, allowing his mother, Olivia and Noah to pass before following. Inside the vestibule, he and his mother paused to dip their fingers in the font of holy water, crossing themselves before entering. The church was dimly lit; the sanctuary covered in fir garlands and red ribbons, the altar surrounded by dozens of large flowering red poinsettias. Each pew was decorated with garland, a big red velvet ribbon tied in a bow and a white candle. Organ music filled the chamber with the soft beautiful strains of “O Holy Night”, which just happened to be one of Rafael’s favourite Christmas hymns. The scent of frankincense permeated the air, bringing with it the sense of familiarity and peace that it always did for him when he attended midnight Mass.

There was something mystical about this service. It brought back all the feelings of enchantment that Rafael had felt as a child. The rituals, the Christmas hymns, the excitement of being allowed to stay up so late, the strangeness of being at church so deep in the night and – best of all – the titillating possibility of seeing Santa and his reindeer flying across the night sky. All of it had been magical for him and now, as he watched Noah look around wide-eyed, he hoped it would be the same for him.

But for all that, his feelings as an adult ran so much deeper. Reaching out to thread his fingers through Olivia’s, he looked down the pew at her, Noah and his mother. His family. Warmth spread through him. He truly was blessed. He had a woman in his life that loved him with all her heart – who, tomorrow, would hopefully agree to spend the rest of her life with him – and a son who had accepted him as his father without question. He never saw himself as a father, but now he couldn’t imagine not being one. To top it off, he had reconciled with his mother, who although ageing was doing so gracefully. He couldn’t remember ever being as happy as he was right now.

The only blemish on that happiness was that his abuelita wasn’t there to celebrate with them. It may have been almost four years since her death, but he still missed her and that feeling only intensified during the holiday season. He wondered what she would say if she could see him as he was now; a family man. Would she be proud of him, even though he would never become a judge as she had always dreamed?

The twinge of pain he felt at that thought caused his hand to tighten on Olivia’s as he bit back the sting of tears. She looked over at him and, as if reading his mind, gave him a small smile. That smile could lighten his day and cause his knees to go weak with lust. It could fill him with tenderness and make his heart soar with joy. And best of all there were times, like tonight, when it had the power to make him feel like no matter what happened; everything was all right.

After a brief moment of silence that got everyone’s attention, the organist began the loud joyous strains of “O Come All Ye Faithful” – which began in Latin but eventually switched over to the English translation. The sanctuary lit and the congregation rose for the opening procession; the swinging thurible of smoky incense, ministers carrying the cross and candles, the deacon carrying the Book of Gospels and finally the priest. Standing at Olivia’s side, listening to the voices rise in the call of the faithful, a sense of peace washed over him. It was as if his abuelita was with him, reminding him that even though he’s not a judge, he’s done well; that he’s succeeded in life.

He smiled back at Olivia. And with the joy of that peace, his voice joined the rest of the congregation in the beautiful hymn.

Adeste, fideles, Laeti triumphantes, Venite, venite in Bethlehem! Natum videte, Regem angelorum Venite, adoremus! Venite, adoremus! Venite, adoremus! Dominum!

O come, all ye faithful Joyful and triumphant O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem Come and behold Him Born the King of Angels! O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him Christ the Lord

***

Trying not to wake Noah, Rafael tiptoed down the stairs. When he got to the living room, he found it dark, save for the blinking lights on the Christmas tree. They must have forgotten to shut them off when they finally stumbled off to bed after returning from midnight Mass and putting the gifts out under the tree.

They’d just settled into bed when Olivia had realised they’d eaten the cookies Noah had left for Santa but had forgotten the carrots he’d put out for the reindeer. So, he’d agreed to come down and destroy the evidence. Sitting down on the couch, he snapped the vegetable about three-quarters of the way up and then bit into it, so it looked like it had been nibbled.

After placing the carrot back on the plate, Rafael sat back on the sofa and his gaze was drawn to the small, wooden nativity that Lucia had bought them to mark their first Christmas in their new home. The baby Jesus lying in the manger. His brain couldn’t help but transport him back to the last time he stood over a baby in a crib. Rather than being the beginning of life, it had been the end. He reminded himself that he had acted with compassion and mercy, rather than out of hate or evil.

“Hey.”

At the touch of a hand on his shoulder, Rafael was brought out of his thoughts, looking up to see Olivia smiling down on him.

“Hey, what are you still doing up?” He took the hand she rested on his shoulder and kissed the back of it.

“I was waiting for you to come back to bed,” she said, allowing him to pull her down onto his lap. “When you were taking so long, I got worried. You okay?”

He nodded. “It’s just been an emotional day, that’s all. Since my grandmother… Christmas has always been difficult, but this year…”

“You’re thinking about Drew, aren’t you?” Olivia carded her fingers through his hair soothingly. She knew the ghosts of his actions ten months previously would always haunt him. As time went on, they appeared less and less, but they would always be there; especially during the holiday season.

Rafael nodded. “I’m okay though,” he assured her. It wasn’t a lie. For the most part, he was. He’d received absolution for his actions from everyone that mattered and had made peace with what he had done. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how Drew’s parents were coping on this, the first Christmas without their beautiful baby.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” she asked.

He gave her a half smile. “Never hurts to hear it again.”

Olivia cupped his handsome face in her palms and leaned in close. “I love you, Rafael Barba,” she whispered just before her lips touched his.

No matter what he’d done in the past, he was here now with the woman he loved. And he could not think of a better way to end Christmas Eve than snuggling with her by the light of the tree.

Chapter 13: Christmas Day

“It’s still coming down out there,” Olivia commented, as she looked out of the window, watching the snow fall through the darkness. While not as intense as the blizzard of the other day, it had been falling steadily for most of the day. A white Christmas.

And what a Christmas it had been. Olivia honestly didn’t think it could have been more perfect. She had woken up in the arms of the man she loved and spent Christmas Day in their new house. Lucia had joined them for lunch, before announcing she was spending the evening with her new boyfriend, Richard.

At this news, Rafael had cross-examined his mother as if she was a defendant on the witness stand. To her credit, and her son’s surprise and slight irritation, she held up well, answering what she wanted to and seamlessly deflecting what she didn’t. It was Noah who finally brought an end to the interrogation, tempting Rafael away to assemble his new Lego Jedi Star Fighter.

The Star Fighter had been Noah’s main present, but he had received lots of other gifts too. He had been well and truly spoilt. There had been several other toys, new clothes, DVDs, books and crayons as well as his own weight in chocolate and candy. But his favourite present by far had been the new sneakers that Lucia had bought him. He hadn’t taken them off all day.

“Can we watch Harry Potter now?” Noah asked. The DVD box set had been a present from Don and Eileen and Noah had been dying to watch it all day.

Olivia let the curtain drop and turned around. “Okay. I’ll go and get us some drinks and then we can all snuggle up and watch together, that sound good?”

