#Christmas 2022. by finding

[christmasassistancehelp]

How to Find a Family for Christmas 2022

Christmas is coming and soon your family will be together again. But how do you know if they’re a good fit? You need to find out if they’re warm-hearted, friendly, and available for hanging out. And that takes time! If you want to make the most of your Christmas gathering this year, here are some tips:

What are the Basics of Family History.

Family history is the process of learning about one’s family, which can be traced back to before the modern day. Family history can include information about ancestors who lived before the beginning of time. It can also include information about ancestors who lived in different parts of the world, or who may have been involved in different types of combat.

What Are the Benefits of Family History

Family history can have a number of benefits for individuals and families. For individuals, family history can provide insights into their ancestry and heritage, as well as help them connect with ancestors who they may not have met otherwise. Additionally, family history can help you learn more about your own personal relationships and life story. For families, it can provide a way to connect with each other on a deeper level, and can also act as a foundation for future relationships.

How to Find a Family for Christmas 2022.

If you’re looking to find a family for Christmas, it’s important to find a library that specializes in family history. Family history libraries offer an extensive range of resources related to your ancestors, from census records and marriage licenses to 18th century newspapers and genealogical databases.

One great option is the American Ancestors website. This website features information on more than 4 million ancestors from America, as well as articles and videos about tracing your family tree.

Find a Family History Genealogy Site

Another great resource for finding a family for Christmas is the family history genealogy site. These sites allow you to search through data on more than one million families from around the world. By comparing notes with other users, you can develop a detailed understanding of yourancestors and their lives.

Contact a Family History Society

Finally, if you want to contact specific relatives for Christmas planning purposes, there are severalfamily history societies that can help connect you with people who may be able to help answer some of your questions about your ancestors.

Tips for Finding a Family for Christmas 2022.

One of the best ways to find a family for Christmas 2022 is to find a family history site. A family history site allows you to connect with your ancestors and learn about their stories. Many sites offer free or discounted access to their archives, which can help you plan a great Christmas celebration.

Contact a Family History Society

If you’re looking for a specific family member, contact a family history society. These organizations can help you locate them as well as get information on ancestor genealogy, research tools, and other resources. Subsection 3.3 Find a Family History Library.

A good way to find a family for Christmas 2022 is to visit a family history library. This type of library can provide you with books, records, and other materials related to your ancestors. You can also use the library's resources to research your Christmas list and choose the perfect gift for your loved ones.

Conclusion

Family History is a valuable resource for Christmas 2022. by finding a Family History Library, you can explore family trees and find potential Christmas gifts. Additionally, contacting a family history society can help you connect with more distant ancestors and get started on your Christmas planning.

[the-writing-mobster]

*You tell Sans he has the wrong type of Flower.*

“Yeah, I might have made a *Miss*take … Anyway, flower type aside, do ya still think we can quit *toeing* the line, already?

*Kiss Sans?*

[Yes] or [No]

❤️

.

.

.

SURPRISE @the-triangle-cat ! I’m your Secret Santa!

Merry Christmas!!! 😄💖💖💖 I do hope you enjoy!

@secretsantafrans

[quill-pen]

Look, all I'm saying is...

Ebenezer Scrooge is definitely an eye-contact man.

Eyes-contact during foreplay? Insta-boner. Seriously, it's like a switch flips and suddenly--boom!--raging full mast: No matter what state he was in before, he is fully at attention now! Nothing will get this man harder than if you meet his gaze as he makes you come with just his tongue or fingers. Oh, how he loves to watch that blissed-out haze creep into your eyes....

Eye-contact during intercourse? HE. IS. DONE FOR. Nothing will make this man climax harder or faster than you looking into his eyes while he's inside you. Except if you tug on his hair and tell him you love him while maintaining said eye contact; he won't just come undone, then--he'll absolutely explode (pun intended). Seriously, the two of you might have to keep your eyes closed or at least averted until you're both right there.

