#most of the time we struggle to get this much snow on christmas. ITS NOVEMBER

[the-kipsabian]

i do not recall the last time we had this much snow in november and tbh its kinda freaking me out

[acedhigh]

SIEGEMAS 2020 @dualrainbow​ starring: Marius Streicher, Dominic Brunsmeier, Monika Weiss, Elias Kötz. main blog: @elitejager​ note: hey to anyone who reads this, I haven’t written anything in forever and the only time I’ve ever written a fic was a request, so this is a first for me. as an Autistic person I wanted to touch on the topic a little (i.e how the world views us versus how we view others and express ourselves) and incorporate it into my prompt for this piece. Marius inspires me a lot, I know he’s a popular part of Team Rainbow so I hope you all like it & happy holidays ✌

07 December.

As an icy chill snaked its way down his nape, Marius was reminded of the changed season. Days, weeks even, inside the workroom (his 'safehaven' as he called it to himself), made time and weather and all things mundane merge together in one big negligible blur. The transition between October into November now early December had seemed so...rapid. "Getting lost in one's work" was nothing short of apropos for this revelation; Unfazed by the cold however, he merely rolled down his sleeves and resumed gazing intently at his go-to site for ordering parts - Hated the white background (far too garish) but it offered the best of the best, and a quicker delivery schedule. He'd need it. It wasn't unusual for him to spend great bouts of time in one place. Even less unusual to be knee-deep in a project or two. But it was when morning frost and Christmas music became part of everyday life to crudely round off the year, that Monika and Elias were particularly attentive to Marius and his propensity to isolate. He'd been like that as long as they could recall. It could be almost jarring at first - His quips that'd rub less-familiar colleagues the wrong way, the speed at which his social battery would fizzle out like an ember, and a subtle arrogance which stepped on many toes. In contrast to Marius' heated and bull-headed nature, even his enthusiasm and eagerness to share or contribute somehow seemed misplaced or perhaps just poorly timed; Boundaries were a struggle and frequently crossed line despite how many walls he put between himself and others. He was unpredictable to most. "Hard to decipher", as Monika once put it. She was the first out of the four to recognize he was on the spectrum, and it tugged at her heartstrings to watch him endure contempt in place of a little understanding - But she vowed to hold her tongue. She did not want to patronise or belittle someone as bold as Marius. After all, in many ways she considered him to rival herself academically, and that garnered much of her respect. He was capable, he didn't need her or anybody else to coddle him or worry. Monika did not worry about him at all in fact, until this time of year.

16 December.

Elias had a similar view. Never had he met someone so rigid in his performance, so disciplined, yet so antsy. Must be the whole chaos of creativity, he thought. He recounted several incidences where he tried his hand at entertaining Marius, to no avail. Like things just didn't connect with him or tickle him the way Elias could achieve with others. But that didn't mean they lacked a connection at all - They were close, but where other people stood Marius was always one step further away, by his own accord. It was clear from the get go that the engineer liked to do things his way and per his agenda. Elias would grant him the favour of “breathing room” because he knew that although Marius held people at arms' length, beneath that eccentric exterior there was a shining heart of gold that cared deeply about the people he would shoo out of his workroom. Today was no exception, apparently.

"Hey, Marius--" There he was, ensconced in something technical of course, and drenched in fluorescent white light.

"No!"

"Huh--"

"Don't-- You can't look. Just...I'm busy. And I'm discussing this prototype of mine with the head of BMVg, whatever it is, it can wait."

Oops, Elias. "This isn't for prying eyes, it's commission work. I'll humour you later."

"Ah, err, got it. No peeking. Just don't work yourself to death and I'll check back in tonight. See ya!"

Yeah, this wasn't uncommon he muses, as he's met with a cold hand gesture towards the door. Though Elias couldn't help but wonder if maybe Marius was pushing himself even harder as to not think about the holidays. Dominic's relationship with him was different. Not as warm to the touch. And certainly more volatile, when tension arose. A clash of unorthodox personalities. They were polar opposites in one way, but fiercely empathetic in others, because pariahs stick together even when grating on each others' nerves - It was their non-conformity that made them a good team no matter how unconventional (and potentially troublesome) the dynamics. He knew how it was to be alone like the back of his hand. Maybe that too is the reason for their kinship, once all strain dissipated. Even he occasionally considered how his comrade handled the isolation; Dominic relished it to a degree, a darker mind who co-existed with his demons. But he knew Marius and he frequently observed his drive to form relationships only for them to fall flat or worse because of that same old disconnect Elias talked about on occasion. Never brought it up verbally but nothing could ghost Dominic's perusal. "Damn. Rejected again," Elias jests as he spots Dominic taking a break from playing grease monkey on his bike - Cigarette routinely positioned in mouth and garage wide open so that snow had begun collecting on the entrance floor. This wing was probably his safehaven, too.

"You should leave him to it." Dominic takes a long drag before expelling two plumes from his nose.

"Yeah I know, I know. Just seems wrong to not try. I don't think he's going home for Christmas. Hasn't heard from his Uncle for a couple of years...Not sure why. Marius tells me that's nothing out of the ordinary. Still, doesn't hurt to remind him we're around."

"He knows we're around. If you and Monika make a fuss it'll probably backfire."

"You could be right. But hey, buzzing in somebody’s ear is better than letting them feel ignored. I wouldn't be half as fun if I wasn't annoying."

"...Are you sure 'fun' is the right word?" Dominic concealed his smirk behind another toke.

"Whaaatever. Have a good night Brunsmeier. And don't get too cold old man! I don't know how you have the place all opened up on days like this. I don't want to come back tomorrow morning and find you in cryostasis."

"Uhuh. Well, snow chains. Fitting new ones on the tires and have to put 'em to the test somehow. See you, Smartass."

23 December.

The air was cold and dry and it permeated indoors but the serenity of snow blanketing everything for miles upon miles outweighed the chill in his lungs. Even the sun couldn’t thaw the ice nor interfere with celebrants having their white Christmas. From the moment he'd woken up that morning he rushed to get stuck back into his work without so much as cranking up the radiators. No matter the climate, it wouldn't deter him from his endeavours, much like Winter itself. As he fine-tuned his latest creation Marius felt overcome with accomplishment and relief knowing he had the rest of the day to spare after hours of trial and error. Fingers weaved and arms raised he stretched up high, taking a moment to admire the fully customised apparatus begging to be used. Fishing his phone out of a denim pocket he checked the time and grabbed one of the gift boxes wrapped neatly with a lavender bow. Monika would always make a point of going home to celebrate with her family - he'd heard many stories about her mother's Sauerbraten - and was always the first to leave to ensure she'd catch her flight. Ergo, her turn came first. His soles crunched against the virgin snow as Marius made his way to the dormitories. He could've forgotten the clean scent of fresh air or the sheer brightness the day can bring after spending a majority of his time hunkered down at the workroom. Cutting it close, he was fortunate enough to cross paths with Monika, luggage in her wake while punching in a numberpass for the electronic gate. "Monika!" He called out, waving her down.

"Hm?" Immediately she turned on her heel - Perhaps he startled her, or it was the (pleasant) surprise of hearing that familiar voice in another place other than his station or dorm.

"Monika, I'm glad I could catch you. Here--" Offering the palm sized box it was clear to the both of them that neither knew exactly how to handle the situation without underlying befuddlement. "--Frohe Weihnachten." (Merry Christmas). Ah yes, he'd forgotten that part. He wasn't well-versed in the act of gift giving - not face to face, at least...

"Really? For me?"

"Of course it is. It's purple. I don't know anybody else's favourite colour."

"I'm a little speechless...! Thank you Marius, and Frohe Weihnachten. I got something for you too, so did Elias. You were too busy we didn't think to disturb you and thought we'd leave them on your desk. You're welcome to pick them up yourself beneath the tree Emmanuelle and Yumiko set up in the foyer." Something akin to a glorified 'Secret Santa' Harry suggested for Team Rainbow to build on their camaraderie but appealed little to Dominic.

"Oh, that was unnecessary, but I'm grateful. Then I'm obliged to thank you as well. I didn't expect anything - I just wanted to see what I could come up with. I hope you like it."

"No act of benevolence is unnecessary. I'm tempted to open this up right here and now, I'm very curious. I'm going to show restraint however and open it tomorrow. I'll shoot you a message afterwards, OK?" She unzipped her case and placed it delicately atop folded clothes. Whatever it was, it seemed fragile, and would need the padding. "You take care of yourself Marius. Tschüss!" She passed through the gate and left with a smile.

24 December.

With more confidence after yesterday's exchange next in line was either Elias or Dominic, whoever he bumped into first. Today was bitterly cold and much darker, grey clouds hanging overhead almost as thick as the snow. Still, it was welcomed by those who enjoyed the seasonal comforts of lounging around; Vastly preferable to these scorching Summers in recent years, to Marius' admittance. He could spy from beyond his work station window that Dominic had the garage locked up early and was now dumping fodder to feed one of his burn barrel fires. To Marius, this had grown synonymous with Winter, and was a good way to gauge the severity of the weather - Dominic explained to him that it became habit from his undercover days, and was a quick & easy disposal method of...well, anything that could burn. Which sounded vaguely ominous with the way he put it, and there was no doubt in his mind that it absolutely was ominous. But that was then. He would ponder though, what his fellow operative saw in those flames. If he thought of an array of things and memories like a haunting myriad or maybe he just saw nothing more than a warming fire and burning magazines. It was hardly worth asking either, because he was scarcely linear, and seemed to quietly take pleasure in keeping people on their toes. An enigma for sure. They both were. Joining Dominic's side he could feel heat from the fire and the barrel itself as it raged on between them.

