#ask for one for christmas save for one look for one at a pawn shop

[murder-and-mayhem]

Me putting my new desk chair together and trying to decipher these fucking instructions:

Also me:

[bakuroo-writings]

Who in HQ: Gift Wrapping and Presents

Summary: Who in HQ is good at wrapping gifts and gift shopping and who is bad at it. Came from DMs with @nocturnalazura

Includes: Akaashi, Aran, Asahi, Atsumu & Osamu, Bokuto, Daichi, Daishou, Hinata, Iwaizumi, Kageyama, Kenma, Kita, Kuguri, Kuroo, Kyoutani, Makki & Mattsun, Meian, Nishinoya & Tanaka, Oikawa, Kiyoomi, Semi, Shirabu, Sugawara, Suna, Tendou, Tsukishima, Ushijima, Yamaguchi, and Kiyoko & Yachi.

BNHA version can be found here!

Aoba Johsai:

Hanamaki & Matsukawa: 🎄 Makki is expected to be bad at wrapping gift but he's actually really good at it. However, he solely uses gift bags because 1) he's lazy about wrapping gift and 2) he wants to hide how good at it he is. 🎄 Mattsun, on the other hand, is fucking amazing at wrapping gifts but he absolutely refuses to admit it. Like, if you ask him, he will either dodge the question or say he had the store employees wrap it. 🎄 Now how good or bad they are at Christmas present shopping depends on if they go together or separately. If they go together, they are very much like Chandler and Joey. You know, the episode in season 2 where they waited until the last minute and got everyone gifts from the gas station? Yeah, that's them.

🎄 If they are alone, however, Makki is actually really, really amazing at it. You're surprised just how good he is at it, given the gifts he gives when he goes shopping with Mattsun. 🎄 If Mattsun goes alone, he is notoriously bad at it. Like he gives even worse gifts than the ones he gives with Makki. One year, he just got everyone travel size tissues.

Iwaizumi: 🎄 Everyone expects him to be good at it. Like Issei level good. However, he suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks at it. Cannot wrap gifts well to save his life. 🎄 Always pawns them off on Oikawa but, like, super casually. Like he just adds them to Oikawa's gift wrapping pile and thinks he doesn't notice. Oikawa does notice but doesn't say anything. 🎄 He is amazing at shopping for presents, though. He always puts so much time and thought and effort into it. 🎄 Spends months researching what to get everyone and comparing prices and brands. 🎄 He also drags Oikawa with him, just so he can make sure Oikawa gets everyone good stuff, too. Oikawa knows this, too, and it's why he doesn't say anything about Iwa "tricking" him into wrapping his presents.

Kyotani: 🎄 so, so, so, so good at wrapping presents 🎄 does not hide it at all 🎄 will do it for you if you pay him for it 🎄 if not, there's no way he'll wrap your presents for you 🎄 unless you're Iwaizumi, who he'd do it for free for. Hates that Iwa gets Oikawa to wrap his presents him for him, instead. 🎄 surprisingly gets you really thoughtful gifts 🎄 shockingly in tune with what you need or want 🎄 uses the funds he gets from wrapping for presents to spend a little extra on gifts

Oikawa: 🎄 he is one of the best gift wrappers around 🎄 makes them so perfect and so fancy that it makes everyone think he's kind of a robot 🎄 when, really, it's that his sister taught him 🎄 it's one secret not even Iwa knows. Also makes him do a better job that Mad Dog 🎄 you expect him to be good at it and he is good at it 🎄 the worst at getting gifts 🎄 every year, he gets you an autographed picture of him that he framed 🎄 if it weren't for Iwa, that would be all you get

Fukurodani:

Akaashi: 🎄You'd' expect him to be good at wrapping gifts but he is so, so, so bad at it. 🎄It always looks like a two year old did it. 🎄However, he gets really good gifts. 🎄They are amazing, thoughtful gifts. 🎄Your juicer just broke? Guess who already has one picked out for you. It's Akaashi. He knows exactly what to get you before you even know it's something you needed. 🎄As a result, he does Bokuto's gift shopping.

Bokuto: 🎄 is surprisingly good at wrapping gifts 🎄 like you would expect him to be bad at it 🎄 but he actually does a really good job 🎄 color codes his gift wrapping 🎄 like akaashi gets blues, kuroo gets red and black, kenma and tsukki get yellow 🎄 HIS GIFTS ARE SO SWEET ALWAYS 🎄 they are absolutely filled with love 🎄 he's even stayed until closing just to find the perfect gift 🎄 even if the gift isn't something you necessarily wanted or are thrilled about, he put in so much effort and spent so long and put in so much care, that you don't have the heart to do anything but love it 🎄 especially when he's looking at you with those puppy dog eyes 🥺

Inarizaki:

Aran: 🎄Amazing at wrapping gifts 🎄 has a consistent color theme every year 🎄 makes sure everyone's gifts are wrapped the same way with equal amounts of ribbon and bows and tape 🎄 is very diligent about wrapping his gifts 🎄 not the worst gift giver but also not the best 🎄 like he could be better at it but he's not as bad as Oikawa or Mattsun 🎄 gives decent gifts but most are things that don't have a long life span (like soap) or are something your grandparents would get you (like socks)

Atsumu & Osamu: 🎄 Atsumu is absolutely horrible at wrapping gifts 🎄 one of the worst you've ever seen 🎄 looks like a five year old did it 🎄 Osamu, however, kills it 🎄 no one knows how he got to be so good at it 🎄 he accidentally took a class one year 🎄 and that's how he got so good at it 🎄 Atsumu is surprisingly good at getting gifts 🎄 like he kind of knows you but it's not perfect 🎄 they're actually both like this with their gifts 🎄 but it's only when they shop together that Atsumu is decent at it 🎄 they do fight the whole time they're shopping with each other, though 🎄 if left to his own devices, Atsumu will just get you things from a convenience store

Kita: 🎄 you expect kita to be good at it 🎄is actually very, very bad at wrapping presents 🎄 his grandma tried teaching him once 🎄 it did not go well and she gave up 🎄 as a result, she takes over the wrapping always 🎄 so, so good at present shopping, though 🎄 like he gets very thoughtful gifts 🎄 very practical stuff that you need 🎄 definitely things that you'll use and use often

Suna: 🎄he always wraps his gifts in those grocery store bags 🎄 you know the white plastic ones that have "thank you" going down the bag in red. you know, these:

🎄 No one knows how he gets them, either, because they're discontinued 🎄 he custom orders them 🎄 can be good at gift wrapping but will only put in the effort for his s/o 🎄 he can be good at gift giving 🎄 but he likes to fuck with people a little bit 🎄 so he gets people convenience store ramen 🎄 but will also get something that means something to them

Itachiyama:

Sakusa: 🎄 a master at gift wrapping 🎄 an absolute pro 🎄 has a gift wrapping station 🎄 keeps it regularly stocked and organized 🎄 labels everything on it 🎄 actually does get really good gifts 🎄 usually a gift basket of soap, shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, bath salts, and sanitizer 🎄 he gets them in your favorite scent 🎄 sometimes he'll add in a candle

Karasuno:

Asahi: 🎄 should be great at wrapping presents 🎄 but he uses too much tape 🎄 which makes it hard to open 🎄 his only response to it is "I taped it" 🎄 super nervous when it comes to gift shopping 🎄 he wants to get good gifts 🎄 but he takes so long to decide that he runs out of time 🎄 end result: he gets you unscented lotion 🎄 from the sakanoshita market

Daichi: 🎄 expected to be good at wrapping 🎄 but is so, so, so bad at it 🎄 always has his siblings climbing around him when he tries 🎄 so there are spills or the paper is ripped 🎄 his solution to tape the rips or just add paper on top of the spills 🎄 gets really practical gifts 🎄 whether it's like a towel set or a neck massager or a heating pad 🎄 things that sturdy and that you'll use regularly enough

Hinata: 🎄 ~horrible~ at wrapping presents 🎄 simply cannot do it 🎄 everyone always thinks natsu did it 🎄 that's how bad he is 🎄 however he gets really good gifts 🎄 he has experience picking out the best gifts because of his mom and sister 🎄 will get chocolate or a subscription to your favorite magazine or a book you've really been wanting 🎄 remembers that you thing you mentioned wanting 34873274 days ago

Kageyama: 🎄 surprisingly good at wrapping presents 🎄 wouldn't think so with how his only focus is on volleyball 🎄 but have you seen his nails? 🎄 mans knows how to take care of things and work diligently 🎄 A++++ wrapping always 🎄 however the tradeoff is he suuuuuuuucks at present shopping 🎄 will get you whatever he can find at home most times 🎄 likely because he forgot 🎄 has gifted used crayons and candles before 🎄 even his own volleyball shoes and volleyball at one point

Nishinoya & Tanaka: 🎄 they both suck at wrapping presents 🎄 both use too much tape and not enough paper 🎄 which causes them to patch it up with different wrapping paper 🎄 so everything is mismatched 🎄 the only difference is that nishinoya will use duct tape 🎄 they both go shopping together 🎄 as a result, they're okay at it and get a bunch of small things 🎄 somehow, they always end up in mall jail 🎄 which leads to Daichi to having to bail them out 🎄 mostly because he's usually in the mall at the same time 🎄 they sometimes end up at the gas station for gifts

Sugawara: 🎄 he's decent at wrapping presents 🎄 uses floral Christmas themed wrapping paper 🎄 like poinsettias and holly and mistletoe 🎄 gets really fancy ribbons, too 🎄 makes his own bows 🎄 the wrapping job he does always throws off what the gift is 🎄 which is always, always, always a gag gift 🎄 one year, it was the wolf girl painting from gilmore girls

🎄 Yes, he even got the hideous gold frame 🎄 or sequin pillows that had nick cage pics on the other side 🎄the only one that backfired was when he got snuggies 🎄 he never expected people to use and like them

Tsukishima: 🎄can be decent at it 🎄 if he chooses 🎄 which is only for yamaguchi 🎄 everyone else? gets a brown paper bag 🎄 gets good gifts if he cares about you 🎄 gets the best gifts for yams 🎄 gets respectful gifts for the upperclassmen 🎄 specifically forgets kags and hinata

Yamaguchi: 🎄 mediocre at wrapping presents 🎄 he tries so hard to wrap them well 🎄 so he isn't the worst but he isn't the best 🎄 however, he will get everyone amazing and thoughtful gifts 🎄 one year, he got tsukki tickets to a dinosaur exhibit 🎄 where you could like "discover" dinosaur bones 🎄 so he always puts a lot of thought and effort into his gifts

Kiyoko & Yachi: 🎄 Kiyoko is amazing at wrapping presents 🎄 much better than Yachi, who can't wrap for shit 🎄 yachi has the best handwriting, though 🎄 so she writes the notes 🎄 and kiyoko wraps 🎄 they also go shopping together 🎄 they absolutely crush the gift game 🎄 always beats everyone and blows them out of the water 🎄 they make it a whole day, too, and stop to get mani-pedis after shopping but before wrapping

MSBY:

Meian: 🎄 you expect him to be good at wrapping presents 🎄 but he's baaaaaaaaaad at wrapping presents 🎄 no one knows how but, one year, he managed to cut his finger 🎄 using pre-cut sheets and tape 🎄 eventually, he learned it's best to just pay to have someone do it 🎄 mad dog's best customer 🎄 gets amazing gifts, though 🎄 like Akaashi, somehow knows exactly what you need even if you don't 🎄 roomba just died Christmas morning? bam! he's already got one for you 🎄and if he gets jewelry? it's always the most gorgeous jewelry you've ever seen and shines just the right amount

Nekoma:

Kenma: 🎄uses bags for wrapping 🎄 for a variety of reasons 🎄 he's lazy when it comes to wrapping 🎄 and he absolutely hates it 🎄 and he's bad at it 🎄 and, also, he just doesn't care enough about wrapping 🎄 does a decent job at getting presents 🎄 will get you stuff you like 🎄 but it might be late 🎄 because he orders online 🎄 and it's also done last minute

Kuroo: 🎄 expected to be bad at it 🎄 actually really good at it 🎄 his grandparents taught him 🎄 he always takes great care when wrapping them 🎄 gets wrapping paper with puns on them 🎄 or somehow finds one that's both Christmas and science themed 🎄 also amazing at getting gifts 🎄 partly because it comes easily to him 🎄 partly because he knows those he shops for really well

Nohebi:

Daishou & Kuguri: 🎄 both are phenomenal at wrapping presents 🎄 no one knows how 🎄 mostly because they don't expect them to care about wrapping presents 🎄 both could be good at getting presents 🎄 but they don't care enough to put in that effort 🎄 Daishou, however, only cares to put in effort to get kuroo a gift 🎄 but it's a prank gift 🎄 kuroo always scowls and that's why Daishou keeps doing it

Shiratorizawa:

Semi: 🎄 is okay at wrapping presents 🎄 like the cuts and folds are always really nice 🎄 but it gets ruined because of the tape 🎄 because he uses packing tape 🎄 as for gifts, he tries 🎄 but usually gets simple jewelry 🎄 half the time, it's not your style 🎄 whether it's design or color or stone 🎄 but he puts in thought and effort

Shirabu: 🎄should be good at wrapping presents 🎄 he sucks at it, though 🎄 always somehow uses the wrong side of the wrapping paper 🎄 no one knows how he gets confused 🎄 can get you really good gifts 🎄 but only if he puts in the effort which he seldom does 🎄 he'll get you things you like, though 🎄 as long as they come from those arcade or mall machines that only cost a quarter, maybe fifty cents 🎄 you know the ones

Tendou: 🎄 is really, really good at wrapping presents 🎄 always switches between shiratorizawa purple, olive green (like Ushi's eyes), or bright red (like his hair) 🎄 gets ribbons and bows in those colors, too, so he can use them together 🎄 always looks high quality, even if you think they shouldn't look good together 🎄 they do 🎄 buys weird gifts 🎄 but it's always something you'll kind of like 🎄 also always includes chocolates he made 🎄 makes multiple kinds and caters the flavor to the person he's giving them to

Ushijima: 🎄 he's expected to be good at wrapping gifts 🎄 but he's actually notoriously bad at it 🎄 part of it is because he doesn't understand the point 🎄 but he tries and that's what matters 🎄 he tries to get good presents 🎄 but it needs works 🎄 because he thinks about getting practical things the way your family members do 🎄 as in he gets you things like towels or blankets or socks or pajamas that never fit properly 🎄 eventually learns the power of a gift card and just gets that

_____________________________________________________________

general taglist: @chibishae34

© 2021 all works are the property of bakuroo-writings. Do not repost or re-upload to other sites such as wattpad, ao3, or tiktok. Do not do audio readings.

[gointothevvater]

Dethmas day 13

Excited for the season or being a Scrooge

I didn't think I'd be able to participate, but I did today, at least! That counts for something, right? I kinda went with both prompts, and it's set in the pre-Klok days!

.

Christmas wasn't brutal. It was as un-brutal a holiday as ever there was. But Nathan loved it just the same. He had long-since resolved not to let the rest of the band find out. Magnus especially wouldn't take kindly to it, he was sure.

Nathan was in his bedroom now, hunched over in front of the tiny, shitty TV he'd gotten at the pawn shop, all alone. No one needed to know.

"Nathan?" And there was Pickles, peeking in through a crack in the door.

"What?"

Pickles shrugged, then stepped into the room. "Just bored," he said, and settled down at Nathan's side on the bare mattress.

Nathan debated turning the TV off, to try and save some shred of his dignity, but the movie was almost over, and that seemed stupid.

Grinning, Pickles asked, "It's A Wonderful Life?"

"Used to watch it with my parents every year," Nathan said.

His face was lit only by the flickering TV screen, but Pickles could see the melancholy in his expression just the same. He said, "Me, too."

On the TV, George Bailey ran through Bedford Falls, greeting everyone he saw. 

It was too fucking wholesome, and Nathan looked down at his hands. He held a beer can, but it was empty.

Pickles, as he always did, seemed to know what he was thinking. "You wanna run to the gas station?" he asked. "They got eggnog."

Eggnog was fucking gross, but Nathan couldn't bear to break down what little Christmas spirit was building around the apartment, and he said, "Sure."

[sickhumor]

Redneck taglines

Back in the late 1980s - early 1990s, telecommunications took place over telephone lines and communal computing existed mostly on Bulletin Board Systems (before the WWW). It wasn’t uncommon to sign off a message or an email with what was called a “tagline” - usually a one-line expression of good wishes - or a joke. Here’s a compilation of redneck taglines I saved from a BBS listing posted in 1994.

...URA Redneck if your dad walks you to school because he's in the same grade.

...URA Redneck if directions to your house include, "Turn off paved road.”

...URA Redneck if after making love you ask to roll down the car window.

...URA Redneck if Jack Daniels makes your list of admired people.

...URA Redneck if less than half the cars you own run.

...URA Redneck if Redman Chewing Tobacco sends you a Christmas card.

...URA Redneck if the primary color of your car is bondo.

...tRA Redneck if the taillight covers on your car are made of tape.

...URA Redneck if there's a wasp nest in your living room.

...URA Redneck if truckers tell your wife to watch her language.

...URA Redneck if you answer the door with a baseball bat in your hand.

...URA Redneck if you can have sex without spilling your beer.

...URA Redneck if you can't visit relatives without your car getting muddy.

...URA Redneck if you come back from the dump with more than you took.

...URA Redneck if you consider "Outdoor Life" deep reading.

...URA Redneck if you consider a family reunion a chance to meet women.

...URA Redneck if you drove to elementary school.

...URA Redneck if you entertain with tapes of championship bowling.

...URA Redneck if you entertain yourself for an hour with a fly swatter.

...URA Redneck if you entertain yourself for an hour with a bug zapper.

...URA Redneck if you've ever lost a tooth opening a beer bottle.

...URA Redneck if you get an estimate from the barber to cut your hair.

...URA Redneck if you get Odor-Eaters as a Christmas present.

...URA Redneck if you get your oil changed by your barber.

...URA Redneck if you had to remove the Marlboro to kiss the bride.

...URA Redneck if you have "dress" boots.

...URA Redneck if you have a civil war chess set.

...URA Redneck if you have a Hefty Bag instead of a passenger window.

...URA Redneck if you have a picture of Elvis on velvet in plain sight.

...URA Redneck if you have a velvet bedspread.

...URA Redneck if you have any relatives named Elmer or Jed.

...URA Redneck if you have more appliances in the yard than in the house.

...URA Redneck if you have more than twelve dogs on your porch.

...URA Redneck if you have more than two brothers named Bubba or Junior.

...URA Redneck if you have to move the transmission to take a bath.

..,URA Redneck if you hold a frog and *it* worries about getting warts.

...URA Redneck if you keep your thermostat on 85 in the winter.

...URA Redneck if you own a homemade fur coat.

...URA Redneck if you own more TVs than books.

...URA Redneck if you prefer car keys to Q-tips.

...URA Redneck if you quit your job to avoid paying child support.

...URA Redneck if you record WWF Wrestling while you're at work.

...URA Redneck if you skipped school in the 8th grade to vote.

.,,URA Redneck if you think BMW is the call letters for a radio station.

...URA Redneck if you think cow tipping should be an Olympic sport.

...URA Redneck if you think Ernest is funny.

...URA Redneck if you think Volvo is part of a woman's anatomy.

...URA Redneck if you use more than one can of hairspray per week.

...URA Redneck if you voted Tammy Bakker as "Year's Best Dressed Woman".

...URA Redneck if you want to be a disc jockey when you grow up.

...URA Redneck if you've been arrested for getting relief in an ice machine.

...URA Redneck if you're entertained by a 6 pack and a bug zapper.

...URA Redneck if you're holding a beer in your wedding picture.

...URA Redneck if you're turned on by a woman who can field dress a deer.

...URA Redneck if you've ever BBQ'd Spam on the grill.

...URA Redneck if you've ever bought a used cap.

...URA Redneck if you've ever cut your grass and found a car.

...URA Redneck if you've ever given rat traps as a gift.

...URA Redneck if you've ever raked leaves in your kitchen.

...URA Redneck if you've ever rolled your riding lawn mower.

...URA Redneck if you've ever shot a deer from inside your house.

...URA Redneck if you've ever used lard in bed.

...URA Redneck if you've ever vacationed in a rest area.

...URA Redneck if you've ever worn a cowboy hat to church.

...URA Redneck if you've ever worn a tube top to a wedding.

...URA Redneck if you've never paid for a haircut.

...URA Redneck if you've spray painted your girl's name on an overpass.

...URA Redneck if you've worn something to church having sequins on it.

...URA Redneck if your all-time favorite movie is "Cannonball Run".

...URA Redneck if your appearance got you fired from a construction job.

...URA Redneck if your baby's favorite teething ring is a garden hose.

...URA Redneck if your baby's first words are "Attention K-Mart shoppers".

...URA Redneck if your belt buckle is heavier than 4 lbs.

...URA Redneck if your best suit is a Budweiser cap and an orange vest.

...URA Redneck if your brother-in-law is also your uncle.

...URA Redneck if your bumper sticker says "My other car is a combine".

...URA Redneck if your car has never had a full tank of gas.

...URA Redneck if your car's rear tires are twice as wide as the front.

...URA Redneck if your chain to your wallet is as big as your dog chain.

...URA Redneck if your coffee table used to be a telephone cable spool.

,..URA Redneck if your dog can smoke a cigarette.

...URA Redneck if your dog sleeps closer to you than your wife does.

...URA Redneck if your father is in the same grade as you.

...URA Redneck if your father made your personalized license plate.

...URA Redneck if your favorite Chinese meal comes from "LaChoy".

...URA Redneck if your first grandchild is born on your 26th birthday.

...URA Redneck if your funeral has more pickup trucks than cars.

...URA Redneck if your Home library is a Bible and the Farmers' Almanac.

...URA Redneck if your home needs a hitch.

...URA Redneck if your house warming involves removing the tires.

...URA Redneck if your idea of health food is pork rinds.

...URA Redneck if your kid takes a siphon hose to "Show & Tell".