Overall, Ebenezer will experiment with whatever position you want to try, but when it comes time to finally letting go, he needs you where he can easily gaze into your eyes. It's the only way he gets full satisfaction.

Another juicy, fun fact: The man LOVES praise. Whether for something in the bedroom or out of it, he loves to get recognition for whatever he's done well. Tell him "Good job" and he will be putty in your hands. (Say it to him when in bed, and you will be sure to receive some extra special loving.)

[tosimornottosim]

underrated a christmas carol adaptation design choice: giving scrooge a big fuck off painting of marley in his office

i know, or at least i think i do, the reason why it exists in a non-diagetic viewing. it’s so the audience is familiar with jacob marley, and possibly with his design. that way when he shows up again later the audience will be like ‘oh yeah it’s That Guy. yeah okay we know him. the painting dude.’

but diagetically, in universe, scrooge just keeps a big fuck off painting of his dead friend around in a very normal and heterosexual way.

like i have so many questions. when did marley get that painted. why did they spend money on a big painting of marley but not scrooge. did marley just have this lying around prior to his death. does bob crachit have to come to work every day and just be like ‘oh yeah thats mr. marley. he’s dead. we just have that painting of him around’

[mincentmango]

i am actually devasted rn there is literally one (1) Scrooge (from the new movie) x male reader and one or two WIPs and i honestly find that extremely homohobic. trust me if i had the time to teach myself how to write good y'all would be FED w these Scrooge fics bro

[apparitionism]

Confection

For the holiday this year I offer you a culinary AU I’ve been thinking about for basically forever but only now started to write down. It’ll be in parts, as I chip away in the spare minutes, with littler bits of story at a time, as when I first ventured contributions to this surpassingly wonderful fandom, years ago. I miss those long-gone Bering-and-Wells days: the speed, the inventiveness that so many brought to bear... anyway, however many parts this ends up being, it’s all just for fun. (And maybe a little ontological inquiry. Also just for fun.)

In any case, on this random Sunday, I wish everyone their preferred form(s) of activity and/or rest, as appropriate. Good feelings. Whatever it is we’re here for.

Confection

“Cutthroat.”

So says the talking head on screen in response to the offscreen question, “Describe your style in the kitchen in one word, Chef Helena Wells.”

****

“Chef Myka Bering, describe your style in the kitchen in one word.”

“One word? That’s a challenge. Diligent? I’m really diligent. Or, no: focused. I definitely think ‘focused’ is more descriptive.”

Senior Producer Claudia Donovan, upon viewing this footage, had said to the editor sitting next to her, “Can you cut that to ‘focused’ and make it sound decisive?” But then she let herself have a second thought. “You know what? Leave it all in. Compare and contrast.”

Cutthroat Wells first, indecisively diligent and/or focused Bering second... the third competitor’s response had been, in retrospect, hilarious. Claudia did appreciate how radically his pronouncement had failed to match his performance: “Awesome,” Walter Sykes had described himself, with no sense of irony whatsoever. He’d been cast as a sacrificial lamb in the first place, but Claudia still snorted at the completely useless dudebro swagger.

The fourth chef, Artie Nielsen, had been brusque rather than bro, but with no less swagger. “Classic,” he’d said, like the idea of anybody even asking the question was a “don’t you know who I am” insult. The editor angled a glance at Claudia and said, “You were real with him about what show he was on, right?”

“The old-school thing sets up the B plot,” Claudia told her. “He’s known all three judges for decades.”

“Don’t you think the A’s a lot more fun?” the editor said. She clicked quick on the Wells “cutthroat” clip—and Claudia had never in her life heard such an all-facts no-swagger saying of a word—followed by a bit of the Bering: “I definitely think,” Chef Myka said, as if in answer to the editor’s question.

“I definitely think,” Claudia echoed decisively.