"You've been out here a while?" "An hour, maybe less." "Can't be too good for you. It's cold & flu season. If you're going to see your nephews and nieces, that's not wise." "I've dealt with worse." "Yes, that's true, I'm sure your lungs appreciate your pack-a-day fitness ritual." "If I smoked a pack a day, BPOL would give me the chop faster than any bad habits could on my life expectancy. Besides, I can still outrun you. Did you come here to give me health advice or was there something else?" "I know you well enough to know that giving you advice often goes unheeded." Much to my dismay. "So no, however--" He presents the red giftbox to Dominic, which he'd yet to acknowledge. Or he didn't care enough to ask. There's a visible confusion that reads in his otherwise stark expression - Like Monika's the day prior. Was it really so foreign for Marius to present his generosity this way? "Oh...?" "Open it, Dummkopf." Rather than muster some spur of the moment retort Dominic does as instructed. He settled the box in snow and crouched down to examine what awaited inside. "Pure silver electromagnetic rods. In a similar vein to an EMP device, rather, a preemptive attack on them and on your target. Think of them as an extension to your CEDs. Place them around in any formation you like to create an electromagnetic field; They will go live the moment your CEDs do. I've included a remote for functionality and to check that they're all within range of each other. The frequencies will be dizzying for enemy weaponry and at the touch of a button, shock anybody standing within the field's radius." Astounded, Dominic can only look down in disbelief at the device in his hands. It's one thing to fix up an old motorcycle, or even a car, but something of this calibre was truly belonging to a prodigious acumen. And that prodigy is Marius Streicher. "Oh, there's also armbands and a 'plate' you fit to the bottom of your footwear to absorb static and safeguard you from being on the receiving end of the electrogrid. That part should be a familiar concept." "..." "Well?" "I don't know how the hell you come up with this shit, but it's incredible." "Mmhmm. Of course it is, I made it. Brave of you to finally admit that." "Don't make me regret showing some gratitude. I mean it. Is this what you've been busying yourself with the whole month?" "Yeah, calculating pulse waveforms took more work than Monika's and Elias' upgrades, I readily accepted the challenge though." "You went to the trouble of making something for them too huh. Crazy." "I did yes. Monika's was no sweat. I pulled up the files on her RED Mk III and tweaked a few things. Utilising the same technology I fitted a lens-like screen to a headpiece, so the intel she needs is always in view, and her handling of weapons isn't compromised. I think she'll appreciate the purple tint I used for the lens. That, and it can also be used for her spelunking - The new and improved Spectre can see beyond solid walls several metres thick, and it can detect hollow spaces like tunnels. If she removes the chip and slots it into the drone I made for her - I'll reveal that part to her once she's back - she can apply the Spectre to airborne recon in the same way as the lens itself." "Now, you're showing off. She's going to use and abuse that thing every chance she gets." "Good. Then I won't have made it for nothing." "What about Elias, what did you give him?" "I haven't given him his yet which works out nicely." "I'm all ears, Brainiac." "Interesting moniker. Elias gets a conal radius motion & thermal detector that bolsters his ballistic shield. This will give him an increase in tactical advantage, by alerting him to whoever is in his vicinity. If there's an obstruction or he loses sight of the enemy he can find them with ease and make his move. Like Monika's, his can mimic the technology he's accustomed to and can also be detached and used with the specialised drone made for him. He'll be able to temporarily blind at range, or cause distraction, meaning if he keeps his wits about him he'll manage to play a part from long distances." Dominic spied something else in the box as Marius gave his run down on each of the devices. Brow furrowed he picks it up and examines it closely, unable to crack what purpose it served. "Hm. And this?" "That, is a personal touch. Call it whimsical but I think you'll like it. His drone is also yours." Shooting the engineer a bewildered glance Dominic held the second remote in hand, waiting expectantly to understand its significance and what exactly made it so 'whimsical'. "I had trouble coming up with a unique quality for each of you. You're both irreverent in your sense of humour, so I decided to play on that. Elias' drone also has a compartment where something, such as a flashbang for example, can be stored and dropped at command. I'll tell him about that. What I won't tell him however is that you have full access to the drone with that control you're holding. I'll leave it to your imagination to invent shenanigans of your own design. It ought to appease your prankster inclinations," Marius smiled knowingly, but only just - A sliver of the pride gathering in his center. Dominic's was blatant and devilish; Cogs turning in his mind already. But moreso this was a gift with meaning, and understanding to a level that excelled clinical intelligence. He had captured all three of them as operatives and as people, as friends, in the best way he knew how. Each gadget was far from mere machinery. Like polaroids immortalising their merits on the field and in life. "Don't expect to hear this out of me again anytime soon but you've outdone yourself." "Hah! It's worth the effort just to wring sincerity out of you, you ornery bastard." "Yeah, yeah, pot calling the kettle black. I know you're not a drinker but come on, show me how to use this thing over a pint - and bring the drone. I want to get Elias back for all his gaudy Christmas music in the dorms. I considered smothering him with his pillow, but this will suffice." He sneered, amused by his own facetiousness. "I know you don't have anything else planned so I'm not giving you much of a choice." After placing everything back in its box Dominic stood up to give his friend a gracious pat on the back. Marius noticed a glint in his eye he hadn't been privy to before - one unlike the dispassion that most would consider default to 'Bandit' - perhaps they were both seeing each other in a different light. An aspect they kept tucked away, save for rare junctures such as these. "Fine. I'll agree, considering the occasion. Might as well get into the spirit of things a little. Frohe Weihnachten, Dominic." "Frohe Weihnachten."

[jessconrad]

Fine Line by Harry Styles: The Sunshine We Needed Through A Very Dreary Year

Or An Album Review (One Year Later)

On December 13, 2019, Harry Styles graced the world with his second studio album, Fine Line, and I don’t think it has ever left my Recently Played section on my Spotify account since its release.

I honestly don’t know how I would have survived 2020 without this album. As I reflect on everything this year had to offer, I realized this record will always shine through as it is tied to my best memories of the year.

I listened to this album a lot, with three of my five top songs from my Spotify Wrapped coming from Fine Line. (They were “Sunflower, Vol. 6″, “Golden”, and “To Be So Lonely”, respectively, if you were curious!)

I spent dull afternoons in January walking around the freshly snow covered ground on my college campus blasting “Lights Up” in my headphones. This single was released in October 2019, two months prior to the release of Fine Line, and had been a top favorite of mine with its 70s soulful style. Not to mention, the small choir of backup singers and layering synth gave me an almost nostalgic as the Christmas season started to come to an end. This song was all about finding who you are- and I was starting to figure out who I am with it.

The next month I visited Denver for a conference and I began noticing how this record was starting to become the soundtrack to my year. February’s track was “Sunflower, Vol. 6″ where I started to feel my attachment to this song. I am not sure if it was the mesmerizing lyrics, the drums, or even the Indian instrument known as a sitar that made me really hooked to this song... But as I walked through the streets of rainy Denver (which would normally make me feel very gloomy), I couldn’t help grinning from ear-to-ear as I listened to this song. It’s the feel-good musical track you listen to, in whatever mood you’re in.

Sometimes I can’t fathom how apocalyptic March felt. The beginning of March was completely normal, and I was at my peak. Looking back now, I can’t wrap my head around that I attended five live shows within one week during that month. But all good things come to an end, right? And of course suddenly, it all came crashing down. I was sent packing up my college freshman dorm and moved back home with my parents while juggling all my courses remotely. There was a song that I was always replaying though, and that was “Golden.” Arguably one of the most upbeat tracks on Fine Line, next to “Sunflower, Vol. 6,″ but the lyrics say otherwise. As the opening track, it has a very chill pop vibe, but listen closely to the lyrics. The contrast pulls at my heartstrings every. single. time.

“Cherry” and April go hand-in-hand for me. As I continued to navigate my thoughts and feelings with the pandemic, struggling with the course load of online courses, and overall the anxiousness of all the unknowns- “Cherry” was the comfort I needed. With its soft acoustic guitar, it is the perfect song for any in-your-feels playlist. And trust me when I say that the fragility of “Cherry” really helped me when I was in my feels. 

Arguably the biggest summer hit of this year was “Watermelon Sugar,” and my go-to anthem of wanting to feel any normalcy of a summer that I stayed mostly indoors for. I remember when the music video dropped in May, I was grabbing coffee with a friend and begged her to watch the video with me. We sat in her car in the middle of a park, watching the YouTube video count down to the premiere of “Watermelon Sugar”. That “this video is dedicated to touching” opening message made me laugh and realized how truly brilliant Harry’s mind is. The warm, very enjoyable tune made this the perfect summer anthem with its really good electric guitar and slide guitar mixed with the horn. It’s the one song that will stay in your head for weeks.

Another song that feels like summer to me is “Canyon Moon.” In the end of June, I went ‘glamping’ (otherwise known as glamorous camping, we stayed in a very nice tiny house in the middle of the most wooded area that Nebraska could get) with my family. It’s a very upbeat song with a nostalgic feel, and the fun instrument rhythms can’t help but make you beam. The song also experiments with a dulcimer; a musical instrument with a long rounded body and a fretted fingerboard played by bowing, plucking, and strumming. I think this is what makes the song more upbeat and happy, especially the beginning as well as the slide guitar giving it unique sounds throughout. It personally is one of my least favorites on the album, but it does make me think of warm summer days and spending time with family every time I do listen to it.

July was starting to feel a little rough for me again. I was really getting tired of staying indoors and barely seeing any of my friends. I was really longing to go back to school and being around my people again. “To Be So Lonely” was a song that felt like it really understood me. Harry revealed in an interview with Rolling Stone that the song was composed on a guitalele, which resembles the sound of guitar, for that light and upbeat tone that the chords give off, backing the lyrics. It’s the perfect song you listen to when you’re sad, and you’re ready to push past it. And I knew that I was ready to push past my sadness because I had one more month until I was surrounded in community.

“Adore You” was the second single of Fine Line that was released. This song is filled with so much love and passion- and it was the same immense feelings I had in August when I got ready to move back to my college town and see all my friends again. As I packed my bags and moved into my sorority house, I constantly played this song. What can I say? This was a really great song to vibe with, especially with the opening keyboard and the consistent bass that you cannot help but groove to!

Out of all the months of this year, surprisingly September was one of my darkest. With only two weeks living into my sorority house, I made the decision to move out for the safety of mine and my family’s health. I moved back in with my parents again during this month, and I felt completely lost. “Falling” had the same underlying message of being lost. This love ballad displays a theme of brokenness and creates a tone of unhappiness- the perfect song for a post-breakup or an in-your-feels playlist. I had this song on repeat more times than I can count- the soft piano setting a broken and lonely tone. 

The beginning of October began to really turn around for me. I moved into an apartment with one of my best friends and I was back in my college town. I was starting to find community again and “Treat People With Kindness” became this month’s anthem. Coined after Harry’s Treat People With Kindness (TPWK) campaign, this song has a 1970s sound and makes you want to dance along with the catchy choir lyrics such as “Maybe we can/Find a place to feel good/And we can treat people with kindness”. The lyrics were very prevalent in my life, especially with the amping news of the presidential election and the continuation of the pandemic. This song was the best reminder to be kind to myself, and those around me. And let’s not forget the conga sound throughout! I believe Queen would have been very proud of this underrated track.

The timeless mature sound of “She” could have not fit November anymore. I celebrated my twentieth birthday this month (which of course included a Harry Styles themed birthday party with my roommate and some close friends). The guitar kicking in at the chorus giving so much emotion to Harry’s voice, and that’s exactly how I felt around my birthday. Lots of emotions. Not to mention, the guitar solo played by Mitch Rowland sounds like it could have been something that was released years ago, with a little modern touch. It’s growing to be one of my personal favorites on the album.

Lastly, we get to December and I felt as if this year was the longest year of my life (but also flown by way too quick). The song that resonated with me most this month was “Fine Line,” the last track of the album (and the longest at 6 minutes and 16 seconds). My favorite memories in December consist of driving around with my friend, looking at all the Christmas lights as we drink hot cocoa and blast “Fine Line”- singing our hearts out to the repetitive lyrics of “we’ll be fine line” and “we’ll be alright.” Harry discussed in an interview with Capital FM that this song would always be the last on the album, and how fitting that I resonated with this song most in the last month of the year. “Fine Line” represents the ups and downs of life, and the thin line that separates the two. This song that includes an orchestra, drums, horn, acoustic guitar, and melodies building in the background, it could not be the most perfect finale to the album- and to the year 2020.

Today is December 13, 2020- exactly one year after Fine Line has been released. Since then, Harry Styles has made headlines from petty to political. He has shown up for Black Lives Matter, cared for our sleeping habits by releasing an audio bedtime story, made us feel confident in wearing whatever we want as he appeared as the first solo male on American Vogue- all while accomplishing some of his greatest achievements with this album: releasing five music videos, being nominated for three Grammys, and climbing the music charts and catching the hearts of critics. 

But Harry accomplished something even greater- he made an album that made us feel good when it was nearly impossible to. To put it frankly- Fine Line was my comfort album, and I know that it was a lot of other people’s too. And as we step into the new year, with the help of this album, it does in fact feel like... we’ll be alright.