...URA Redneck if your kids are described as "dumb as a brick".

...URA Redneck if your Levi's have Skoal can prints on the pockets.

...URA Redneck if your lifetime goal is to own a fireworks stand.

...URA Redneck if your living room sofa is covered by a foam backed throw.

.,.URA Redneck if your local ambulance has a trailer hitch.

..,URA Redneck if your mother has "ammo" on her Christmas list.

...URA Redneck if your neighbors have ever asked to borrow the lightbulb,

...URA Redneck if your pocket knife's been referred to as "Exhibit A",

...URA Redneck if your porch collapses and kills more than seven dogs.

,.,URA Redneck if your primary source of income is the pawn shop.

...URA Redneck if your sister subscribes to "Soldier of Fortune" magazine.

...URA Redneck if your truck cost more than your house.

...URA Redneck if your wedding looks more like a family reunion.

...URA Redneck if your wife ever burned out an electric razor.

..,URA Redneck if your wife has a beer belly and you find it attractive.

..,URA Redneck if your wife keeps a can of Vienna sausage in her purse.

...URA Redneck if your wife's best shoes have steel toes.

...URA Redneck if your wife's job requires her to wear an orange vest.

...URA Redneck if your will states all your possessions be sold at auction.

...URA Redneck if your 9x9 living room has a Spanish décor.

...Redneck foreplay: (Nudge) "Are you awake?"

...Redneck foreplay: "Get in the truck, bitch."

[stark-tony]

I'd love hp recs if you're willing!

 * = incomplete

boy with a scar series* by dirgewithoutmusic  

summary:  A series of "what if" rewrites of Harry Potter, books 1-7. Cross-posted from tumblr (ink-splotch).

pairings: romione, hinny, wolfstar, bleur, jily

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

warnings:

we must unite inside her walls or we'll crumble from within series by dirgewithoutmusic

summary:  stories for the ladies of hogwarts, who cry, waver, giggle, trespass, and who deserve our respect all the same

pairings:

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

the dogfather au by hollimichele

summary:  “I’m not a reverse werewolf either,” says the man. “I’m your godfather.”

pairings: wolfstar

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

The Changeling + Armistice Series*  by Annerb

summary:  Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

pairings: hinny

tags: angst, drama

warnings: rape

tell me whether he is dead by LullabyKnell

summary: Post-DH AU: Harry suffers a few side-effects of dying but not dying.

“Hey, can someone help me with this? The mirror in the bedroom’s stopped working for me."

“What do you mean ‘the mirror’s stopped working’?”

pairings: hermione/harry/ron

tags: fluff, angst, humor

warnings: none

Regulus Black and the Way Things Changed: A Not!Fic by imaginary_golux

summary: What if Regulus Black, and not Severus Snape, ended up being the turncoat Potions Master of Hogwarts?

A not!fic written in bullet points, ignoring the Deathly Hallows entirely because they annoy me.

Beta by my immensely patient Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw, and by the delightful starbirdrampant.

pairings: wolfstar

tags: crack

warnings: none

who discovered your secret by LullabyKnell

summary: Pre-Canon AU: On the street named Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey, a man lived alone at Number Eight, supposedly.

It was apparently difficult to tell.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: none

Little Lion Boy by ShanaStoryteller

summary: Draco is sorted into Gryffindor.

It's all part of the plan, really.

parings: none

tags: 

warnings: none

a witch in the family by LullabyKnell

summary: - "For the 5+ Headcanon game, what do you think of an AU in which Petunia is a witch?"

Pre-Canon AU: Petunia Evans learns important life lessons from the magical world that every proper witch ought to know.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

when in doubt, go to the library by LullabyKnell

summary:  The Hogwarts Library saves the Wizarding World through the power of reading. 

pairings: none

tags: humor, crack

warnings: none

these long cold days by dirgewithoutmusic

summary: In the war, Dean holed up in hollows and friendly attics and Muggle pubs. He drew Umbridge the Toad, noseless Voldy confused by the last dozen plus years of wizardly pop culture, the Ministry of Magic with its fingers stuffed in its stuffy ears.

He drew Snape as Headmaster, his sneer easy after seven years of notebook margin practice. Dean drew the Dark Mark over London’s skyline and he left his work nailed up around Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Godric’s Hollow. He signed his name. He had things he wanted to say.

There were long days when he didn’t talk to anyone– walking old fields and long roads, sleeping in haystacks. There were long weeks when he only talked to strangers– passersby, shop owners, sympathizers, snatchers who he traded curses with.

He drew the Gryffindor Common Room, hearths all ablaze. He listened to Lee Jordan’s radio show on the crackling airwaves. He drew his little sisters, who had gone to France with his mother and father. He drew faces from the darkened boys’ dormitory– Harry’s long bangs hiding his scar, Neville practicing his dance moves for the Yule Ball, Ron asleep with his head on his thick Weasley sweater, Seamus grinning at him over a three a.m. game of cards.

pairings: deamus

tags: angst

warnings: kidnapping

Rise by Kyra_Neko_Rei

summary: When Voldemort came to kill Harry, Lily met him with a SIG Sauer pistol she bought at a pawn shop. Seems Dark Lords die as easily as anyone else when you empty two clips into them.

Hailed as the savior of the Wizarding world, Lily has a live baby, a dead husband, the personal enmity of most of the Dark Lord's followers, and not the slightest idea how to put her life back together.

Phoenixes have it easy. Burn, die, rise from the ashes.

For humans it's a bit different. Sort of.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: character death

look to your kingdoms by Vail

summary:  When she visits Diagon Alley, Hermione hates that the first thing the shop clerk in the apothecary tries to sell her is a potion to “tame her hair.” She likes her hair the way it is, curls and frizz, heavy around her shoulders. She thought the wizarding world would be different. (Black Hermione character study.)

pairings: none 

tags: drama

warnings: racism

The Chamber Strike by BlainelovesKurt, evansentranced  

summary:  Harry is sick of Umbridge and everyone pushing him around. Halfway through fifth year, he decides to Do Something about it. Warning: Contains nuts. And cults, falling sugar bowls, terrible handwriting, and beleaguered caretakers. Crack!fic. Written with transfiguredbunny over Thanksgiving of 2006 after we ate ALL the turkey.

pairings: none

tags: crack

warnings: none

Dudley Dursley's Most Unexpectedly Fortunate Flower by aTasteofCaramell

summary: Dudley Dursley is leading a perfectly normal life, his contact with his odd cousin limited to Christmas cards and peculiar memories.

Until his daughter sneezes and sets the curtains on fire.

pairings: dudley/ original female character, hinny

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

repeated a thousand times in golden ink by LullabyKnell

summary: Half-Blood Prince AU: In which Luna makes a friend through desk art and Ginny helps.

Shameless, essentially plotless friendship fluff.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The Splendid Gallery by LullabyKnell

summary: Pre-POA AU: In the summer of 1993, the Grangers vacation in France and meet the Delacours. When the Granger-Delacour parents elect to explore Wizarding France as a group, Hermione Granger is thrown together with a girl named Fleur Delacour due to some bizarre idea that they will somehow magically become friends. Even though they have nothing whatsoever in common and Hermione doesn't like Fleur at all!

In which two of the brightest witches of their age become very good friends.

pairings: fleur/ hermione

tags: fluff

warnings: none

riding up the wrong path by ashen_key

summary: When Lily is eighteen, she cuts her hair and joins the army. The British Army.The British Muggle Army.

Despite what the gossip papers say, she leaves her wand at home. She's not a complete idiot.

– –

Oh, right.

Maybe take a few steps back.

pairings: none

tags: 

warnings: none

there will come a time, you'll see by aloneintherain

summary: They have Shepard’s pie for dinner. Ron and Hermione watch Harry fill up his plate and only start serving themselves when he picks up his fork and starts eating. Neville laughs into his wine glass. 

“How are you dealing with their mothering, Harry?” he asks.

Ron opens and closes his mouth for a minute, groping for an excuse. Eventually, Ron says, “He’s just so small, Nev.”

“Hey,” Harry says. “I’m seventeen. I’m an adult.”

Ron shakes his head at Neville. “My best friend is an infant.”

A curse regresses Harry to his seventeen year old self, physically and mentally. He doesn’t recognise this strange peaceful wizarding world, but there are two people he does recognise: Ron and Hermione.

 Based off this tumblr post.

pairings: romione

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

call it a badge of honor by dirgewithoutmusic

summary:  In those halls, they faced down Death Eaters under the guise of teaching robes. They faced them with raised wands, raised fists, or just raised chins, these children who kept telling stories in the dark about Harry Potter, who was going to save them.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Hogwarts, to welcome you home by gedsparrowhawk (FaceChanger)

summary: “You understand, Professor,” Harry began, after a moment, “that I don’t have my N.E.W.T.s. I never even finished seventh year. Between everything, I never had a chance the first time around, and then afterwards there didn’t seem to be much point. Hermione argued for it, of course, but I was so tired of Britain. So technically, I am completely unqualified for the position.”

“Quite a way to begin an interview, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, dryly.

Or, three years after the war, Harry Potter becomes Hogwarts' newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

pairings: hinny

tags: fluff, humor, angst

warnings:

THERMOS!, or, How a Muggle-Born Brought a New Age of Spell-Making to Hogwarts (Entirely by Accident) by susieboo

summary: Muggle-born witch Phoebe McDevitt just wanted her tea to stay warm during class. She didn't expect to accidentally start a spell-making craze among her classmates.

[Oneshot. Next generation. Based off a Tumblr post, which I will link to in the notes.] 

pairings: none

tags: humor

warnings: none

and ready to suffer and ready to hope by irnan (locked to ao3 users)

summary:  or, the one where petunia evans is a witch.

pairings: jily, hinny

tags: angst

warnings: character death

a very nice thing to say by LullabyKnell

summary:  Chamber of Secrets AU: Harry and Ron miss the train to Hogwarts. Luckily for them, they're not the only ones. Harry's not sure what's going on, what they're going to do, or who these people are exactly, but Ron seems to know these Lovegood people and it's not like there's anyone else to help them get to Hogwarts. 

tags: fluff, humor, 

pairings: none

warnings: none

yesterday we were just children playing soliders by girlmadeofstars

summary: What if, when Harry heard the Slytherin portion of the Hat's song, he payed attention when the Hat sung perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends? Imagine this: a little boy- beaten, and ignored, for his entire life. A little boy- friendless, and lonely. A little boy- desperate for the kind of friendship he had read about in books, seen on the television screen.

When the Hat offered him Slytherin, imagine that Harry said yes.

pairings: hinny, romione, astoria/ draco

tags: 

warnings:

The Transfiguration Incident, Or Pettigrew's Problems by Kyra_Neko_Rei

summary:  The lesson is transfiguring rats into teacups . . . only Ron Weasley's rat is actually an Animagus, which has dire consequences for the spell, for Peter Pettigrew, and for the Dark Lord's prospects for resurrection (and rather better consequences for Minerva McGonagall's reputation). Cross-posted (finally!) from Tumblr.

pairings: none

tags: humor

warnings: none

In the Name of the Brave* by LullabyKnell

summary: “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” 

“Oh, that’s Professor Black.”

- A slow-paced, self-indulgent, canon rewrite Philosopher's Stone AU.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: none 

Take Two* by Bundibird

summary: Never let it be said that a Slytherin doesn’t know to take hold of an opportunity when it’s presented to him on a silver platter.

[A Fourth Year AU in which Draco makes the most of Potter and Weasley’s fight and takes a second shot at befriending Harry. For the Greater Evil, obviously.]

Cross-posted at ff.n

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: 

Percy Weasley and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by LullabyKnell

summary:  Pre-Philosopher's Stone AU: In which fourteen-year-old Percy Weasley is very stressed, does not get enough sleep, and accidentally and unknowingly saves the Wizarding World because of bad aim.

pairings: none

tags: humor

warnings: none

beautiful enough for the both of us by dirgewithoutmusic

summary: “You know Professor Lupin was a werewolf?” Hermione said, ten minutes into a very awkward lunch she had asked for in an equally awkward letter.

Lavender pushed a sauteed carrot through a little puddle of pasta sauce. “I think everyone heard about that one. Someone told the papers, or something, right?”

“Er, yes,” said Hermione. “Snape did. Which is what I– I mean, it’s related. Oh, I wish you’d gotten to talk to Remus about this. He was a lovely man.”

“Not as lovely as Lockhart,” Lavender said and she and Hermione spent a moment in wistful remembrance. “God, I feel old,” Lavender said.

“Anyway, Snape,” said Hermione. “Snape and Lupin. When Lupin was at school, Snape would make him a potion that would… tame him, on full moons. He could just curl up in his office and sleep by the fire. If you’re interested, I’m trying to learn how to brew it myself.”

Lavender shook her head. “We’re not friends,” she said. “Never have been. So why are you doing all this?”

Hermione looked like she was trying to say “we’re friends,” but she couldn’t get it out.

--

Werewolf!Lavender, post-canon

pairings: lavender/ parvati

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

[mountainsluna]

wicked regrets

request: “a seonghwa scenario in which he’s a “serious” looking boyfriend who doesn’t really celebrate Halloween but the reader does, so he gets jealous of her friends cuz she’s spending too much time with them decorating and shopping for costumes”

pairing: seonghwa x reader (gender neutral besides reader in a female character costume)

genre: angst + fluff ending

word count: 2.1k

✩ [author’s note] for those of you that aren’t familiar with the movie the nightmare before christmas, theseeeee are the characters/costumes i refer to in the story! :)

✩ masterlist

✩ requests : check bio or masterlist ♡

One afternoon in late September, you and your boyfriend were out shopping when you passed by a new Halloween store that immediately caught your attention. “Oh my god! Baby we have to go in, can we just look around inside really quick please?” 

“Hmm okay love, but just really quick.” The lack of excitement in Seonghwa’s voice didn’t register with you as you were already halfway in the door before he he could finish replying. You were nearly bouncing off the walls that were filled with scary costumes and spooky decorations. You two had started dating last November so it was your first Halloween with Seonghwa as your boyfriend and he could honestly say he had never seen you this ecstatic.

"Baby look!!! They have the cutest decorations look at these pumpkins and these candles!! Oooh we can get these small skeletons for the living room! What do you think?" 

"Uhm I guess if you want. I don’t really celebrate it...well not since I was like 9. Isn’t it really just for kids anyways?” His words made your smile falter a bit. Halloween was your absolute favorite time of the year, and there were already so many activities planned out in your head that you wanted to do with your boyfriend. However, from the looks of it, it didn’t seem like he’d be interested in the slightest.

“No of course not...Are you telling me you don’t think Halloween is fun as an adult?” 

He shrugged his shoulders as his fingers grazed a large plastic butcher knife in front of him.

“No horror movies?”

“No.”

“Pumpkin carving?”

“Too messy.”

“Decorating?”

“Waste of money, we live in an apartment and if we decorate inside no one will even see it.”

You hated to admit how disappointed you were at his answers. You knew from the start that Seonghwa was a very serious person and you rarely ever had an issue with it. However, you were a couple and wanting to do couple things for your favorite holiday would’ve meant a lot to you.

“So, you wouldn’t even go with me to a haunted house?”

“I don’t see the appeal in literally paying someone to scare me. Aren’t your friends into all that stuff too? I say you should go with them.”

The fact that he wouldn’t even entertain the thought of having a little fun with you made you sad enough but for him to just pawn you off to your friends so he didn’t have to participate made you feel even more disappointed.

“Alright then Hwa, I guess I will.” You said sighing to yourself as you walked away from him.

----------

You decided that no matter how Seonghwa felt, you weren’t going to let his lack of excitement ruin your October. You even made sure he was aware of that the day you visited the Halloween store, leaving with nearly four bags full of decorations that he helped you carry home.

When October 1st arrived, your mind had already begun to wonder about what costume you wanted to get this year. Not wanting to hear Seonghwa shoot down your couple costume ideas you decided to not even mention it to him to save yourself the disappointment. Luckily, most of your friends were eager for the holiday just like you, one afternoon as you all hung out at a coffee shop, you vented to them about your problem with Seonghwa. You added in that you were a bit sad you couldn’t live out your couple costume dream with him by going as Jack and Sally from the Nightmare Before Christmas, a movie even Seonghwa knew was your favorite.

“Well I don’t have a costume picked out yet and I know that movie, I wouldn’t mind dressing up with you if you want?” Your eyes lit up at your friend Hongjoong’s suggestion. He wasn’t as tall as your boyfriend to be able to fit the costume as good but he was taller than you and that was enough.

A few days later, Seonghwa had just gotten home, walking in as you were grabbing your keys. “Oh? Are you leaving?” He asked, you never left the house that late on a Tuesday night. 

“Oh, yeah I forgot to tell you my friends and I are going costume shopping. Don’t worry I won’t be out long and your food is on the stove.” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before walking out the door. He stood there a bit shocked by your exit, but brushed it off. It’s not like it was an everyday thing.

It wasn’t until the week before Halloween that Seonghwa had begun to get frustrated. You had spent nearly every weekend either inviting your friends over or going to their apartments for Halloween baking or scary movies while he kept to himself. The first few times you told him it would be nice if he tagged along but he refused and after the third rejection you stopped asking. But now, he felt left out. Seonghwa swore to himself if you asked him again, he would accept this time, he just missed spending time with you. But you never asked.

The day before Halloween, Seonghwa was scrolling through his feed when he saw an ad for a haunted house that was only open that night and Halloween and he remembered you asking him if he’d go to one, regretting his words, he decided he should be the one to ask you this time.

He walked into the bedroom where you were adjusting your red wig onto your head. “Hey baby”, he started, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you at your vanity. “I know you probably have plans with your friends but...I would like to take you somewhere tomorrow night...to make up for everything I’ve missed this past month.” You saw his reflection in the mirror in front of you and you could tell how bad he was feeling, he never looked that sad.

“Where did you want to go?” You asked, turning to look at him directly.

He began telling you about the haunted house he had found but when he noticed your expression change from curiosity to a pout he stopped, knowing you had something to say.

“I...I’m sorry baby but...my friends and I are actually going there tonight. That’s why I’m all dressed up.” You said, spreading your arms to display your Sally costume to him.

At that moment, Seonghwa felt even more embarrassed of himself realizing he never even bothered to ask you what costume you had chosen and what your plans were for that night. He sat there staring at you for a few minutes, not knowing what to say to you. Before he could find the words, there was a knock on your door. You stood up, looking down at your boyfriend as his head hung slightly. “Maybe, we can try again next year?” You said, placing a kiss on his head before walking to the door to let your friends in.

When Seonghwa finally joined he looked over all your friends in their costumes, the laughter that filled the room made him feel jealous that he wasn’t apart of it. He felt his heart nearly drop as his eyes landed on your friend dressed as your cinematic lover. Even with the round mask covering his face, he knew it was Hongjoong. He always trusted him as your friend and he knew you had every right to dress up with any of your friends that you wanted but never did he expect to see this. As you all begun to head out you noticed as your boyfriend silently retreated back to the bedroom without telling you goodbye.

“Baby...Are you okay?” You asked, slowly stepping into the room to see him sitting in his previous position. He could barely even look you in the eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, I knew how much all this meant to you and it’s my fault for not wanting to be apart of it. But...seeing you and Hongjoong made me realize how much I really missed out on.” You caressed his cheek as he spoke, you knew he meant his apology but you weren’t sure how to comfort him. You didn’t want to leave him home all alone to feel bad while you went out with your friends. But then you had an idea, your body shot up as Seonghwa looked at you in surprise. 

“I think I may have an idea...wait here!” you said and before he could question you, you were gone. He could hear muffled exchanges as you and Hongjoong talked in the living room, right as he stood up to go check on you, you opened the door to reveal yourself and Hongjoong’s costume mask and jacket in your hands. “Try these on!” You said, extending the items to him.

“Is...is Hongjoong okay with this?” He asked, hesitating as he lifted up the jacket, inspecting it slightly. 

“Mhhm.” You said, smiling back at him as you two heard Hongjoong’s voice coming down the hallway.

“Oh I’m fine with that.” He chimed. “It’s this I’m not too sure about.” He said, holding out his black and white striped costume pants to Seonghwa as he stood there in his white shirt and gray boxers.

“T...they may be too...short for me.” Seonghwa said, earning a small glare from your friend.

“I’m sure you can squeeze into them, my love. Now change quickly while I help Hongjoong with his new costume.” You said, pushing the smaller boy out as you closed the door behind you.

After fumbling with the other boy’s pants for a few minutes, (omfg that sentence did not come out right hjsjshdkhs) Seonghwa joined you two in the bathroom biting back a laugh as he looked over Hongjoong.

A large white bed sheet and a pair of Seonghwa’s white pants now adorned his body along with a thick velvet pink choker you had worn a few times that matched a dress you owned, and to top it all off, two small bathroom towels tied to his hair with your hair bands.

All Hongjoong could do was glare at the taller male, as he stood letting you adjust the costume around him. “I let you dress me as the dog to help your relationship, I just want you both to know that you owe me your lives.” You smiled as you placed the red clown nose that you had draw a jack-o-lantern face on, on his nose.

“Zero is the best character in the entire movie, it’s not that bad.” You laughed, clapping your hands together. “Anyways, now we can go!”

--------

As you three exited your car to meet up with your friends, you looked over the two boys standing in front of you, Seonghwa’s pants looking more like high waters and Hongjoong’s cuffed nearly three times over to reach his ankle. “Can I ask you guys something?” You smirked as they looked back at you expectantly.

“How does it feel to be wearing each other’s pants?” You laughed, tears nearly ruining your face paint as you dodged Hongjoong’s bedsheet clad arms that were swatting at you playfully.

Once you found your friends you all got in line together, you rested your head on Seonghwa’s arm as you waited, the feeling of having your boyfriend next to you tonight made you feel so happy and the feeling of you in Seonghwa’s arms made him even happier. The entire haunted house was exactly what you had expected. You nearly threw yourself into Seonghwa’s chest every time a zombie got too close to you. Your boyfriend on the other hand practically laughed throughout the entire thing, finding the setups and actors to be quite amusing.