“Yeah!” Noah nodded, and Olivia headed for the kitchen, running her hand over Rafael’s shoulder’s as she passed him sat on the sofa.

With the coast clear, Rafael beckoned Noah over. “Hey, mijo, before we watch, what do you say we give Mami her other present?” he asked, his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. Noah nodded. “Do you want to go and get it? It’s in my bedside drawer. There’s another present in there too. Bring them both, please.”

Noah ran off through the hall and up the stairs; his sneaker-clad feet pounding on the wooden steps.

Olivia laughed at the sound as she returned from the kitchen, balancing two wine glasses and a juice cup. “He’s going to want to wear those to bed, isn’t he?” She handed him a glass of wine. “Where’s he off to anyway?”

Rafael shrugged and lifted his glass and took a sip of the dark, red liquid. Olivia placed her glass on the coffee table, pulled the DVD Noah had chosen off the shelf. While she was putting the disc in the player, Noah returned and handed the two wrapped gifts to his dad, who quickly hid them behind the photo of his abuelita, which now resided on the end table in a brand-new photo frame. The frame had been a last-minute addition to his Christmas gifts from Noah, who had felt bad that it had got broken because of him.

“Liv?”

She glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“Leave that for a minute will you and come here?” He patted the cushion next to him. She placed the DVD in the machine and obliged him, leaving the menu to play on repeat.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“So…” Rafael began, rubbing his palms up and down his thighs. He hadn’t expected to feel as nervous as he did. “It seems Santa left something else for you.”

He pulled a neatly wrapped present, a box about the size of a Rubik’s Cube from off the end table and handed it to her.

“Rafa!” she gently admonished, as she fingered the delicate gold ribbon. “You already bought me enough.” There had been a new watch, a cashmere sweater, a replacement bottle of perfume, a leather backed desk diary – with weekly lunches pencilled in for the two of them – and a bottle of her favourite Cabernet under the tree for her that morning, and it was more than she’d expected.

“Just open it,” he urged.

She carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid off the box. A small gasp escaped her as she took in the contents. In the centre, nestled in red tissue paper, was a small, circular, wooden box engraved with the message, ‘Olivia Benson, Say Yule Be Mine’.

Her eyes widened as she took in the words. Ever since that day at the Christmas markets she’d been thinking about it, imagining it. Could it really be happening? With trembling fingers, she lifted the wooden box out of its larger casing and opened it. Upon seeing the vintage style ring, her hand flew to her mouth.

Rafael gently took the hand holding the box in his own. “Liv, I love you and being here, being a family with you and Noah has made me happier than I have ever been, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” He slid to the floor on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

“Rafa…” She swiped away the few tears that had escaped as her emotions overwhelmed her and were now slowly rolling down her cheeks.

“Before you answer, I should tell you, this is kind of Noah’s Christmas wish, so y’know…” He gave her that half smile, the one that was a unique mix of confidence and nerves. One that he only ever used with her.

Olivia couldn’t stop the small peel of laughter that bubbled in her throat. “Oh well in that case…” She joined him on the floor, lifting her free hand to his cheek. “Yes. Yes, of course, I’ll marry you. I was always going to say yes,” she smiled. “You didn’t need the emotional blackmail.” She leaned forward and captured his lips in a sweet kiss and Noah cheered.

Pulling back, Rafael reached for the ring and she held out her left hand. He placed the ring at the top of her fourth finger but paused before sliding it on. “This was my abuelita’s ring. I know it’s not exactly the latest fashion, so I’ll buy you a new one if you want but-”

“Don’t even think about it,” Olivia warned.

Rafael laughed, and finally slid the ring onto her finger, before pulling her in for another kiss.

Noah, who had bouncing up and down, launched himself at the pair of them, wrapping an arm around each of their necks. “What about the other gift, Dad?”

“Oh, yes.” He picked up the second package, wrapped in snowman paper, and read the tag. “Oh,” he feigned surprise, “it seems this one’s for you.” He held it out to him.

Noah tore off the paper to reveal a manila envelope. His brow furrowed, but he opened the flap, sliding out some papers. They contained a lot of writing which Noah didn’t really understand, but he sounded out the words in bold print at the top.

“Petition for Adoption,” he read. His eyes scanned the page and he spotted a few familiar words. “Hey, that’s my name.” He looked up at Rafael.

“It is.” He pulled Noah into his side. “If your mom and I sign these papers, it means that I become your Dad, officially and you’ll be Noah Porter Barba.”

Noah’s eyes widened, and he looked from Rafael to the papers and then to Olivia. “Santa did it! He brought what I asked for!”

Rafael looked over at Olivia. “I know I should probably have talked to you about this before but-”

Olivia quietened him with a finger to his lips. “No, this… this is perfect.” Once, she may have been annoyed with him for being so presumptuous, but he was already Noah’s father in every way but legally. She knew they were heading towards this, and Olivia found she didn’t mind one bit that he’d taken it upon himself to arrange this. She reached for the gold pen she had bought Rafael for Christmas to replace the one that had been lost back in February when he’d packed up his office at 1 Hogan Place. Taking it out of its box she handed it to him. “Seems fitting that this is the first thing you sign with it.”

He took the pen from her and spread the forms out on the coffee table. His hand hovered over the papers. “You sure?” he asked Olivia.

“I’ve never been surer of anything.”

“Noah? What about you? Is this still what you want?”

He nodded. “Yes. Please, Dad.”

With a flourish of the pen, Rafael signed the form in all the required places. He passed the pen over to Olivia. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him. A few moments later the form was complete. Their journey to becoming ‘The Barbas’ was underway.

She secured the lid on the pen and placed it back in its box and joined Rafael and Noah, who had returned to the couch. Rafael lifted his arm and Olivia snuggled into his side. As Noah pressed play, Olivia realised she had been wrong before, their first Christmas together could be be more perfect. And it had been. She couldn’t wait to see what next year would bring.

#barson #olivia benson #rafael barba #& secret santa exchange #secret santa exchange 2018 #from theoofoof #gift 1 of 1 #to r-o-s-e-h-i-p-s #submission

[pipesflowforeverandever]

Legacy

I think it’s about time you guys actually met Gingie Joey, huh? He IS the Joey in my AU after all. Here’s a drabble about the father-son type relationship he and Henry have in my story. Oh by the way, the location here is a real one called Mackinaw Island, a wonderful vacation spot I’ve been blessed to have visited a few times.

(As a side note, I want to state that my Henry is Asian-American. These things don't really pop up opportunistically when I write, so might as well just let you guys know. even if it’s not super relevant here).

Henry could hardly see through the slits his eyelids made, fighting almost in vain to keep them open at all as wind and his bangs whipped about vigorously. His stomach ached as it rammed into the railing with the bouncing ferry. Whose idea was it to ride to the island on the upper deck of the ship? Joey, of course; Henry had planned on sitting in the peaceful inner chambers, sketching the waves as they lapped up towards the window. Henry supposed that was a good representative of the distinction between he and his business partner, the contentment of serenity as opposed to jumping in the eye of the storm.