[brideofcthulhu10]

Behold another Lost Boys holiday special! It was between this and Valentine’s day, but honestly I love writing Christmas specials, its such a cozy time despite the high suicide rates, but lets not get into that. A BIG SHOUT OUT TO @imlostinsantacarla FOR HELPING ME EDIT MY FINAL DRAFT!

Fun Fact! My husband, David (yes, that is actually his name) actually does have the bah humbug hat I mention in the head canons. He’s a heavy metal goth so when I found it at the store I had to get it for him. And you just know if our David found that, he wouldn’t be able to resist it!

Christmas with the Boys

Alright, so the whole touchy, feely and mushy feelings that surround even the topic of Christmas time is not something any of the boys will ever openly admit to enjoying. After all, they see themselves as these bad ass brutal killers who thrive off of death instead of holding hands and caroling with the goodie goodies of this coastal town. 

Yet, it's challenging for them not to get sucked into the glitz and glam of the holiday season. Everything is a big deal in Santa Carla. Dia De Los Muertos, Halloween, Thanksgiving- everything! But especially Christmas.

Christmas in Santa Carla dwarfs the frenzy craze of Halloween. The entirety of the boardwalk is decked out with red and green lights that are tightly wound around palm trees, red bulbous bows are wrapped tightly around street lamps, the reds and whites of velvety fabric swirl down the posts, creating the effect of candy canes. All the store windows are painted to appear frosted, or covered with painted snowmen whilst several rooftops are covered with white felt in which mimics the texture and sight of snow. Even the boats in the harbour are all extravagantly decorated in a sea of lights that parade around brightly at night in every color imaginable.

Between the dates of the 30th of November all the way to the 24th of December the city of Santa Carla hosts a plethora of wondrous events in it's annual Holiday Festival. Large green, white and red kiosks are erected, selling a wide range of baubles and treats, from delectable chocolate coated rice krispy Santa Clauses, elf candy apples caked in a plethora of dark chocolate and peppermint, to a variety of Holiday hats, masks and even hand made costumes by the many local artists. Even hand carved candles in wondrous scents of pine, mint, or spice.

Currently, David possesses a black fur Santa hat which he acquired on a night out that boasts the words "Bah Humbug" proudly sewn over the front. It's the only holiday attire he'll even humor. Last time Marko attempted to place reindeer antlers on his head, David had set them on fire roasting atop a pan of chestnuts. Now it's not to say that he's a grinch persay. Rather, the complex and intense emotions that come hand in hand with Christmas can leave him perpetually indifferent at best, disdainful at worst. The whole occasion leaves him displeased. After all, he was an orphan who had been almost eagerly abandoned by his hooker mother left to fend for himself from the beginning, and  of course never met his father. Even she could not identify which of her many clients may have been responsible. Most of his mortal life he had lived as a street rat, barely making ends meet by picking the pockets of tourists and Santa Carla citizens oblivious to the true dangers of the lower side of town. The rich and uppity classes who often snubbed their entitled noses his way would never suspect as he lurks between alleyways, leaving them cornered at knife point. It was scarce that he ever did see a kind face in the sea of those who had little interest for anyone that was not themselves. Back then it was rather uncommon for anyone to step outside their own little lives, which led to most interactions, outside of the other boys, having been met with great hostility, thus he had learned to be just as equally hostile in turn. Even the mere thought of anyone suddenly dawning a false kindness due to a certain time of year simply agitated David. It rattled him to the very core in a way very few other things did. Why bother with the lies? Couldn't people just face the very basic fact that they weren't nearly as charitable as they often deemed themselves to be? I mean, the young man had seen firsthand a family having previously snubbed a dirty homeless man with appalled disdain at the sight of his muddied clothes and dirt stained skin, only to then begin volunteering at a soup kitchen to purge whatever guilt they carried on their conscience once the holiday season began. The whole ordeal was pitiful! Nevertheless, - more so for Paul and Marko's sakes than his own -, he did humor these traditions amongst the holiday's festivities. Ruining a good time just wasn't his style. Unless they started fucking singing.

Most traditions David could tolerate, some he even enjoyed slightly; although he would never be caught dead admitting something as embarrassing as that! However, he just couldn't stand Christmas carols! They were the bain to his immortal existence. The repetitive nature of these overly cheery jingles left him covering his ears lest they nest in his brain leaving him humming the same damn melody for weeks. This was the case because the dynamic duo of dumbasses were well aware of his hatred for Rudolph the Red Nosed fuckin' roadkill! Stupid red nosed abomination. 

“OOOOOOH-,” Paul begins with cheerful mischief.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” David seethes through tightly clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut in indignance. 

Paul hesitates. He looks at Marko. Marko looks at Paul. Wicked grins of agreement spread wide like wildfire across their faces as their master plan comes into play. Full throttle. What’s more fun than annoying the shit out of David? One on the left, the other on the opposite side of the cave on the right. This was nothing but Divine perfection if you asked the two troublesome vampires.

“OOOOOH DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW!” Paul belted out at full volume.

“IN A ONE HORSE OPEN SLEIGH!” Marko followed in suit, the widest eerie grin plastered on his face.

“OVER THE HILLS WE GOOOO” Paul howled enthusiastically. 

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!” David's voice hit a whole new octave it had never in all his life so far. All the while Dwayne had opted to vacate the room lest he be caught in the middle of the escalating madness with Laddie in tow. He loved these guys, but not enough to dive head first into their fuckery.

Paul thrives during the Christmas holidays! How could he not? The food, the punk rock covers of Christmas songs, the absolute babes prancing around the town in Santa hats under mistletoe?! He loved it all! You can find him sneaking under mistletoe with many sweet honeys on a constant basis, regardless of whether or not he's acquainted with them. Most do roll their eyes or laugh it off, but every once in a blue moon the guy will get a little lovin' from a beach babe in the Yuletide mood. What else could he ask for? You can bet he’ll run into the woods December first, and quite literally RIP a pine tree out of the ground to bring home like a wee carrot being plucked from the ground. The bigger the better! He may even drag Dwayne or Marko along with him if it's too big for him to carry himself. And all the boozy drinks he can concoct up? This boy is in his element! Mulled wine, spiked eggnog, candy cane vodka, butterscotch bourbon hot chocolate?! Yes! David straight up refuses to try anything that Paul creates himself (remember the concoction he made in Max's kitchen? Those poor goldfish....) which is also another reason why he has Dwayne help him. Or rather, the other boys insist the most responsible of them monitors the blonde lest he poison them with some sickly brew. That, and the fact that Dwayne's the least likely out of all of them to blow up the damn kitchen!

Dwayne is indeed the designated cook during the holiday rush, albeit a field even he tends to struggle. Avoiding the kitchen catching aflame, perfecting his craft lest he blow up the stove, leaving only a pile of ash in its wake. As previously mentioned, ever since the dreadful chain of events that lead to the unfortunate destruction of Max's kitchen, this raven haired vampire has attempted his hand at learning to use a stove properly: Although he often finds himself forgetting ingredients either in the midst of cooking or after the final product is done and he's taken a big bite. 

“Shit! I forgot the milk and eggs!” Dwayne grumbled with a mouthful of dry crumbs, a true disgrace of a cookie.

Paul always gives him crap for it of course.

“Oooh I just thought you were going for a sandy, dusty dry cookie kinda thing.”

"Yeah man, these taste like ass!" Marko would cough out in midst of choking. 

"And what, like you dumbasses could do any better," Dwayne retorts with a huff. Only Star manages to have any manners when testing his failed baking endeavors.

"Well I mean, the taste isn't that bad. Just a little dry is all."

"At least Marko wouldn't be choking to death." David would mutter from the darkest corner of the room, a little late in the conversation.

In all honesty, Dwayne's biggest motivation when it came to improving his skills was obviously Laddie. The kid never got much of a Christmas whilst living with his mom, so now that he was with the boys, he wanted to ensure that Christmas's were something that Laddie would remember for all eternity. Though granted, it is quite the mess when he was helping in the kitchen. But when the mini vamp grins from ear to ear whilst coated in flour and rapidly stirring an overflowing bowl of chunky cookie dough--the sight is too freaking cute!

Since Laddie joined the boys, they participate in Secret Santa every single year, which definitely includes Paul bursting through the entrance of the hotel as Santa on Christmas day. We won't talk about the fact that each year he almost falls flat on his face and swears, ruining the surprise for the kid. 

"Santa where are your reindeer," he'd question, to which Santa Paul scoffs

"Pff, reindeer, I don't need any fucki- Ow," cut off by a firm and covert kick to the shin from Star, Paul quickly changes his response. "Oh! Ho ho, well, you see little boy, Santa can fly too! On his, uh, uhm… magic motorcycle! Yeah, that!"

But it's okay because Laddie already KNEW (he figured it out a year or two ago after Paul's beard fell off not once, but three times), he just doesn't have the heart to tell any of them because, well Paul really gets into it. And he knows the others are playing along for his sake. But to be fair, Laddie would have to be pretty dumb to believe it was Santa. I mean, the beard Paul's wearing is hanging half off his face by this point! But anyway, just like Paul's style, the entirety of the goody two shoes schpiel is thrown out the window, replaced with sleeves that have been ripped off, muddy boots, spiked bracelets and his Metallica shirt in full view beneath his flared red coat. He calls this BIKER CLAUS!

Laddie is not a squasher of traditions! But there was the one time that David had to intervene when Paul and Dwayne thought it would be great to use Laddie as the star at the top of the tree. David practically had a heart attack. Well, that's impossible but it still felt like he was having one!  

“Ho ho ho! Now, don’t be a bitch, little David or Santa will have to give you coal.” Paul stated mockingly to David, brows furrowed. 

“Well, Santa,” David scolds, a wry smile developing on his face when setting down the eight year old now off to shake his presents beneath their behemoth of a tree. “You best be careful. You never know what's in those milk and cookies, hm?”

Each year Marko buys bird toys for the pigeons in the hotel. Well, buy is probably the wrong word. More like he liberates the stores of their stock. And then for the next six months, David has to hear the agonizing jingle of bells. David almost roasted one pigeon in particular that kept flying over him to drop the ball with a bell in it on his head. That was Paul's entertainment for the next five hours, hell, he'd try to find it if the bird lost it and give it back. Marko defends the pigeon. Between running through stores buying up surprises for his friends, he's helping Paul throw out decorations for the cave. The dollar store has some surprisingly unexpected treasures, allowing him to deck the fucking halls to the max. Tinsel here, ornaments there,  tiny light up trees to hide around the caves, a butt ton of cinnamon pine cones which he ends up throwing back and forth with Paul.

And Paul often steals his gifts or goes dumpster diving for any hidden gems. He forgets to take the tags off of them the majority of the time, which is always an indicator whether or not its new. Any time Star asks where he got them from he refuses to answer. Just gets up and walks away. But for David's gift? Well this lucky bastard has found coal in the dumpster and chucks it to David when he's not looking and he sighs deeply in disappointment because this is the third year Paul has done this. 

 "Huh? What? Who did that? Wasn't me. Somebody's throwing stuff."

Other than that he'll find a fat bag of charcoal and just tape the name David on it. David is certainly not amused. Dwayne will actually try to figure out what the others want, and has the sense to save the money taken from their previous meals. After all, they're dead, they wouldn't have much use for it anyway. He's not about to waste his hypnosis on some poor cashier. That would be a waste of time in his eyes. 