****

“The name of our show,” Steve Jinks explains, as he does every week at the start of the program proper, after the contestants have described their styles, “is ‘This Without That.’ What this means, contestants, is that in each of three rounds, you will be asked to prepare a classic dish... but without its defining ingredient.”

****

“You gotta do it,” Pete Lattimer had said. “Because it’d be so cool. Gottagottagotta.”

Myka was leaning against the at-last-closed-for-the-night door of the restaurant where they both worked—Myka as sous chef, Pete grilling and frying—and she wanted to ignore him, for her fatigue weighted her such that she could barely convince her spine to support her head. Forcing that head to lift, accompanied by actually working her jaw, felt well beyond possible.

And she would have ignored him, but she was the idiot who’d made the mistake of telling him about “it”: a producer from “This Without That,” the wildly popular cooking competition show, had called to express interest in having her compete next month (next month being August) for their Christmas championship, to air in December.

Having been that idiot, she couldn’t ignore him, but she was regretting the telling, so now she said, “No I don’t. I don’t ‘gotta’ do anything.”

“But you wanna.”

“I don’t ‘wanna’ do anything either. And as for this, I don’t want to do it.”

First, television. Second, a competition. Third, a Christmas competition. In August. She didn’t want to. In fact she’d rather have gnawed off her knife hand than do it. But then Pete moved from “gotta” and “wanna” (Myka hated those pseudo-word elisions) to “hafta,” adding “for the restaurant”—the one they planned to partner to open someday, when they had saved enough money and/or could talk investors into believing in them—and Myka gave in. “I’ll try,” she told him, and she meant she’d try not to tank her upcoming interview with the producer, Claudia Donovan. She told him that too... but for integrity’s sake, she added, “I hate the whole idea of that show. ‘This Without That.’ It seems so dumb.”

He waved a hand at her, but slowly, showing that he was tired too. “Little piece of non-tanking advice: don’t say that to this producer. Besides, a hugeity-huge-huge audience loves it, which means it’s smart. Say that instead.”

That, she did ignore. “Smart? It’s insipid.” Mimicking Steve Jinks, the show’s host, she quoted his dismissal of each round’s losing contestant: “Unfortunately, this competition will continue without you.”

“I knew you watched it,” Pete crowed.

Ugh. “Once.” She didn’t tell him why. “But it bothered me.”

“Bothered you because you knew you could do better at making a thing without its major thing, right? Say that’s why.” He added, “And by the way, I know you could too. So you should say it twice.”

His faith was sweet, but she told him the truth: “No. It bothered me ontologically.” She didn’t expect him to understand, but she tried to explain anyway. “Beef Wellington without the beef, for example, like they did in the one I saw. That’s just... Something Else Wellington. And then at the end, the judges pick whose Something Else Wellington they like best. The beef part—the constitutive element!—falls by the wayside. The thing itself doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Pete shook his head. “It’s like you don’t understand games. Something Else Wellington is the whole idea. If it isn’t Something Else Wellington, then it isn’t Beef Wellington without the beef. You’re just ticked that the judges don’t spend all their tasting time splitting ontological hairs about how close to beef that Something Else really is. Or isn’t. Whichever way makes you happier, but it doesn’t matter, because that isn’t what they’re there to do.”

Myka hadn’t known he would—could—come up with “splitting ontological hairs.” That was another point in favor of her trying not to tank.

Also (and she’d been thinking about this since the call from Claudia Donovan): her parents. They were reasons that were maybe (okay, probably) on par with “for the restaurant,” because if she could she impress them by being on television... she really did hate the clichéd nature both of their objections to her career—their dismay that she wasn’t “using that brain”—and of her response, a heels-dug-in “I’ll show you.” These several years on, they hadn’t yet acknowledged being shown. Maybe television would be the charm. Maybe if they could switch a channel and discover Myka there, doing what she did... maybe that would finally do that work of showing.