Not that Henry wasn’t enjoying himself anyway, of course.

He let a smile creep his lips only to fall as he heard a shrill, familiar yelp. The young man turned his head to investigate. What is that over there, a large cloud-?

His eye was besieged once more by a flash of cream accompanied by a soft but firm blow. Fortunately, the rail of the upper deck prevented a flailing Henry from tumbling overboard, but he felt his raised hand graze against something. Instinctively, fingers clasped down and met a texture firm yet smooth like cloth. His poor, poor eyeballs eventually gathered the might to open once more and inform him it was exactly that- cloth.

A hat, to be precise, and its owner was standing in front of him, grin as wide as its brim.

“Joey, what made you think that wearing this on a boat would be a good idea?” Henry really meant the question, but it was one inevitably soaked with the care and amusement of the most substantial friendship he ever had. As such, Mr. Drew simply let out an enthusiastic chuckle, the wrinkles near his eyes more prominent as the corners of his mouth pushed upward. The marks of decades of laughter had imprinted themselves upon the cartoonist’s face, proof that some people only grow more beautiful with age.

“Good catch, my boy!” Joey’s voice rang, muted like bells clinking in a wind tunnel as it struggled to be heard. How utterly ridiculous the studio director was, Henry realized once again. Mr. Drew was an individual of short stature- even shorter than himself, and Henry wasn’t exactly what Americans considered to be tall. His usual “public” attire was replaced by what could only be considered its vacation counterpart, wrapping around his figure with the breeze. It was a light peachy-pink suit, brown and cream highlights in the tie and pocket handkerchief reminiscent of shells. But if it was a suit meant to match their nautical circumstances, it certainly wasn’t working. Definitely much more to fit whimsy than function.

A playful glint shone from Joey’s gaze as his hat returned to his head, informing Henry that this was exactly what he wanted.

“I knew what I was getting into, Henry! It’ll be worth it!”

Ah yes, Henry would have to continue to trust his friend till the end with this. He had been asking himself the whole time why he didn’t ask Joey more than a few questions about where he was taking them and why; it probably made sense to assume that- well- Joey would just say so. But Joey wasn’t like other people, was he? Henry’s almond eyes squinted just a bit more as he let out a soft exhalation of a laugh. He should have known. Just as Henry was a little too passive, Joey was a little too adventurous, but neither of them seemed to mind in the end.

And that’s why they were on a ferry this moment, an island in the distance beginning to sharpen in focus if one could see past the mist sprayed at the boat’s side. A grasp fell upon Henry’s shoulder as the old man approached, encouraging him to look back over the railing with him. Finally came the slightest of explanations:

“You’re going to love this, just you wait! I can’t wait to see how it’s changed over the years!”

Ah, so Joey had been here before after all.

They were the last to step off, shoes clicking onto the wooden dock as luggage came in hand. Speaking of luggage, all Henry had known up till this point was that he would need it- a weekend’s worth to be precise. Where were they going, anyway?

The gentle sigh of the lapping water below filled Henry’s ears, black hair tickling his forehead as it swayed to and fro. Henry closed his eyes for a second and let the lake air drift into his nose until he could taste it in the back of his throat. He was a city boy, born and raised, but not necessarily by choice; he was hardly an adult after all, and finally he was taking in the world as he always wanted. Never expected it to be so soon early in life, though.

The man it was all thanks to soon interrupted this peace, and Henry felt a hand at his back trying to push him forward.

“Come on, my boy, it’s just this way, just this way!”

Admittedly, Joey was eccentric, delighted, and most of all, excitable. But even so, this was unlike him. He was a man of aesthetics, someone who wasn’t afraid to stop in his steps as quick as a dime just to turn his chin up and appreciate where he stood. And they were truly in a place worthy of such admiration. As Joey grabbed his free hand and began to pull to the front of the dock, Henry did his best to take in the sights.

A cloudy sky, but not so cloudy that the bright blue didn’t shine into their eyes, running over colorful rooftops like a fairy tale. On the shore was a shop with rows upon rows of bikes, waiting on a long slab of cement a foot or two above the waves. He let himself look straight ahead past the obscuring view of his older friend’s top hat, but not much could be seen; once they finally moved through the last gateway, an arch overhead was weighed so heavily with shadow that the light at the end was blinding all in front of them.

What came to be was truly a fairy tale after all.

Flowers, flowers everywhere, their fragrance surrounding them the moment they entered a realm backwards in time. They were in the trees, in the railings, in the windows of every home. He had never heard the clip clop of horseshoes hitting pavement before, at least not so close. The carriages they pulled were striped like circus tents, touting the names of inns and restaurants, assumed to be the short buildings that lined the street with pastel signs and windows full of-

No way.

His head turned and turned and turned. This was impossible. He counted.

One. Two. Three.

…Six?!

His feet took a mind of his own. Eyes wide and emptied of all but disbelief, Henry began to walk down the street, shoulders brushing past those of other tourists. He looked and kept a tally, triple checking he wasn’t repeating any one.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

And another and another and another.

Finally, he reached a point where the shops ended. He stood at the last one, a light pink and brown shack somehow both untidy and obviously cared for. It was much more evident now that the perfume of petunias was tinged with something else. A different sort of sweetness. Its source sat right on display through the glass of the shop, just like all the others he counted.

“Seventeen fudge shops!”

One of the ginger man’s arms wrapped round Henry’s side while the other was thrown up into air, thinking nothing of dropping his luggage to do so. His youthful companion blinked, finally able to tear his eyes away from literally piles of candy. An isle of fudge shops?!

“…And you found the right one,” Joey answered more quietly. Henry knew this gentleness. It was familiar. It was the one that always came alongside a smile as warm as the sun, its light matched in the glint of half-closed eyes.

And certainly, there they were to look back at the boy now.

“…The right one?” Henry replied in a tone matched in all but Joey’s confidence. The cartoonist nodded in reply, dimples deepening even more.

“This is the place.” And before Henry could even ask, Joey once again read his mind. “This is the place it all started.”

The bells of the shop door tingled in song, a small but chirpy “hello!” ringing from the counter. A teenaged girl stood there with a tired, wary gaze. Her dark eyes widened just a touch at the sight of these two men- or surely just the one that looked like the cartoons he made.

“Hello!” Mr. Drew answered for the both of them, “I’ll be sure to buy something in just a moment but give me a second!” With the last word, he rose and fell from the tips of his toes and a point of the finger to the sky; the point soon fell in front of his nose, however, as his sight squinted, making a panorama from corner to corner.

“Joey-”

The point rose once again, accompanied with nothing but the silence he demanded. Henry rolled his eyes until they fell on the worker, a shrug from his shoulders and a grin that screamed “whaddaya gonna do, huh? That’s just Joey Drew for ya.” She kept her unattached demeanor, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. These guys were certainly different; that much was something to appreciate.