When Christmas did arrive the tree was piled with mysterious boxes crudely mashed and taped together with bows and ribbons underneath it. It's obvious which ones are from Star since those gifts are wrapped in neatly pressed paper, wound tight beneath curled ribbons that remind the boys of her hair. Marko often goes on a food run rather than allow them all to be subjected to a potentially charred turkey, no offense to Dwayne of course. So, with a table covered from end to end with copious bowls of gravy, potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, a beast of a turkey in the center packed to the brim with cornbread stuffing, the boys cram into their chairs knocking back beers and spiked cider. Keeping to their own traditions, after fattening up, they gather around the tree and play card games, just as they had over eighty years ago on that frigid night. David still slays them in poker, and Marko is an utter dark horse when it comes to blackjack. Paul insists they try Go Fish. No one ever wants to play Go Fish. Closer towards the end of the night Dwayne will slip away to Jasper's shrine and bring him a fresh glass of rum as well as unwrapping what he got him that year. While Dwayne is there, the other boys will join him - omitting Star and Laddie left unaware of the Lost Boy they'd never met - in celebrating the last hour or so of the Holiday season with their fallen comrade.

Although Christmas time is often about uncomfortable mushy moments and emotions that create deep, unfamiliar times for David. The entire ordeal becomes that for everyone of the boys and Star. But God forbid anyone who even mentions it! I mean, it's kinda obvious though considering he's spending it with the people he always called family, knee deep in traditions that are sentimental to himself and the boys. There's a fluster of emotions running rampant during this particular Holiday Season, and although the blonde brooding vampire decides to squint at it with skepticism he savors these moments, knowing like Jasper, it could all be swept away with a single ray of light or the foolish hand of a hunter. So as they sit, drunk, full, and laughing beside Jasper's grave he can't help but smile at the sentimentality of it all. Christmas is a pain in the ass, but… it's a pain he'll gladly sit through for his brothers.

[beforetheflowers]

Poinsettia

SPNAdventCalendar2020 prompt: day 13, poinsettia

Read complete on AO3!

Ok, I’m a little late with this, but here we go. Read the first half below the cut!

Hunters might not get paid for doing their jobs, but it was not uncommon to receive gifts of appreciation. These gifts ranged from invitations to sit down for a home-cooked meal, boxes of snacks and drinks, a good bottle of scotch, gift cards to restaurants… actually, the gifts took the form of food quite often. 

It was curious, this human impulse to show their love by feeding each other. Taking care of each other’s most basic need, giving the blessing of not needing to worry about where the next meal was coming from. 

Though angels did not, as a rule, feel hunger, Castiel understood it intimately. He’d been human quite a few times in the last decade, and he knew the dull ache that could only be filled by sinking his teeth into something delicious.   

Of course, Castiel made a point of breaking heaven’s rules. He never told Dean this, but occasionally he would fly out into a field or forest and let his grace drain into the Earth, depleting his own power so that he could become something close to human. It wasn’t easy to do in winter; someone would probably get suspicious if a grove of trees suddenly sprouted greenery under their blankets of snow, but he made it work. 

Let’s just say that a particular river in Kansas was full of incredibly vigorous fish, and leave it at that.

Draining his power in that way allowed Castiel to experience mortality with Dean. His vessel aged, so subtly that Dean hadn’t even noticed yet, but Cas was determined to grow old with him. They had their eternal youth to look forward to in the afterlife. 

It also allowed him to feel human drives; hunger, thirst, desire, pain. All the risks and rewards of freedom.  

Castiel also felt that taking care of the Earth was a proper angelic duty. He wasn’t interested in being an agent of fate, or a tool in Chuck’s arsenal. But blessing the Earth with life gave him great joy and contentment in his role as an angel. His grace was a gift he could give to wild things. 

So, although Castiel understood humanity’s gift-giving impulse on a personal level, he found it quaint and charming nevertheless. In times of hardship, humans reached out for each other instead of turning away, they gave more generously instead of less. Despite the flaws of their species, Castiel believed they were good at their core. He wasn’t sure he could say the same about angels.

The winter holidays seemed to motivate humans to give more than any other season. Perhaps it was simply the darkness and lack of plant growth in winter that pushed them to share resources, but… they took care of each other.

Cas was, however, sometimes baffled at their choice of gifts. 

One day in late November, he had gone grocery shopping while Dean was at work and had seen rows and rows of tiny replicas of popular fictional characters, stuffed animals in unnatural colors, pink models of kitchens, and even boxes of toys that weren’t assembled yet. How any of these objects helped humans survive winter, Cas didn’t know. 

Musing about the nature of humanity along the ends of the toy aisles, he had walked past a little red creature that started singing at him. He finished his shopping quickly after that. 

Also in November, Cas had received another bewildering gift from a family he had saved from a poltergeist. Dean had been at work again when Cas heard a strange report on the police scanner; officers had responded to a call about a strange man smashing up the neighbor’s house while everyone was out. 

When they had arrived, they found all the doors and windows closed and locked. Inside was indeed smashed up; the dining table was broken down the middle, stuffing was ripped from the couches, glass littered the floor from shattered picture frames and ceramic decorations. There was nobody in the house.

The mom left work right away after the cops notified her, and - Cas perused the subsequent report - she had mentioned instances of paintings falling off the walls, doors slamming, furniture being moved, but nothing close to the destruction of that day. The police had chalked it up to a very clever home invader and told the family to invest in a better security system. 

A security system wouldn’t work against a poltergeist, if indeed that was what the family was dealing with. 

Cas packed a duffle bag with ghost-hunting paraphernalia and teleported to the end of the family’s driveway. The family had been unwilling to trust him at first - apparently, they didn’t appreciate blunt honesty - but when the sun went down and the poltergeist started hurling knives around the kitchen, they welcomed Cas back inside, where he made quick work of the poltergeist. 

As it turned out, they had recently purchased a painting of a sunset from a charity auction. All seemed normal until Cas tore off the paper backing, revealing the signature of the painter; it was not created by some local artist as the family had assumed, but by someone who went down in history as a serial killer. The alizarin crimson was fortified with actual human blood, and the victim had become a restless spirit, tethered to the painting and unable to rest. 

Cas burned the painting and the spirit finally moved on. In their gratitude, the family had insisted he take home the apple pie that had been cooling on the counter and shoved a plant into his hands. Arms full of ghost-hunting equipment and the family’s generous gifts, Cas left, waiting until he reached the cover of shadows before teleporting home. 

The pie was a good gift because it made sense. Food. And a dessert at that, a delectable treat. Dean especially would like it. But the plant?

It had broad red leaves with tiny yellow blooms in the center. The lower leaves were dark green. A poinsettia. 

The Aztecs had cultivated this plant for its usefulness as medication and dye, but surely the family didn’t expect him to use it for those purposes. Of course, Cas knew about its association with Christ. Legend held that an angel encouraged a girl in Mexico to give a gift, no matter how plain, for Christ’s birthday. She gathered a bouquet of roadside weeds, but when she placed them on the altar, they became the blazing red, star-shaped leaves of the poinsettia. 

Cas had no idea which angel had performed that particular miracle, but it sounded on-brand for the heavenly host. Most angels only helped humanity when it served the glory of the Lord. Or maybe Cas was just a cynic. 

Either way, it didn’t explain why the family had given him one. They didn’t know he was an angel, right? The plant symbolized sacrifice, success, happiness, or purity; was it perhaps a wish that he would experience one of these? He’d take success or happiness, but he’d sacrificed far too much already, and he was so far beyond purity that it was almost a joke. 

Dean was already home when Cas, bypassing the struggle of opening the door with his hands full, teleported into the kitchen. 

“Hello, Dean.”

Flinching mightily, Dean nearly flipped the contents of the pan straight onto the floor. He chuckled weakly when he saw who it was. “Jesus Christ, man. Could you try knocking first, or something?”

“My hands were full,” Cas explained, finally setting everything down. He put the pie and the plant on the table and returned the duffle bag back to its place in the basement before returning to Dean. 

The smell that pervaded the house was wonderful; garlic and rosemary under the scent of sizzling steak. Cas’s stomach growled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. It was easy for an angel to lose track of such things, but Dean always took care of him. 

“Have a glass of wine,” Dean said, handing him a cab sauv. He leaned his back against the counter, watching Cas and his cooking at the same time. “Tell me about your day, baby.” 

Cas told him about the poltergeist and the gratitude of the family. “I don’t understand why they gave me this plant,” he ended the story, brushing one soft, red leaf between his fingertips.  

“What do you mean? It’s a poinsettia.” 

“Yes. It’s a holy symbol that often represents the crucifixion in the Western, Christian tradition. Why would they want to remind me of that? It was a horrible event, really. A man died.”    

Dean gave him that look, half exasperation, half amusement, that usually meant Cas had failed to understand some social norm. “People always give each other poinsettias around Christmas. It doesn’t really have any deep symbolic meaning these days, it’s just pretty to look at.”

Well, that was certainly true. It was a vibrant little thing, with plush crimson leaves and yellow center, like it was both reaching out for the sun and reflecting it deep within. Cas could feel the life buzzing inside it, drawing water and nutrients from the soil and exhaling oxygen through its broad leaves. 

It was a good gift, he decided with a little smile. 

But that wasn’t the end of it... 

[thessalian]

Thess vs Snowy Linings

SNOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

I mean, it’s not a lot of snow (at least not for me, where it’s not ‘a lot’ of snow unless it’s at least a foot deep) and it’s gone a little slushy now and it’ll freeze overnight so that travel will be treacherous as fuck but it’s snow and it stuck! The kids in my block of flats even managed to pull enough together to make reasonably sized snowmen - one in the green below the car park, one in the car park itself.

There’s not enough to make snow angels, but I watched from the balcony as a young man who I presume is from the block of flats traced a two-foot cock and balls in one of the parking spaces. Honestly not sure whether to be eye-rollingly exasperated or just amused that the snow I’m loving so much is being used for the kind of basic graffiti kids carve on school desks.

It was snowball snow. Now it’s Montreal snowball snow; the kind that packs into a ball of nearly ice that hits hard and shatters rather than exploding in a relatively harmless poof. The Montrealais take their snowball fights extremely seriously.

I have tomorrow off, which is good because I have a feeling travel’s going to be tricky tomorrow. There’s not enough snow to need ploughs or anything, but the roads are going to be made of black ice tomorrow morning, and I don’t know what the train tracks are going to be like on the Overground or any bits of the Underground that travel above ground - I expect delays on the Overground and on ... well, most of the Underground if the tracks get too slippery. And while I haven’t lost the knack of walking on frozen slush without falling over, almost no one else in this country has that particular knack, so all the many many people who are going to be out and about despite the fact that we’re supposed to be on fucking lockdown are going to make pedestrian travel slow and awkward.

I miss Montreal at times like these. Montreal’d still be functioning as normal in this kind of weather. Montreal still functions public transport-wise when the snow’s a foot deep and more. People put snow tyres on their cars in early November at the latest and they don’t come off ‘til April. Here we decommissioned most of the ploughs because we don’t get enough snow to really use them, so we’re boned those few times snow does happen. Plus no one knows how to drive in snow and black ice? Aaaahahahaha you’d think that someplace with rain and freezes would have some clue how to drive on black ice but nope.