As you walked back to your vehicles Hongjoong told you he was going to ride with your other friends to another haunted house if you two wanted to join but you declined, Seonghwa looking at you confused as you waved bye to your friends getting into your car instead.

“Love, why did you say no?” He asked, hoping he hadn’t ruined your night.

“Because, I want to spend tonight and Halloween night with my boyfriend... If he wants to...” You said your eyes moving to look at him slowly.

“O..Oh, of course I do! But, I don’t want you to miss out on anything with your-”

“I’m not missing out on anything.” You interrupted him. “I wanted to spend Halloween with you and that’s what we’re going to do. We can go home and watch scary movies while we make snacks and I can listen to you rant about the dumb characters and their bad choices.” You suggested as you two pulled out of the parking lot.

“Maybe we can even carve some pumpkins.” Seonghwa added making you giggle as he smiled at you, his gaze focusing back on the road as he drove you two home. 

-------------------

the scariest part about this story is that seonghwa is driving yall home and he doesn’t even have a driver’s license

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, obsessedbutonline!

For @obsessedbutonline, who listed fluff, angst, and ‘Derek giving Stiles gift’ as a few ‘Likes’. I hope I did those items justice. Hope you have a wonderful Christmas, Friend!

Read On AO3

*****

The Gift

The gift. He supposed it all started with the gift. Or maybe Star Trek. Derek wasn’t sure. It was Stiles, after all. One day, the younger man had been debating the cuddle rating of a Tribble, before diving into an analysis of The Voyage Home being one of the worst movies in franchise history (except for the whales, of course), and the next thing Derek knew, he’d found himself discussing how Moby Dick was one of his favorite books. The random jumps from one topic to another hadn’t been anything new for Stiles, but that had also been the year they’d legitimately gotten ‘together’ after their contentious circling of each other’s orbits, so when Derek had opened an inelegantly wrapped early edition of the novel on that first Christmas as a couple, he’d been rendered speechless.

He couldn’t remember how long he’d stared at the leather-bound copy exactly, but he did recall feeling a bout of inadequacy. He thought he’d hid it well though. “Stiles – “ he’d started. “I wasn’t expecting…This is too much.”

Stiles had shrugged like it hadn’t been a big deal, an eager grin on his face. “Nah, it wasn’t too bad. A classmate mentioned a prof who needed an assistant to help translate some Latin verses, and I thought I’d check it out. When I went, I noticed a copy of Moby Dick in his office, and you’d mentioned it was one of your favorites, so I offered my translation services for free if he would sell the book for a discounted price.”

Of course, Stiles had remembered that weird detail from a throwaway conversation. And of course, he’d been resourceful in procuring it. That was just who Stiles was. Now, Derek, on the other hand… well, he’d felt completely out of his league when he’d pulled out the gift card he’d picked up a day earlier from a comic book store. He hadn’t even known if that was a store Stiles ever visited. He really sucked at gift-giving. “Sorry, I didn’t …”

Stiles had yanked it out of his hands before he’d even finished. “I love it. Thanks, Derek!” The younger man had beamed excitedly, clutching that cheap piece of plastic in his hands as if he’d just received some personal heirloom. There had been no uptick in the man’s heartrate, so there’d been no lie in those words, but that hadn’t stop Derek from feeling bad.

And it was then that he had resolved to do better, that he would be thoughtful and meticulous in his gift selection the next time Christmas rolled around. Stiles deserved as much.

But he’d mentioned he was bad at gift-giving, right? As in, monumentally bad. Because the next Christmas, when they’d settled down on his couch after an intimate holiday dinner he’d prepared for the two of them, Stiles had presented him with a charmingly wrinkled gift bag. And when he’d pulled out a lovingly restored and framed photograph of his family from before the fire, he’d not only felt a slight lump in his throat at the sentiment, he’d also felt remarkably small and completely lacking in comparison. It was a good thing they’d come to a mutual understanding that their birthdays would be a no-gift zone, because Derek wasn’t sure he could’ve handled double the inferiority complex this time of year.

“I found a copy of the photo from the digital archives of the town newspaper. It was for some fundraiser committee your mom chaired, I think. I saved a copy, and googled around for some pointers on how to increase the resolution so I could print out a decent version of it,” Stiles had explained.

Derek had nodded absently, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of his mother’s face under the cool glass. His whole family had stared back at him, carefree and unburdened in the moment that photo had been taken, eyes all shiny from a sunny afternoon picnic. “Yeah, I remember. It was a Pets in the Park fundraiser for the local animal shelter.” There had been an ache in the pit of his stomach at the reminder of everything he’d lost, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had once been. Now, it had been dulled by time, and tempered by the meaningful relationships he’d found, foremost of which was the one with the man beside him. “Thank you,” he’d said slowly, slightly surprised that his voice hadn’t cracked at the pool of emotion swirling within him.

“Anytime, big guy.” Stiles had leaned in, his weight and warmth freely offered as a source of silent strength.

But when he’d pulled out his gift for Stiles, he had had that sinking feeling of failing an important test. He hadn’t even had time to wrap it properly, opting to place a haphazard bow on it instead. “Sorry, I didn’t know …”

Stiles had grabbed the cellophane-covered box with a puzzled expression. “A bath set?” he’d asked slowly. “Is this your way of telling me I stink?”

There had been amusement in the younger man’s tone, devoid of upset or disappointment, but that hadn’t stopped Derek from feeling upset and disappointed in himself. After Stiles had gone through all the trouble of giving him such a personal and meaningful gift, he’d reciprocated with … soap. “Remember when you were on break during Thanksgiving,” he’d started to explain. “That necromancer problem we had?”

“Oh, damn, do I ever! We spent the whole night trying to wash zombie goo out of bodily crevices I never knew I had!” Then, realization had set in as those rich brown eyes widened. “This is perfect, Derek! Thank you!” And just like that, Stiles had fallen on him with his usual gracelessness, and proceeded to express his ‘gratitude’ properly.

That had been last year. But this time around, right before Stiles had returned to campus for his final two semesters of college, Derek had stumbled upon the ideal Christmas gift, while they were cleaning, of all things. They’d been packing up and storing some of Stiles’ stuff before the younger man headed back to school when they’d gotten diverted by some dusty, old boxes in the Sheriff’s attic. Somehow, in the way of procrastination, they’d ended up flipping through old photo albums when Stiles had paused to tell him about a picture of his mother.

“Oh, there’s the locket my dad helped me buy for Mother’s Day when I was eight,” Stiles had said as he’d pointed to a picture of Claudia Stilinski, vivacious and beaming brightly at the camera. Anyone could see where Stiles had gotten his smile. “I didn’t have the greatest taste in jewelry, so it doesn’t look like much, but she was so excited when she got it. She wore it all the time.”

“It’s nice that you have a memento to remember her by,” Derek had supplied.

Stiles’ shoulders had slumped a little at the comment. “Yeah, I think we accidentally sold it during a garage sale not long after she died. Dad wasn’t exactly in the best place, and he just wanted to get rid of the memories because they hurt so much back then. Lots of regret now. Who knows? It might’ve found another home, or it might be in a garbage dump somewhere.”

And that comment had led him down the winding, convoluted path to where he was now: standing in front of a teenage girl with bright blue hair and an eclectic ensemble of a loose plaid shirt, artfully ripped leggings, and combat boots.

“A hundred bucks,” the girl re-stated, her tone indicating that this wasn’t a negotiation.

“One hundred? The pawn shop owner said you only paid five dollars for it.” He could be stubborn too, though deep down, he knew he wasn’t really in a position of power in this situation, much as that rankled him.

Ms. Blue-hair shrugged. “So? If you want it that bad, then you should be willing to pay for it.”

She had him there. Three months of diligently interviewing the Stilinski neighbors, and following a trail of multiple goodwill and pawn shops had led him to that very locket hanging from the girl’s neck, that very locket Stiles had shown him in that old photo of his mother. He gave the teen what Stiles had laughingly termed his ‘murder-brow’ look and pulled out his wallet. Of course, he would pay, especially after all the work he’d put into tracking it down, and because this was for Stiles. He didn’t have to like being swindled like this though.

“That’s a nice jacket, by the way.”

Derek looked up from pulling out the cash and froze. He glared at the girl, hoping the intensity of his stare would deter whatever she was about to insinuate. It didn’t work.

“No,” he said flatly as she watched him expectantly.

“Okay, I guess we’re done here then. Nice meeting you.” And with that, she turned and started to walk away.

Derek ground his teeth together to keep from outright growling and fought hard to not wolf out. He hated being bested like this. Life would’ve been so much simpler if he could just take the damned piece of jewelry by force and run off with it. Stupid morals.

“Fine,” he conceded with a clenched jaw after she’d managed to walk several feet away.

She turned with a triumphant smile as he started to shrug off his leather jacket. When he held it out with the wad of cash, she unclasped the chain without any further objections and handed it over. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

(***)

Stiles’ name flashed on his lock screen just as he was pulling up to his loft.

“Hey, you back already?” he answered as he shifted his car into park. His regular visits to Stanford notwithstanding, he’d been anticipating Stiles’ winter break for a while, and the timing couldn’t have worked out any better with him finding the locket when he had. “I was going to pick you up tonight after you’ve had a few hours with your dad.”

Several seconds of heavy breathing greeted his words, and almost instantly, he was on alert, muscles tensing and heartrate increasing. “Stiles?”

“Yeah, Derek, I’m here,” a familiar voice sounded through the phone. “Sorry, just had to get around Scott to check something out. But no, I’m not home yet. Got sidetracked on my way into town. Can you come to the preserve right now? The trail just off Parsons. We’ve got, um, a problem.”

Since his return to Beacon Hills, the supernatural activity in the area had decreased significantly, especially with a solid pack established in the area now, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t the occasional run-in with creatures bringing in death and mayhem. This sounded like one of those times. Shifting gears into reverse, he responded without hesitation, “On my way.”

The trip to the preserve was quick, the route having been travelled so many times that he could probably drive it eyes closed. After parking in the lot off Parsons, he picked up Stiles’ scent almost immediately, along with a few others of the pack, and had no problems tracking the source down a few hundred feet off a popular running path.

Not surprisingly, Scott noticed him first, looking up from a patch of tall grass and nodding in greeting as Derek silently approached. Stiles stood more out in the open, back turned and head down as he tapped busily on his phone. Once upon a time, his quiet ‘stalking’ would’ve caused a flailing of limbs and a high-pitched yelp from the younger man, but of the familiarity borne from the years of closeness, Stiles simply turned, smiled, and greeted him with a warm ‘hey’ as if he’d known he was there the whole time. And all things considered, he probably had.

They’d never been a couple for overt displays of affection, but the way Stiles unconsciously leaned toward him, trusting and open, worked just as well in telling Derek how the other man felt. He usually did the same, subtly breathing in the scent of his boyfriend and feeling more settled in his presence. They hadn’t seen each for a couple of weeks, and he’d missed having Stiles near.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking around for the rest of the pack. Their scents were fainter, which meant they had been here recently, but had likely wandered off or left altogether.

“It’s Christmastime in Beacon Hills, so the usual. Y’know, carolers, Santa parades, sleigh rides, tidings of comfort and joy, and oh yeah, witches.”

Derek had never been bothered by Stiles’ sarcasm, though he wouldn’t openly admit that if asked about their first encounters with each other, but now, he found the trait rather endearing. “So, we’re dealing with a witch. How bad?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I was driving back into town when I saw a kid running across the road. Freaked me out, and barely stopped in time. When I went to check on him, he was crying and said an old woman had tried to take him. At first, I thought it was an attempted kidnapping, but then, he said that there was a lot of screaming coming from her big bag, and he was scared of getting stuffed in there with all the other kid. For this town, that triggered alarm bells. Stuffing kids into bags and lugging them around is not your regular run-of-the-mill kidnapper MO. I called my dad, and he came out here with a few units, but is running interference on the supernatural front. He’d mentioned that this was the third attempted kidnapping this month, so the deputies are on high alert. They still think it’s a regular human predator, so they’re canvassing the other side of the preserve right now, which means we can do our own investigation here. I called Scott, and the others are now fanned out, doing a search to see if we can catch a scent.”

“No luck yet,” Scott added as he strode over to join them. “Just a whole bunch of the usual smells, and with the people that use the running trails, it’s hard to pinpoint a specific one. We’re not exactly sure what we’re looking for.”

“I think I have a lead though.” Stiles held out his phone to show an etching of a stooped crone with a large sack. “We might have an Icelandic witch in the area, one that kidnaps and eats children, but I’m not a hundred percent. I hope I’m not right because … well, children! But she’s supposed to be active around Christmas. I need to double-check some books at my house to make sure though.”

Derek nodded, not surprised that Stiles had pretty much figured it out already. As human as Stiles was, he was arguably one of the pack’s most valuable assets, and truth be told, Derek felt quite proud of the other man’s quick wit and life-saving accomplishments. “So, you need to go home then?”

Stiles made a sound of agreement as he tucked his phone away and gave him an apologetic look. No words were needed to communicate how sorry he was that their reunion wasn’t what they’d planned.

“Okay, call us with any info,” Scott chimed in. “Derek and I will probably be more useful if we keep scouting the area. This is children we’re talking about. I don’t want anymore of them put in danger.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Alpha leader, sir,” Stiles replied jokingly, giving his friend a mock salute.

The years had matured Scott somewhat, enough that the erstwhile werewolf took his role and responsibilities somewhat seriously now. And for this, Derek was grateful.

Scott gave Stiles a shove to get him on his way, before shaking his head with a laugh and started to move back to the tall grass he’d been searching through earlier. “Go, you idiot.”

Stiles responded with the very mature gesture of sticking out his tongue. Then, Derek felt the younger man’s arm wrap lightly around his waist and pull him close for a quick kiss. The motion was casual, natural, and one that Derek returned without thought. “Sorry, not what we’d planned when I got back, huh? Let’s catch this witch fast so we can start our Christmas cuddle session, ‘kay?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at the comment. His boyfriend sure did have a way with words sometimes. “Christmas cuddle?”

“Hey, it is what it is.” Stiles shrugged innocently as he started to move away.

“I’m not calling it that.”

“Suit yourself, Sourwolf, but I’ve officially labelled it, and you can’t take that away from me,” Stiles said as he walked backwards toward the nearby trail. Derek half-expected him to trip on some invisible rock in the next few seconds. “Gonna say it all I want!”

He rolled his eyes as the younger man’s antics. “Go.”

“Christmas cuddle! Oh, and far be it for me to complain about seeing you in that t-shirt, but you do know it’s winter, right? We may live in California, and you may have some super-awesome internal wolfy furnace going, but I’m cold just looking at you. Where’s your jacket?”

“Go!” While he didn’t feel the chill as acutely, he didn’t need to be reminded about his fleecing by a greedy, blue-haired teenager.

After Stiles wave his acknowledgement and jogged out of sight, Derek turned back to join Scott. Their relationship may have started out roughly, but they’d fallen into a companionable pattern over the last few years. It was likely because of everything Scott had been through and his maturation, but Derek guessed part of it may have been out of respect for both their relationships with Stiles. Without much preamble, they quickly sectioned off their respective search zones, and fanned out into the thicker parts of the preserve. Derek had grown up here, had run and played amongst the trees and foliage so often that walking through it now stirred a sense of homecoming. Still, sometimes, there were things here that could still surprise him. Like the odd whiff of fear and panic he caught a few minutes after he’d split off from Scott. It was faint, probably non-existent for the newer wolves, but it was there, so out of place with the earthy scent of moss and soil. He started to follow it, his senses sharpening as he homed in on the potential prey. He hadn’t made much progress before he heard a howl off in the distance, and his entire body tensed, ready for action.

They’d found something!

Once he pinpointed the source, he was off, dashing through branches and over roots with a surety of stride that had been acquired from a lifetime of running these woods. He didn’t get very far though. He heard it first, a loud symphony of disembodied laughter all around him. Before he could stop and confront whatever it was, he caught a flutter of movement in his periphery, and then, he was flying, thrown through the air by an impact harder than anything in recent memory. He was out cold before he even landed.

(***)

He wasn’t unconscious for long. At least, he didn’t think he was, given that generations of werewolf evolution had refined his healing abilities to the point where he shouldn’t be. But however long it was, it was enough to find himself strapped to a board – or a crude table, perhaps – staring up at the flickering shadows of a stone ceiling. Or a cave? He honestly hated losing time like this and waking up in unexpected places, which, given who he was and where he lived, was an actual occupational hazard.

A whimper somewhere to his left drew his attention just then, and he tilted his head at an uncomfortable angle to take better stock of where he was, and with whom. Just within his field of vision, he could barely make out a small figure sat huddled inside a primitively constructed cage no higher than his hip. A wood fire burned beneath a big vat just a few feet away, thoroughly heating up whatever was inside if the bubbling sound was any indication.

“Hey,” he said quietly, if a little hoarsely, hoping the hunched figure would shift enough into the firelight for him to make out who it was.

The figure shuffled over, and Derek could see the tear-streaked face of a boy, probably no more than eight or nine years old. Stiles had said there’d been attempted kidnappings. It looked like one had succeeded.

“H-hello? You’re awake.”

“Yeah, I am.” He wasn’t good with children, barring the few cousins he’d played with when he was younger, yet that had been different. They’d been family. He knew this kid was scared, could hear it in the tremor of his voice and smell it in the dankness of the air, but he wasn’t sure what he could say to help with that. “I’m Derek. What’s your name?”

“A-Andy.”

“Well, Andy, if you give me a minute, we can get out of here and I’ll take you back to your parents.” He tried to sound reassuring, though he wasn’t sure it worked as well as he’d intended when he was tugging and testing the thick ropes tied around his chest, waist, and legs. They were tight, but he managed to slide a hand free enough to shift and start slicing away at the restraints with his claw.

“Just Mom,” the boy said quietly. “Dad left.”

“Okay, we’re going to find your mom then. I’m sure she’s really missing you right now.” He figured that keeping a calm tone and easy conversation going was as good a plan as any while he worked on the ropes.

Andy shuffled a little in his cage, his face dipping down again into the shadows cast by the nearby fire. “She’s working. She’s always working. She promised I’d get to see Dad, but she couldn’t take me, so I went to find him myself.”

Which might explain why the boy hadn’t been reported missing yet. There was some give to the rope by his right hip, so he tilted his head and tried to look over at the boy and hoped he properly projected the sincerity of his words. “That doesn’t mean she’s not missing you, Andy. I know she’s probably very worried. She – “

The stench assaulted him first, sour and rancid, before he felt the whole space shake with a reverberating thud. Andy quickly scooted back into the corner of his cage with a scared squeak, leaving Derek to turn and search out the source in the dim light. An old woman came into view near the foot of his table, posture bent and face haggard, each of her steps sending tiny shockwaves through the cave. Her long, gray hair hung in a greasy, unkempt mess, framing a crooked nose and a gap-toothed, mirthless grin. She resembled the picture Stiles had shown him on his phone, but the younger man had neglected to mention one thing. She was a fucking giant!

The whole cave suddenly felt cramped, and her looming presence caused his heartrate to spike. He worked faster on his ropes.

“Good dog. You’re too old and gristly for my liking, but if my lads want a pet, a pet they will get,” she said in a voice deeper than he’d expected. She patted his stomach dismissively as she passed, and he fought hard not cry out at the jarring, painful contact. “Now, where’s my little snack? Little boy for a little snack. Little boy snack.” She cackled at her own wit.

He heard Andy whimper again as the old, giant crone ambled her way over to the cage, and he wanted to tell the boy to be brave, to hold on because he was almost through his rope. Yet, as he was about to do just that, he caught the scent of metal and electricity in the air. It cut through the myriad of other unpleasant smells like an olfactory beacon, clear and crisp and a harbinger of something – or someone – familiar. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the arrival of the calvary, even as Andy shrieked when the witch pulled him roughly from the cage and shuffled over to the boiling pot.

Then, several things happened at once. First, voices that sounded like the disembodied laughter he’d heard earlier came from somewhere outside. This time, however, they were shouting out in distress, intermingled with the familiar voices of his pack. The cries gave the witch pause for a split second, just as he cut through the last of his restraints and pulled free. After that, he was up and leaping through the air, aiming to get Andy free of the old woman’s clutches and away from the fire. And he managed just that, wrapping his arms around the boy as he clawed at the large hand that held him. But he underestimated the reaction speed of the crone, and barely managed to turn his body to shield Andy before her other hand swatted his side. He landed with bone-cracking impact against the boiling pot, adrenalin enhancing his movements as he rolled quickly to avoid landing on the fire or getting splattered by the hot liquid in the toppling vat. He was pretty sure he’d probably cracked a few ribs, but they were already healing. Andy seemed none the worse for wear when he looked down, unhurt and safe in his arms still.

“My boys! What are they doing to my boys?” the witch wailed.

Derek tensed briefly, thinking the giantess would take her surprise and anger out on him. He readied himself for a fight, but instead, she turned and marched the other way, he and Andy seemingly forgotten. He eased himself up with a barely suppressed groan, and let the small body pressed against his chest slide down to his lap. He could hear the pack outside, the growls of the wolves and the foreign-sounding chants from Stiles, and he knew that they had it handled.

“You okay?” he asked as he gave Andy a good once-over.

The boy simply nodded, his whole body still trembling. Then, without a word, he leaned forward and hugged Derek as if his life depended on it. Not sure how else to respond, Derek hugged the child back.

That was how Stiles found them a few minutes later when he stumbled clumsily into the cave. After some coaxing, they both managed to talk Andy into finally letting go. Scott took it from there, coming in to take the boy away to find the Sheriff, who had been called to the area when Stiles had triangulated Derek’s location. Stiles waited a moment after Scott had left before he turned and threw himself into Derek’s arms.

“Oh, thank every deity I just prayed to you’re okay. Had me worried.”