Pete said, “They judge based on creativity, too—how out-there a Something Else idea you come up with. Imagination what? Plus you gotta do it fast. Thinking on your feet, right? Don’t you love all that?”

As adept as Pete could be at saying the wrong thing, he was also, sometimes, exceptional at saying the right thing. “Using my brain?” she queried, just to make sure.

He nodded, and Myka was pretty sure it was because he knew the history: the family, the pain points. She’d inflicted versions of it on him so many times. “Think it’s a smart idea now?” he asked, at his most canny.

Show them not only by being on television, doing what she did, but also by “using that brain” on television. To do what she did. To do it better than other people. To at last, in the end, show them. “Maybe,” she hedged, but her overriding thought was Yes, yes, at long last yes.

Not for one instant did it occur to her that she might not win.

****

Claudia had started on TWT in the casting department, over two years ago. Even though evaluating potential talent wasn’t technically her job anymore, she did like to tinker. Particularly if she sensed a good story brewing.

When Myka Bering walked in—no, she loped in, her legs looking about as long as Claudia was tall—Claudia really hoped the good-story pings she’d been sensing were real radar.

There was truly no time like the right-now to see what was what, so Claudia said, first thing after introductions: “Just FYI, Helena Wells is already locked as a cheftestant on this one. I hear you know each other.”

Myka, who’d been settling into the chair across from Claudia’s desk, froze.

So far so good, Claudia thought. But then she thought again, as she observed Myka’s dart of eyes, followed by a small-but-visible twist of neck, both signaling obvious discomfort: No... so far so spectacular.

TBC

[professorsta]

If you notice after Clint and Past coupled, Clint was already prepared to tell Past about his little figurine and all his childhood traumas. He just needed a good fuck to get his guard down and he was off to talk about himself all day Present Fucked it up when he slid in right after Clint had slid out

[lys-lilac]

[JP] One order of EICU Docs in winter outfits please?

Hosho

2. Kasumi

3. Takado

4. Ekuni

5. Kyogoku

6. Matsunaga

[lammienade]

[salemmsims]

SIMBLREEN 2022 [ #4 ] | The Nightmare Before Christmas Sally

SIMBLREEN 2022 [ #4 ] | The Nightmare Before Christmas Sally Hi again! Yesterday I made Emily from Tim Burton's ,,Corpse Bride " and today I show you Sally! Tim Burton>>>> Halloween is tommorow!!! CC : Makeup | Hair | Dress

[allsassnoclass]

pas de deux

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Key Tags: Ballet, Fake/Pretend Relationship, The Nutcracker, Strangers to Lovers Word Count: around 50,140 Read on AO3

Summary:

Michael Clifford is an up and coming choreographer who has been brought to the Minneapolis Ballet to revamp their production of The Nutcracker.  Ashton Irwin was a ballet prodigy who stepped out of the spotlight after a devastating injury five years ago and is now ready to return to dance.  After they begin fake dating to protect a secret, they end up spending a lot more time together than either of them anticipated, both inside the rehearsal room and outside of it.

Now complete!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

[unproduciblesmackdown]

10 yrs back!

(Every single person sings along to the song. At the end it snows inside 54 Below. The entire audience hugs each other and everyone goes home, their clothes reeking of peppermint and happiness.)

[thisisyourdriverspeaking]

Non meat eater rant here but why don't all restaurants & cafes have vegetarian & vegan options available at all times on their menus? It's so frustrating having to research places beforehand to see if I can actually go to eat there & even more frustrating knowing most places in my area don't do any meat free options. Why do I have to constantly miss out on going out for a nice meal just because I don't eat meat???

[quill-pen]

A Christmas Confession pt. 1 (Married!ScroogeXReader)

I know, I know! I said I wouldn't post up much more for the story and that I'd only do some requests and headcannon stuff, but since listening to that gorgeous cover of 'Come What May' by Luke, my brain has been fraught with inspiration. And when I followed through with it, it turned into something just a little bit bigger because I've been dying to write Ebenezer being a loving Uncle figure to children. So here we are!