I’ve spent most of this weekend being crampy and grumpy and basically blegh. Also playing House Flipper a lot. This is mostly to distract me from the news. The news is bad. The news is that the US isn’t prioritising setting up international trade deals right now (fair enough, given the domestic issues Biden has to deal with right now) so we’re still dealing with them under the convoluted series of hurdles of trading under WTO rules, small businesses are leaving the UK or just plain going under because they’re having a hard time trading with the EU (so much for ‘frictionless trade’, Johnson, you lying arsehole), the financial sector is struggling because the so-called ‘have our cake and eat it too’ trade deal we slapped together as an emergency measure on Christmas Eve doesn’t make any kind of provision for them... And in COVID-related news, the medical and scientific communities are still arguing over whether to continue this policy of providing the two necessary COVID vaccines twelve weeks apart when the Pfizer vaccine (by far the most effective) has only been tested in terms of its efficacy up to 21 days apart. I have this horrible feeling that our “pioneering” this new vaccine timetable (effectively making the entire country take part in a vast clinical trial) is going to end up yet another waste of time and money. I have no proof that it will, but looking at the UK’s track record...

Nope. Nope. I’m going to sit down and eat Cheetos and build virtual gardens. And be happy that we have had snow. A snowy lining, rather than a silver one, if you will.

[stahlop]

Where the Love Light Gleams

Hello @scientificapricot! I'm your Secret Santa! Merry Christmas! I've enjoyed talking with you, and I hope you enjoy this piece of Captain Swan canon divergence that I have written.

 And a huge thanks to @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite for being my betas and helping me work through the ending.

Rated T

It has been such a whirlwind of a day. Pan’s curse was on its way. Emma’s car was packed. Hook told her he’d think of her every day and she flirted back, thinking it really wouldn’t matter. The curse cloud was practically on top of them, and then Regina kissed Henry goodbye, and before the curse could even reach them, a rainbow of true love exploded around them and the curse ended before it could even begin.

A strange calm surrounds all the Storybrooke residents. Emma and Henry look around to see confusion on everyone's faces.

“Did you just stop Pan’s curse with a True Love’s Kiss?” Mary Margaret squeaks out in disbelief. Regina looks just as shocked as Mary Margaret.

“I...I think so?” Emma has never heard Regina sound so surprised. Regina is always the one in control, even when she isn’t. She’s never seen her so vulnerable.

“Mom!” Henry exclaims, surging into Regina and giving her a hug. Emma smiles, happy that she didn’t have to take Henry away from everything he’s ever known. Happy that she didn’t have to leave her family. Happy that… oh shit!

Emma looks at the faces of all her loved ones that had come down to the town line to say goodbye on this crisp fall day, and she sees both Neal and Hook staring at her, almost as if they’re expecting some sort of response from her now that the curse didn’t happen. She’s going to have to deal with Neal and Hook now, isn’t she?  Dammit!

“Hey guys, I’m going to drive back to town and assess if there’s any damage. Mary Margaret, why don’t you come with me.” Emma says abruptly as she quickly hops into her yellow bug. Mary Margaret follows her, confused, into the passenger seat, moving some of Henry’s comic books that he’d packed for the ride. Emma can see David looks perplexed as he is technically her deputy, so it would make sense for him to go with her and not Mary Margaret. She backs the car up slowly, making sure not to hit anyone, turns the car around, slams her foot on the accelerator, and heads toward town.

The second the small group is just a dot in the rearview, Mary Margaret places her hand over Emma’s on the gear shift. “Emma?” She asks tentatively, “Are you all right?”

“I…” Emma starts, but she doesn’t even know what to say to Mary Margaret. Does she talk to her as her mother or her friend? Those are two totally different conversations. She’s been struggling with that balance ever since the curse broke and she’s had to come to terms with the fact that her parents are the same age as her, which, god, was that only a few months ago? It feels like it’s been years.

But Mary Margaret, true love believer extraordinaire, guesses correctly on the first try what is bothering Emma.

“This is about Neal and Hook, isn’t it?” she asks slowly. Emma should talk with her about this. Isn’t that what mothers and daughters do-- talk about boys? But she’s not there yet. Instead, she thinks of something else they can talk about.

“Do you celebrate Christmas?” Emma asks out of the blue. Halloween had happened while they were in Neverland. Henry was upset that he was basically dead on the holiday. He’d been excited to finally celebrate it since it had never happened during the curse. Thanksgiving was right around the corner and plans were already underway for dinner at the loft, despite the lack of dining room space.

Mary Margaret frowns at the sudden change of topic, but realizes this is a battle she isn’t going to win. “Well, we certainly know what it is. It’s in our memories from being cursed. Have we actually ever celebrated it? I don’t think so. We should have when you first came here, when the curse was starting to break and time started to move again, but then Graham died and we didn’t.”

Emma considers this. Mary Margaret is right, they should have celebrated Christmas when she first came to town. They celebrated Valentine’s Day a few months after Graham’s death, but there were no festivities for Christmas. No grand tree lighting in the town square, no shops decorated for the holiday. There was nothing to even suggest it was Christmastime. Graham’s death wasn’t even an excuse; it just wasn’t celebrated.

“I think we should do something big for Christmas this year. After everything that’s happened, we need something to lift everyone’s spirits.” Emma says, surprised at her own words. Christmas has never been an important holiday for her. It just happens around her. Living in foster or group homes for most of her life, she never got the presents she wished for. Usually she got the essentials: pairs of socks, underwear, maybe a new pair of shoes if the family was really nice. But this year she has a family, this year she has a community, and this year she’s going to have to deal with Henry’s father and the man who claims that he will win her heart, and she needs a good distraction.

Mary Margaret’s face lights up like... a Christmas tree. Emma should have known that Mary Margaret would be on board. Despite the fact that she almost had to stay in Neverland indefinitely because of David’s brush with Dreamshade, and that she almost lost Emma again due to Pan’s curse (damn, she was almost separated from her family twice in less than two weeks), she’s still as optimistic as ever.

“I think that’s a lovely idea, Emma!” Mary Margaret practically squeals in delight. “As long as you and I can plan things together?” she asks hopefully.

Emma smiles a genuine smile at Mary Margaret then looks back at the road. They have reached Storybrooke proper and it looks just like they left it when they headed out to the town line only an hour ago. As if the curse never even started to happen. Emma parks the car in front of the sheriff’s station and turns to Mary Margaret. “I’d love to plan a Storybrooke Christmas with you.” she says. And the funny thing is, she actually means it.

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Emma Swan has always been good at avoiding people. Avoiding drunk foster parents, avoiding teachers, avoiding police. She was really good at blending in so she wouldn’t be noticed, which was really helpful as a bail bonds person. But being the Savior and the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming make the avoidance of people much harder. Especially when it comes to Neal (who taught her many of those avoidance tactics) and Hook (open book as he would say). She tries to busy herself with planning the biggest Christmas celebration ever, but they both seem to find her every day.

“You’ve got to eat, Emma.” Neal whines for the third day in a row. He’s been trying to do a family lunch with her and Henry ever since the Curse that Wasn’t (as it’s being called in town).

“Neal,” Emma says through gritted teeth, “I don’t know how many times I need to remind you of this, but I am the sheriff. I have things to do. Henry is at school, and I will not pull him out just because you want to have lunch with him.” She continues to walk past him, hot chocolate in hand, towards the sheriff’s station, where she hopes to hide herself in paperwork. She’s convinced David to take any of the calls that might come in while she’s taken on the task of digitizing all the files (because they are in the 21st century, regardless of how old the computers are; she also mentally makes a note to upgrade their computers at some point). Neal doesn’t follow her, thank goodness, and she settles herself at her desk, ready to tackle old files and her Storybrooke Christmas Extravaganza (as Mary Margaret has dubbed it) list. Which is, of course, when Hook walks in.

The prospect of almost losing her seems to have made Hook lose some of his trademark swagger. Oh, he’s still good with an innuendo here and there, but he almost seems humbled by the fact that Emma is still in his life and he didn’t have to part with her by going back to the Enchanted Forest. And then, of course, there’s the fact that she really wants to kiss him again, which is why she’s avoiding him. It’s hard to avoid someone when they casually walk into your place of business though.

“If you’re not here to report some kind of incident, please leave,” Emma says a bit forcefully.

“Actually,” he says, producing a greasy bag that smells delicious from behind his back, “I brought you lunch.” He smiles triumphantly as he sets the bag down on the desk, careful not to get it near any of her paperwork. “Grilled cheese, just the way you like it.”  Emma opens the bag and sees a grilled cheese sandwich plus onion rings from Granny’s.

“I know you tend to forget to eat when you’re working.” He gives what Emma supposes is a wink, before he starts to head back out the door.

“You’re not joining me?” she asks incredulously. He turns back to look at her.

“You look like you have a lot on your plate, Swan. I didn’t want to be in your way.” He gives a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and then leaves.

Well, now. How is she supposed to work after that?

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It continues like that for the rest of November. Neal trying to get Emma to do anything with him and Hook just being there for her. It’s a testament to how different these two men are. Neal is still the selfish bastard that he has always been. If Henry isn’t available on his terms then he tends to throw a fit about it. Even Regina notices it which eventually gets Emma to confess all of Neal’s past misdeeds toward her. Considering the awful things Regina did as the Evil Queen, she’s appalled at how much of an ass Neal was… is. She refuses to let Henry see Neal when he’s staying with her, which Neal accuses Emma of orchestrating somehow.

Thanksgiving is a complete disaster with Neal and Regina coming to blows over Henry.  Emma isn’t sure why Mary Margaret and David thought it would be a good idea. Maybe they watched too many YouTube videos of the perfect Thanksgiving dinner, but hosting a dinner that includes a variety of former enemies (Regina and Gold, and by extension, Belle, were all invited by Henry) couldn’t be anything but a catastrophe.

“Henry is my son!”  Neal shouts as Regina says no to another request to have him stay over at his apartment that weekend.

“More mashed potatoes anyone?” Mary Margaret says, trying to defuse the tension.

“You didn’t even know he existed until a few months ago!” Regina says rudely. She is refusing to get into a screaming match during Thanksgiving. Emma can see how she is working to control not only her temper, but her magic. Little flares of fire sparking at her fingertips that only Emma seems to notice. Emma can see Belle trying to tame Gold’s temper as well, reminding him that Neal is a grown man and can fight his battles.

“Cranberry sauce?” Mary Margaret tries again.

“That’s not my fault!” Neal yells back at her, his face practically purple with rage. “Emma, tell her that’s not my fault!” Neal pleads.

She’s been trying to hold it in. She really has. With the exception of Regina, no one knows much about her’s and Neal’s past. Just that they were together and then somehow apart when she went to jail and found out she was pregnant. No one has ever asked why Neal didn’t know. No one has asked why she lied to Henry originally about who his father was. Everyone was just so happy that Neal could be in Henry’s life and that he, coincidentally, happened to be from the Enchanted Forest.

But Emma is tired of all the lying. She’s tired of tiptoeing around her parents because of their stupid hard-ons for Neal. She’s tired of Mary Margaret and David asking her to give Neal a chance. She knows David is doing it because he still doesn’t like or trust Hook, but Mary Margaret has deluded herself into thinking that because Neal was Emma’s first love, he’s also her True Love, and Emma hopes to God that isn’t true because what kind of True Love leaves you to rot in jail for their crime?

And Emma finally realizes why she’s been avoiding Neal since the Curse that Wasn’t. It’s not because she doesn’t want to choose between him and Hook. That was never a choice she needed to make. It’s because she doesn’t want to put up with all his bullshit, and specifically, having to explain to her parents exactly how much pain he caused her. Except he’s just asked her to explain to her family why him not knowing about Henry wasn’t his fault, when it is, in fact, all his fault.

