#and happy late hanukkah!

[thedevilandhisbride]

happy holidays to all who celebrate from the devil and his bride collective <3

[pricklenettle]

eight ecto nights: light

[zu-is-here]

Naive souls ♪( ´▽｀)

[genshin-impact-updates]

"Done! Albedo, look!"

"Good job Klee, I'm sure everyone will like it."

Thanks to Cocoon for the fantastic artwork!

[eggst]

i know this is a camp camp blog but please i cant keep suppressing all my other hardcore interests psease

[slerralartz]

LOOK HOW HOLLY AND JOLLY YOU ALL ARE!! /ref

[loveisinthebat]

Happy Holidays

[seven-thewanderer]

Totally didn't almost forget it was today, but either way...

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! (if you don't celebrate Christmas then that's completely fine!! Then I wish u a very nice rest of the year!!! Or a happy Kwanzaa if you celebrate it!! Or a very late happy Hanukkah!!)

Now I know this isn't really a christmas gift (cus I doubt I could draw either 1 thing that every one of you likes, and I definitely wouldn't be able to draw a single thing for each of you cus I'd get burned out quickly T~T), but I did draw something that is hopefully wholesome enough!!

So, again...

Merry Christmas, happy Kwanzaa, happy late Hanukkah, and a happy rest of your year!!!

And here's the 'gift'!!

(I know I haven't been shutting up about Forky, so sorry yall gotta hear about them again, but I won't infodump, it's just a drawing gift this time!!)

I hope you guys have an amazing day!!!!!!

[emptybeb]

Happy Hanukkah form zippy

[pkmn-smashorpass]

Merry day for everyone!

I know some people don't celebrate Christmas (or hanukkah or another holiday) but i hope your day goes great nonetheless!

Also happy birthday to you!

-🌵

Happy holiday season to everyone!!! Even if that just means the upcoming new year!!! And thank you ❤️

[this-simplefeeling]

chag sameach :]

say a prayer for Palestine this Hanukkah 🇵🇸✡️🇵🇸

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Just Bucky, explaining the story behind Hanukkah and then possibly singing Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah to Sam as they celebrate its second night because Bucky totally got the dates mixed up for when Hanukkah started.

[dark-side-blog3]

Merry Christmas if you celebrate!

It’s only eve in my timezone but I’m frantically trying to get my shit together for tomorrow @7@

[kozmicmizuu]

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEARS TO ALL OF YOU!!!! also happy late Hanukkah :)

hope all of your 2024 goes as good as possible!!!

- Kozu 😼💫

[jomiddlemarch]

Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel

“You let them send you this slop, Sasha? General of the Second Army? You drink it?”

The questions had been asked by the stranger in Aleksander’s private rooms, a tall man with loose dark curls and a beard that rivaled Aleksander’s for panache, a quilted jacket over an open-necked linen shirt Alina recognized as the fashion from Ketterdam at least a dozen years ago. He leaned against the mantle with a wineglass in his hand in a way that would have frankly horrified Ivan and made Fedyor’s eyes take on an admiring gleam, his figure lithe, his pelvis angled in a way that was so far beyond suggestive Alina could not find it provocative, only amusing, which she allowed to show in her face.

“See, your ladylove agrees with me. Wise and winsome and Sasha’s beloved, so she must be powerful and you needn’t demonstrate, tovenares. Unlike Sasha, I can take some things on faith,” the stranger said. “What I can’t take is this pathetic excuse for mulled wine.”

“Do you think you’ll introduce us?” Alina said to Aleksander, who had a rare smile, one that was wry and fond, an expression that made her imagine how he might have been if his long life had not been one of persecution and torment and the need to secure the safety of his people.

“I’ll try—if I can get a word in edgewise, that is,” Aleksander said. The other man shrugged, a chain at his throat glinted with the gesture, the gold disk of a talisman half-hidden by the fold of his collar. “This is Coenraad Gijs Lueck, an old friend from Kerch, playwright at the Eerste Speelhuisje. Alina. Coen, Alina Starkov, Lady Kirigana, the Sun Summoner of Ravka.”

“Lady Kirigana, you honor me,” Coenraad said. “Though you must simply call me Coen, as Sasha does when he is not pretending at some noble formality, as if we never bedded down together in a rat-riddled garret and supped on two day-old maslin we filched from ruddy old Paepke in the market—”

“You stole the rolls, Coen, not I,” Aleksander replied.

“That’s right,” Coen said. “You’re welcome, by the by. You would have starved without me.”