Part two will come along in a bit and bring with it quite a bit more romance. *wink* Right now, enjoy sweet Uncle Ebby with some adorable little girls plus YOU!

Note: Remember, the main idea of the story is you are Marley's estranged daughter raised in America but returned to England to live (for many complicated reasons) in your early to mid-20s (younger half-siblings now included because I want to write father-figure Scrooge and the Cratchit kids and street urchins can't always be around). For the many complicated reasons previously mentioned, you have married Ebenezer--a dear friend--and are struggling with the situation because you truly have feelings for the man, but are convinced he couldn't possibly feel the same.

Also, too late for Christmas stuff? NOT WHEN IT COMES TO 'A CHRISTMAS CAROL'. If Ebenezer can keep Christmas in his heart alive all the year, then why can't I?!

Enjoy!

Pairing: Ebenezer Scrooge x F!Reader (married)

Warnings: None, unless you count pining and seriously adorable Uncle Ebenezer with cute kids.

Summary: Christmas time has come again! This time, (probably at the behest of the children) you and Scrooge have invited the Cratchits and the Huffmans to stay with you for Christmas Eve so that you may all enjoy a Christmas morning together. You and Ebenezer agree to put the children to bed so that the Cratchits might have a break. For once!

A/N: Don't worry--we will get Prudence in the next part! And as always, insanely soft Scrooge.

And if anyone has any idea what the other Cratchit girls besides Kathy (who by all rights would probably be Belinda IDK why so many names got changed in this thing) are, let me know. Because right now, I'm just naming them things that sound right.

Part 2

A Christmas Confession pt. 1

Arms crossed over your chest, you leaned against the doorpost and watched with a small smile on your face as Millie and the young Cratchit girls knelt at the side of the bed, heads bowed and hands clasped in the nightly prayer: “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep….”  Once they’d finished the recitation, they went around the bed, each thanking or praying to God individually about something or someone in turn.  Millie started off the round: “I thank you, God, for sending us the baby Jesus.  And I also pray that my friend Betty in Cincinnati has a nice Christmas this year.  She told me in her letters she was wanting a new doll and a dress--I hope she gets them.  I would just like a pony, with Christmas ribbons in its mane and tail.  Thank you, God.”

You fought back the urge to laugh at that, successfully turning it into a quiet snort.  Oh, you’re adorable but highly tenacious baby sister!  Even at six years old, you could already tell you were in for a whirlwind of a time raising her up.  God help you when the teenage years came! 

A large, warm hand enclosed over your shoulder, drawing your attention away from the children to see Ebenezer standing just behind you.  “How are we coming?” he murmured, eyes on the girls.

“We’re just finishing up our prayers,” you whispered back.  “How are the boys?”

“Tucked in, waiting for you to come say goodnight.”

You gave him a look of disbelief.  “What?!  You mean to tell me you have that rowdy lot in bed already?  How on earth did you beat me?”

The silver-haired man flashed you one of his divinely roguish smirks, making your knees feel the slightest bit wobbly.  “I, my fine lady, am a man of many talents,” he whispered mysteriously.

Raising an eyebrow you smirked back.  “Hmm, bribed them with sovereigns.  I see.”  You tsked your tongue and shook your head at him.  “Cheater.”

Ebenezer didn’t even try to deny it, just merely burred that beautiful chuckle of his that stirred your soul.

The two of you fell silent and watched on as the girls continued on around their individual prayers.  Ebenezer’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a wonderful, gentle, steady, and warm weight that conversely sent shivers tingling along your nerves.  Oh, how you wished he’d put that hand around your waist and pull you into him, as close as a real wife should be.  Or at least take one of your own hands into it and twine your delicate fingers together with his attractively large ones.  There was no hope for it--you wanted to be completely and utterly possessed by him.  Not merely carnally (though that in itself was a major appeal) but in the soft, devoted, domestic way too; the way you’d see the Cratchits and Huffmans behave towards each other; the way you’d see couples walking the street act; the way you’d grown up watching your mother and step-father interact.  What you would have given to be totally and completely the woman of the house--to be Ebenezer’s woman.