Especially when one of ‘em looked like he lived in this shop in the first place.

“Oh, of course!” And suddenly they were dashing to the front counter, a glass display at the girl’s left side. His fingertip finally found its destination, touching just above-

“The Mama Melt Forever Chocolate Center Cookie!” he yelped like finding buried treasure, “Exactly how mama used to make it!”

A half scoff, half laugh came from the corner.

“You mean like how mama used to make it,” the girl quipped, “That there is a secret recipe.”

“I know,” Joey returned with just as snarky a tone, “My mother made it.”

And she was either too flabbergasted to reply or felt too sorry for a crazy old man to argue, simply letting a “pfff” buzz through her lips as the redhead asked for two.

Soon they were outside once more, one hand for a bag of clothes and one hand for a cookie each. The clouds had grown heavier and just as they stepped underneath them, a drip fell on Henry’s nose.

Joey commented how the island was crying because it missed him so much.

“Come on!” the gentleman said with an encouraging wave five times younger than he, “It’s time to go home!”

“Home?” Henry blinked once more. “You mean the uh- the hotel, right?”

Joey’s shoulders drooped in playful exasperation and his honey irises met eyelids as he looked up at comrade. “Hotel- home- same thing! Same thing when you’re on vacation! Get into the spirit, my boy!”

And so at his best friend’s heed, Henry allowed an eyebrow to raise and his own smirk curl. “Fine, Joey. Tell me where home is.”

He couldn’t believe it.

He still couldn’t believe it.

The Grand Hotel. Literally so grand that it was the! Grand Hotel.

And they were not only inside it. Not only staying there.

The sun was setting and the rain had left them, and Henry’s suitcase fell along with it to the porch floor, radiance kissing his dark locks and pale skin till it was lined with fire. The highest room in the best hotel on all this magical island, the summertime equivalent of a penthouse apartment. His back was turned to the inside of the room- twisting, golden architecture fit for royalty. That alone was enough, but this…-

Henry twitched his head a little to see if it was a dream, but the sunset over an endless lake remained, an ocean of candlelight underneath a sky shifting from orange to indigo. Geraniums teased the bottom corners of this sight, planted at the balcony where Henry stood.

Where they stood.

“Isn’t it something?” came a sigh. It was steeped in…hm. Joy? Whimsy? Memory. “We made it,” Joey continued in quiet victory. He looked to his partner. “And we made it again.”

Henry’s brow furrowed, and he studied the man with hair that matched the sky. No, he’d need help to solve this riddle.

“Joey, this is all spectacular but- but-…” He shrugged once more in defeat. “You gotta tell me what’s going on!”

Something in his peripheral. Henry looked down and saw a rosy hand, a circular thing slipped in thin paper between its fingers. Ah, he’d forgotten about the cookie.

“Good?”

Henry had hardly taken a bite when his shoulders pulled up like a marionette. “Amazing!” he gasped in a rare moment of verbal excitement, “It’s still gooey in the middle but- but it’s been hours. How- How did they-?”

Joey’s own brow flicked up and down in a split second of humor. “It’s hers.” He somehow grew…gentler. “It was Mother’s.”

And soon the old man’s elbows were leaned over the railing, his gaze leaving Henry to look not at the tide ahead but simply towards it, as if the quickly darkening sky above now projected his reminiscences.

And with the way Joey talked, Henry could almost see it, too.

“She invented it. The cookie with a chocolate center that never ever got hard. Always fresh. Always melted.” One of his hands absentmindedly curled his thumb and index finger together in a point, as if explaining to someone ahead that wasn’t there. “That was her creation.” His shoulders lifted in a silent sigh. He missed her. He may have been a middle-aged man, but that could never stop a boy from loving the woman who raised him. Eventually, strength returned to him, and eyes sparkling with fairy dust and passion fell back upon Henry. “We have our creation, too.”

Henry’s blue-grey collar skimmed against his neck in a tickle, wind suddenly but tenderly rustling again as if that word was a summoning. He didn’t have anything to say though; not yet. He knew there was more that’d come from Joey.

And he was right.

“She-” Joey coughed just a little, almost bashful at this next statement, “she made a lot of money selling the recipe, you know. And this was the first place they took it to. Test run, you see. And we followed right along with it to celebrate. Wouldn’t have had the money otherwise, of course.”

Ah, so that’s how he knew this place. He had an awareness that Joey came from a poor family, so Henry had always wondered how he came to start the studio in the first place. Who’d guess it’d be such a story to tell?

“…Henry.”

The man whose name was called was taken aback. This tone was different. Mr. Drew was a genuine man, certainly.

But vulnerability was a beautiful thing indeed.

Stars started to twinkle in the sky behind Joey, like sprites playing tag as the breeze toyed with his hair, and his round glasses were slicked in growing moonlight. The man himself was certainly enveloped in an aura, Henry surmised. The young artist wasn’t a religious or spiritual sort, per say, but Mr. Drew? Mr. Drew made it seem like anything you believe can be seen.

And that was how he felt this very moment, only the slightest of smiles laid across his face.

“She gave me her legacy, Henry. When she died she- she gave it all to me. ‘Be magical,’ she said,” And there was a flash of something deeper on Joey’s expression, something words couldn’t describe. “’Be magical, my dear, sweet boy. There’s enough inside you to fill the whole world.’”

His smile grew and suddenly his gaze was no longer mindless but truly directed at the boy in front of him.

“And I think you and I can do just that,” he confessed in the softest voice Henry had ever heard.

It was then Henry noticed that either Joey’s hand had never stopped reaching out to him or that he had put it back between them once more.

“If I have a legacy…I want it to be not mine but ours. Bendy is-…really something. Marvelous. Spectacular. He’s- oh, I can’t describe what you’ve made, son-!”

Both men blushed a bit as they realized one called the other his son.

…No.

No, that wasn’t a mistake, was it?

“H…Henry…”

For once the great spellcaster Joey Drew was at a loss for words. Good thing he didn’t need them.

Henry was the one to clasp hands this time, the one to assure, the one to be bold. Tension in Joey’s knuckles, and then release.

A handshake of partnership unfolded into a hold of commitment. It had been without description all this time, how they were two lost souls that never felt quite in place, never felt quite like someone understood till the other came along. They were polar in many ways, yes, but they both wanted the same thing:

“Let’s make the world a more magical place.”

And that was the day Henry began to feel like he was really his son, that he had a dad who loved him after all. And finally, finally Joey knew he wouldn’t be left alone anymore. They’d be separated over his dead body.