“I must thank you for keeping Sasha alive,” Alina said. “It sounds as though you are old friends and those are precious, especially to someone like Sasha.”

“I gather you understand him well,” Coen said, nodding in approval and assessment.

“Well enough,” Alina answered, inclining her head towards Aleksander. “I have a thorough acquaintance with Dame Baghra.”

“Then you understand everything,” Coen laughed. His eyes were a curious color, between blue and grey, and she saw in them something of Ivan’s protectiveness, Fedyor’s warmth, and some history that was known only to the two men in the room, that had made them closer than comrades, more trusting than brothers. He glanced down at the goblet in his hand and grimaced. “You must also understand he has the most noxious taste in mulled wines, far too sweet, any wines really, and the kitchen here does nothing to rein in his worst appetites. There’s no clove in this, no badian, and far too much honey, though I know Sasha does not believe that is possible.”

“Come now, it’s not that bad,” Aleksander protested. So, he could sound young, piqued by something inconsequential. Coen shot her a look that was the next thing to a wink and Alina gave a little sniff as she were a coquette at the Imperial Court, a friend of Coen’s since she’d been in petticoats and he in short pants.

“It’s like the syrup they give to the otkazat’sya children when they have the winter catarrh,” Alina said. “Coen is right, Sasha, it’s disgusting. Even a little canella would help. A lot of canella would be better and plenty of zingiber.”

“She’s brilliant as well as lovely,” Coen said, the admiration plain in his tone but also a subtle shift in his stance, the way his eyes rested upon her. “Worth a thousand starless nights, a thousand years dark without a moon—”

“Alina’s worth cannot be measured,” Aleksander said, suddenly stern and almost proprietary. She could sense the tension within him, the urgency of his shadows, and the equally swift, lethal stillness that had overtaken Coen. He was Grisha, that was clear, but she thought now he was no Alkemi or Tidemaker as she’d imagined, but rather a Heartrender who’d long eluded the Kerch slave-markets. Was he even from Kerch? She’d never met a Grisha from the Bone Road or the Wandering Isle and wouldn’t have been able to recognize the signs in Coen’s gestures or expressions. There was no need for a battle, not now anyway, not before she understood the stakes.

“I liked hearing it said,” Alina put in. “It sounded like a line from a play.”

“Snotra’s Folly,” Coen said. “It ran for six seasons, made enough for a villa in Scheveningen. Ivan would hate it, it’s vulnerable to attack from the coast until there’s a heavy fog.”

“He does loathe a weak coastal defense,” Aleksander said. “I imagine you have brought all the spices and wine necessary for a properly mulled glass—did you leave them in the kitchens or are they in your trunks in the Doverennyy suite?”

“Kalyna should be bringing in something worth drinking in a few minutes,” Coen said. “I took the liberty—”

“As you ever have done,” Aleksander said.

“As I’ve ever needed to. For your own good,” Coen said. He spoke of events that Alina was not privy to, terrors and torments shared, plans Aleksander had not yet told her of.

“Did you order honey-cakes and cherry mazurek?” Alina asked. “Sasha won’t want to try the wine without something sweet.”

“You could give him a kiss then,” Coen said and grinned. “I did order the pastries. I hadn’t known there would be an alternative for Rijkje.”

*

“I’m glad Coen came to see you. He’s a good friend to you. For you,” Alina said later, lying in Aleksander’s arms, the embroidered bed-curtains closed around them. She’d conjured the light of a single, steady candle-flame to see by as it was the moonless night Coen had mentioned. She could still taste the mulled wine, its exquisite blend of spices and spirit, and the brief bliss of honey and marchpane on Aleksander’s lips after he took the last bite of dessert. Coen had demurred, averring he preferred savory, and cried off for an early night, the strain of his travel having caught up with him.

“He’s a better spy,” Aleksander said, stroking her loose hair, grazing her temple and the apple of her cheek.

“Is there any difference for you?” Alina said. “He called you Rijkje—he knew you as Eryk, didn’t he?”

“He did. He does,” Aleksander said. “He trusts you, milaya.”

“And do you trust him?” she said. He took her closer into his embrace, bent his head so he could murmur in her ear.

“As far as I may,” he said. “He isn’t you, so I cannot trust him completely.”

Because when I first reblogged Tim Curry as Shakespeare, I said I headcanoned him as Aleksander Morozova’s best friend from Kerch and @orlissa​ said “write it.”

[simgerale]

the desire to do sims 4 stuff is strong when i’m not actually able to do it… )^:<