Derek squeezed the warm, lithe body clinging to him like an octopus, and bent down to briefly nuzzle his partner’s neck. He breathed in the fortifying scent that was simply Stiles and used it to ground himself after the crazy events that had just happened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m fine.”

“I know. You’re one tough son of a bitch, but the uncertainty always gets me.” Stiles pulled away and gave him a look with those ridiculously wide Bambi-like eyes that made Derek’s insides go warm. “And of course, you would go all superhero and save a child while we saved you. With the way the boy was holding on to you, I thought you’d replaced me with a cuter, newer model.”

Derek quirked up his lip into a lopsided, half-smile. “Never,” he returned easily. “If I did, I would at least try to get a good trade-in price for you.”

“Smartass.” As his comeback, Stiles smacked his arm with the back of his hand. He then slipped said hand into Derek’s, intertwined their fingers, and started walking out of the cave. “See if I ever send baddies back through an intercontinental gate for you again.”

“So, she wasn’t a witch?” Derek asked as he followed Stiles’ lead out of the cave

“Oh, no, she was a witch. The giantess witch, Gryla, and her sons, the Yule Lads. I don’t know how they got here, but I was working off of some quick and dirty research, so the best I could do was track down caves in the area, which is what the literature says she tends to favor, and find a spell to send her back to her native Iceland.”

Derek silently listened as Stiles explained what had happened, both grateful and proud – and not for the first or last time either – at the quick wit and resourcefulness of the guy he got to call his. They eventually emerged from the cave, and he immediately felt lighter the moment he could smell the fresh earth and foliage again. The sun was beginning to set, creating lengthening shadows of the redwoods and the oaks that stood like sentinels around them. And with that came a distinct chill in the air. He felt Stiles shiver at the lower temperature, and wished he’d had his jacket around to offer the other man. The jacket that he’d exchanged for …

With his free hand, he reached into his jeans pocket where he’d tucked the locket earlier, and –

Shit!

Without another thought, he turned and sprinted back into the cave. He quickly scanned the area and did not see the locket anywhere. His eyes then fell on the overturned pot and the still-burning embers of the woodfire. A dash of panic began to taint his actions, but he didn’t stop to quell it. Instead, he rushed over to the dying fire and started digging through the ashes. His hands burned and healed almost simultaneously as he dug desperately through the charred wood, an odd combination of frustration and helplessness clouding his judgement.

“Derek?”

He heard Stiles, but didn’t answer, mainly because his fingers wrapped around a clump of metal just then. He looked down at what used to be Stiles’ mother’s locket, the piece now misshapen by the heat and bearing no resemblance to what it used to be. He dropped the thing, both dejected and angry. This was supposed to be the year. This was supposed to be the Christmas where he would show Stiles how much the younger man meant to him by putting the care and thought into his gift that Stiles had always put into his. But everything… everything had been for nothing.

“Derek? What’s wrong? You okay?” Stiles approached and knelt beside him, looking ready to join him in whatever he was searching for.

He brushed the soot and ash off his hands, shook his head, and stood up. “Nothing. I’m good. Just thought I dropped something but I was wrong. C’mon, let’s go home.”

Puzzled, Stiles stood too, though he didn’t pry, and together, they made their way out of the cave once more, but not before Derek threw one last, longing glance at the pile of ashes.

(***)

“Oh, my god, I’m so stuffed,” Stiles said as he plopped down on the couch and rubbed his belly. “I might have to be rolled off to bed later because there’s no way I’m standing up.”

Derek smiled softly at the younger man’s dramatics, and joined him on the sofa. Christmas dinner had been an intimate one again between just the two of them, with Derek doing most of the preparation, while Stiles had ‘helped’. He didn’t mind though. He enjoyed their time together. The way they fit together, their ease with each other … it had all been hard-won, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. The younger man had chatted animatedly throughout the meal and Derek had let him go on, wanting to prolong the whole thing because, if he was being honest, he was dreading what would happen afterwards: their gift exchange.

“Merry Christmas, Derek,” Stiles said, as if reading his thoughts. He reached over to the end table and grabbed an unevenly wrapped gift.

Derek stared at the thing for a moment, just knowing deep down it would be a typical Stiles present, all special and personal. Why did Stiles even stay with him? He must come across as an unthoughtful, unappreciative jerk. Slowly, he unwrapped the gift, and revealed a collage of artfully arranged photographs. There were trees and flowers and butterflies dancing on sunbeams across open trails. They were beautiful, more so in that Derek recognized where they had been taken: the preserve.

“You sometimes talk about how you grew up in the preserve,” Stiles explained. “How it’s a second home to you, and how you have all those memories with your family there. I know the memories are special, so I went and took some pictures during summer break. I hope these help you remember all those good times.”

Derek blinked away the prickling he felt in his eyes. Stiles may have assumed he was touched by the gift, which was fine. He didn’t need to know what Derek was really feeling. He didn’t need to know that in that moment, he thought Stiles really deserved so much better than him.

“Thank you. It’s perfect,” he choked out. “I – “ He didn’t know how to continue. What else could he say? “My present isn’t –“

He stopped. Stiles looked at him expectantly. Not finding the right words, he leaned over to the coffee table and grabbed the last-minute gift bag he’d filled the day before. “Here.”

He looked away while Stiles eagerly dug into the bag. He knew what was in there, and he didn’t need to see the lackluster reaction the younger man would have at the assortment of Reese’s candies he’d find.

“Oh, this is awesome, Derek!” Stiles exclaimed excitedly. “Holy shit, there’s a half pound peanut butter cup in here! Hello, Heaven!”

Derek felt Stiles’ arms wrap around him in gratitude, but he couldn’t find it in himself to return the gesture. The younger man seemed to notice and pulled back. “Derek?”

He turned and took in Stiles’ questioning gaze. He couldn’t do this. They complemented each other so well in everything, but somehow, in this, they were completely mismatched. “Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked in earnest.

“What?”

“My gifts. Doesn’t it bother you that my gifts are so … so bad. Yours are always so … so perfect.” It felt good to get that off his chest.

Stiles gawked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. “Huh? But I think your gifts are perfect. And that’s not a lie. You can tell, right?”

True, Derek hadn’t heard any change in the other man’s heartrate to indicate otherwise, but no one could like his choice of gifts that much. “I just ... I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you, how much I care about you, the same way to do for me, especially with the gifts you give me. But I can’t seem to do that.” This was uncharted territory for him, this admission. He wasn’t used to revealing his insecurities like this. Yet, this was Stiles he was talking to, he reminded himself. Stiles, who never had any shame in revealing his every failure and weakness, and who gave his trust without fear of being hurt. Derek owed him the same. “I found your mother’s locket,” he finally said. “The one from the album you showed me. I found it, and was going to give it to you, but I lost it when we fought that witch last week. I’m sorry.”

He stared at the coffee table. He stared at the discard wrapping paper of the collage he’d just received. He started at everything but Stiles.

And then, “That’s what you were worried about? Not being able to show me you loved me?” Stiles’ tone was incredulous, and it was enough for Derek to turn his attention to the younger man again. “You’re an idiot, Derek,” Stiles continued. “For the record, your presents are awesome. But that’s not the point. You drive three hours each way to visit me on campus every other weekend. You cook Christmas dinner for us every year. You help me pack for college each fall. You drop everything and meet me in a forest, no questions asked, when I call. You even spent all night picking zombie guts out of my hair. If that doesn’t say ‘love’, I don’t know what does!”

To put an exclamation to his point, Stiles pulled him in for a long, lingering kiss. “I love you, Derek Hale, and I know you love me. You don’t need to give me things to show me that. You show me every day in the things you do. And that’s more than enough.”

Derek looked at the man sitting beside him, stunned and at a loss. “I –“

“It’s more than enough,” Stiles re-stated firmly. “Now, stop your self-flagellation, and show me how much you appreciate my gift by kissing me.”

Stiles pulled him in again, and this time, Derek did put everything he had into that kiss because the weight of those heartfelt words were slowly sinking in. He loved Stiles. And Stiles … Stiles knew that. He groaned in appreciation at the true gift he’d been given as he pushed the younger man down onto his back, bracing his weight on his arms as he ground their hips together. Fuck it, he felt like he’d really won the lottery in finding Stiles … because Stiles was right, he realized as he deepened their kiss, tasting and teasing the smart, sarcastic, and silly man beneath him.

This … This was more than enough.

[castillo-adrian]

A Rainy Day in Paris | Part 2

December 23rd. Morning.

An escape wasn’t really a possibility. These weren’t some gang of street fighters who got lucky, these were professionals who had been responsible for sustaining the national security by neutralising their enemies in the most proficient way possible. Adrian would know, they’d done it together. The method with which he’d been chained to the chair had been straight out of the GIGN handbook, too – if you tried to break free and pull at your hands, the rope on your throat would choke you to death before you could break away. In some morbid, prideful moment, Adrian felt relieved he’d be going out this way – by the hands of men he once called his brothers and sisters in arms, not random mobster muscles. As far as dying went, this would be as good as he could get.

Adrian did wonder why they were taking their time. They weren’t the type to make a spectacle out of a murder. Then, as if they’d heard his thoughts, Philippe provided an explanation, not before his fist clashing with Adrian’s abdomen, leaving him unable to breathe for a few seconds.

“Drink,” Philippe held a bottle of water near his face, “I need you to last until 26th. You’ll be our Christmas present for Laure and Varden. He’s been through enough shit, we’re going to let him have Christmas in peace. Laure, too. So she can spend it with her kids, instead of having to be reminded of you,” Philippe said with resentment, “Aren’t you a godfather to Olivier, by the way? Fucking shame. At least he’s alive, unlike Varden’s son.”

The assassin’s jaw clenched. Not out of anger at anyone in particular, rather the tragedy of the situation. Adrian didn’t carry much guilt, but not being able to prevent Gabriel’s death hadn’t be easy to write off. 

He stayed silent.

Samir, who’d been hanging in the back for the most part, rammed a plank of wood into Adrian with so much force, it wouldn’t take a medical examination to guess he’d cracked a rib or two.

It wasn’t the pain that was too much to handle, it’s the fact that he couldn’t fight back.

On the flipside, it was his silence that make his former friends snap. 

Minute after minute had passed, maybe hours, even. Adrian had lost count how long the absolute frenzy of violence had lasted. After all, they’d been taking out six years worth of frustration.

December 23rd. Noon.

They’d been taking shifts. Agnès had been the first. He knew it was because she still hoped to hear the answers. An attempt had been made, a genuine one on his part, to give her some clarity, for the first and the last time. All the reasons leading to leaving the St. Clair Organisation – losing his father early and having to support his family, hating furthering the agenda of the mob that had the city he loved wrapped into its tentacles, losing purpose and sense of belonging, and finally, not being able to kill a man in front of his child. All the reasons he stayed with the Rutherfords – newfound purpose, a chance to teach, a chance to lead, new friends.

As expected, it hadn’t been enough for Agnès. Not that Adrian could fault her – after all, their experiences in life couldn’t have been more different. She, simply couldn’t relate, couldn’t empathise. Nevertheless, he’d hoped it brought her some semblance of closure.

December 24th. A few minutes past midnight.

A metallic sound of chair being dragged across the floor woke him up. When Adrian raised his head and looked up, Agnès was gone, and sat in front of him was Cédric. 

“Believed it not, none of us are enjoying this. Not really,” the Frenchman rubbed his face and let out a sigh. “We were no Laure or Julien, or Évelyne, but Agnès and Philippe, and me, we considered you a friend. Samir, he looked up to you. When he thought you died, he cried, and I’ve never seen him shed a tear. Ever,” Cédric crossed his arms against his chest. For a moment his mind drifted off somewhere else. Adrian wondered if he was thinking about Évelyne. 

“You haven’t told Év, have you?” Adrian asked. “It’s fine. I’m sure she won’t be upset with you. At this point, she may want me dead, too.” The last conversation they had got heated. It was better not to dwell on what happened when he last talked to Évelyne.

“No,” Cédric didn’t elaborate. “Do you remember that mission in Lybia?”

“Sure. Harmattan?”

“You saved my life.” Cédric’s words carried a myriad of emotions – nostalgia, hesitation, regret, compassion. “I told you back then that I owed you one.”

“And I told you that you didn’t. It was my job to have your back.”

“No, you’re not understanding what I’m trying to say,” Cédric pulled out a combat knife.

Adrian gave him a puzzled look.

“I owe you one,” the Frenchman repeated as he got up from his chair and walked behind Adrian. “But now we’re even.”

When the assassin felt the rope around his neck loosen, he realised what was happening.

“Are you sure?” Adrian rubbed at his wrists, trying to get back the normal blood flow after hours upon hours of being tied up. 

“I pay my debts. Always.” Cédric tossed the rope on the floor. “But if we meet again, there will be no mercy.”

Adrian nodded. There was still honour among thieves, turned out.

“Wait. Before you go, I need you to stab me,” Cédric handed him his knife. “I need to make it look like you stole the knife off of me and got away. You might be comfortable with being branded a traitor, but I’m not.”

He obliged.

December 24th. Half an hour later.

The 24-hour pawn shop was still at the same address where Adrian remembered. He woke up the owner with a ‘ding’ of the counter bell and flashed a Rolex original in the man’s face. A gift from Andrew Rutherford and one of the most valuable possessions Adrian owned, but if he were to get out of country before his former friends caught up to him, he needed money and the watch was the only thing Adrian had on him.

“This is a real Rolex,” the man declared after examining the item for a few minutes, “I just made deposit at the bank today. Don’t have that much cash right now. You should come back tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Adrian pushed the watch back towards the pawn shop owner, “How much do you have?”

“500 Euroes,” the man said suspiciously. 

“I’ll take it,” Adrian tried to wrap up the world’s worst bargain as soon as possible.

Well, five hundred Euroes had been just enough to buy a burner phone to call Johnathan and get a cab driver to drop him off at the nearest city close to the Swiss border. 

Escaping via the Channel wouldn’t have been smart, he thought. That’s where they’d expect him, not all the way to Switzerland, where by some kind of miracle was exactly he’d been expected.

The driver dropped him off in Dijon.

Hours disappeared into on another, he sat in the highway café, hoping one of the passing trucks would take him to Swizerland.

Finally, his luck started to turn. The man who agreed to let him tag along was a rather loud Corsican with a terrible sense of humour.

“I promise I’m not a murderer,” the Corsican burst into a headache inducing laughter as he put the truck into ignition.

“Good to know,” Adrian leaned into his seat. Five more hours and he’d be in Zermatt. 

[kim-lexie]

week-by-week playback: crash landing on you.

just to preface, pardon that some of this may not be cohesive. i made this a separate post because otherwise the collective review would be insanely long. and i wanted to keep a space where i just let my thoughts from each episode exist, so here it it. 

if you want to see my semi cohesive thoughts from the themes and characters here is my actual review. crash landing on you.

*spoiler alert*

ep 1-2 my goodness this man, hyun bin (aka ri jung hyuk in this drama) is dreamy as ever. *like swoons*. son ye-jin is perfect, i loved her in "something in the rain” and this character is completely different and i am loving it. this free easy going aide of this actress. she is adorable and i love how in a crazy situation the first thing she thinks is ‘you’re totally my type’ bc seriously a girl after my own heart.

now the concept is completely ridiculous but i’ll jump on the band wagon and live my best life bc i think this is going to be a unique concept that i fall for. the fact that she doesn’t listen to him and goes directly into north korea i’m like girl you’re crazy.

i love how they added the clips at the end of the episode and how he was laughing at her. precious how he’s already falling for her quirky side. i am intrigued to see where their relationship first started like how did they meet before how did he leave north korea and enter back in as a general captain?!? so many questions and i’m so excited.

ep 3-4.  kim ju-meok (captain ri’s company of 5) saying i haven’t seen any drama characters that don’t fall in love in that situation. hahaha same dude same. when the guy was spying, jung man-bok, and trying to keep up with the drama plot. hahaha

i loved when the ladies tried to see her and she made him act all sweet walking him out the door.

he said all nice things to the plant!!!

ep 5-6. his relationship with his fiancé is soooo weird. and her family must be super high up in north korea. same to his family though. his mom has an ostrich in her yard!!! i love how they got stuck on the train on their journey to pyeongyang. i love how he jumps to his feet to get her anything she wants. they’re precious together. i’m excited to see where it takes us bc now that the man on the run knows that she is there, there is leverage. he was the first guy she waited for TT. i’m really enjoying the little tidbit scenes at the ending.

he’s gonna keep a photo of her even though he said it was silly to get a momento. the clarification between destiny and coincidence.

ri jeong-hyeok do you want to be my destiny. ‘as long as you stay in my sight you’ll be safe, as long as she is in my sight i will protect her.’

ep 7-8. her character growth since meeting him is extensive and i love to see this side of her not as callused and closed off but rather vulnerable.

‘so happens that you’ve become a special person to me

for once i had to protect you too.’

the heart on his uniform she stitched up.

it’s his brothers song. TT

him going to find her bc she might have been waiting in him. he’s not wrong. and her being concerned with him not being in the hospital bc of his injuries.

your life here might be shattered bc of me.

and i don’t like that.

she’s gets kidnapped. after all this. she even decorated a christmas tree and got him a gift.

held my breath for a solid minute after that gunshot.

ep 9-10. yes his freaking dad in these moments where i’m crying just provides the perfect comedic relief bc he can’t freaking believe what’s happening in front of him. “you make my heart flutter. the other dude.” even when you didn’t know it you saved my life. when he played the song for the first and last time for his brother.

how would i forget about a woman who feel from the sky? -jeong-hyeok

i didnt fall. i descended. -se ri

she freaking wrote i love you with the books.

his brother was such a good person and got the medicine for his friends baby.

when they had to say goodbye to each other. and when their eyes met once again.

ep 11-12. this episode. i loved seeing how the comrades reacted to the daily living of those in seoul. they were too precious. absolutely terrifying that cheol-gang made his way into a security. like what kind of background check did they get?!? like. come on.  

cannot believe that jeong-hyeok found her in an echoing parking garage. it’s destiny.

seo dan got the term ‘sweetmeat’ from seri stop it!!

all of the almost encounters had me dying, while the boys were trying to track down captain ri. the gaming to ignoring the call for chicken.

they wanted to recruit kwang-beom for an agency. they’re like your cover was blown bro.

talking about a future when he didn’t go back. married with twins. and he’ll play piano again.

them dresses as south koreans got me like. my goodness. they’re too much. them all hugging was beautiful. he missed them all so much.

her mother left her at the beach. like what the even. her sister in law gave him her address what the even, this side of her family is wack.

they surprised her for her birthday. my goodness. this moment i’m weeping then it’s like dang that would have been cute.

i’ll be thankful the person i love is still breathing.

and it will be a good year.

-ri jeong hyeok

ep 13-14. the couple rings.

our boys. slaying it. my gosh. when they’re all surrounding her after she was shot. and crying my heart broke.

i never played the piano. and i’ve never told anyone. until you crash landed into my word one day. that’s how i lived. but now i’ved changed. even if i have to worry about losing you, i want to have you in my life. even if it breaks my heart bc it’s a dream that can’t come true, i’d like to sincerely dream of a future. so please live. and listen to my words i still have stories that i haven’t told you yet. -ri jeong-hyeok

when she finally woke up and he ran in. the fact that the mole wire tapped the room while she was unconscious. and then the tape of her mom telling her and wanting to thank seri and ask for forgiveness, and also the fact that her oppa and sister in law wanted her gone...wack.

when he was showing her his scars and the boys walked in and thought something scandalous was up, i died laughing.

i love them together. “they’re curious about your face. i understand bc you look great from the back.” -seri with regards to the paparazzi posting a photo of him online.

the split second after cheol-gang died and ri jeong-hyeok contemplated ending his life, because he didnt know what would happen when he went back to north korea.

while seung-jung was hiding in the market after he ran away from his captors, and the orphans collectively sang that sad song to distract the officers and protect him.

when seung-jung gave seo dan the ring that she picked up from the store so he could give it to seri who gave it to the pawn shop, and he picked it back up and proposed to seo dan. i weeped, because why does this have to be so hard.

when the NIS was collecting data on the ‘spies’: purchases at internet cafe, downloading videos of his favorite drama star, chicken restaurant, etc.  i can’t.

him deciding to go protect her even though he missed his chance of leaving the north with his life. and that she would be the one crying for him once he died made him sad and happy.

seri would make the same decision again. to meet the people and keep the experiences she had. “the wind blows to move in, not to stay.”

the exchange at the boarder was all too much. they all had to say goodbye so quickly.

ep 15-16. her family is wack. thank goodness seodan was able to get her revenge and get all the information from the chinese gang to turn over her older brother.

he wrote her back in the bookshelf. and is sending her notes after he’s gone. her breakdown in the kitchen when she saw all that he left for her. and receipts.

them going for walks at the same time of day to have a shared moment.

all of captain ri’s men reminiscing of the good things seoul had. internet. electricity.

i love that seri made a limited edition product to pay tribute to the ladies that helped her in the north.

he got her a freaking plant. i can’t. she is carrying for the plant like a baby and taking it around with her. got to say nice things to it. i knew it the last thing she said was rihoseok. (honestly wanted it to be a tomato plant)

“season changed but messages kept coming.” i really love this.

“it was eldewiss let’s meet in the country where these flowers bloom.” tell me they meet. please. oh please.

when ri jeong-hyeok broke the news that he was moving on to become a pianist and that the new captain is not a handsome man. the ladies of the village faces just dropped. i can’t.

“he found me every time. and i’m sure he’ll find me again someday.” -seri

“edelweiss symbolizes precious memories. what should i do jeonghyeok? it’s impossible for me to herons your just as a memory. so even if we don’t meet this year, maybe next year. if that doesn’t work too, i’ll anticipate the year after that. until the day you find me i’ll be waiting and praying.” -seri

stop it she is going to go paragliding and meet him again. come on.

eun-dong saying he misses his sister. i love them.

most wonderful two weeks of the year. stop it they have a house together in switzerland. and they are living happily ever after.

i really don’t want it to end...