“Neal!” Emma says standing up from her seat so fast that her chair topples over. Mary Margaret audibly gasps. Regina smirks.

“It’s not your fault that you didn’t know about Henry?” Emma’s trying to sound calm and collected with just a hint of a raised voice, but instead it’s coming out angry and vindictive. But she doesn’t care. She’s played his games and she’s done. “Then tell them, Neal. Tell them why you didn’t know about Henry. Why I had to give him up.” Emma’s voice wavers. The room is completely silent. All eyes look from Emma to Neal. This is not how Emma wanted this to go down. Not at all, especially not with Henry there hanging on every word, but Neal has forced her hand.

“Well, I...I mean, that is…” Neal bumbles around for something to say.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret cuts in trying to steer things back to Thanksgiving dinner, “maybe we should…”

“Could it be because I was in jail when I found out I was pregnant with Henry?” This is not news to anyone. Babe birthed behind bars is how the Storybrooke Mirror had worded it when she’d first come to town. “And why was I in jail, Neal? Hmmm? Why was I sentenced to 11 months in juvie?” Emma’s voice is getting louder and louder with each question asked. Neal seems to shrink back in his seat while Emma continues on her tirade.

“Could it be because you framed me for stealing watches that you stole? That you called in a tip for the police to catch me with one of them? That you did that because August had discovered you were from the Enchanted Forest and you were afraid to see your father again? Is that why you didn’t know Henry existed?” Emma is practically screaming now. She sees the looks of pity and then shame wash over Mary Margaret’s face, as anger starts to rise in David’s. She sees Regina’s smirk and Henry’s look of utter horror while looking at his father. Gold’s face, as usual, holds no emotion, but Belle is now in tears.

And Emma does what she does best, she runs.

She swears as she grabs her coat, hat, and scarf she hears David whisper to Mary Margaret, “I told you Thanksgiving would suck.”

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Emma feels like the debacle at Thanksgiving should have eased some of the tension she felt about Hook. She’s not worrying about what Neal thinks anymore, she’s not trying to appease everyone, and wasn’t that why she had started the whole Storybrooke Christmas Extravaganza in the first place?

She hasn’t seen Neal since Thanksgiving. If he wants to see Henry he either asks Regina or he has Belle ask Emma. Henry, on most occasions, does not want to see Neal though. After finding out exactly why Emma went to jail, Neal was ousted from the loft by David, who physically picked him up and threw him out. Neal at least looked chagrined, according to Mary Margaret, but did not try to explain himself whatsoever. Gold and Belle made a hasty exit after David threw Neal out on his ass.

The Rabbit Hole is the one place open on Thanksgiving, for those who don’t feel the need to celebrate a holiday that is not from their realm. And after leaving the sham that was Thanksgiving dinner, Emma needs a drink, badly.

She sidles up to the bar and orders a whiskey.

Then another.

And another.

She feels pleasantly buzzed by the time Hook comes in. He sits down next to her and orders himself a glass of rum and sips it. He doesn’t say a word, just watches her. Emma’s pretty sure someone sent him to watch over her, make sure she doesn’t drink herself to death. She’s not sure who, but she’s pretty sure David’s feelings towards Hook are a lot friendlier now than they were before.

“I guess you heard about Thanksgiving dinner?” Emma asks debating whether to get a fourth drink. The whiskey had been making her feel good, but now it is sitting like a stone in her belly.

“Nothing specific.” Hook says as he takes another sip of his rum. “Was just told that you might need a friend right now.”

“Is that what we are, Hook? Friends?” She’s right in his face now, batting her eyelashes, and lowering her voice to sound more seductive.

“Emma.” He warns. He brings his glass up in between them as a barrier. “I promised I’d make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

“And would kissing you be stupid?” Emma asks. She sees a hint of surprise in Hook’s eyes, but his features immediately change into the cocksure pirate.

“With the amount you’ve had to drink and from what I gather happened at dinner,” he takes a breath, “yes, I believe it would be stupid.” He finishes his rum and sets the glass on the bar, then takes out some money and leaves it next to the glass.

“I’m not going to force you to go home, but I know your parents are worried about you, Emma.” It’s that he calls her by her name and not Swan or love or the other myriad of nicknames he has for her that does it. She grabs some money from her coat pocket and leaves it next to Hook’s.

“I don’t want to go home yet.” She says slumping against Hook. He’s warm and he smells like leather and sea salt.  He just nods and leads her out the door.

They walk to the Jolly Roger. Emma starts to wonder if this was a bad idea and she should have just gone home and dealt with the consequences. The walk has sobered her up slightly, but not enough.

They walk up the gangplank onto the ship and down the ladder into Hook’s quarters. Emma feels like she has butterflies bouncing around in her stomach, and she’s not sure if it’s nerves from being in Hook’s personal quarters, or if it’s from the three glasses of whiskey she consumed in less than 20 minutes.

Hook seats her on the bed and heads over to the leather wingback chair that is at his desk. He gets out his flask and takes a swig and then offers her some. She shakes her head, she’s had too much as it is.

“Care to talk about it, Swan?” He asks.

“I outed Neal to everyone in my family and his family.” Emma says as quickly as she can. She tells Hook about meeting Neal when she was 16, about stealing the bug, about losing her virginity to him in the damn backseat, about the wanted poster. Hook’s expression grows serious when she tells him about the watches and the jail time. About finding out she was pregnant and then having to give Henry up because she was a 17-year-old kid in jail, all because she trusted the wrong person. Emma can see he’s reining in the anger, can see his jaw ticking and his fingers tapping. She sees in his eyes that he wants to pummel Neal within an inch of his life. But he doesn’t. His expression turns from anger to sorrow.

“Of all the things I imagined for Bae and his future, him setting up the woman he purported to love for a crime and with child in jail was not one of them.” His expression has now become somber. Like he could have stopped what Neal did in some way. And Emma begins to realize that is exactly what he’s thinking. If things had ended differently for him and a young Bae in Neverland, none of this would have come to pass. And Emma intends to tell him this, except those butterflies in her stomach start climbing up into her throat and Hook sees it a few seconds before it actually happens and manages to get her something to vomit into (some kind of chamberpot she assumes). He holds her hair back while she pukes up all the whiskey and part of her Thanksgiving dinner and then tucks the blankets around her when she passes out from sheer exhaustion.

When she awakes the next morning she sees Hook asleep in his desk chair. She quietly sneaks off the Jolly Roger and spends the rest of the day holed up in bed with a wicked hangover.

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She and her parents talk. Really talk. Mary Margaret can’t apologize enough for trying to push her toward Neal. David expresses much interest in beating Neal to a pulp. And as much as Emma wants to run away, she stays. They talk all day and into the night, Emma telling them her story of growing up in the system and her life with Neal and after. David calls Ruby to bring over food at some point. Mary Margaret cries, a lot. But Emma has put everything out on the table. Mary Margaret and David also tell them about their pasts. About all the terrible things that occurred before the curse, but all the happy times they had. Emma has seen it in the book, but hearing first hand accounts is a whole other ball of wax. The fact that Mary Margaret and David forgave Regina and are working through things with her blows her mind. Mary Margaret’s optimism flabbergasts her, but Emma realizes that she’ll need that as well to live in the same town as Neal now.

Emma starts calling Mary Margaret and David Mom and Dad. She feels they’ve earned it after everything. David beams with pride. Mary Margaret cries, again.

The Storybrooke Christmas Extravaganza starts consuming much of Emma’s days. When she’s not patrolling or dealing with the denizens of the town (specifically Leroy and his drunken antics), she’s working on the placement of pop up shops for the Christmas Market. Mary Margaret has posted flyers around town looking for people to compete in a Christmas talent show. Both Emma and Mary Margaret have gone around to all the businesses around the center of town to coordinate Christmas lights and decorations. Regina finds a whole stash of Christmas decorations in one of the town hall supply cabinets (“It’s called supply and demand, Miss Swan. How else would a magical town have food and goods when no one can find us to deliver those things?” Regina scoffs at her, like it’s common knowledge how curses work) that they use to decorate the 15 foot fir tree David and Hook cut and brought back to town.

And speaking of Hook, Emma notices he’s keeping his distance after Thanksgiving. He has become good ‘mates’ with David though.  He and David seem to hang out all the time and Emma is perfectly fine with that. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself. She’s not jealous that her father is hanging out with the man she wants to kiss again... and maybe more.  She tells herself that she’s too busy to start anything with Hook. Being sheriff and planning Christmas is too much on top of starting a possible relationship.

Whoa, where did that come from?

Relationship? She just wants more kisses, right? Maybe an orgasm...or two? She doesn't ...She can’t want ….

But now that Neal is completely out of the picture, she doesn’t feel so guilty about wanting to be with Hook. She’s lost the guilt she had for kissing the ever-loving daylights out of him in Neverland. She hopes he still thinks of her every day like he promised he would when Pan’s curse was pressing upon them, even though she hasn’t given him any reason to.

And it’s Christmas Eve, and Emma realizes that she wants to share that with Hook. She wants to see his eyes filled with wonder at all the lights, and the tree, and the present that she bought for him (yes, she bought him a present).

Everything has been going off without a hitch. The Christmas Market opened a week ago and Mary Margaret... Mom (she’s still getting used to that) made a speech and put Emma in the spotlight since this whole thing was her idea.  And Emma has been laying low at the station again, but not to avoid anyone this time, no she’s just trying to understand her feelings for Hook.

Because she suddenly feels like Harry when he realizes he wants to be with Sally for the rest of his life. And she kind of wants that life to start now.

“Dad!” Emma yells grabbing her coat, scarf, and beanie from the station coat rack. David comes out from the office with a huge grin on his face. He’s still so happy every time she calls him Dad. “I’m going out. Please only call if it’s an emergency.” He nods. She’s almost out the door when she realizes his present is still in her desk. She plucks it from the drawer, shoving it into her coat pocket, and she can see the understanding dawning on her father’s face. Emma runs out before her dad can either deter her or congratulate her on what she’s about to do.

She runs over to Granny’s where Hook’s been staying since the snow started. With no way of heating the Jolly Roger, he needed a warm place to stay. And because Granny is wrapped around his little finger, she gave him a pretty good deal on housing as well.  Of course with the Christmas market being right there, many people try to talk to her or tell her what a great job she did. But Emma doesn’t have time for that. Even Ruby gives a big, wolfish grin when Emma bypasses her to go directly to the stairwell.

Emma takes the stairs two at a time, barely noticing the garland strands and various decorations all around. She gets to Hook’s door and doesn’t even hesitate to knock. It’s in the two seconds that it takes him to answer the door that she starts wondering if she’s crazy.

He opens the door wearing just his leather pants and his linen shirt untucked. Emma notices bare feet, and eyes free of his sexy eyeliner. It strikes her how young he looks when he’s not all made up.

“Swan?” Hook asks concerned. “Has something happened?” She can see how this might look. Out of breath and knocking at his door. He probably thinks they’re under attack again.

“No, nothing has happened. Storybrooke is still getting ready for Christmas.”

“Oh.” He says confused. “Well, I’m sure it will be great, Swan,” he says. He looks at her, waiting for an explanation for why she is there.

Emma realizes that she has no plan. She just walked out of the sheriff station with a hazy idea and a When Harry met Sally quote in her head and expected… she’s not even sure what.