#batim #joey drew #batim henry #batim fanfic #batim joey #gingie #my writing #long post #hymns of struggle #come on down to recording town

[quackspot]

Do your characters have any s/os or any close friendships?

m   gona go ham in th below the cut maybe idk i’m actually reviewing my ocs because i dont remember much besides like 

platano has a crush on and is kind of dating sage in umg/nou (a writing thing i was making for my friends but kind of stopped after a while... might continue o//o) and th rest below the cut 

sand and frog cookie are friends !! i been knew but like... theyre besties yo

like are they NOT the best friends we need to see.  th hearts n stuff is just because theyre baby and when i get really happy while drawing something and i think it’s cute i normally put lil hearts around it 

jam is friends with mtn dew !! it was in my jam cookie ask blog but its dead now because... motivation a bitch

i’m pretty sure i was like “man, what if mtn dew has a crush on unicorn?” and to that i say ... maybe .  unicorn, jam, and mtn dew are all friends and. probably closeish friends by now. 

mtn dew is also close friends with birthday cake they fckn... mess around like some high school boys do y’know??? like in this doodle

jus’ teens bein teens . theyre like around young adults though but thats ok 

this guy has a family ! i made him on ponytown originally and he’s like. really old and yes i was like “YO LETS MAKE GARLIC COOKIE A VAMPIRE” because i can and i did. he’s married to bread cookie and they have a child, butter cookie. bread is his husbamd and i cant quite remember how exactly bread was like but it was a pretty chaotic family. their dog could speak and was named “toe toe” and that’s all the information i will tell you about toe toe.

ravioli was also made on ponytown! she’s like plankton thats my personality inspiration basically. i dont know who her friends were but she was ... related to some other pasta-based cookies??????? idk 

rabbit’s foot and fun dip are closeish friends ! as in fun dip keeps trying to prank rabbit’s foot and keeps failing because of rabbit’s luck.very much a fun challenge. 

these 2 are married i think! ive only drawn them once to be honest. i  might practice drawing chubbier people before i get into drawing them tbh. i wont separate the lovers.

these two... just got married yea it’s straight but im pretty sure both of them r trans or one of them .  not quite exactly sure but... valid either way i love them keep living ur . wait. uh

oh wait here’s platano x sage. i think i drew platano without a neck becuse.... i like tht style it makes things look cool and yea

this guy, ferb the wizard, is in love with a scarecrow. i shuold draw ferb more oftn. maybe if i work on his story a bit more (after i finish my other one bc... that one’s for a contest ! the main character and his friend is meant to be trans but like i’m too scared to go all out and be like “hey, judges, trans rights,” so i’ll probably attempt at dropping a few hints as respectful as possible and. i’ll be sure to try to show it to some people if theyre willing to read it ! i don’t. want to be offensive accidentally dsjlkgsjlk)

also in that image the scarecrow, fib, fucking winks at ferb isnt that wack. 

m pretty sure this guy, mr. moon, is married/dating the prince of hte ocean in something m friends and i were going to make (like umg but... not a written written story. been considering making a slightly audience-led story blog !! )

and i think almond has a crush on mtn dew isn’t that wack? yeah. they’re a bit shy about it and they probably won’t confess it. they don’t believe they have a crush on mtn dew and that’s that. theyre friends kind of but almond tries not to hang out with mtn dew too much

micah, my sweet baby from like 8th grade (2 years ago.... dang o-o) has a crush on their best friend, joey!

i really did just diddly do look through m oc tag in my blog huh . you can always ask me about specific one and look through that tag if you’d liike !!! i also plan on... maybe making more. 

(you can always ask what a character would think of another character, or of how someone acts?? i guess??? like “would almond like a dumbass who too loud” and the answer would be no and the only exception is mtn dew because... maybe they were childhood friends, wig.)

#i should draw wizards n witchs.... ehehehehe #Anonymous

[ellocentipede]

NAVA Eternal Ankh Colors

Nocturne Alchemy’s wide variety of legendary vanilla scents is what first drew me to the brand, and Eternal Ankh is one of the best and most popular blends. Over the last couple of years the studio has gradually released the Eternal Ankh Colors—diverse perfumes that all share the Eternal Ankh bass. It’s a gorgeous collection, and one that I wear frequently.

Eternal Ankh Original 

Scent description: White Amber, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, African White Vanilla

Eternal Ankh is a beautiful and versatile vanilla that, to my nose, straddles the line of gourmand and floral. It’s sweet, but not overly rich, warm, and a touch musky. It’s complex enough to be worn on its own, but it also layers and blends beautifully with other notes and scents.

Eternal Ankh Pink 

Scent description: White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, African White Vanilla Absolute, Amber Resin, Bastet’s Amber, Pink Sugar and a touch of Crimson Musk.

This is a beautiful and carefree vanilla blend that really does smell like the color pink! It’s almost like the scent of pink cotton candy. I get a base of the beautiful, smooth Eternal Ankh vanilla crusted with crystallized globs of pink sugar, with a delicate, hazy cloud of musk.

Eternal Ankh Blue 

Scent description: White Amber Absolute, Black Patchouli, Kulfi accord, Pistachio, Sandalwood, Egyptian Vanilla Fleck, Egyptian Vanilla Absolute, Amber Resin, Bastet's Black Amber, Saffron, Blue Sugar and a touch of Egyptian Musk and Cardamom.

I love Eternal Ankh and think that all of these iterations are beautiful, but if I absolutely had to pick a favorite it would probably be this one. The spices, of which I primarily detect cardamom, are fragrant and full-bodied without being overpowering. This is a gorgeous, mature vanilla-based scent that is mysterious, musky, spicy, and resinous. It’s the scent of a sweets shop full of rich yet delicate honeyed pastries and confections studded with nuts and flavored with cardamom, with a censer of precious resins smoking quietly in the background.

Eternal Ankh Red 

Scent description: White Rose, Red Rose and Black Rose absolutes, Crimson Egyptian Musk Absolute, White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck,  Egyptian Musk, Bastet's Amber Absolute, Crystalline Absolute and a drop of eNVie saphir Amber absolute.

This a simple and straightforward vanilla rose blend, and it’s absolutely beautiful. It’s lush and beautifully balanced, not soapy or sharp as rose blends can sometimes be. It’s gentle, soft, and wears closely to the skin. Beautiful.

Eternal Ankh Claret 

Scent description: Kashmir Red Musk Absolute, Incense Accord, Skin Musk, Black Santalum, White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk and Vanilla Fleck

Oh how beautiful. This is a gorgeous and vampy vanilla blend! The red musk and incense are rich and fragrant, and combine with the vanilla to create a sexy blend that evokes a Victorian salon furnished with red-velvet-covered chaises and dark, fragrant woods. Absolutely gorgeous.

Eternal Ankh Orange 

Scent description: White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, Black Patchouli Absolute, Black Vetiver Absolute, Nag Champa Accord, Plumeria Rubra, Magnolia Champaka and Gold Sandalwood

I’m doing this review from memory, as I have long rehomed my bottle, but I remember it being very patchouli-forward. Sometimes patchouli works beautifully for me, and sometimes it doesn’t. Here, unfortunately, the patchouli was sharp and overtook the rest of the blend. If you have good luck with NAVA’s patchouli notes, however, this one should be a stunner.