[bates--boy]

In the moments when everything is still and silent, Peter’s skin still itches from the sensation of that man. It still crawls with the memory of that John's lips sucking at his neck, the graze of cheap fabric as the bastard ground his wanting bulge against Peter's bare thighs, and the moist palms as John groped and pawed with the grace of a fool who really thought he was doing something.

And the absolute fuckery of it all? Peter wants to go back.

Not because the moist groping and aimless dry humping elicited an arousal from Peter. Far from it (unless instinctual repulsion is another new, trending kink that he is unaware of). Success of any kind does something to a man, and a narrow success from a self-appointed dare that could have had many terrible outcomes? Shit, that's a drug. It's a mind-altering drug that makes Peter fantasize about sauntering to that same hotel bar, in something a little tighter with a higher hem, or maybe shoulder-less and back-less, with bolder makeup. In these fantasies, Peter lets these executives and socialites and wealthy pseudo-philanthropists pull him into their rooms, and they tend to have brand new shoes and high-end blazers that are just his size, or the new make-up palettes and jewelry that he'd otherwise have to wait for months to go on sale. They have bulking wads of cash in their wallets (as tourists do) or the new generation of tech that'll go for a high price. In these fantasies, these people have asses.

But there's always the come down, and for Peter, it's acknowledging that this new game isn't sustainable. There cannot possibly be that many married or committed cheaters to justify relieving them of their possessions, and the number would be even less after taking out ones who aren't aroused by an occasional cross-dresser. There is also recognizing that he may never be able to return to that hotel bar ever again, or at least until John dies.

Peter has yet to see his name, face, or description in the news, and he knows that there are cameras in that hall Peter and his first target stumbled around in; a couple of them must have recorded him taking selfies with his loot. He doesn't know why John hasn't reported him, but he can guess that admitting to his spouse and Sweden's authorities that he propositioned a supposed hooker during Sweden's sex-purchasing crackdown would not go over favorably. But how many of those clients in Peter's fantasy would be as scared of a broken relationship, an arrest, and a ruined reputation as John presumably was? What if things go south and they use their influence to make him suffer, or force his hand and drive him to use his strength--

No, he can't go back.

Which isn't a total loss, considering how watery and expensive the drinks were, and how his last killing wasn't something to write home to. A wedding band, sitting somewhere in a pawn shop, a couple thousand krona notes, half of it spent on better wine and half going to his saving accounts, and the watch.

Peter picks it up from the bedside table and dangles it. The cubic zirconia twinkles in the lamplight, crowning the black velvet face and drawing the eye to the golden hands. He turns it around and scowls at the designer brand etched in rose gold cursive.

Gacci.

"Stupid unpawnable piece of garbage," Peter grumbles, before he latches his trophy around his wrist.

Though he knows that he's made the right decision, Peter still thrums with loose cannon energy that he must exhaust through some channel, something that beats sitting in a semi-dark room at two in the morning. He turns his wrist back and forth to catch the light in the glass pieces and silver band. Then, his eyes wander to the orange light in the window, to the shadows that filled the frame, a silhouette backdrop of the district he lived in. The immediate neighborhood is artsy and quirky, a mix of contemporary and vintage; white and ultramodern apartments and townhomes, sitting alongside their older but renovated counterparts and shops. But an energy carries from beyond this square, from across the bridge.

Night life. Neon lights. High hemlines and low necklines. Fruity cocktails and smiley face tabs, all bathed in a type of music that stirs the blood and dirties the soul.

Downtown.

How long has it been since Peter got White Boy Wasted?

Peter turns back to his laptop sitting in front of him to finish his online Christmas shopping for the night, then hops off the bed to skip to his closet. He yanks the door open and paws through the clothing on the hangers.

--

Indian red off-shoulder blouse, high-waisted black cut-offs, black ankle-high leather boots. Otherwise known as Peter’s most regrettable decision that night, as snowy winds cut through his winter petticoat during his motorbike ride across the bridge. But Peter doesn’t feel the need to complain about the cold; this weather doesn’t remind him of a home he wants to forget, plus there is something delicious about it, the way the pelting flakes bite into his bare legs and neck that grounds him yet makes him feel like he’s flying. It helps that he can’t feel John’s fingers and lips, anymore.

Upon reaching the other end of the bridge, Peter weaves through the streets, eyeing the picturesque nightlife for action through the whipping curtain of his loose hair. Most of these clubs and bars and cabarets Peter has tried out, and even deemed a couple of them favorite places to frequent. Tonight, however, he wants some new excitement, so he takes a street that leads into the uncharted territory. The gradual contrast between the downtown epicenter and this but of fringe land is stark, almost jarring; here, the blocks are darker, and in that darkness, the more brazen move through the unlit areas like shadowy monsters, these stumbling drunks and partiers high out of their goddamn minds.

He's getting close, he can feel it.

He turns a corner, nodding a greeting at a bunch of leggy people standing around the street sign pole, and almost loses himself in trying to guess if they are hookers or not when something catches his eye.

Up ahead, another nightlife creature stumbled out into the open, but before the darkness swallows her as well, Peter catches the way her silver sequin dress flashes red from the lights blinking in the doorway -- his beacon.

He sweeps his bike into the alley a couple buildings down and hops off, hanging the helmet on a handlebar and briskly walking to the club. He can feel the thrum of the music through the soles of his boots with every step he takes. He stops for a moment in front of the woman, who now slides down against the wall. For someone who isn't wearing any form of winter gear and is sitting in an inch of snow, she is smiling a lot, dreamy and sweet as her gaze is fixed on the dark sky.

"Er..." Peter says, bending down slightly to meet her eye. "Hey, ma'am, are you okay?"

The woman blinks, snapping her attention to him, and her dreamy smile melts even more as she reaches to cup and smoosh his cheeks. "Awww, there's my wittle white wabbit!"

Peter's face scrunches as he tries to understand the slow and slurring Swedish accent, made nearly untranslatable by the cutesy baby talk. "Ha ha, right..." Peter takes her hands off his face and nods toward the door. "Do you want to head back inside where it's warm?"

The woman shakes her head. "'Sokay, rabbit, I'm waiting for my friend!"

Peter gives her a half-frown and shrugs. He unbuttons his coat and takes it off, helping the woman into it. She looks like she'd scream if Peter tries to push the chivalrous act and pressure her to get inside the building.

He makes his way to the door, resisting the need to hug himself and rub at his arms. Once there, he stops himself from yelping as a goddamn giant creeps from around the threshold, crossing his arms over his barreled chest. Peter presses his hand onto his own chest and exhales. "Shit, man, I almost pissed myself!"

"Sorry," says the giant whose deadpanned voice and unchanged expression denote his lack of remorse.

"Hmph." Peter juts his chin at the space behind the bouncer. "So, are you going to let me in, or...?"

"450 krona."

Peter pulls his wallet out from within his shorts. "Drinks covered?"

"Nah, you pay at the bar."

Well, shit, Peter snarks in his head, counting out the money. This place is more high-end than it looks!

"It's 800 even if you want to go to Wonderland."

Peter pauses counting out the bank notes, raising his brow at the giant basking in the red glow. "...What?"

The giant quirks an unkempt eyebrow right back at him, his lips twitching in just the slightest grin. The bouncer offers no explanation, and Peter is instantly sold.

Peter holds out the wad of money to the bouncer. The bouncer reaches for it, but when their hands meet, the bouncer grabs Peter's and turns it over, his thick wrist flashing a tuft of dark hair through his sleeve. Peter only has a split second to let out a shocked and protesting yelp as the bouncer pulls something out of his sports jacket's pocket and stabs it onto Peter's skin.

"What the hell, man?!" Peter screeches, snatching his arm away. He examines the back of his hand for signs of damage, afraid of what he may find. He's only somewhat relieved to find that, besides the pinkish ring marking his skin, there is no bruising, just a slightly smudged and shimmering holographic stamp: a top hat.

Peter's eyes wander back up to the bouncer, whose smile is in full stretch across his face, alight with baffled amusement, tight as he tries to stifle a giggle. Peter wonders if he can get away with knocking a couple of this chucklefuck's front teeth out.

Said chucklefuck then instructs him, "Go to the set of doors at the other end of the club, right behind the platform. Middle door. Down the hall, make a right, and ask for the Mad Hatta at the curtain."

Peter nods and rubs his stamped hand, careful so he doesn’t smudge it further. The bouncer steps to the side and beckons him in.

The entryway feels like a tunnel to an underground bunker, the lights flashing a warning of an attack above ground. If it weren’t for the electropop beating against his skin, or the air of sweat and ecstasy and carelessness so thick that Peter can taste it, he might have succumbed to the images of swooping Luftwaffe aircraft that still haunts the back of his mind.

But, no, tonight, he is not the split and damaged identity of Fort Roughs and the Principality of Sealand; hell, he is not even half-year soldier Peter Kirkland. Tonight, he’s a dumb kid looking for Wonderland.

He descends the gentle slope into the wide, square opening, and he is swallowed whole.

No matter which they dance, everyone seems to move as one, arms waving and jerking high above their heads, bodies drawing to each other even if some of them may be dancing alone, bouncing and swaying and swishing. The sickeningly alluring stench that fills the entrance is now strong with so many different types of alcohol that Peter already feels drunk. The red lights bathes the bumping stereos and the people in a nightmare, and the rare streaks of black and white lights makes everything a euphoric horror movie still frame.

Peter grins as a pleasant tingle of adrenaline zips up his back.

He slips through the crowd, twisting and dodging and ducking. He wants to jump into the fun immediately, especially with a few dancers passing him dreamy smiles and curling their fingers at him when he meets their far-away gazes. But the stamp itches on his hand, and he’s going to take that as a sign from the universe that destiny awaits with this “Mad Hatta” (which is far better than the panic that his body is having an adverse reaction to the ink). He makes his way around the platform centered in the dance floor and notices movement high above him. He glances up and tilts his head curiously at the pairs of heavy duty chains hanging between spotlights on the girder frame.

“Huh...” he mumbles as he continues on. He takes the middle door as instructed, and finds a bit of relief that the hallway has normal, if a bit dimmed, lighting. He wishes something can be done about the sounds cutting through the walls and echoing around the hall, that the party music was loud in here and can cover the sounds of puking, crying, laughing, and moaning that Peter convinces himself was from pain (and blushes something fierce when he hears how breathy it is, and picks up the pace when the woman whimpers deeper. Fuck, deeper.) 

For all this nonsense, Peter’s a tad disappointed that the curtain isn’t some grand thing of red velvet, or a sheer, sexy black thing with gems woven in like the night sky, but a plain white shower curtain. He glances at the stamp. You better be worth it, he scolds internally as he tugs the curtain to the side enough to poke his head in.

“Hello?”

“Your hair wants cutting!”

Peter jumps, his eyes darting around what is nothing more than a walk-in closet filled with mirrors and plants. “Mad Hatta?”

A hand slowly comes from behind one of the antique standing mirrors, holding out a black suede top hat with a long pearl feather. The Mad Hatta twirls into view after, plopping the hat on his head of auburn curls and throwing his arms out in one motion. The silver glitter of his tuxedo sparkle in all the mirrors and on all the plants; Peter gasps at the visual effect.

“The one and only! Oh, come in, come in! Don’t be shy!”

Peter enters and approaches the sparkly man. The Mad Hatta claps and reaches a hand out. “Do you come looking for Wonderland?” Peter places his hand in the other’s outstretched one. The Mad Hatta takes one look at the shimmering stamp on Peter’s skin and claps again, even bouncing on his toes. “Yes! Yes! Oh, my dear, you are in for quite a trip! A magical world awaits you!”

The Mad Hatta reaches into his inner breast pocket and flicks out a white piece of cardstock. He holds it out to Peter with a wink. “Have fun, my wonderful little Alice.”

Peter takes the card and is immediately ushered back out into the hallway. As he walks, he flips the tiny cardstock over. On its other side is a pale pink snowflake, about half the size of the blank business card its adhered to. There’s a black, fancy script printed on the top, in a font that’s made to look like whimsical vines and leaves:

TAKE ONE ONLY!

Peter rubs a thumb over the snowflake, nibbling his bottom lip in so deep a thought that he, blessedly, misses the woman’s climatic cry. He thinks about going back to the Mad Hatta and demand to know what type of drug this is and what it’s made of; he thinks about the two steps forward and five steps back he’s taken recently; he thinks about the recent danger he’d put himself and that man in in that hotel room. He thinks about Penelope’s recent confession to being an addict and wonders if, like Peter once upon a time, she’s picked up a bad habit of self-medicating her trauma from the only adult figures she’s ever known. (Shit, does Peter share in that guilt, and not just as an unwitting supplier and victim of theft?)

He pushes out into the dance floor and eyes the platform that stands like the altar in England, and Peter thinks back to the confession. He remembers the gut-grinding terror of his tantrum blowing up in his face, and how he couldn’t even face Ollie without ten walls of intoxication barricading him. 

Peter is suddenly tired. He wants to go home.

He also remembers that this shit had cost three hundred fifty krona.

He peels the pink snowflake off and lays it on his tongue.

It all hits his palette at once from so many directions. The snowflake turns into fluff, and it tastes like powdered sugar. The strong, cool minty taste makes him shiver, and for a minute, Peter’s mouth goes numb and tingly. It travels up to his nostrils, so that when he inhales, he’s taking in a whiff of winter air.

He waits until the powder dissolves and licks his lips. Spearmint cotton candy.

With a quick shake of his arms and shoulders, Peter hops right into the fray and invites the music to draw him in. The meld of industrial techno metal makes the harsh red lights even more jarring, but at least this combo makes more sense than with the bubbly electropop. Plus, somehow, this mix is easier to take in. The guttural scream bites into his bones; the synths make his blood boil; the bass pounds against his chest and makes it hard to breath or slow the stammer of his heart. He’s suffocating, drowning in the heavy sensual air all over again. He’s not Fort Roughs, he’s not Sealand.

Hell, he’s not even Peter Kirkland. 

He’s not human (though, was he ever human?). He’s an unidentifiable mass within this large pool of energy, an entity feeling like he’s going to melt every time someone brushes against his bare legs and shoulders. He leans into that melting sensation, swishing and swaying up and down, throwing up his arms and flicking his wrist, tossing his already-damp hair. He doesn’t fight whoever rubs their hand along his hips and guides him close. He grinds and bumps against them, even if their body heat against his back and ass makes him want to collapse. He’s taking in so much heat from all around him, but when he breathes, he breathes pleasantly cold air. He breaks apart from his dance partner to throw his head back and breathe. He opens his eyes.

“...Holy shit,” he gasps, because everything is fucking beautiful. 

Nothing changes -- Peter is aware of that, yet everything feels... pastel. Odd, but in a fairytale way. The flashing lights lose some of their harshness, and look like they were cast down from heaven itself. Everything has a softness to their edges; Peter squints, and he sees a gentle, golden aura around everyone. White spots flicker in his vision like falling snow, kissing the cheeks of the dancers around him; is that why everyone’s cheeks are so rosy? He reaches to catch one of the dots, but it sinks into his palm. He lets his hand fall to his side, lets the music hug him like a wool blanket. No one pays attention to the new Alice with his neck craned back and the familiar dazed look in his eyes, or the chuckle that’s drowned out by the music. But they welcome him back into their bubble when he resumes slithering like a cat in heat.

Someone grabs his wrist and whips him around, yanking Peter against them. Happily skipping through Wonderland, Peter has lost some of his quick reflexes, and fights back too late when the person grabs the back of his head and smashes their mouths together. He jolts when the person stabs their tongue into his mouth, and hell no! Wonderland may be loosening everything in him, but Peter is not going to do the tongue-battling-for-dominance thing with some crazed freak.

He gets his hands between their torsos to push this person away, but then the minty cotton candy coats his tongue, and he presses further into this person. His hands roam up and down their chest, and he’s surprised to feel soft bumps through the tank top. He’s further surprised that this person letting him squeeze. They pull apart for Peter to find a dark rivulet running from their nostril. He should feel revulsion, but he takes out his handkerchief to wipe it off, spins this person -- this person with around twenty pounds of muscle and five inches of height on him -- and pulls them in, snaking his hand from their hip to underneath their shirt, feeling their abs tighten under his touch the higher up he went.

Peter pauses, thinking of going down, of undoing their belt and sliding his fingers, inexperienced and eager as they are, in their waistband, and forget his stupid rule to protect the last bit of self-worth he has and coax this person to the back room. Then the lights blink faster, the music goes slower. The crowd turns and cheers, converge to the center. The person turns and pushes Peter along, forcing him into the tide that crash around the platform. The rainbow spotlights -- actual rainbow spotlights, not supposedly white ones seen through the eyes of an Alice -- sweep around. Four people stand like sentries by the chains, arms crossed, smiling as people clamor around them.

The crowd hoists a petite woman in sharp stilettoes onto the platform. She’s rocking and nearly tilts over, but the stagehand steadies her, lifts her arms, and fixes her wrists into the chains’ loops. Next, the epitome of gay bears  climbs right on, serving everyone his double scoops of ass in soft leather pants and nothing else that Peter can see. His thick wrists goes into the chain loops, too. The crowd is screaming and pumping their fists. Peter cups his hands around his mouth and howls as the third tribute, another Amazonian in a skintight leopard jumpsuit, gets chained. 

He’s bouncing on his toes, watching with wide eyes as he awaits the fourth person. He doesn’t care that burning hands are grabbing his legs and his ass. In fact, he’s bouncing so much that he’s somehow flying up to the stage, carried on the vibrating cheer of the crowd. He trips on his feet, but the man catches him and turns him so he’s facing the same way as the others. The man takes Peter’s wrists and yanks them up above Peter’s head. The chains have an odd coolness to them, and their chill runs through Peter’s body. The man slides his palms down Peter’s arms, stopping at Peter’s waist. The man brings his mouth to Peter’s ear. The music is just about to pick back up.

“Dance, queen.”

The stagehands hop off the platform, the music eats into Peter’s flesh, and he dances. He twists the chains around for a better grip, and the links bite into him. He feels the chains clink as he throws himself around, as he jerks and thrusts and twists and drops and jumps. Even with his eyes closed and his head hanging, Peter can see the red and black lights. The couple times he cracks his eyes opens, he spots phones lifted high in the air, horizontal and aimed at them. A spike of panic shoots up in him, but then things start to blur and brighten. He tastes the minty spun sugar in the back of his throat, feels it take on a second wave. 

His skin is on fire. His skin is a layer of burning ice that he wants to claw off, but he wants more of it. He wants more until he can’t feel John’s fingers anymore. He wants to be blazing until the shame and belittlement of the other representations don’t even matter, anymore. He wants to be set on fire until he can forget that he's been promised forever, that that promise was broken, and his fort will fall apart and he’s going to become a slowly dying human. He wants to become a pile of ash before this cheering crowd, before circumstance claims him first. He wants to forget about dead stars eating his soul once his time is up. Shit, let him be a dying star!

Peter stiffens his arms and swings up his legs until he’s upside down. The moves he pulls are just as familiar on the chains as they are on the aerial silks, though they are harder to achieve because the damn things don't swivel on ball bearings. But he angles his body and locks his feet and legs and arms when they need to, contorting his body into art. He doesn't even see the crowd, anymore. Not the spotlights nor the chains. It's all lost in the burning cold fuzz of golden white.

It's over too soon, and the stagehand works to undo the locked mess of Peter's chains. He frees Peter and wraps an arm around the dancer to catch him from collapsing. "You did great, sweetheart," he cooed, getting ready to help Peter off the stage. But there's a hesitance in his voice that Peter catches; he feels a hand through the blizzard around him cup his face and tilts it up. The man's eyes appears through the blizzard, hardens, and disappears as he swears.

"Fuck. Hey! Hey! This one's blitzed out!"

He's swept into the snowstorm. His vision winks in and out: the stagehand carrying him bridal-style -- Mad Hatta clicking his tongue and shaking his head -- another of the stagehands shooing half-dressed club-goers out the restroom. In the white, Peter hears snapping rubber. He feels the rubber curling into his mouth and tastes latex in the back of his throat.

"Why do I always have to do this?" Groans a faceless voice.

The latex shoves in deeper, and it burns -- oh shit, it burns! -- coming back up. Peter's body jerks and his lungs heave, his throat contracting around the fingers and his stomach getting sicker from the bitter taste.

"Okay, buddy," the voice says. "There we go. Let it all out."

How much does Peter have to let out? He's sure that it isn't much considering he had skipped dinner, but it takes forever for it to end. But it does ends, with the blinding snowstorm disappearing. Peter's greeted by a disgusting toilet coated with his Pepto Bismo pink puke, and cool tiles under his knees. He's twitching and shivering, his teeth chattering despite still feeling like there's a fire in his core.

"You okay?" Someone asks over his shoulder. Peter tries to nod or say yes, but his jaw is locked tight, his voice is frozen in his chest. Peter can hear the man snapping the glove off and unzipping something. Peter has no energy to protest being pulled into a body for the third time that night, but he's relieved when he's taken into the man's jacket and sheltered in the body heat instead. So they sit like that, Peter tremoring against this man's chest, his body fighting to keep the freezing magic in him.

"Gail should be back soon with your blanket and water," the man says. Peter misses his guy's smoother, more fun and enticing tone on the platform. Dance, queen. This voice is too different and too serious, too clinical, when he asks, "How many snowflakes did you take?"

Peter sighs and slumps against him. "Only two."

"You're supposed to have only one at a time," the man scolds. He gently taps Peter's cheek. "Stay up. You need to get some water first. Do you have any friends who can drive you home?"

Peter, try as he might, only manages a head shake, before his head lolls back on the man's shoulder.

The man lifts Peter's head and lightly slaps his cheeks once more. "Okay, you'll need a cot, too, then."

Thank goodness Gail returns, wrapping the wool blanket around Peter and forcing him to suck down half a bottle of water. The two club workers half-carry Peter out of the middle door and into the rightmost one, into a stretch of whitewashed tunnel lined with cots on both sides. Here, they lay him down on the cot under the watching eye of guards.