“Fuck it!” she says, surprising Hook, who gets even more surprised when she grabs his shirt and kisses the ever-loving daylights out of him. It’s similar to their Neverland kiss, a lot of heat and teeth, hands in each other’s hair, but this time it’s Hook who pulls away.

“Emma” He says, sounding completely wrecked.

“Killian,” she says sounding just as wrecked. He jumps a little at the sound of his true name and dares to look at her. Emma hopes he can see the love shining in her eyes; she can definitely see it in his.

“Do you know why I started this whole Christmas Extravaganza?” she asks him.

“I assumed it was so you didn’t have to deal with either myself of Henry’s father,” he says, grinning as her mouth drops. “Open book, love.” He smirks.

“Well, yes. That’s how it started out. But, Killian,” he shivers when she calls him that, “I realized that I never wanted Neal back. It wasn’t ever a contest. It’s always been you.” This time he surges forward and kisses her. The kiss is once again full of heat, but softer, more loving this time.

“Am I dreaming?” Killian asks nipping at her bottom lip. Emma pinches his side and he yelps in surprise. “I guess not, minx.”

“Look, Killian, I was sitting in the sheriff’s station and it just hit me. You’re who I want to be with. You’re who I wanted to be with even before Neal came back. I just-- I just had to figure it out for myself and it took a little longer than I expected. But I’m in now. All in.” Emma smiles at him.

Killian looks like he could be bowled over by a feather. He’s in complete and utter shock. “Swan, are you sure I’m not dreaming? Because this seems very much like the best dream I could be having.” Emma kisses him in response. He drags her into his room, kicking the door shut behind him.

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The next year, the Storybrooke Christmas Extravaganza is even bigger than it was the first year. David and Killian get a 20 foot tree this year and have an official tree lighting ceremony in the center of town, just like Rockefeller Center.

On Christmas morning, Mary Margaret, David, Regina, and Henry are not surprised to see Hook with them when they open presents. Emma remembers back to last year when they were surprised to see him, announcing their relationship to all on Christmas morning. He presents Emma with a carved wooden swan from Marco and August’s shop. He’d known the minute he saw it that he had to get it for her.

Emma gives him a glassy-eyed smile when he hands it to her, trying very hard not to let the tears fall. While her parents presents are heartfelt, she still has that feeling that they’re trying to make up for lost time. Killian’s present simply says he’s thinking of her.

“Thank you.” Emma says and gives him a kiss. “Here,” Emma pulls away but gives him another kiss on the cheek. She pulls a wrapped present out from behind her back. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

Killian takes the present from Emma. He carefully unwraps the paper from the box, opens it up, and looks at the gift nestled in the tissue paper inside.

It’s a compass, like the one he and Emma had to steal from the giant. A memory of their first adventure. It’s not the same one of course, but it’s the fact that she thought about it. He’s speechless.

“It’s so you can always find your way home.” Emma says kissing him again.

Emma can vaguely hear David say something about breakfast pastries and coffee being served, and she’s pretty sure she can hear Mary Margaret sniffling in the background, but she’s too busy looking at Killian.

“I think I finally found it with you, love.”

Please leave comments and reblog! Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @cssecretsanta2k19

[alyssaadamsonauthor]

Claws

Streetlights passed overhead in metronomic rhythm—one, two, three, four—illuminating black upholstery—five, six, seven, eight—and white knuckles perched at the steering wheel’s upper crest—nine, ten, eleven, twelve…

Still, no matter what proof assured her she did move, Jamie felt no closer.

It had been so long since she’d last visited Alice at home that the memory of every right, left, right turn occurred to her with hardly the time to spin the wheel. A year ago this Christmas by her own measure, and only to pick up the USB drive she’d lent the younger girl for her Introductory Spanish final. Alice’s mom had been aghast that she wouldn’t stay for dinner, but she’d only come on her fifteen-minute break and wasn’t much a fan of spiral ham. Alice has told me so much about you, the elder had enthused with a toothy grin, but how could she, when her daughter knew so little already?

If she could’ve foretold Mrs. Marx’s struggles would claim her life by November, she liked to think she would’ve smiled a little brighter. Maybe spared a laugh. Come up with a better reply than, we don’t speak of you much.

She wouldn’t let that frigidity cloud any more cries for help. And after six weeks, three missed meetings, half a dozen calls sent to voicemail…Jamie knew it could be nothing but.

As the little houses and white picket fences of the suburbs turned to high apartment buildings and windows boarded up with wood planks, the streetlights thinned out, casting the sidewalks under darkness. Alice’s building looked much the same as all the others: about twenty stories high, red brick, and falling apart. Even from the ground, she could make out her window on the thirteenth floor by the duct tape holding the glass in frame. Dim light lived within.

Jamie frowned. “You can binge Netflix ‘til midnight but not pick up one phone call?” Surveying the teenagers—out too late for anything good—that watched her from the dark, she knew her new car wouldn’t be leaving this neighborhood unscathed. “You’d better be swinging up there, kid.”

Her stomach flipped. Maybe not swinging, but…bleeding…or crying. Something temporary.

She whispered a prayer for her Mustang as she threw herself from its front seat, locking the doors with a click of the remote in hand. Her coat caught on the heel of her boot—an unfortunate casualty of the office dress code. There hadn’t been time to change.

Unlike the buildings she’d acquainted herself with in Short Hills, there was no doorman or revolving door, or windows into a gleaming lobby—only a door, studded with chipping green paint beside a list of doorbells. Perhaps at one time they’d been used for unlocking the ancient door, but not anymore: a block of wood sat at its corner, propping it open.

Casting another look over her shoulder at the car, still well within view, Jamie appraised the worn slip of paper beside the number 1304: A. Marx. Her finger burned—six, seven, eight times—over the bell to the tune of a mechanical buzz.

“Come on, Alice,” she whined. This didn’t have to be a sleepover. If she could get a sniffled, Just a broken phone, Jamie. I’ll call you when I get a new one, she’d be home by one a.m. and back to work at seven.

A hope for naught. With every insistent buzz, she received no answer.

Jamie sighed. Whatever got stolen off her car, she would call it a win if she could still drive it after all this. The only thing worse than spending the night in this foul city would be staying for two.

The white light beyond the door blinded Jamie to a long hallway of nondescript doors. As her eyes adjusted, she picked out ripped wallpaper lining the walls, the stain of yellow along the ancient carpet, and garbage. Lots of garbage. From somewhere in the general vicinity of the elevator came moans that raised gooseflesh over her arms.

She darted for the stairs. Every cursed piece of gum and unidentified brown goo clung to her boot, but she shoved such trivialities away by the tenth floor in place of a baser need for oxygen. Her calves burned, arms aching to hold her up against the arm rail. By the time the thirteenth-floor landing approached, she’d already decided: if Alice was still alive, it was a temporary state. Jamie fully intended on pitching her out the window by night’s end.

Her fist against 1304’s door echoed down the hall. The upper floors, while at least devoid of the piss stains in the emerald carpets so prominent down below, didn’t get such an abundance of lightbulbs. These were the lower-watt kind, more of an amber than white and the one over Alice’s door had burned out. It had been burned out last year, too.

“Alice?” she hissed with another slam of her fist to the wood. She hissed when the door slipped a splinter into her pinky. “Ouch. Alice!” She kicked the door, to no answer. Forgetting all desire for quiet, she shouted, “Alice, open the door!”

She gripped the knob, waiting for the catch of the lock, but it turned easily, door swinging open without even the deadbolt’s interference.

Weird on a normal day, but, today, it raised every hair on her body. “A…Alice?”

The door groaned until it stopped short against the inner wall. Jamie stepped in, already entangled in a mess of Alice’s shoes strewn across the floor. Was that cause for concern? The last time she’d walked in, the place had been immaculate, but that had been Christmas…

On another step, she turned a corner into the living room to find a lamp, overturned. The hand-me-down sectional sat under a cover of its own snow-like innards and every pillow corpse lay empty across the floor. She crept in, picking at every little bit of fluff before she cast it to the floor. Alice didn’t lay within; rather; she’d stacked the cushions into a pile at the room’s center. The frame lay broken around it, sat up to wall the soft interior like a nest.

As Jamie stood, turning back toward the hall, she froze, meeting the wall that separated this room from the kitchen. It wasn’t the mess of canned spaghetti on the black and white tile that stopped her breath, or the sink, stacked high with pots, pans, plates, and half-eaten steak and other unidentified meats. Or even the fact that every cabinet’s white doors hung open.

It was the claw marks. Five, torn into the dry wall all the way to the pink insulation within.

“What?” she whispered, arm already half-outstretched to touch. At the first brush of jagged edges, she pulled it back to herself. Was this a joke? “Alice?”

No one answered, but, as she listened, she made out other sounds. Wet sounds, like the slurp of spaghetti.

That kid was fucking with her. What other reason could there be for this mess?

Nevertheless, she staggered ahead on feet that wanted nothing more than to turn back. This was an awful lot of work for a joke…

Water stained the hall carpet, product of a running toilet spilling across the floor. Beyond that, the bedroom door hung open, the only glow from the nearest building’s floodlight through the window.

The slurping grew as she edged closer, taking the doorway in both hands. Jamie leaned around the corner, fingers shaking, tongue dry around another call of Alice’s name.

Yellow eyes.

The gleam of teeth.

Blood. So much blood.

A man lay across the floor, body limp and head tilted back in deep unconsciousness. The porcelain shards of a lamp glimmered around him, a very few embedded in his temple.

The face that looked up from the end of the stranger’s arm was at once familiar and completely unrecognizable. Its mouth, stained red by the hand it had detached from the man’s wrist, housed four rows of teeth like serrated blades. Its yellow eyes glowed, wide and hungry, as it met her gaze. The creature had to be over six feet tall, skin nearly green and scaly in patches across its cheeks.

Still, it was very clearly Alice. At least, it was trying to be.

The Alice Jamie knew didn’t make five feet and had most certainly never had more than one row of perfect teeth, as she liked to display in the headshots she badgered her for an opinion on with every impending casting call. The shock of blonde hair had gone uncombed but they looked like they had, at one time, been the curls usually so pristinely arranged around her pixie face.

Jamie didn’t breathe. There wasn’t time.

With a deep growl, those alien eyes narrowed, Alice’s new, thick legs coiling beneath her. In a single kick, she threw herself across the room, arms outstretched to wrap around Jamie’s shoulders.

Jamie shrieked. Dropped to her knees. Felt the air as Alice soared overhead.

The other girl hit the wall with an unholy crash, but she didn’t even hesitate to turn on Jamie, teeth bared and red and dirtied with the remnants of human flesh from its last snack. From her first step, Jamie threw herself into motion, taking off toward the front door on ankles buckling inward with every step.

The thing followed so close, Jamie could feel its every unsuccessful attempt to grab her shorn hair. As she neared the door, arms out to wrench it open and hopefully—hopefully—slip out before she got eaten, something like a knife dragged down the back of her neck, tearing her flesh open and turning her coat into nothing more than twin rags, sliding down her arms.

“Agh!” The pain was distraction enough. She hesitated for a mere instant with hand in mid-turn on the knob and pulling. It was all the time the creature needed to pin her against her only exit and slam it shut.

“A…Alice!” she shrieked, head smashing against the wood. Her ears rang, time slowing around her. Her words emerged as thick as the canned spaghetti. “Get off.”