Eternal Ankh Yellow 

Scent description: White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, Organic Egyptian Neroli Absolute, Organic Moroccan Neroli EO, Italian Red Mandarin peel, Bergamot, Orange Blossom and Crystalline Absolute

Ohhh my goodness. I think this is my second favorite blend of the bunch. This is an absolutely gorgeous vanilla-kissed orange blossom blend. The vanilla provides a delicate creamy sweetness, and the light, zesty, juicy fruitiness of the mandarin and dry Bergamot lend a nectared quality to the orange blossom, making it smell realistic, like holding an actual orange blossom to your nose. The Neroli is not sharp at all. This scent is all about the nectar-rich orange blossom.

Eternal Ankh Purple 

Scent description: White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, Sambac Jasmine, Egyptian Jasmine Absolute, Indian Jasmine Grandiflorum, Egyptian Musk, Bastet's Amber Absolute, Crystalline Absolute and Organic Pink Peppercorn

NAVA does jasmine scents so well, and this blend is a stunner. I get more jasmine than anything else—it’s in full bloom: full-bodied, waxy, heady, sweet, and strongly fragrant. It’s vanilla-kissed at first, but with time the Eternal Ankh becomes more prominent and brings a beautiful musky, dry warmth to the blend. I don’t distinctly smell the peppercorn, but I imagine that it’s providing some balance to prevent the blend from being overwhelmingly sweet and heady (because it’s not). This blend is a must-have for lovers of jasmine and vanilla. For those familiar with Ghost Velvet, this blend is similar but slightly more delicate and, with time, more vanilla-centric.

Eternal Ankh Violet  

Scent description: Hawaiian Plumeria, Roman Blue Chamomile, Sweet Apple skin, Gardenia,  White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck,  Egyptian Musk, Bastet's Amber Absolute, Crystalline Absolute and a drop of eNVie saphir blue Amber absolute.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect of this one from the notes, but I took a chance because I love plumeria. This is a beautiful, sunny tropical floral blend. I mostly get the plumeria, which is fresh and not quite fully bloomed, like a newly opened bud. The apple is tart, fresh, and green, but not overwhelmingly so. It complements the floral notes to create a tropical vibe that somehow evokes dew-soaked bananas and other sweet equatorial fruits. The chamomile is perhaps lending a very slight dustiness that prevents the blend from being too overtly fruity. Lovely.

Eternal Ankh Orchid 

Scent description: Vanilla Cream Soda, Orchid, Black Currant, Clementine, Sandalwood, White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck,  Egyptian Musk, Bastet's Amber Absolute, Crystalline Absolute and a drop of eNVie saphir Amber absolute.

Eternal Ankh Orchid is a bright, juicy pop of currant with a background of smooth vanilla. With time the smooth sandalwood begins to temper the juicy fruitiness of the blend, but this is still primarily a dark, ripe berry scent.

Eternal Ankh Spice 

Scent description: White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, African White Vanilla Absolute, Essential oils of Nutmeg, clove and Cardamom with a drydown of beautiful Eternal Ankh Vanilla

In the bottle this smells Eternal Ankh-heavy with just a dash of spice, but on skin the spice blooms and is really beautiful. I get mostly the cardamom with a hint of nutmeg in a cloud of EA. This is really perfect for “fall” in my neck of the woods–where the forecast has high temps in the 90s through the first week of October.

Eternal Ankh Cobalt 

Scent description: White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, Almond Sweet, Pistachio accord, French Vanilla, a touch of Black Tea, Amber Sweet, Blue Sugar and Organic Bourbon Vanilla Bean

A blast of smooth, beautiful, sweet pistachio and almond (like a fine, expensive extract) greets the nose. There’s a hint of warm, fine, black tea, evoking a steaming cup next to a plate of almond and pistachio cookies. Fairly quickly, the nut extracts fade into the background and the tea becomes more prominent. This is the most gourmand blend of the EA colors, and it’s wonderful. It’s rich and delicious without being overwhelming. A truly lovely and comforting blend.

Eternal Ankh Pearl 

Scent description: Crystalline Absolute, aged Bastet Amber Absolute, Heliotrope EO, Siberian Rhododendron EO, White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck and Vanilla bean

I’ve never liked the scent of heliotrope before NAVA—I’ve found it to be an odd and sickly sweet on my skin. I’ve become a convert, however. NAVA’s Heliotrope & Sandalwood Creme, Heliotrope Musk, and Eternal Ankh Pearl are some of my favorite blends. The heliotrope really shines here—it’s sweet (but not sickly), lightly musky, and delicately powdery. It’s a magic blend that is clean, comforting, and lustrous like a pearl. Pretty, soft, and elegant! This is one of my favorites.

Eternal Ankh Green

Scent description: White Ginger Incense, Ginger Essential Oil, Nutmeg, White Cinnamon, Cognac Absolute, Copal essential Oil, Dried Tonka Vanilla, NA Osirian Incense (SL Osirian Purnima), White Amber Absolute, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck and Vanilla Absolute

I very nearly didn’t order this one because of the ginger and cinnamon, but I’m so very glad that I did! The ginger is definitely present, but not overpowering. With the vanilla it creates a warm and inviting scent that does evoke Christmas. Surprisingly, I don’t detect any cinnamon from this blend. If you like the idea of holiday spice but have trouble with spicy blends being too overwhelming on your skin, I recommend giving this oil a try!

Eternal Ankh Black 

Scent description: White Amber, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, African White Vanilla, Black Agarwood, NA Oudh essence and Black Patchouli Absolute

This one is going to be a hit with many, but unfortunately for me the oudh and/or patchouli go a little sharp (as they usually do). It’s a slinky blend–vanilla-kissed precious woods.

Eternal Ankh Labradorite 

Scent description: White Amber light, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, enfleurage of South American Honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica), gorgeous Crystalline Absolute infused Bastet's Amber Absolute blend and a drop of pure Egyptian Honeysuckle and Peony Extract.

I love NAVA’s honeysuckles, so picking up this scent was a no-brainer. It’s really, really beautiful. I get sweet, waxy, sun-warmed, nectar-dripping honeysuckle blossoms in a cloud of smooth, vanilla. The vanilla is sweet, but not gourmand, like the sweetness of realistic tropical florals. There’s a hint of pink freshness to the blend that must be the peony extract. This is a beautiful, elegant, and happy blend that is a little beachy in feel. 

Eternal Ankh Lapis Lazuli 

Scent description: White Amber light, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla Fleck, eNVie saphir absolute, enfleurage of delicate South American Frangipani (Plumeria alba), Plumeria Absolute and a drop of pure Indian White Jasmine.

This one is interesting! I get a lot of frangipani/plumeria, and it’s beautiful. The blossoms smell a bit fresh, as if they’ve just survived a rainstorm, and they’re not quite fully-blossomed, but have just emerged from buds. The vanilla softens the blend and creates another smooth, gorgeous vanilla floral blend. 