Peter curls up on his side and tucks his hands under his head. With a gentle smile on his face, Peter falls asleep in the world blanketed in soft white.

[bythieves-a]

SNAPSHOTS OF MODERN VIC. ( based on the story im writing about him ! many of the usual tw’s apply. )

you’re only thirteen the first time things become too much. a shadow in your school, no one there would even know you exist, if it weren’t for the smell of stolen cigarettes that follows you around. a short thing, with your mother-ruffled hair, the sleeves of an old, tattered, black coat stop just before your fingertips; and all your shirts are hand-me-downs——you think they were your dads. you wouldn’t really know. but your mother puts a ‘lucky flower’ in your coat pocket, every day, and that makes each school day bearable.

the baggy clothes make it easier to steal snacks after school, the darker make it easier to disappear. you hardly even go to class; the teachers don’t notice you, anyways. until they do——the children that do see you love to remark on what you lack; on money, on fathers, on new clothes, on lunch. one comment becomes too many and you’re in the office; don’t call my mum, you plead, you practically beg, she’s working. i can’t take her away from work. but they do. there’s no one else to call. it feels like robbing your mother of money. the embarrassment of taking her away.

when you’re home, you hit your lowest; lock yourself in your room and cry until morning. your chest is so heavy. such a mild dilemma, not the worst thing you’ll face, yet you find you can’t breathe because of it. why does everything hurt so much?

*

sixteen years old and your favorite spot has become a bridge; you sit with your legs swinging through the rail, watching the water flow below you, sound of cars rushing behind you--------the honking horns make you jump. you reek of cigarettes and fireball, when you come here, concealed bottle half-empty and hidden between your legs. arms and chin lean on the railing, tears flowing yet often concealed by a rainstorm you never bother to notice. 

she’s so convinced he’ll come back. you hate yelling at her, but it hurts, to live sixteen years without someone, and watch your mother continue to set a place at the table for him each night. maybe tonight. its never tonight. and its your fault, you know that--------your mother would be happier without you, her drunken, drop-out, thieving son; she’d still have walter. she’d still have money. you don’t realize you’re her only joy. 

the jacket you wear over a torn prince t-shirt is black denim, finally your size, the cuffs and collar lined with a fake-feeling, puffy sort of fur. its your favorite jacket, it keeps you warm--------but you find a picture of your parents together, and note your father wearing one of the same style. you never wear that jacket again.

*

you’re not sure why you cry on the plane to america, but you do. perhaps its homesickness. the change, the sudden wave of how different everything will be. its overwhelming. amos scoffed when he saw you, in your sweatpants and band shirts---------what? you’d asked. its just a plane ride. sat between him and your anxious mother, you hold her hand and wonder if he might do the same; its better not to try, you decide. he might just think you’re strange.

does he have weapons? he must. amos always has a knife, somehow. but how would he bring it here? maybe he’ll teach you that, someday. you’d like him to. he’d like you to stop crying.

*

smiling boy leaning against the counter of your pawn shop; everything feels better, now. amos has made you a partner in crime, his right hand man--------this cover-up is yours as much as it is his, and sometimes you wonder if you make him proud. you’ve grown into yourself; dark hair tickles at the tips of your ears when you let it get too long, you don white button-ups with two buttons always undone, and a long tan trenchcoat is the one thing you’re never seen without--------though, when you’re home you dress the way you always have; a steely dan tshirt has become your favorite, and it never takes you long to break out sweatpants after a days work. you lay on the floor like that and play guitar; mother likes to stand in the doorway and listen, sometimes.

there are knives on you, everywhere. they rattle against the phone in your pocket when it buzzes; you have two friends now who send you pictures of their cat, and they’re so normal, far different from the thief tommy you occupy your nights with---------but you enjoy them. they’re a taste of the life you wanted, as a child. but you think now that life might bore you, if you tried it. its not like you’re good at anything else, anyways. you and amos both know that.

*

your memory is coming in flashes, in blinks of light and sound tearing through the gaps of nothing, the times where you don’t know where you are, what you’re doing-------what time is it? have i eaten today? where’s mama? 

the last thing you remember is the funeral. you tried to cry into amos’ arms, but he pushed you away; knocked you to the ground. get it together. m’not yer dad, kid. he left you crying on your knees before her grave--------but now, suddenly, you’re walking into your friend’s apartment. they’re each holding one of your arms; adrien looks worried, like he’s been crying. ray says something to you, but you don’t understand. you say okay, anyways. 

then you’re on the couch with tea in your hand; you look at your phone and start crying. you haven’t been home in hours. mum would have texted you, by now. your chest is heavy again. you’re dizzy. adrien takes your phone and sets it away. you think he might have kissed your forehead, too.

*

the bottle of mum’s pain killers is empty, now. you don’t remember waking up. something burns. you’re screaming at your father in your doorway, but you don’t remember him knocking. ray looks mortified. she’s leaving today. wheres she going? italy? germany? please take care of yourself, she mutters into a tightened hug. wheres your father gone? she mentions him--------he must have been real. 

you don’t remember the party, you don’t remember coming home, but you remember being warm. it felt like mama was back. you want to feel like that again. 

* 

adrien tries to take you out for christmas, but he has to bring you home. all the children were outside playing in the snow with their parents. mama liked to take christmas walks to look at all the lights. you can’t breathe again, so he holds you for the rest of the day, he pets your hair, kisses your head. its almost feels ok. 

* 

you watch the new year’s ball drop from the discomfort of a hospital bed. you still don’t remember much, but you remember screaming. you remember amos sitting nearby-----was that two days ago? he threatened you. walt was here, too. you threw a flower vase at him. the nurses won’t let you have flowers in the room, anymore. they’re watching you like hawks; better act like you’re alright, so they’ll let you out of here.

you check yourself out early. there’s no reason for you to be there. amos will get mad if you’re gone any longer. your father yells at you when you get home. why is he there? leave me alone. 

* 

the park bench is cold. you don’t remember running here, but you know amos was yelling at you. you haven’t brushed your hair in days. your tears feel like they’re freezing to your cheeks. distant police sirens. are they for you? your chest tightens------but they breeze past the park. you can’t stop shaking. your head hurts. 

walts with you, suddenly, sitting on the bench beside you. he’s put your head in his lap, he’s been muttering things to you the whole time. how long has he been here? please, he says, the first thing you’re able to make out; let me get you home, i know you hate me, but let me be your dad for ten fucking minutes. you’re a mess, kid. 

you’ve never spoken to him without screaming, before, but this time you let him. he helps you up, puts his coat around your shoulders. its the same one as in the photos, but older, it has holes in it. he keeps an arm around you the whole way home, lies you down on your couch, drapes mum’s couch blanket over you. he makes you a grilled cheese, complains about the spoiled groceries in your fridge. it feels nice. he should have been here to do this twenty three years ago.

*

for the first time since you’ve known him, you think amos is going to kill you. he’d never do that, you’ve always been so sure; but this time there’s rage in his eyes, they look hollow and dead---------you’ve seen this look before, its always followed by the snapping of bones. you can’t get that sound out of your head. you saved tommy from this look, once, but he’s not here to do the same. it hurts. you’re supposed to be partners, you trusted him with your life, but he’s going to kill you. oh, god, he’s going to kill me.

but he doesn’t get the chance. bent over from a kick to the ribs, the second you’re out of line with his head you hear a shot--------suddenly you’re covered in blood, but its not your own, and amos has a hole in his head. when he drops, you’re faced with your father stood nearby; shaking, out of breath, mortified-------holding a gun. jesus christ, he whispers.

dad? you sound helpless. you’ve never called him that, before. 

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Everything Money Can Buy (2/12)

Summary: The Greatest Store in the World AU. When misfortune strikes and leaves Emma Swan and her son homeless just before Christmas, the ever-resourceful Emma has a ready solution. They’ll move into Mills Department Store, a place they can only dream of affording to buy from. It’s not easy, having to deal with a perpetually grumpy doorman, a nasty assistant manager, and an extremely suspect Santa, but Emma and Henry soon learn that the kindness of strangers is something money can’t buy.

Swan Believer centric, with eventual Swan Queen and background Rumbelle and Dwarf Star.

Rated: G

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[One] [AO3]

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Two

When Emma woke up the next morning, she almost couldn’t remember where she was. It had been a long time since she’d slept in a bed this luxurious – if she ever had. She reached under her pillow to silence the alarm on her phone. As tempting as it was to go for five more minutes, especially under a genuine goose feather duvet and soft wool blankets, the entire reason that they were in such sumptuous surroundings in the first place meant that they were going to have to make a move sharpish, before it became obvious that they had been in there all night.

She sat up and leaned down to the other end of the bed to wake Henry, who groaned and pulled the covers up over this head.

“What time is it?” he mumbled.

“It’s nearly six. Come on, Henry, we have to move.”

“But it’s a Saturday!”

“I know, but the cleaners will be coming in soon and we need to be ready to sneak out with them before the shop opens. Believe me, I’ve cleaned enough shops before opening hours in my time to know how this works.”

Truth be told, Henry had cleaned enough shops to know how it worked too. Well, usually he’d been sitting in a corner on a step stool out of the way whilst she’d done the cleaning, but he’d certainly been around. It was hard enough holding down a job when she had no qualifications and no fixed abode; trying to hold one down with a small child was almost impossible, and Henry had ended up coming to work with her more often than not.

They got up and set the bed back to as pristine a showroom condition as they could manage, and soon enough, the sound of hoovers and the chatter of cleaning staff could be heard on the floors below them. Emma rushed back to the cleaning cupboard that they’d hidden in the previous evening; it had been during that fraught period at closing time that she’d come up with the plan to disguise their exit this morning. She grabbed a roll of bin bags and a pair of rubber gloves, and with Henry’s help, she tossed all of their baggage into a black sack and started dragging it towards the stairs. It was slow going, but at least they weren’t quite as conspicuous as they could have been.

They were almost in the clear when the cleaning team got up to beds and bed linen, and their progress was hindered even further by the appearance of the assistant manager. Emma cursed and shoved the bin bag full of their belongings in a corner, instructing Henry to guard it and not look anyone in the eye. She was going to have to keep up the cleaning façade for a little longer in order to make it look legit. Thank God she had enough experience to know what she was doing.

In all the time that Emma had been perusing the shelves of Mills without any intention of buying anything, the assistant manager, a Miss Zelena West, had been the bane of Emma’s window-shopping happiness. Like Gold the doorman, she was an institution at the department store, but unlike Gold, there was absolutely nothing likeable about her. Gold was scary, but he did at least smile on occasion and his broad Glasgow accent betrayed roots far from the bright lights and luxury of Mills; so, for that reason, Emma trusted him even if she could feel his eyes boring into her sometimes when they were sitting on their bench across the street, watching him.

Zelena, on the other hand, was always annoying and never smiled so much as leered, her eyes never quite matching what her mouth was doing. There were always too many teeth in her smile, and Emma always got the distinct impression that there was more to her than met the eye. If there was one person whom she absolutely did not want to meet whilst attempting to leave the store having been trespassing in it all night, then it was Zelena. She would definitely be the type to haul them both straight off to the owner’s office and get as many charges as possible pressed against them.

What was she doing here so early anyway? Surely no one could be so paranoid about their place of work that they decided to supervise the cleaning staff, but apparently so. She was stalking in and out of all the display racks, hunting for dust in nooks and crannies and finger marks on any and all mirrored surfaces. Emma showed willing with a duster for a bit, and one of the other ladies caught her eye. She could barely have been out of her teens, if that, and she was so pregnant she could barely fit down between the aisles. Emma felt a pang of sympathy; that had been her ten years ago, still working up until her due date because she had no other choice.

The girl grimaced, rubbing her back.

“When’s it due?” Emma asked, coming over to pick up her dropped feather duster and save unnecessary bending down.

“New Year’s Day. Thanks.” The girl took the duster back with a grateful smile. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new?”

“Yeah, first day on the job.” She nodded over to Zelena, still on the prowl. “Is she always like that?”

“Yep. Nothing’s ever good enough for the wicked witch.”

Emma had to laugh at the nickname; considering Zelena was almost always dressed in some shade of green, it certainly suited her.

“I’m Ashley, by the way. Just let me know if you need any help finding your way round. It’s a huge place; I got lost in kitchenware on my first day. I thought I was going to be stuck in an endless loop of saucepans and lasagne dishes for the rest of my life.”

“I’m Emma. Thanks for the offer.”

“Hey!” Zelena had noticed them talking, and Emma quickly turned so that the other woman wouldn’t see her face. “Less gossiping and more dusting! These beds won’t clean themselves!”

“It might help if she picked up a duster once in her life,” Ashley muttered. Emma gave a snort and made her excuses to leave Ashley alone, slipping away when Zelena’s back was turned again and making her way back to Henry.

“You were gone ages!” he hissed. “I was getting worried!”

Emma grabbed the bin bag and started banging it down the stairs. “I got trapped by the wicked witch. I’ll explain later,” she added quickly on seeing Henry’s confused expression. “Did anyone see you?”

“No. No one came past except the customer services lady and she didn’t say anything. Maybe bringing your kid to work isn’t so rare after all.”

Emma thought of Ashley, and she wondered what would happen after New Year’s Day.

Down on the ground floor, Emma hit a slight flaw in her plan. She’d spent enough time in Mills over the years to know its layout pretty well, but that was only the parts that the public got to see. They were now in the backstage area, so to speak. Staff only. And she had no idea where to find the exit.

People were coming and going, the cleaners and the regular staff coming in to set up their departments; but no one paid her and Henry any mind. They were cleaners after all, lugging a huge bag of rubbish out to the bins. They came in this way, so they must know their way out again.

Emma pushed Henry down behind the bag and dropped into a crouch beside him as she heard a very familiar and very angry voice.

“If Zelena’s held my coat to ransom in the dry-cleaning cupboard again, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Gold came down the corridor past them, and Emma had to double take at his appearance. She’d only ever seen him resplendent in his uniform, and to see him now, wearing an obviously hand-knitted jumper with a penguin wearing earmuffs on it, was a jarring reminder that he did have a life outside of the store.

“It’s ok, I rescued it for you.”

Gold stopped at the end of the corridor before he could crash into the lady from the customer services desk. She was new this year; Emma had not seen her working on the desk before. She held up Gold’s uniform coat in its plastic dry-cleaning bag, and Emma couldn’t help but notice the slight little red blush that rose in her cheeks when Gold grabbed it with a smile.

“Belle, you are a lifesaver. What would I do without you?”

“Oh, you’d manage, I’m sure.”

“Mum!”

Henry was gesturing frantically down the corridor to where the other cleaners were taking rubbish bags, and Emma knew that it was time to move on and not watch the sweet little scene taking place between Gold and Belle any longer. She hauled up their bin bag and followed Henry down the corridor and out into the yard, whereupon they ducked behind a bin and grabbed all their luggage.

They were out of the woods, and their night of camping out in the store was over.

“Come on, Henry. Let’s go and get our van back.”

X

Someone wise once said that it never rains but it pours. If they had been a bit wiser still, they would have said that it never rains but it pours and thunders and hails and snows all at the same time, and less than a week before Christmas to boot.

Emma was sitting in the cramped office of the DVLA impound trying very hard not to swear, since Henry was sitting only a foot away, pretending to be absorbed in a newspaper and not paying any attention to what the adults were doing, but in reality, he was taking absolutely everything in and he knew that things were going from bad to worse to even worse with every passing moment.

She also knew that she really couldn’t take it out on the poor clerk who was dealing with her case. When the van had been towed in the first place and she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t be able to pay the fine; he’d offered to try and get her a payment plan of sorts. As it was, Emma had pawned some of her mother’s jewellery to make up the cash; the sentimental value was nothing compared to actually having somewhere to call home that wasn’t a department store’s bed section.

She had come to the impound ready to pay, only for the incredibly apologetic and nervous-looking clerk to tell her that he couldn’t release the van to her because it had failed so many safety inspections that it had been deemed dangerous to drive. He was going through the list of all its failings with her now, and every time he faltered, Emma could tell that there was more bad news to come but that he’d already given her so much that he didn’t have the heart to continue.

Eventually, they came to the end of the list, and he looked up at her with an expression that could only be described as a cringe.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “But I just can’t let you drive away in it.”

Emma sat back in her chair and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. There was no way that she would be able to afford all the repairs that the agency had said would be needed before the van would be road legal again. She had barely scraped together enough for the fine in the first place. This was just the icing on the cake of a really terrible year. Every year, she was determined that things were going to get better and that they might finally stop living out of a van.

She’d got her wish all right. They were definitely not living out of a van anymore. They weren’t living out of anywhere.

“To be honest, it might be more economical to write it off,” the clerk said. “I’m not sure how much you’d get for its scrap value, but it would be better than nothing.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. You’re probably right. How do I go about doing that, then?”

“Well, we won’t be able to do anything until after Christmas, I’m afraid. Everywhere is shut down for the holidays.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air and let them drop down to her sides. “Fantastic. Fan-bloody-tastic.”

There was nothing more that she could do here. All she could hope was that the emergency housing office had somewhere available for them.

“Come on, Henry.” She sighed and hefted up their bags again. “Let’s go.”

“We’re not getting the van back, are we?”

“No.”

They walked on through the town in silence. The van was pretty much the only home that Henry had ever known, and now it had been taken from him in a finger snap, and just before Christmas as well. Henry was used to not receiving Christmas presents, but at least he’d never yet had something taken away from him at Christmas. This was the opposite of the Christmas spirit, and his desolation was palpable.

“We’ll find somewhere else,” Emma said, trying to keep his spirits up, but it was clear that Henry didn’t believe her, and she didn’t quite believe herself. “I’m sure that there are other vans out there.” That said, maybe it would be better to put some roots down somewhere and start living between four walls instead of on four wheels. Maybe this would be the year that they stopped living in the van in a good way after all.

The housing office was open this time, but as they walked in, took the slip of paper from the machine with their number on it, and sat down to wait, Emma didn’t hold out much hope. There were at least six other families in front of them, and all of them were more than just a single mum and her son. On the one hand, being just the two of them, they needed less room and would hopefully be easier to place somewhere, but on the other, bigger families with much younger children had much more urgent need of shelter. Emma remembered with a shiver her first couple of homeless years after Henry had been born, a constant fear of losing him to the bitter cold, burying him under so many blankets as she curled up around him in the back of her car that he could barely be seen. As desperate as she and Henry were, she would never wish that on anyone. Besides, she and Henry had a back-up plan if necessary. Living out of Mills wasn’t exactly ideal, but they’d made it work last night. Surely they could make it work again. All they had to do was stay out of Zelena’s way.

The morning wore on, and Emma’s hopes were getting stretched extremely thin by the time her number was called. She had seen the apologetic shakes of the head that all of the other applicants had been getting, and she knew that things weren’t exactly looking great. It came as absolutely no surprise when she was told that there would be no accommodation available until the new year. If she could just find somewhere to stay over the holidays, then everything would be all right, but all resources were stretched at this time of year, et cetera, et cetera. The woman was telling her in all but the most blatant terms that her best bet would be to go to the nuns at the homeless shelter over the Christmas period and to come back in January.

Emma shook her head. No, she would never go back to the shelter, not after she’d nearly come to blows with the Mother Superior after finding the head nun going through all her and Henry’s belongings, looking for items of monetary value as a ‘voluntary donation’ towards their stay at the shelter. No one had believed her when she’d tried to report it to the authorities. Considering that they were nuns who did regular work in the community and Emma had several shoplifting cautions and convictions under her belt, she wasn’t surprised, but the injustice of it all still stung.

“What are we going to do, Mum?” Henry asked. He had been so good about the whole thing, never once complaining or whining about a very boring day spent in various offices, or the fact that for once in her life, Emma didn’t have a cunning plan to get them out of their latest scrape. Her son was old beyond his years, and Emma felt a huge wave of guilt wash over her that his early life had been so hard. She had done the best for him that she could with what little she had, and she loved him more than life itself, but sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she had taken the advice of everyone around her and given him up for adoption when he was born. Maybe he would have had a better life; he might have been adopted and been living in a comfortable house with central heating and proper beds.

Or he might have had a childhood like hers after her parents were killed and she’d been shoved unceremoniously into the foster system; never to be loved and only to be kicked out to fend for herself as soon as she aged out.

She continued in silence, trying to think of an answer to Henry’s question that wouldn’t leave them both in despair, trudging along the street with aching arms from carrying all the bags all day, until the familiar bright lights of Mills came into view. It was tempting fate to spend another night there, but this time Emma had a much better plan.

“We’ll go camping.”

[miguel-manbemel]

A Sanders Sides Christmas Carol

Tonight, it’s Christmas Eve, so I present you here a little AU inspired on Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders, Joan S. and the Foster Dawg Team, and the classic “A Christmas Carol”, by Charles Dickens. I wanted to try something new, so this story is in prose format, and not in script format like the “Aspects & Fanfics” story (which is not related to this one) I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it and happy holiday season to those who don’t. Until next time.

WARNINGS: Following the classic story, there are references to death. This has also references to queerphobia. And Remus makes an appearance, but he’s less gruesome than usual for him.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was an old avaricious man. No one knew his real name, but everyone called him Deceit, Deceit Scrooge. By means of lies and deception, he had gotten very rich at the expense of the people who made the mistake of trusting him their money or goods. Now he was running a pawnshop where he charged customers an abusive amount for redeeming the things they needed to pawn in times of necessity. He had kneaded a huge fortune and would have continued to do so working all alone on his own and keeping all the profits for himself, if it wasn’t for how old he had gotten.

When he realized that he would make much more profit if he hired someone to help him in the shop, he reluctantly decided to hire his nephew, Thomas, as an assistant. He payed him very little and made him work countless hours, but Thomas went to work everyday with a smile on his face, because no matter what, it was good money. He was a widower with a two-year-old child of his own, named Joan, or as he liked to call them, Tiny Joan, to take care of, and he was ready to move mountains, swim across oceans, and even cope with his own uncle’s working conditions, if that helped him to keep his Tiny Joan well fed, dressed and healthy. Thomas didn’t have many possibilities to choose a job, so he had no choice, anyway. Besides, he saw good in everyone, even in his uncle. He knew there was something in him that, one day or another, when he decided to let it go, would give a surprise to everyone. So he waited patiently, working tirelessly, day after day.