But there was no point in pining for things that wouldn’t come to pass, so you forced your mind away from the concept and put it back on the girls, who were coming to the end of their personal prayers.  Millie added in one last time: “Also, God, I know I’m still just a little girl, but I’d take really good care of a pony if I had one.  I promise--cross my heart.  Honest.  Amen.”

Again you snorted, and you heard the man beside you rumble out another amused chuckle as well.  “She certainly knows how to work the system,” he remarked.

“Oh, she’s completely incorrigible,” you told him.  With that, you moved back into the room (regretfully slipping out from Ebenezer’s touch as you did) and approached the children.  “All right, girls, very good.  Now let’s get into bed.”  You pulled back the thick covers and watched as they all filed between them one by one.  

“We’re not sleepy yet,” Tilda and Maggie protested, despite snuggling in next to Millie.

“We want to stay up and try to catch Father Christmas!” Alice added enthusiastically.

An entire chorus of excited agreement went up from the girls

“But he won’t come unless you’re all sound asleep,” you countered, smiling the slightest bit.  Oh, to be a child on Christmas Eve again!

“Why?” sweet little Judith asked.

All five sets of eyes shined brightly up at you in innocence and wonderment, awaiting an answer.  An answer that you, admittedly, were a little bit stumped over.  “Um… well… that’s just always been the way it is.”

“But why?” Millie pressed further.

“Because that’s how Father Christmas’ magic works!”

You and the girls turned to see Ebenezer coming into the room, slate-blue eyes as bright and shining as the children’s.  He smiled and winked at you as he moved towards the bed.  You felt your heart flutter just a bit, the slightest warmth of a blush color your cheeks.  Thank God the flickering firelight would help conceal it.  

The tall man went around the bed and sat on the side opposite you, beaming down at the snuggled-up little girls in a way that made your heart positively melt.  “You see, girls, Father Christmas has a very special kind of magic that can only work when you are all asleep,” Ebenezer twisted up his face in a comically sneaky way and peered around conspiratorially as if he were about to relay a very important secret that only they were supposed to hear and then whispered, “because the magic is fueled by your Christmas dreams!”

You made saucer-wide eyes along with the girls and exclaimed, “Ooooh!” 

“Yes,” Ebenezer continued.  “That’s why you must all sleep tonight so that you may dream and give Father Christmas all the power he needs for his magic to work.  Why without your dreams to help him, he would never be able to travel the world and deliver presents to all the little boys and girls!  And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“No!” Judith exclaimed, her eyes twice the size they normally were and so full of sweet innocence it broke your heart.  She clutched her dolly preciously to her.  

“No,” Ebenezer agreed with a serious shake of his silvery head.  “I didn’t think so.  So off to sleep for each of you.”

“How come we have to go to bed, but the grown-ups don’t have to?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah, shouldn’t they be sleeping so their dreams can help the magic too?” Tilda added.

That time it was Ebenezer’s turn to look stumped.  Clearly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead in his story.  “Um… w-well-”

“Grown-ups’ dreams aren’t as powerful as children’s dreams,” you came to his rescue.  “But we make up for it by helping Santa in making sure that all of the children go to bed on time so that he has enough magic when he needs it.”

“Precisely!” Ebenezer brightened, smiling gratefully at you.  Then he became very serious and stern as he turned to the girls again.  “Which is why you must all go to bed at once,” he ordered, poking a ticklish finger into each little girl's tummy, causing them to squeal with laughter.  “Because if you do not go to sleep, we will be failing in our duty to Father Christmas!  Understood?”