Eternal Ankh Fluorite 

Scent description: White Amber light, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla Fleck, Vanilla bean whole, enfleurage of beautiful Madagascar Ylang Ylang (cananga odorata), Monoi, Mahogany Wood essence and eNVie saphir absolute.

Eternal Ankh Fluorite is very ylang ylang-dominant. These blooms are fully opened and bossy! They’re heady, waxy, and creamy yellow in feel. The touch of mahogany wood warms up the scent and gives it some depth--it is smooth and fragrant. The combination of mahogany and ylang ylang approaches the scent of anise to my nose. With time this matures into a gorgeous full-bodied scent with lots of depth. The ylang ylang and mahogany complement each other beautifully and create a rich woody-floral vanilla scent.

Eternal Ankh Snow 

Scent description: White Amber, Powdered and reconstructed oil of Egyptian Vanilla Husk, Vanilla fleck, African White Vanilla, White Amber, Roman Blue Chamomile, White Pine essence, Bay Leaf, White Musk and a drop of pure Peppermint infused orange skin

This is a beautiful, wintry take on Eternal Ankh. It really does smell like Eternal Ankh with snow. It’s fluffy and pillowy, with hints of cold, bracing ozone and pine. It reminds me a lot of BPAL’s Go to Sleep, Darlings scent—pillowy vanilla snow. I love this one so much!

Nocturne Alchemy’s beautiful perfumes may be perused and purchased at https://nocturnealchemy.com

[13headcanons-blog]

7 Headcanons - (Will, Nico)

@usetobeapinetree asked...  Will and Nico please. Either separate headcanons for each, friendship before they get together, or them together.

Thirteen answered...  AND I SHALL. 💜

Nico di Angelo

Nico knows tons of languages from traveling so many places but also having so much time in the Lotus Casino to learn and listen to so many people speaking different languages.  His expertise includes but is not limited to Italian, French, German, Spanish, Samoan, and even a bit of Russian.

After being introduced by Percy, Voltron easily became Nico’s favourite TV show.  He decided that he liked it because they showed the old version in the Lotus Casino when he would go to bed with Bianca.  He would watch the 1980′s version because it made sure he had ‘fun’.

Nico’s eyes are dark brown, almost the same colour of wet soil.  If you look closely, you see several specks and pieces that look like jewels and precious metals, such as golden and silver specks along with purple, green, and orange specks.

Nico’s all for the Christmas spirit.  He loves the over-sized sweaters, the peppermint hot chocolate, the mittens, everything.  He loves putting the star on the Christmas tree and his favourite Christmas song is O Come O Come, Emanuel

Nico is so allergic to chocolate, it’s sad.  He can’t eat any Halloween candy, Christmas candy, or have normal hot chocolate.  He’s also extremely lactose intolerant.  Sally makes special cookies for him and always serves him a glass of almond milk with it.

He actually loves wearing maroon, grey, dark purple, navy blue, and white.  The colours are the things he appreciates in his life, even if they’re dark.

Nico is a sucker for international black and white movies.  He doesn’t normally read the captions because he can just understand what they’re all speaking.  He finds black and white romances to be the best movie genre.

Will Solace

Although mostly terrible at music, Will can play the piano.  It doesn’t come naturally with his dad’s powers but with lessons that his mother gave him, he learned how to play the piano beautifully.

Will is convinced that Bigfoot is real and even has a very blurry polaroid of it.  He keeps it beside his bed because he’s so determined that he could eventually capture the hairy thing one day.

Will has a matching camp shirt with Piper that they wear more than they should.  It’s bright pink and has the words, DREW’S HO on his along with WILL’S HO on the one that belongs to Drew.

Will’s favourite band is MUSE ever since his mom played his first song when he was 7.  Ever since then, he’s listened to the band in any time or hurt or trial or something that he hated.

Will used to play soccer as a kid on a team and everything.  He was really good at it and played all the way up through high school before he became a full-time camper.

His cologne is called, ‘Yvonne’s Man’and it smells like axe mixed with Italian leather, which is a lot more disgusting than you’d think.

Will is reclusive, not usually interacting with others unless he knows them well.  He doesn’t like interacting with new people and hates talking to strangers because it causes him terrible anxiety.  He’s more introverted than anything and is always keeping to himself or with a close group of friends.

Send me a character and I’ll give you 7(seven) different headcanons I have about them.

#nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #hoo #headcanons #sorry i was gone so long #i've been at band camp and had no time and just #holy hell

[twistednuns]

December 2018

Iglo Veggie love with broccoli, buckwheat and black beans. Quick and easy.

The TEDxTUM event was pretty inspiring. I loved how they organised it and some of the speakers were amazing. Seeing all the cool stuff other people are working on actually motivated me to try and achieve great things myself. I'd like to learn about something new, start a project or volunteer.

Pick Up Limes videos.

The way Cher sings the word Memphis in her cover song.

Seeing Frank for the first time in four months. Having a good time at the Uncle Acid concert, getting a beer at Flex. Even though meeting him always causes some kind of emotional turmoil it might actually help to solve a few things I've been stressing over this time, for example that whole deal with Claudia.

Spending two hours in the kitchen on a Sunday morning. Preparing a summer and a winter curry. Pre-cutting salad. Listening to Tai Chi music. Baking these divine buckwheat chocolate cookies - absolutely delicious even though I forgot to add salt. Kinda healthy, too! It's grain-free (I even used groats) and I substituted part of the sugar with honey.

Gift ideas for rock collectors and mycophiles.

A spotted woodpecker in our backyard.

Dalmatian Jasper. Such a pretty stone.

Blinded by the Light. And a trip down musical memory lane. Making a nostalgia mixtape. Singing, enjoying the sound of my voice (as long as I hit the right vocal range).

Drawing owls. For hours. Using my Polychromos coloured pencils. I'm currerntly working on two owl-related projects, designing a logo for coffee roasters and making my friends' wedding invitation. Drawing owls like lovebirds is such a satisfying thing to do. Also: making my students come up with new ideas! Some actually drew some owl logos, too!

Tetris.

Reading books I don't understand. By people who are smarter than me. A very humbling experience. There is so much more to learn, experience and achieve.

Franzi's elegant coat and her ice crystal earrings. She's pregnant but she is skinnier than before and looks great. We cuddled up on a rooftop and had Kinderpunsch.

Practising The Pogues' Fairytale of New York for for karaoke night. I never hit the NYPD choir note quite right. My neighbours must hate me.

Taking a mental health day. Starting the day with baking cookies, making vegan sushi rolls. Reading, taking a nap. Yoga in the evening. Feeling really happy and relaxed. One of those rare inspired days when everything just falls into place. I kept revisiting beautiful places and memories during Shavasana. And I LOVE my yoga teacher more and more each week. So sad she is leaving the studio.

Taming your temper - tips for anger management.

Another coincidence. I wondered when the next Bilderbuch record will be released when I was looking at Mavi Phoenix at her concert - that girl is the female version of Maurice Ernst. A few hours later I found out that Bilderbuch actually had released a new album one day ago. WHAT.