This was their working dynamic until one particular Christmas Eve. Just one day earlier, little Joan had been playing outside and, strangely for Florida, due to an extremely unlikely combination of meteorological conditions that only could have happened once per millennium, it had been snowing and snowing and temperatures had been uncommonly low. Joan was not prepared for the cold temperatures and, as a result, they got sick with pneumonia. Thomas was phoned by Joan’s nanny, who took care of them while Thomas was working, when she saw how much they struggled to breath. Thomas, scared and distressed, gathered all his courage and knocked his uncle’s door.

“Come in,” Deceit said “and it better be quick. Time is money!”

“Yes, uncle Scrooge, I’m sorry, uncle Scrooge.” Thomas stuttered. “I’m sorry to bother you but… but...”

“Speak already, for God’s sake!”

“I have received a phone call from home and...”

“I told you a thousand times that I hate that you use your phone when you are at work! When you are out you can use that devil’s tool however you want, but here, I’m paying for your service, and in working hours, you’re my property!”

“I’m sorry, uncle Scrooge, I didn’t pick it up the first time they called, or the second one, or the third… but when they called for a fourth time, I supposed it was an emergency. And it really was. My child! My child, uncle Scrooge. Joan is in the hospital right now! I must go to check that they’re okay!”

“Well… I guess that could be considered an emergency. But nevertheless, your child is in good hands in that hospital. Your presence there is really not required, and you are needed here and now. It’s still two hours till your shift is over.”

“But… uncle Scrooge.” Thomas said, horrified at Scrooge’s coldness of heart “They’re in a serious condition! I need to see them! Please, have some mercy! They’re your own grandnibling! Besides, it’s Christmas!”

“Don’t remind me of that, goodness gracious!” Scrooge yelled “You know how much I hate Christmas! Fine, I suppose I can give you permission to get out of work before your time, but don’t think I won’t discount these two hours, fourteen minutes and seventeen seconds from your salary, young man! It’s not my business if you have any other trivial stuff distracting you. You are paid for your work. No work, no money!”

“Do whatever you want!” Thomas said, genuinely angry at his uncle for the first time ever. It was one thing that Scrooge treated him coldly, he could sacrifice himself for Joan’s sake, but dismissing his child that way, that was something he wasn’t gonna tolerate. “In fact, I’ve had enough of this! I quit! Merry Christmas!”

Thomas angrily slammed the door behind him, grabbed his stuff and rushed into his car to go to the hospital.

“Ha… it seems this boy needs to learn some manners after all… I’ll let it slide as he’s clearly out of his mind right now. He’ll come back here tomorrow, begging for forgiveness, when the doctors show him the bills… He’s lucky that he’s my nephew, if it was someone else, I would kick him out on first sight.”

With that, Deceit returned to his work. When the clock struck half past four, someone rang the doorbell.

“Well, I hope it’s a client…” Scrooge thought “Ugh… my bones are not what they used to be… I hope this walk is worth the nuisance.”

Deceit walked to the door with difficulty. The doctors had prescribed him a good medicine that could, if not kill the pain completely, at least palliate it enough for him to have quality of life, but when they told him how much it was going to cost, he refused to buy it. He literally preferred to have his bones in pain rather than his pocket, he said. Finally he reached to the door and opened it. Outside, there was this boy. He knew him well, it was the neighbor’s son, Roman. When the boy saw Scrooge at the door, he got pail, whiter than his sweater, and it looked really white in contrast to his bright red scarf. He clearly expected Thomas to open the door and not him. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat. He had come there to sing and that’s what he was going to do.

“Deck the hall with boughs of holly, Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la! 'Tis the season to be jolly, Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la! Fill the meadcup, drain the barrel, Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la! Troul the ancient Christmas carol, Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!”

Scrooge just stood there, not moving a muscle. His face so neutral that no one could have guessed what was going through his mind. Roman looked at him, smiled and yelled with the bravest voice he could come up with:

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Scrooge! I… I’d dare to ask you for a little donation for our charity hospital. There are so many children there that won’t be able to celebrate Christmas Eve appropriately, and it would mean the world if…”

“That is the last straw!” Scrooge suddenly yelled, rising his cane threateningly “Not only you torture my ears with that stupid song and pester me reminding me the horrible time of year we’re in! You dare to ask me for money? My money!? Get out of my sight right now or I’ll make sure that you’ll join these children in your own hospital sooner than you think, and not as a visitor! Go away! Go away right now!”

Roman ran away and Scrooge slammed the door behind him. A bunch of snow fell from the roof due to the violence of the slam.

“Asking me for money… How dare he? He should get a decent job, like I had to, and work for his own money! No one gave me anything for free. Why would I have to give anything to anyone?”

The last half hour went by and Deceit Scrooge finally decided to call it a day. He locked the front door and got in the elevator to the second floor, where he had his residence. Why paying for a home in a different building, when the attic in his office was perfectly habitable? And that way he also saved himself having to call a taxi or going to the subway. Money goes away faster with these little expenses. Cutting them short is rising benefit, he always said. He had had to install an elevator when he could no longer climb the stairs due to his pain, but he called it a long-term investment that would end up saving him the money of having to pay for another suitable residence. He never spent a dime if he wasn’t sure he was going to get it back, one way or another.

Deceit entered his home and started making dinner for himself. A plate of soup and a chicken fillet. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for a lavish Christmas dinner like his nephew would have certainly had if he wasn’t in the hospital. After he finished his dinner and washed his dishes, he sat down on his couch and started watching TV. Another one of those boring Christmas specials was on. He switched channels but everywhere there was either a Christmas show or a Christmas movie. He didn’t own any kind of cable TV. Why paying for a subscription if there were free channels available for everyone through the airwaves?

When he was thinking on turning it off and just go to bed, suddenly the TV started getting signal interference, until the image turned into static snow. It was odd, since it was digital terrestrial TV and snow should not appear in that format. After some time, the snow went green and a voice was heard.

“Hello? Do you read me? Testing, testing, one, two three, testing, testing, suck my Dee…”

“What is going on?” Deceit said.

“Oh, so you do read me. Hi, old friend! Glad to see you after so long!”

“I’m sorry I can’t say the same, since I can’t see you whatsoever. Who is this?”

“Oh, you can’t see me? Wait, I’ll fix that.” sounds of bumps are heard and the snow changes into an image of a weird man dressed with strange lavish garments, including a green sash. “There. Sometimes you just have to show this equipment who is the master…”

Deceit Scrooge looked at the screen as stunned as you would be if you saw an old friend who passed away years ago talking to you on TV as if he was broadcasting live from the other side.

“Remus? Remus Marley? This… this can’t be. I must have fallen asleep and this is a nightmare, that has to be. You can’t be talking to me, from TV or in person. You died seven years ago!”

“Yes, Deceit, I’m dead. And soon, it will be your turn.”

“What do you mean?” Scrooge said with a face of concern.

“Oh, Dee, come on, you don’t really mean you think you’re gonna live forever, do you?”

“Death is only a construct. I’m not gonna die.”

“You can lie to yourself just as much as you lie to everyone around you, Dee, but your end is approaching. And your eternal punishment comes with it, just as it happened to me.”

“Pu… punishment? What punishment?”

“Well, I don’t know what they have in store for you. Me, I was condemned to be a gruesome incarnation of intrusive thoughts in the mind of a weird Floridian man that makes YouTube videos, so…”

“What?”

“Never mind, it’s a long story. The point is, something horrible is awaiting you for all eternity, unless you change your attitude in regards of your greed and the way you treat other people!”

“That… that can’t be! Please! There must be some way of getting rid of that punishment! Whatever that punishment may be, I still don’t get…”

“That’s what I came here for, Dee. To save your soul, as I hope in doing so, I’ll save my own soul too. Tonight you will receive the visit of three ghosts. You must listen to what they say or nothing will save you from falling into the flames of Hell… or in the mind of another Floridian man, who knows… Farewell, Deceit Scrooge…” Remus waited for five seconds, then he started talking to someone off-screen. “Okay, is this thing off? Glad that the broadcast is over, how did I do? Don’t tell me, I was great as usual, I bet you couldn’t deliver a performance better than…” Remus looked at the camera. “Wait, is this thing still on?” Remus pulled out a mace and yelled angry. “ROMAN, WHY DIDN’T YOU SWITCH IT OFF AS I TOLD YOU, YOU MOTHERF…!”

The broadcast stopped abruptly, and the regular channel returned to the screen. Deceit still needed two full minutes to start reacting.

“What… what has happened? I must have been hallucinating. Yes, that was it, a hallucination. I’m exhausted of all the work I had to do today without Thomas’ help, it must have been that. I’m going to bed and I’ll be good as gravy after I get some rest.”

Deceit Scrooge turned the TV off and got ready for bed. He wore is yellow pajama decorated with embroidered snakes and tucked himself into bed. Not even ten minutes had gone by when he heard a noise, as if someone was knocking at the window. It startled him but he didn’t move a muscle. After some eternal seconds, something crossed the window, crashing through the glass and falling in the middle of the bedroom. Dee screamed like a little girl and covered himself with the sheets.

“Wow, all my hopes for a nice entrance got shattered… Do you get it? Shattered?” he heard a voice saying.

“Who… who’s there? Who are you?” Deceit said, stuttering out of fear.

“What? Didn’t Remus warn you about my coming, kiddo? I’m Patton! I’m the ghost of Christmas past!”

“So, I wasn’t hallucinating?” Deceit said, getting out of bed.

“Of course you weren’t, kiddo. What would make you think that?”

“Well, seeing someone speaking at you from the TV really does make you question your sanity…”

“Okay, you may have a point, Deceit. But trust me, you’re not going insane. I’m here with the mission of leading you in your journey through your past.”

“My past?”

“Yes, kiddo, your past. You have lived a long life, and I’m certain you must have forgotten some things that happened long ago, things that made you the way you are now. Only knowing the past can someone make changes in their present and plans for their future. Okay, kiddo, let’s go.”

“But where? And how? If you think I’m going to get an expensive cab or something…”

“Oh, don’t worry, where we’re going we don’t need cabs…”

“I don’t like the way you’ve said that…”

Patton grabbed Deceit’s hand and the room started spinning around them.

“Whoa, what is going on?”

“Don’t let go of my hand, kiddo. I wouldn’t want you to get sent by mistake to the Middle Ages, appear in some random village and get arrested on the charge of witchcraft. It happened to me once already, and it was not pleasant. The bosses above punished me by giving me allergy to cats for 100 years, and now I can’t approach kitties. And I love them so much… Oh, well… We’ll always have puppies. If I don’t mess it up again, that is. So. Don’t. Let. Go.” he said these last words deadly serious.

“Okay, gotcha…”

After some time, the place stopped spinning around them. Now they were in front of a zoo. It looked like the 1960’s.

“I… I know this place. It’s the place where I had my first job. I worked as a part-time employee to pay college, starting as a cleaner. Gosh, I loved animals, especially snakes, they’ve always fascinated me. But they would never let me get into the cages where they held them to clean them. So I stuck with cleaning corridors, emptying trash bins and cleaning the trash left behind by some rude visitors. One day, someone learned that I was studying business, and they offered me to work on the souvenir store as a clerk.”

“Wait, wait,” Patton interrupted, “we’re going to see that too.”

Before Deceit knew how, they were inside a store.

“Yep, this was it. Here I started as a clerk, tidying the place, putting the goods in the correct shelves, and attending the cash register. On my own initiative, I started offering customers some of the goods, and I wasn’t bad on it. The zoo managers saw how well I was on that and they promoted me to manager of the store, and I learned a lot in the five years I spent there, until I graduated. On the second year, I met… I met this cute guy and… I went nuts for him. And he fell for me too.”

“That’s cute.”

“It was, but not as much as you’d think. At that time it wasn’t as easy as it is today. Even though there’s still a lot be done now, back then we didn’t have any kind of support. Society was clearly against our type of love. A part of it still is nowadays despite it has no real impact in their lives. Imagine how it was sixty years ago. So we started dating in secret. He got himself a job as a cleaner, the same one I left behind when I went to the shop, and we had lunch together everyday.”

“Let’s see that, shall we?”

Deceit and Patton appeared outside, next to a bench. Young Deceit and another guy were eating a sandwich together, laughing happily.

“He was so handsome, and such a kind man…” Deceit continued talking. “For the rest of the world, we were just close friends, and if someone approached us, we started talking about all the fake girls we were interested in from college or whatever. But when we were alone, it seemed as if the rest of the world wasn’t there. We were living in a weird state of communion with each other mixed with fear that other people noticed it and got us marked forever.”

“Well, times were bad back then, weren’t they?” Patton said.

“As college went on, I started worrying about my own position, and I started seeing my… boyfriend? I don’t know if I should use that word, we never officially dated, for obvious reasons. I started seeing him like a danger for that position. So I asked out a girl in college who I personally knew had feelings about me, and started dating her, as a cover. When the graduation came, I asked her to marry me. When I told him, he didn’t take it very well.”

“Yes, I know, that’s what we’re going to see next.”

“Do we have to?” Deceit said, with a painful expression.

“Yes, kiddo, I’m sorry, but we have to.”

Suddenly they were in Deceit’s porch. His boyfriend was in front of him, and they were having an argument. He had just told his boyfriend that he was leaving him to marry his girlfriend.

“How can you do this? Can you really sleep at night knowing you’re nothing but a hypocrite and a liar?” his boyfriend yelled.

“I have no choice! This is the way society works right now and I can’t change it on my own!”

“So instead of fighting society, you decided to join society, and if you leave something or someone behind, so be it! What about us? What about me? Am I suddenly like a used Kleenex that you can just throw into the trash can? Not to mention that poor woman you’re using too. Is that how it works for you?”

“You’re not being fair! You know I really lo…” suddenly he lowered his voice. “Quiet, the neighbors might be listening.”

“And you don’t want them to know the truth about yourself, so you bump away anything and anyone that can threaten the masquerade of deception you’ve built, am I right? Maybe I shouldn’t call you by your given name. Maybe I should just call you Deceit. Deceit Scrooge. Seems more appropriate for a liar snake like you.”

“Call me whatever you want. I want you to hate me. That will make it easier for you to forget me.”

“You’re an idiot… Deceit. That’s not how love works. You can’t just click a button in your heart and, poof, love is gone. I still love you and I know you love me and not her. But I’m not gonna let you turn me into a toy you can play with whenever you’re tired of your boring loveless life. At least I’ve got some dignity left, unlike you. I really pity you. You’re gonna make a miserable man out of yourself… I think you already are… Deceit.”

The boyfriend then went away and young Deceit stayed there, watching him go with a sad face. Old Deceit was watching the scene but he ended looking away, as he couldn’t stand seeing his former boyfriend’s face, how he had broken the heart of the only person he had truly loved and who had truly loved him in return.

“Please, ghost, I don’t wanna see anymore. It really hurts!” Deceit implored to Patton.

“As you wish, Deceit. But remember the acts of your past are what made you what you are now, so you only have yourself to blame if the past hurts you now, kiddo.”

Patton snapped his finger, and suddenly Deceit was back into his own bedroom, and Patton was gone.

“He… he’s gone. Well, Remus wasn’t bluffing. He told me that three ghosts would come to me, so it’s one down, two to go.”

“Well calculated, Deceit, but now it’s two down, one to go, if you count me in.” a voice said behind him.

Deceit turned back, startled, and saw another person looking at him with a serious attitude, adjusting his glasses and then his necktie.

“Are you… another ghost?” he stuttered.

“As a matter of fact, I am. I am Logan and I’m the ghost of Christmas present. Salutations.”

“You sound so serious for a ghost.” Deceit said, confused.

“Of course I’m serious, I wear a necktie.”

“Okay...” Deceit said. He was starting to think these ghosts were kinda weird.

“Well, if you have no more objections, I think it’s time for us to begin our journey.”

“Here we go again… Where are we going now?”

“Oh, not too far away. We’re going to the hospital. There’s someone you’ve gotta see. Someone you already know.”

“I think I guess where you’re going with this. Okay, lead the way.”

Logan grabbed Deceit’s hand and before they knew it, they were in a hospital room. Thomas was there, next to his child, Tiny Joan. They were wearing an oxygen mask and their face looked awful. Thomas was as worried as can be, holding Joan’s hand.

“Come on, my kid. I know you can do this. Be strong for me.” Thomas said, with a trembling voice and tears in his eyes. “Fight for me. Don’t leave me.”

“I didn’t realize Thomas’ child’s condition was so bad…”

“It is, indeed. A pneumonia is something not to be underestimated. It is the result of an infection in one or both lungs, and it can compromise the breathing function. In the worst cases, it could be fatal. They got it on time, thankfully, but the next hours are gonna be decisive. And the worst is yet to come.”

“What do you mean?”

“The treatment is too expensive. No insurance wanted to take care of that, and Thomas can’t afford the full treatment with the salary you give him. Right now, he’s also worrying about how he’s going to pay for it. If circumstances don’t change, he’s not gonna have enough to pay the rent of his house and they’re gonna be evicted. They’ll be living in the street, and you know what comes next. They’ll take the child away from Thomas. And they’re the only family he’s got.”

“What do you mean only family? I’m his family too.”

“Falsehood. You don’t really expect him to consider you family after the treatment you’ve given him all these years, do you?”

Deceit showed a face of remorse.

“No, Deceit, you don’t have any family left. You took care of setting them aside of you with your cold and greedy attitude.”

“Surely it’s not too late for a change, is it? There has to be something I can do…”

But now, there was no one to talk to. Deceit was all alone in what looked like a field.

“Where am I? Oh… I think I know where I am. I was here, seven years ago… It’s… the cemetery.”

Suddenly, a dark figure appeared before him. He was wearing a purple hoodie and dark makeup under his eyes, and he looked at Deceit with an ominous glance, not saying a word.

“I… I guess you are the last ghost. First the ghost of Christmas past, then the ghost of Christmas present… Are you the ghost of Christmas future?”

The hooded ghost nodded in silence.

“Why have you brought me here, ghost? Why the cemetery?”

The ghost only pointed to one of the tombstones, a few meters away. Thomas was there, his eyes full of tears and soaring red. He was mourning for whoever was buried in that grave.

“No… Please, ghost, don’t tell me that that tomb is…”

Deceit and the ghost approached the tomb. Tiny Joan’s name was written on it.

“My Tiny Joan…” Thomas said “…if only I could have done more to save you. If only your illness could have been well treated. Now this world is a lifeless place without you. I miss you so bad…”

Thomas put his hand on the tombstone, grabbing it with his fingernails as if he was desperately trying to snatch his child back from death with that gesture. Rivers of tears fell down his cheeks.

“Please, tell me this can still be changed, ghost!” Deceit implored. “This can’t happen! Not to this child! Not to my grandnibling!”

Suddenly, he heard noises from another tombstone. Two men were filling a grave. No one was there to mourn the recently deceased person that was being buried there. Deceit approached the hole and stared into it with fear.

“Whose… whose tomb is this?” he stuttered.

The hooded ghost grinned creepily and spoke with a demonic voice.

“It is your own tomb, Deceit. The best tomb money can buy, all for yourself to enjoy for all eternity!”

The ghost pointed at Deceit, and he felt as if some invisible hand started pulling from him, trying to make him fall into the pit.

“No! Please, no! This can’t be it! I need more time! I can change! I’m not the same I used to be already! Please, tell me I’m still in time to change! I beg of you, spirit!”

The ghost kept pointing at Deceit, and Scrooge got closer and closer to the pit.

“Do you honestly think you can change at this point?” the spirit said, “Your years are almost over. I’m Virgil, the ghost of Christmas future, and I’ve seen lots of people like you for centuries and centuries. None of them could change. Why would you be so different?”

“If you didn’t think I was able to change, you wouldn’t have shown me all these visions in the first place! I beg of you, spirit! I beg of all three of you, spirits! Give me another chance, please!”

Deceit was dragged to the edge of the pit. He tried to resist, but the attraction was too strong, and he finally fell into the hole with a horrible yell… Then he fell on his face in his own bedroom.

“Aw! What happened?” he said, covering his nose with his hand.

Deceit looked at the window, it was morning. He got up and looked at his clock on his side table. It was 7 a.m., December 25th.

“It’s Christmas Day!” he said, smiling. “I’m still on time! The ghosts have given me another chance!”

He started jumping and dancing all around the bedroom. It looked as if all his pains had suddenly faded away due to his joy.

“Okay, I’m still on time. I gotta get moving before it’s too late.” He said.

Deceit got a coat over his yellow pajama and put his bowler hat on, then got out. When he was out, he saw Roman, the boy who sang the Christmas song the day before. He made a gesture of fleeing away, but Deceit called.

“Wait, boy, don’t go. I’m sorry for yesterday.”

Not too convinced, Roman stayed, but a couple of steps away from him.

“I’m sorry I treated you so rudely. Perhaps, this will work as an apology. Give it to your hospital, I’m sure they’re gonna give them good use.

While he said this, he took off a check and signed it, then gave it to Roman. The boy almost fainted when he read the written amount.

“One thousand dollars!?” He yelled.

“I see. You’re right, it’s not gonna be enough. Let’s fix it right now.”

He picked the check and added a zero to the amount, meaning now it read ten thousand dollars. Roman was so stunned he couldn’t speak.

“I hope this is enough. Taxi! Taxi, please!” A taxi stopped in front of Deceit. He jumped into the taxi and yelled.

“Merry Christmas, young boy!”

“Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Scrooge, and God bless you!” Roman answered back with a face of joy.

“To St. Adrian’s Hospital, please. This is an emergency.” Deceit said to the cab driver.

The taxi drove him to the hospital. He asked at the counter where he could find Joan.

“Uncle Scrooge?” he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Thomas”, he said turning back.