Still giggling, the girls all sounded off: “Yes, sir!”

“Very good!” Scrooge said, voice still gruff like a Sergeant Major General’s.  “Now, good night!”  With a devilish gleam in his eyes, the man loomed down over the girls and gave them each a good hard nuzzle on the face with his cheeks, evilly chuckling ‘good night’ over and over.  The girls laughed harder and tried to push him away, shrieking and squealing about his “whisker tickles”.  That only made him continue with more vigor.

You couldn’t help but laugh right along with them.  “Ebenezer, at this rate you’ll get them so stirred up again they’ll never be able to sleep for Santa!”

Laughing as well, Ebenezer pulled back to give you an acquiescent smile.  “I suppose you are right, my dear.  Without these little ones’ dreams, Father Christmas may never get his sleigh off the ground!”  With that, he turned back to the girls and leaned back in, only this time to administer gentle kisses to their brows.  Each girl gave him a return kiss on the cheek; Millie went a bit further to reach up and hold his face in place as she blew a wet raspberry into his muttonchop.  (The man grimaced but judging how he still smiled, he didn’t seem to mind too much.)  “Good night, my lovies,” Ebenezer murmured softly, an adoring gentleness in his blue eyes.  “Sweet dreams and happy Christmas.”

“Good night, Uncle Ebby!” the girls chorused as he stood to leave.

“Right to sleep now,” you told the girls as you too stood up and began to leave.  “No talking.  Remember Santa’s counting on you to help him work tonight.”

“Yes, Y/N/Auntie Y/N!”

There was still the faint noise of giggling and whispered chatter as you closed the door, but it was quickly beginning to die down.  Ebenezer’s magic had worked.

A mildly disgusted groan caused you to turn and find the man in question wiping at his spittle-slicked cheek with his handkerchief.  

You giggled and pulled out your own handkerchief from your sleeve.  “Here, let me.  Your silky thing won’t do the job.” 

With a grateful smile, Ebenezer gentlemanly bowed his face towards you.  "That girl is going to be a menace to society, I tell you," he said, only half-jokingly.

You hummed in agreement as you cleaned him up, still having to stand a bit on tiptoe to do so (lovely, tall man…).  "Don't I know it?  She is her father's daughter--George was a… character.  But I adored him.”  You gave him a knowing smile.  “Just as you adore Millie."

Ebenezer gave you a playful scowl, the softness in his eyes saying you were right.  “You’d better go see the boys now,” he said, once you’d finished drying him off.  “And then we’d better check on the older children to make sure they got themselves to bed.”

You nodded and put your kerchief away.  As you followed him down the hall, you were still thinking about Ebenezer’s story.  You’d never heard anything like it before.  “Where’d you come up with that?” you asked, looking up at him.

The man raised a bushy brow quizzically.  “Beg pardon?”

“The story about Santa’s magic fueled by children’s dreams.  Did you hear that somewhere or did you just make it up on the spot?”

Ebenezer smiled.  “Oh, that.”  He chuckled.  “Well, yes, I did come up with it, as a matter of fact, when my sister and I were children.”  A sort of sad haze came into the man’s beautiful eyes to mix with the happiness of the memory as he reminisced.  “You see, Jen was like any other child on Christmas Eve--well so was I, rather, for a while at least.  Apparently, our parents couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer as to why she should go to bed rather than stay up and wait for Father Christmas.”

“So you came up with the reason for why.”

“Exactly.”

“Did it work?”

“It did.  And Jen would ask me about it every Christmas after, even beyond the point where we stopped believing.”

You smiled and gently nudged the tall man with your shoulder.  “She liked the story,” you said.  “It is a good story, I must say.  Certainly much more fun than what we were given: Mama and George told us if we didn’t go to bed, Santa would simply pass right over our house.  It seemed to do the trick for us.  Although my final year of believing, I did sneak out of bed and stayed up.”  You laughed at the memory.  “Sakes alive, did I give poor old George a fright when he came down early to put the presents out!  He just about took me over his knee to tan my hide!”