Mirror tape.

Being a fluffy little red cat's human of choice. We sat in a cat café, no animals in sight. After a while a cat walked up straight towards me, sat down on my yellow scarf and kneaded it. Later she demanded attention and purred while I scratched her jaw. Apparently this was quite a rare occurence because she is said to be really shy and hard to handle. Weirdos unite!

Making Bhindi Masala, a vegan okra curry. Spicy and intense - delicious! Oh, and sushi rolls filled with avocado, veggies and fancy tofu/tempeh. Now I have a whole container waiting for me in the fridge.

Practising yoga for 20min on a gloomy Monday morning. Lighting a candle, drinking a cup of Ayurvedic Kapha tea with honey and lemon.

Tom, who inspired me to learn more about Ayurveda. And to rewatch The Darjeeling Limited because let's face it - Wes Anderson really knows how to make one of the poorest countries in the world look gorgeous.

We become what we think about. It's impossible to be successful without having a destination.

Quotations from Siri Hustvedt's The Blazing World: 1 / 2

"Smelling you almost makes me cum."

Running around with a fake septum piercing. I kinda like the look. I'm actually considering getting a real one but so far I'm fine with the clip-ons. The good thing is that you can't see the ring's ends anyway in that kind of piercing.

Spending time with the old friends. The best ones. The ones you don't have to speak to and it's still not uncomfortable. The ones you can be super weird around and they embrace it. The ones you can tell your strangest ideas and stories.

There is a new Turkish supermarket right around the corner! Fresh cilantro whenever I want! YES!!!

Heavy snowfall. It does look kinda pretty, I admit.

Many questions, not enough answers at the ESO Supernova exhibition/planetarium. / Making another cat friend over breakfast. / Seeing my foxy ginger lady Anika again after such a long time! / Orange marzipan lebkuchen and roasted coconut almonds (they taste like Raffaello). / Finding the perfect earrings and a beautiful head band at EDITED - The Label. / Performing Fairytale of New York live on stage with Manu. Being able to curse at somebody through song is perfect, I had a lot of fun. Also, he promised me his art teacher sweater as a Christmas present.

A knitting project with rainbow wool.

Making a clay sculpture for my mum. Taking it out of the oven at 80 degrees, wrapped in a dish towel like a baby.

The honey marzipan nougat bar from dm bio.

Meeting Manu at his office. Receiving the most awesome paint palette sweater as a Christmas present! And he let me spend a full hour in virtual reality! He has such an amazing programme which lets you draw in 3D and float around in space (with VR goggles). I'm absolutely fascinated and intrigued. Gotta visit him more often.

Meeting Tobi, Maike, Lena and Christian at Märchenbasar. Being drunk after some Feuerzangenbowle with rum (Pfeffi in Manu's case) and white mulled wine. Taking the long way home.

Buying Paulaner Spezi for my class. Supermarket trips with the kids before 8am. Schrottwichteln. Watching random goat videos and intros to children's series.

Having a drink at Goldene Bar in Haus der Kunst. Such a gorgeous place. I'm trying to get into a workshop on the museum's architecture at the end of January.

Making random people want to kiss me. Having no desire whatsoever to actually kiss them.

The Harry Potter round (on special request) at the pub quiz.

Reading Stephen Hawking's short answers to some of the big questions. I have to admit, I know nothing about physics or cosmology and at times his explanations were super hard to understand (fine, I probably didn't understand most of it) but I love creating a need to use my brain in uncommon ways.

Vivid dreams. About  dangerous skyscrapers (just different floors stacked loosely on top of each other), a kidnapping in a futuristic car by very glamorous gangsters, lesbians on a scooter trying to save me, travelling through Asia and the US with Sash, a sinking ship (but all the passengers swam back to the surface after a short period of unconsciousness), ATMs, fancy drinks, meeting strangers with beautiful eyelashes at a restaurant.

Discovering the Trouvelot astronomical drawings (1882) on the darkest day of the year, winter solstice. Watching the night fade away ever so slowly in the morning from the kitchen window, squeezing fresh oranges to make juice for breakfast. Bright orange and midnight blue is a great colour combination.

ASMRctica.

An article about a dear friend of mine appeared in Süddeutsche Zeitung! So happy for him.

Spending time with very old friends right before Christmas. Tobi, Sash, Michi, Yanic, Fischi and his wife... Playing MarioKart on SNES with Peter and taking weird selfies together. I had a very nice evening.

Managing to get a look at downtown Chicago during my layover. I uber-ed into the city centre (watching the skyscrapers getting larger and larger), walked around Millenium Park and along Lake Michigan. I spent quite a bit of time at Blick, an amazing art store, before I took the train back to the airport.

Arriving in Mexico in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve. Seeing the city sparkling from above. Watching a bunch of kids beating a pinata well after midnight. Arriving in a beautiful artist's apartment in Condesa.

The Anthropology Museum in CDMX made it on the list of my favourite museums ever. I could have spent days there. I kept sketching some of the funny masks and Maya figurines. There were plenty of creepy tombs and skeletons, depictions of weird Gods, handicrafts and woodcarvings. It was just so interesting, probably because I had never seen a lot of South American / Aztec culture before and I love learning and exploring new things.

Christmas day in CDMX: sunshine, tacky glitter decorations, pointy balloons and spiky pinatas. Dancing, ancient smoke rituals performed by a Mayan community.

Mexican street food, especially the vegetarian street food tour with David. Meeting the Blue Corn Lady (her quesadillas are with cactus and beans and they're incredibly delicious). Flatbread, corn, fruit with chili and lime. Pulque and Mezcal. Finding out that the green salsa is actually worse than the red one. Tacos, Enchiladas, Tamales. If you go to Mexico just for the food you'll still have plenty to explore.

That evening with the pink sunset. Walking through the old used book store in Roma. Reading an interesting take on Lars von Trier's Melancholia. Meeting the resident cat.

Lucha Libre! Watching the luchadores, especially the small people in the second round. Laughing about the Mexican boy next to me swearing at the top of his lungs. Getting a mask as a souvenir.

Climbing the sun and moon pyramid at Teotihuacán. Getting a sunburn. Enjoying the atmosphere. It's a very impressive site.

Diving in Cozumel with Brooke-Anne (a librarian from Las Vegas who was raised by Mormons), Cynthia from Quebec and Lucie from Toulouse. Entering some coral formations underwater. Eating cantaloupe melon and chocolate cookies after the dive. Spending the evening with another Canadian, Jussi from Finland and that other dude from Puerto Rico. And some Indio beers.

What I loved most about Tulum were the ruins (right next to a gorgeous beach) and the health food restaurants (La Hoja Verde and Co.Conamor).

And this year I don't really have a good New Year's Eve story because I fell asleep at quarter past eleven in a little village west of Tulum. All alone. Could be worse though, I had an amazing year.

#personal #present perfect #things i love #december #2018 #december 2018