“What are you doing here? If you want me to get back to work, I can tell you that…”

“It’s okay, boy, it’s okay. I came here to apologize. I was rude and inconsiderate and I’m really sorry.”

“I’m not going back no matter what you… Wait, what?”

“You have all the right to be upset. I didn’t realize how I was treating you. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Well… this was unexpected. What’s happened to you, uncle Scrooge? You don’t look like yourself.”

“I’m not like myself. I’ll never be like my old self anymore. You are facing your new uncle Scrooge. By the way, how is Tiny Joan doing?”

“They’re better, thank God. But I’m so worried. I don’t know how I am going to pay the bills and the rent at the same time. I’ll need a miracle to gather enough money before I lose my house. I’ve been searching for jobs on the internet, but I don’t have the qualifications for most of them. I’m desperate, uncle Scrooge. What will become of my child and me?”

“Well, your miracle has happened. Don’t worry about that anymore. I’ll pay all the costs.”

“What!?” Thomas’ mouth got open wide. “Are you serious!?”

“I’m always serious. Even though I’m not wearing a necktie.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Of course this won’t come free for you.”

“Of course…” Thomas sighed. “How many hours do you want me to work this time?”

“Just the same you used to work, but no longer as a clerk. From now on, you’ll be my business partner, with a share of all revenues. And when I retire, the business will be all yours.”

Tears jumped into Thomas’ eyes as he couldn’t help but hugging his uncle.

“Thank you so much, uncle. Thank you, thank you…”

“It’s okay. Now let’s go see Tiny Joan. I can’t wait to start spoiling them with gifts until they get better and beyond.”

“Of course, uncle Scrooge. Can I tell you merry Christmas?”

“Of course you can. Merry Christmas to you, my boy.”

Uncle and son got together into the hospital to see Tiny Joan. Meanwhile, the three spirits, with Roman, Remus and the regular Deceit, were watching the scene.

“So, I did it. Does it mean that I’m free now?” Remus said.

“Well, you successfully managed to save his soul, but there are some other things to consider, Remus.” Logan said.

“Yeah, like… could you avert stabbing me everyday?” Roman said.

“Yeah, I don’t like that you do that to Roman!” Virgil said.

“Well, that’s kind of you to sa…” Roman said.

“It’s gross and it’s so difficult to wash blood off that white suit of his.” Virgil interrupted him.

Roman frowned at Virgil.

“Ugh… you just give me the most difficult tasks so that I continuously fail in my redemption! Not fair!” Remus groaned. “Can’t I at least use my mace on him? He’ll barely bleed if I hit him on the right places!”

“No!” Roman yelled. “No, you can’t!”

“So, what was the point of all these shenanigans, anyway?” Deceit said. “I’m sorry, I can’t relate at all with that old dude you were talking to all night. We don’t look alike, at all.”

Remus started running after Roman, mace in hand.

“Guys, don’t fight!” Patton said. “It’s Christmas Day! Please, behave, you look like children! Stop right now or you won’t get any presents from Santa!”

They were still arguing when they all sank down back to their Sanders Sides routine.

[uraniumglassbong]

dream house (based on the NYU creative portfolio prompt)

“Let’s keep looking.”

Snake-Eyes looks tired, smells dusty. He’s the box of Christmas tree decorations in my great-aunt’s attic. Of course, the tinsel doesn’t have dried blood streaked up its arms, and the plastic lights don’t carry guns on their backs. But you get the picture: he looks like he’s stuck in a cardboard box eleven months out of the year and isn’t taken out unless someone needs a little entertainment.

I glance past the smoke, into the jungle, and figure that’s a pretty good comparison

“Fine.” I humor him. It’s not like there’s anything else to do. No one told me how much waiting war can be. I’m impatient. So I adjust the bandage wrapped around my elbow and crawl into the underbrush after him.

I think, maybe, this place was beautiful. When I was a kid my dad took me to the spot his church used to stand, showed me the burnt window frames with pieces of stained-glass still stuck to them, and the flowers that were growing back around the front steps. It’s a little like that, except here I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I’m the guy who burnt it down.

“Anything?” Snake-Eyes asks, his voice ricocheting around the orange smoke.

“‘S too thick.” I pry a fern aside with my boot. All that’s underneath is another fern. “You couldn’t’ve gone down somewhere with less shit on the ground?”

“I’ll take it up with the VC.”

“Please do.”

Over my shoulder, people laugh around the fire. It’s fake, but that’s what you do: sit, and smoke, and clean your gun. Cover boxes with flags and load them up. I pass a tree with intials carved at eye level into the bark. I don’t recognize them, but I only know nicknames anyway. Plus, it doesn’t matter- it’ll be blown down before it grows any higher. I’m probably the only person who’ll ever see it. The longer I’m here, the less I use my camera.

“You said it’s silver?” I call over my shoulder, kneeling to look around the roots.

“Yeah, silver. Nothing here.”

He’s been saying nothing here for the past three hours. It’s alright, though. It’s okay. I think about the lighter under my pillow back at camp and kick aside another few inches of brush.

And god, there it is. A fucking Christmas present. I let out a laugh- not fake, but something less than real- and Snake-Eyes is tripping through the jungle, his gun hitting the low-hanging branches.

We sit on our jackets, our bare faces and arms covered in smoke. “You married?”

“No. It’s, uh, a friend’s. He asked me to... hang onto it.”

I nod and look at the dirt on my nails. Seems like everyone- everyone left- has some kind of inheritence. Something going home in the wrong pair of hands, exchanged over a stretcher. I wrote a story a month ago about a guy who went through every dearly-departed’s stuff, finding all the photos they’d taken with them. He kept them in the bottom of his pack and told me he was gonna deliver them by hand. I don’t know what happened to him. My boss didn’t publish the story: “save that shit for Hollywood, Eddie.”

“You’re from out West, right?”

“New Mexico. This for a story?”

“What, you see me taking notes? Nah. Just wondering why that was worth spending three hours looking through a war zone for.”

Snake-Eyes shifts his weight, and I feel a story coming. It’s like the air-pressure change before a storm, or feeling yourself fall off the edge of sleep. “You seem okay. His name was Henry. We didn’t get very far, really, as far as two people go. There ain’t enough time. Even when you’re both convinced you’re gonna live through it all. But there was, I don’t know, there wasn’t no time. We got our five minutes. Got some time off and got drinks in town. Stayed up late.” He slides the ring on and off his left finger. “He didn’t really want to come back. I don’t blame him- a lot of guys don’t.”

“I know it.”

“But he said he would, if I was with him. There was this house for sale, on my street, when I left, and we’d joke about buying it when all this was over. Where we’d put the furniture, whether there was room in the backyard for a dog. Shit like that. Maybe it was a little more than joking. Anyway. He gave it to me while we were getting ready for an ambush. Told me I could use it as collateral for a loan on the house. I think maybe he knew what was gonna happen. I think usually, you know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Snake-Eyes rolls brown eyes up to the trees. “He was so fucking stupid. Curly works at a pawn shop, he told me what it’s worth. Eighteen dollars. Christ.”

Back at the fire, another bout of laughter breaks out. They’re drunk now. Me and Snake-Eyes are dead sober.

“What’s the address?”

“Huh?”

“The house. I go back to the States next week. I can find out, if you want. See if they’ll take eighteen dollars.”

He smiles at me through the fog. “You got a pen?”

We put on our jackets and pick our way through the jungle, back to the fire and the gin and guys propped against backpacks, waiting for the sunrise. There’s a couple numbers and the name of a street in New Mexico written on my sleeve. Snake-Eyes looks tired, smells dusty, but there’s a ring on his finger, and the closest thing to a real smile I’ve seen in the past three months.

[emospritelet]

Golden Lace 2. “You want marshmallows on that?” and 24. “This hot chocolate has rum in it” Either from EC verse or Waiting Game verse.

Let’s make this the EC verse!

AO3 link

Festive ficlet prompt list

Lacey shivered as she shoved the front door closed behind her, shutting out the bitter wind and breathing in the scent of spice.  Gold had been baking again, it seemed.  He did that a lot these days.  Now that her studies were over, and they had moved back to Storybrooke, she was still adjusting to the slower pace of a small town, but he had slotted back into his old life with ease, reopening the pawn shop and spending his mornings tinkering with antiques.  He had left Dove overseeing most of his business interests, leaving him more time to spend with Lacey.  And to cook.  She had planned to get involved in the internet store she had set up for him, but Gold had told her there was no rush, and after working all hours to get her degree she was more than happy to take a few months off.  She had told herself she would start work in the New Year.  Funny how plans changed.

December in Storybrooke was always cold, but she liked it.  The thick snow made her incredibly excited at the thought of the Christmas celebrations that were approaching, and the freezing weather had led to lazy mornings in bed with the cats, hot chocolate by the fire and bracing walks in the woods with the cold air biting at their throats.  She was happier than she had ever been, and their lives had just gotten infinitely better.  Even if Gold didn’t know it yet.

She stamped snow from her boots, white powder scattering on the mat as she pulled the hat from her head.  There was a murmuring from the kitchen, the sound of Gold’s voice talking quietly, and she wrinkled her nose in confusion.  Maybe he’s on the phone.

“Hey!” she shouted.  “I’m back!”

There was a chirruping sound, followed by soft thumps and a rhythmic patter of little feet, and three cats trotted through from the lounge, tails in the air.  Lacey squatted down to scratch their ears, grinning as they butted their heads against her fingers.  Coal-black Severus let out a little squeak of greeting, and she rubbed at his chin, making him purr loudly.

“Hey.”

Gold’s voice from the kitchen made her look up.  He was smiling at her, his eyes crinkling, and she straightened up as Minerva began winding herself around Lacey’s legs, purring.  Lacey opened her mouth to announce the news she had been bursting to tell him, but Gold spoke first.

“Neal and Emma are here,” he said.  “Neal got the day off, so they thought they may as well head on up.”

“Oh.”  Ah.  Well.  I guess it can wait a little, then.  “Great!”

“How’s Ruby?” he asked.

“Ruby?”

“You were going to have lunch together?” he prompted.

“Oh.”  Lacey recalled the tweaking of the truth she had employed.  She had seen Ruby, but briefly, and certainly not for lunch.  “Yeah, it was - she’s fine.  Granny has her doing a production line of those gingerbread cookies you like, so I got her to set some aside.  I’ll pick ‘em up tomorrow.”

“Sounds wonderful,” he said, stepping closer.  "Spice and sweetness.  My very favourite thing.“

His eyes were glinting, and Lacey grinned at him, stepping close to twine her arms around his neck.

“Your favourite thing, huh?”

“Well,” he said, sliding a hand around her waist.  "Besides you, obviously.“

She stretched up to kiss him, and he tugged her close as his lips pulled at hers.

"Lacey, put him down!” called Neal from the kitchen.  "I swear, you guys are like horny teenagers!“

Lacey broke the kiss, falling back onto her heels with a giggle, and Gold raised an eyebrow, jerking his head towards the kitchen.

“Since we have guests, perhaps we could order some extra gingerbread,” he said, in a dry tone.

“Yeah, I’ll call Ruby and ask.”  She peeled off her gloves.  “She’s doing double chocolate ones too, so I’ll get a batch.”

“I’m sure my waistline will thank her,” he said, with a wry grin.

“All the more for me to love.”

“Positivity,” said Gold.  “I like it.”

“Well, that is why you married me,” she said lightly, and his grin widened.

“Oh, not the only reason,” he said, his voice a low growl, and Lacey felt her belly tighten pleasantly as she took off her boots.

“Now stop that!” she chided, looking up at him.  “We have guests.”

“Yes, please stop!” called Neal, and Gold chuckled, beckoning to Lacey.

“You must be freezing,” he said.  “I made hot chocolate.  Come on through.”

Lacey shrugged off her coat and unwound her scarf, bending to give the cats a final pet before wandering through to the kitchen.  She was immediately wrapped in a bone-crushing hug by Neal, a loud kiss planted on her cheek, which made her giggle.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said, amused, as he pulled back.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this,” he said, ducking his head a little.  “It was just - well, it’s nearly Christmas, and Dad’s a good cook…”

“Hey!” said Emma indignantly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna second that ‘hey!’,” said Lacey, hands on hips.

“Oh, you guys are great, too,” said Neal hastily.  “Way better than me.”

“Nice save, doofus,” said Emma dryly, and wandered over to hug Lacey.  “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”  Lacey hugged her back.  “Where’s Henry?”

“Taking a nap,” said Emma.  “He got a little over-excited on the way up when we told him we’re going to see Santa this evening.”

“I hope the sight of Leroy with a fake white beard and a cushion down the front of his Santa suit won’t be too much of a let-down,” remarked Lacey.

“Nah, he’ll love it,” said Emma.  “As soon as he’s awake I’ll take the bags upstairs.  We brought wine and chocolate and a ton of presents.  Oh, there’s something for the cats in my bag, and I think they know it.”

“Oh, they would,” said Lacey, looking sternly at the cats, who had followed her in.  Three pairs of green eyes gazed innocently up at her.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” she told them, and Hagrid sat down to lick himself, one white leg sticking up in the air.

“Here,” said Gold, handing her a steaming mug of chocolate.  “That should warm you up.”

Lacey took it gratefully, raising the mug as the others reached for theirs.  The first taste was delicious, hot and sweet on her tongue, but she frowned.

“You want marshmallows on that?” asked Neal, holding up the bag.

Lacey licked her lips, glancing up at Gold.

“This hot chocolate has rum in it,” she said, and he looked puzzled.

“Well, yes,” he said.  “That is your usual request, isn’t it?  A bloody large slug of it, you always tell me.”

“Oh.”  Lacey shook her head, holding out her mug.  “Uh - you want this?”

“I’ll have it,” said Neal promptly, at the same time that Gold said.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted.  “At least - well, I don’t think it’s something wrong, I think it’s great, it’s just - I know we hadn’t really talked about it, and we weren’t really trying, but…”

“You’re pregnant,” guessed Emma, and Gold spat hot chocolate down the front of his suit, eyes wide.

“Well, I guess I better get used to that,” remarked Lacey, reaching for a paper towel to clean it off. 

[abigailpoe]

The Gift (Damien x MC)

2nd Day of Christmas

Summary: Life on the run took a toll on Damien’s relationship with Amanda. Amanda was trying to make it works, but it seemed like no matter what she did, Damien didn’t have feelings for her anymore. That’s when Damien surprised her with something.

Notes: I don't own any of these characters.

Rating: PG-13

Tags: @boneandfur @littlecrookedheart @syltti78 @regina-and-happiness @flyawayboo @alegria1580 @llamasgrl @tmarie82 @brightpinkpeppercorn @indiacater  @violinist3121

The group was back in Paris, and I, for one, was excited. Having been on the run for so long took a toll on each of us, but with the holidays, each of us was on edge about family time.

Damien hasn’t been himself for a few months now. He wasn’t as happy to see me or anyone in all honesty. Damien was constantly snapping at everyone, and this took a shot at our relationship.

I woke up in the middle of the night tonight to find my bed empty once again. I put on some slippers and went into the living room and kitchen area. I found Damien on his laptop, typing away at something. I came up behind him and wrapped him into a hug.

I leaned around his body from behind kissed his cheek. “Hey, baby. What are you doing up so late?”

Damien slammed his laptop closed. “I’m trying to find everyone Christmas gifts. Everyone has been so on edge lately, I just wanted to try to cheer everyone up.” He spun the barstool around to face me. “I also want to find a great gift for you.”

I shook my head from side to side. “I don’t need anything, Damien. As long as I’m with the people I love, I don’t need anything else.”

Damien rolled his eyes. “Do you always have to sound like a Hallmark movie?”

“Only when you stop sounding like a crime show.” I smiled, kissing his forehead. “Come on, let’s head back to bed. I can help you with the gifts tomorrow.”

Damien took my hand and we returned to the bedroom. The next morning, I was awakened by the smell of Christmas cookies and bacon. Damien wasn’t awake yet, so I slipped out of my room to see what was going on after getting dressed. I walked into the kitchen to find Steve cooking and the others decorating a tree.

I rubbed my eyes. “How did you get that in here?”

“We snuck it up in pieces.” Nadia smiled. “Then, we used a suitcase to get all the decorations up here.”

“Um, okay?” I asked, confused about when they did all of this. “Hey, are we still doing Christmas presents tomorrow?”

Hadyn began to smile. “Of course we are! This is my first real Christmas.”

“Well, I really shouldn’t have put all the gifts off until last minute,” Damien spoke from behind me. 

“What?” Salone asked. “How could you wait until now? I’ve had my gifts for weeks!”

Damien shrugged. “I’m waiting on one to come in the mail, actually. Hopefully, it is down at the front desk by the end of the day. Other than that, I haven’t gotten the rest of the gifts.” He turned to me. “Are you ready to go shopping?”

I nodded. “Let’s get going.”

The moment the door latched shut, Damien’s hand found mine, and our fingers quickly intertwined. Damien planted a kiss on my temple. “Hey? I have something for you tomorrow if it gets here in time. I really hope that you like it...”

“Sweetheart, whatever you get me, I’ll love it because it’s from you,” I explained as we made our way down the street. I saw out of the corner of my eye him blush a little bit. I playfully elbowed him in the side. “Did I make the Damien Nazario blush?”

He rolled his eyes. “You wish. You’ll never get me to talk.”

I poked him in the side, pouting my lip. “Please?”

Damien wrapped an arm around my waist. “You’ll never get the information. I’ve been trained to resist your tricks.”

I laughed. “You’re such a dork.”

He planned a kiss on the side of my head. “But I’m your dork.”

The two of us spent the whole day in the city looking for presets. Shop after shop, Damien insisted on making sure everyone had the perfect gifts. Some shops, though, didn’t have wrapping paper, so we had to wrap the gifts in the lobby. After we were done with that, we went up to the room.

The moment the door opened, Dipper ran up and jumped up on my legs. I leaned down and scratched behind her ears. “Hey, girl. I got you something while we were out.” Dipper let out a little yip. I pulled out a small bag out of my purse. Inside the bag was an elf outfit with a Santa hat. Dipper let me put it on her with ease.

Dipper ran over to Hadyn and barked. He scratched behind her ears. “Well don’t you look cute.”

Nadia and Steve peaked out from the kitchen. “I have a surprise for everyone!” Nadia yelled. She carried a box out of the kitchen and placed it on the floor. “I got everyone matching pajamas for Christmas!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Damien asked. She glared at him, and he stopped complaining.

Hadyn pulled out a pair for him. “Is this... a thing?”

I leaned over and whispered. “Just go with it.”

Sloane came out of her room. “We get matching pajamas?” she smiled and grabbed a pair for herself. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”

After dinner and a few group pictures, we all headed to bed. I was changing when Damien came into the room.

“Well, that’s something to walk in on.” He smirked.

I threw a sock at him. “Shut up.”

“I actually need to talk to you about something.” He frowned. I slipped my shirt over my head and plopped down onto the bed. “Your gift didn’t get here in time. I’m so sorry.”

“Damien, I don’t care about the gift. We’re all together, and that’s what counts. The fact that we can stay somewhere safe for the holidays, out of reach or Eros, that means the world to me.” I explained. 

He suddenly jumped onto the bed, tackling me backward onto the bed. He placed a soft kiss to my lips. “I love you so much.”

“What?” 

“I-” He stuttered. “I mean it. I love you, Amanda.”

I kissed his nose. “I- I love you, too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Funny.”

“Maybe after all this is over, I could be a comedian.” I joked.

He rolled off of me, propping himself up with an elbow. “Have you thought about what’s going to happen after all of this?” Damien asked.

I nodded. “I have.”

“And?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I want to go back to New York City, I know that for sure. After that, I don’t know. I mean, I want you in my life, no matter what.”

Damien smiled. “I think you could make a great private investigator. What if we worked together?”

“Ooo... We could be like Sherlock and Watson. We could get matching trenchcoats and everything.” I joked. Damien laced his fingers with mine. “Obviously I would be Watson because of the fact that more people like me than you. Also, I’m a lot less paranoid than you are.”

He smiled and leaned over to kiss my forehead. “That sounds amazing. However, we both need some sleep.”

I sighed. “Okay...” Within a few minutes of the lights being turned off, I was asleep in Damien’s arms.

I heard the door to the room Damien and I were in click open, and Dipper jump onto the bed. Damien groaned from beside me. “Get up, sleepyheads! It’s Christmas!” Nadia yelled.

DIpper licked my face while I sat up. “I’m getting up, girl.”

“Ten minutes...” Damien groaned from below the covers. 

Nadia’s face scrunched up with anger. “Damien Nazario, if you don’t get up right now, I’m going to beat you.”

Damien rolled over to face her. “Fine.”

The two of us trudged into the living room to find everyone else wide awake. Sloane had all the gifts sorted ahead of time, which would save everyone a bunch of time.

I sat down by Damien and opened all the gifts. Dipper was happy because she got some toys and a bone.

Later on, Damien and I were in our room. “I have something for you. I just found out that it was at the front desk.”

He passed me a small, ring-sized box. “Damien- it’s a little soon for this...” I whispered, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“What?” He asked. “Oh! You think- no! That’s not what this is!”

I opened the box to find my grandma’s necklace. It was a gold chain with a larger blue gem. Surrounding the blue was smaller, purple gems. I hadn’t seen it in over a year. I had to sell it when I was between jobs and almost went homeless. I flipped it over to find 

“How did you find this?” I asked.

He motioned me to turn around to put it on me. “I found it about a year after you had to sell it. This girl bought it for her grandmother but refused to give it up for any amount of money. Her grandma ended up getting robbed, and the necklace was sold to a pawn shop out in LA. An old friend of mine, and don’t ask, found the necklace for me. I asked him to ship it here.” He latched the necklace. 

I ran my fingers along it, turning around to face him. “Thank you...” I whispered. I took a breath and laughed. “I guess this tops my gift.”

“What? I loved the leather jacket! I could use another one with fewer blood stains on it.” Damien smirked. “Besides, Christmas isn’t over yet.”

I returned the smirk. “I guess it’s not, sir.”