“And I take it catching your stepfather was what caused your belief to fade,” Ebenezer surmised, looking a little amused by your story.

“Yes,” you admitted a little forlornly.  “It was sad.  I think it’s always sad when you stop believing in that sort of magic.”

“Yes,” Ebenezer agreed, also looking just a bit sad.  But then he quickly gave you a bright smile.  “But then you discover a new magic in making the old magic for others, and then you begin to believe again.”

“Just in a different way,” you said, understanding his meaning.

The man only beamed in agreement.  “That was a very nice addition to the story, I must say,” he said after a moment.  “The bit about adult dreams not being as powerful as those of children.”

You raised your chin a bit haughtily and flipped a curl of your hair with a smug smile.  “Why thank you, kind sir,” you purred.  “I thought it was inspired.”

Ebenezer chuckled at that.  “You know, I’d forgotten that story,” he remarked as you both pulled up in front of the door to the boys’ room.  “Until now.”  He had a distant, contemplative look in his eyes.

Feeling a bit bold, you reached out and grabbed his hand, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.  You smiled genuinely at him.  “I’m glad you remembered it, Ebenezer,” you told him.  “The girls enjoyed it and… and so did I.  Truly.”

Ebenezer had looked a bit surprised when you’d taken his hand so suddenly.  Now the surprise was fading back into warmth and affection.  He squeezed your hand back.  “Then I shall strive never to forget it again, Y/N.”  

There was something in his manner; something extremely soft and unknown to you in his voice and gaze; something that warmed your being from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.  For the umpteenth time, your heart fluttered--your breath caught in your throat.  You may not have known what it was, but you knew you never wanted him to stop looking at or talking to you like that.  Could… could he possibly- the thought was dismissed from your mind before it even had time to fully process.  No.  No, it wasn’t that; it wasn’t possible.  Ebenezer saw you as his very dear friend and that was all; he would never look at you or speak to you in a way other than that.  It was just fanciful thinking on your part that that warmth in his manner could be something more.  Merely wishes.  It was simply the merriment of the evening and the excess joy of the children rubbing off on everyone, enhancing every emotion.  It was the spirit of Christmas--that was all.

You shook your head, clearing off the daze.  “Well,” you said, clearing your throat before adding significant volume to your tone so you would be heard through the door, “we’d better go make sure these boys are asleep!”  With that, you, rather reluctantly, let go of Ebenezer’s hand.  And if you weren’t so deadset on Ebenezer seeing you as nothing more than a friend, you could have sworn his release was reluctant as well.

@the-house-of-auditore-frye @oldmanlusting

[ghost-of-diogenes]

I just watched Spirited and it was shockingly good, not great or anything, but a mostly fun watch overall with some genuinely catchy songs.

And I’m not big on Christmas movies, so it’s saying something how much I actually enjoyed it.

[ellayuki]

01112022 - 9-1-1

~

"Silent night~"

"Oh dear God, don't you start with that, don't you dare."

"Ah, come on, Eds, where's the holiday spirit?"

Eddie sighs, exhausted already and it's barely ten in the morning. "Still in the attic where it belongs until December," he says, rubbing at the bridge of his nose to stave away the headache that he knows is about to make an appearance.

Buck pouts. (It's annoyingly adorable.) "Spoilsport."

"Halloween was literally yesterday," Eddie argues, because he has to, because it's so damn ridiculous, honestly. "And there's still Thanksgiving in, like, three weeks. So just." He breathes, his shoulders slumping. "Let's get through that first, before we have to start thinking about Christmas?"

It's Buck who sighs this time, but he nods, "Yeah, okay", and Eddie feels himself relax a little bit. For a second. "But just so you know, I already got Chris and your presents."

And, well.