The doppelganger pressed itself completely to her back, holding her in place with heavily muscled arms and legs. Its scales grated against the skin bared by her torn coat. Its tongue probed at the center of her back, trailing up the cut it had torn from her skin.

Tasting her.

Jamie’s body shook, so small in the arms of a predator. Instinct bubbled up inside her like impending vomit, urging that she scratch, bite, run, something before death tore her throat open with the same talons it had ripped through the drywall. It gripped her around the arms, cold to the touch and tearing her flesh with every light touch.

As its head dipped, it breathed over her neck, tossing her hair into her face. She swallowed hard, unable to move, unable to inhale, unable to speak. It reared back, jaw coming down around her shoulder with a snarl that reverberated all the way into her chest.

Pain exploded from every conceivable corner. Like needles and rocks and ice and fire and something Jamie knew no one could have felt before. There would’ve been a word for it if such a pain had existed before this moment. There would be books about it. Classes. Dissertations and lectures and statues.

Her body went limp, falling against the creature as it tore the sleeve of her shirt and four rows of teeth’s worth of flesh away from her whole. She slipped away, landing face-first on the carpet, but the creature didn’t seem to care.

Jamie glanced at the door through the haze of tears building within her eyes. Escape was so close, within reach, but her shoulder screamed so loudly she felt it in her legs, her arms, her face. She couldn’t find her limbs in her muddled brain to move them.

It chewed her. Loudly. And when it swallowed, it reached for her again, flipping her onto her back so the world around her was only glowing yellow.

Jamie’s lip quivered. This was it. Death. “Alice…P…please?”

The beast stilled in its descent toward her throat. Eyes like liquid gold flickered, yellow, then gray, then yellow, and gray again. Alice’s face, green and scaly, cooled. Her jaw snapped shut, lip turning down into a frown.

Her new, monstrous mouth opened to reveal a single row of inhumanly sharp teeth. Rather than its deep bellow, Alice’s voice emerged, “Jamie?”

The world around her swirled, but Jamie managed the smallest smile. “Y…yes. Yes. It’s Jamie.”

Alice withdrew, standing stiff to look back over her shoulder at her bedroom door. A whimper like a wounded dog passed her thin lip. Her body clenched, clawed hands gripping at the sides of her head. “Go away,” she cried. “Please, go away.”

Jamie reached for her. Perhaps it was the blood freely pouring from her shoulder. Perhaps it was the last of her fear festering where sympathies she’d never had before lied. She no longer saw the creature of scales and claws and teeth, even if that was exactly what stood over her. She saw herself, standing with arms over her head, pleading that the voices go away.

Her fingers breezed over Alice’s knees.

In one moment, the Alice-beast stood over her with mouth drooling Jamie’s blood.

In the next, she was gone.

[echoes-of-realities]

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 1/25

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[Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Next Chapter]

Summary: When the production stage manager for George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker, starring one Brittany S. Pierce, is fired seven shows into its run, Santana is hired and thrown into the production with barely any preparation.

Notes: So remember that little something for Christmas I mentioned back in November? Yeah, this is that. And by “little” I actually mean a 25 chapter fic I’ve been working on since October. This is why I haven’t posted anything for so long, because I’ve been working on this since then. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure that I’d be able to finish it, but here it is! I’ll be posting one chapter a day until Christmas, hopefully around the same time everyday but I can’t guarantee that for sure lol.

If you have any questions about the technical terms in the theatre just ask and I’ll try my best to answer! Obviously not everything will be perfect since most of my theatre experience is from the pit band and what I’ve learned from Broadway videos, but artistic liberties and all that. I’ll also be adding links to each chapter for the ones before and after once I post them too! So hopefully it will be easy to navigate on tumblr, and if not just go to ao3 or fanfiction lmao.

All chapter titles are from “Smile at Snow” by dodie.

Chapter 1: how were we to know

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“Simpatico, it’s Italian for ‘sympathetic.’ Hearts beating to the same pulse. That’s what music does for one, you know—I mean, for two. For more. It trains hearts to lean in the same direction. Sympathetically.” ― Gregory Maguire, Hiddensee: A Tale of the Once and Future Nutcracker

///

When Santana accepted the job offer as production stage manager for The Nutcracker, a prestigious and professional production, she didn’t really think that she was going to be thrown right in the deep end; she assumed that the old production stage manager was taking a leave of absence and she would be able to shadow him for a couple days, not that he had been unexpectedly fired on Friday morning and that she would be shadowing the assistant stage manager for two shows on Saturday and running her first one by the Sunday matinee.

And yet, here she is, dodging half dressed dancers and props bigger than she is, only two hours before the matinee, trailing after two blonde women who are frantically talking on their phones, occasionally exchanging them before resuming their frantic conversations. Usually Santana thrives on the organized chaos of a production, but she can do little more than duck under stretching limbs and just try to keep track of the flashes of blonde ahead of her.

It’s not that she’s overwhelmed, per se, she’s done other ballets and she’s done Broadway, she’s done community theatre and she’s done a short stint for an opera, she’s done touring companies and she’s done Off-Broadway, she’s even done a couple other productions of The Nutcracker itself; she’s been working as a stage manager for years, and she’s damn good at her job. It’s just, usually she has weeks or months of rehearsals before a show begins; at the very least, she usually gets to meet the rest of the stage management team before she’s thrown in the deep-end for the first show.

Holly and Quinn, the director and the assistant stage manager, eventually make it to the call desk, a tiny little alcove just off stage right, with monitors on the front of the stage and the pit. There’s a man in a wheelchair already squished in the tiny space, his glasses slipping down his nose, staring intently at the screen and muttering into his headset.

“Artie,” Quinn greets, and the man offers her a half-hearted salute. “Artie,” Quinn repeats, waiting until the man finally glances up before she gestures to Santana, “This is Santana Lopez, the new production stage manager.”

Artie blinks and offers her a grin, reaching over to shake Santana’s hand, almost running over Holly’s foot in the tiny space. “Nice to meet you,” he says, “Your resume is a mile long.”

Santana shrugs as she shakes his hand; it’s a little clammy and she wipes her hand on her black jeans as subtly as she can as leans back. “It kinda has to be to land this job.”

Artie laughs and nods as Holly finally hangs up the phone. “I forgot how frantic this place is outside of rehearsals,” she groans. She rummages around on the tiny desk, much to Artie’s poorly-concealed annoyance as she displaces knickknacks and rearranges papers, until she produces Santana’s new prompt book. She passes it to Santana, who’s fingers are already itching to crack the spine of the binder and start writing her own notes in; Artie hands her a spare pen with a knowing grin. “Today’s show is going to be a little insane,” Holly explains, “But you’ll do fine, sweet cheeks. You have a steep learning curve.” Santana’s not really sure how Holly could possibly know that, seeing as the last time they worked together Santana was still in college and barely an assistant to the assistant stage manager, but she nods anyways. “I’m going to get Quinn to give you the tour while I get ready for the matinee, and then we’ll hole up in the stage manager’s office and go through the show from the screens in there. For the evening show—” Holly’s phone phone rings and cuts her off, and she groans as she answers it, waving Quinn and Santana off towards the vague direction of the rest of the theatre, and they take their cue to leave just as Holly starts getting heated with whatever poor soul is on the other end of the line.

Santana flips through the book as she trails after Quinn, half-listening to her explanations and introductions; it’s second nature to dodge props and racks of costumes and stretching dancers by this point, even in the dimmed lights of backstage, so she keeps most of her attention focused on reading through the calls even though she’s never actually seen the blocking. She inwardly groans, the next couple shows really are going to be absolutely insane.

When Quinn takes a breath in her explanation of the Christmas tree prop and the mechanical issues they’ve been having lately, Santana finally glances up from the prompt book. “So why didn’t they just promote you?” she asks, “Seems like it would have been easier that way.”

Quinn’s head whips around to glare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps. Santana glances up at Quinn and frowns at the look on her face. “Wow, cool the fires there, Beelzebub. I meant why would they hire someone new when you obviously know the show already.”

“Oh,” Quinn says, and she has the grace to look a little sheepish, “This is only the second production I’ve worked on, and it’s my first big one too. They offered, since I’ve been working with the show since the very beginning, but I’m nowhere near ready to run a production myself, especially something as big as this.”

Santana nods and returns to flipping through the prompt book while Quinn returns to narrate what seems to be the entire history of the theatre. It’s not like Santana’s uninterested in learning about how old this production is, or how they use the original props, or what famous person happened to sneeze right where they’re standing, it’s just priorities; Santana’s supposed to be running this production by tomorrow and she hasn’t even skimmed through the second act in the prompt book. Holly warned her that it would be crazy during her interview, because Holly had to be across the country for a mandated meeting tomorrow morning and would be leaving Santana, who only knew the names of about five people in the entire building, to fend for herself.

It’s not that she doesn’t love a good challenge, it’s just frustrating when her pay-check and reputation hinges on said challenge.

She ducks under a large candy cane swinging towards her head and groans at the thought.

//

Quinn leads her to the principal hallway, squeezing between stray dancers wandering the tiny hallway. The walls are lined with racks of costumes and wigs, and Santana takes a moment to admire the care put into the costumes; Quinn said that this production has been reusing their costumes from the very first performance, all the way back in 1954, and despite the slightly musty smell clinging to the fabric, they’ve obviously been well cared for. Quinn knocks on a door halfway down the hallway, and Santana quickly snaps out of her admiration to catch up to her. The name on the door reads The Nutcracker/The Prince, and a man Santana already knows well opens the door.

“Santana!” he exclaims, “I didn’t realize you were actually starting already!” Quinn blinks and glances between them, her face a picture of confusion, as Mike pulls Santana into a tight hug.

“You two know each other?” she asks slowly.

Santana rolls her eyes and halfheartedly struggles to escape from Mike’s embrace. “Unfortunately he’s been dating my best friend since college,” she complains as Mike finally releases her, but not before giving her an obnoxious kiss on the crown of her head. Santana swats at him a little but he just continues to grin at her; dating my best friend is an understatement of their relationship, because Santana counts him as one of two people she truly trusts with everything and anything, but it’s not like she’s going to acknowledge that when he’s being irritatingly affectionate just to annoy her.

Quinn’s hazel eyes glow with amusement. “Oh, so you’re the infamous Santana that Tina’s always talking about.”

“All bad things, I promise,” Tina calls from the couch.

“Oh, shut up,” Santana snipes as she turns a withering glare on her. Tina just rolls her eyes, as unfazed by Santana’s snark as she was their first day of college, and continues reading her magazine, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Alright,” Quinn says slowly, “Uh, I guess we should go meet Brittany then.”

“She’s not in yet,” Mike says. “She had that appointment, remember?”

“She said she’d be here in time for half hour,” Tina adds.

“Right,” Quinn shrugs and glances at Santana, “I guess you’ll meet her between shows then.”

“I mean, I still don’t know half the stage management team,” Santana says dryly, “One more person won’t make a difference.”

Tina chuckles. “Brittany’s just lucky that she doesn’t have to see your annoying face for a couple hours yet.”

“Get me out of here before we have to send the understudy on,” Santana comments mildly, Quinn grins and leads them out the door.

“Love you, Santana,” Tina and Mike chorus.

“Yeah, whatever,” she grumbles as she pulls the door shut firmly so they don’t see her begrudgingly fond smile; of course, being her best friends, they don’t need to see it to know it’s there.

//

Quinn weaves through the theatre and points out people that Santana’s sure she’s going to forget about in roughly three seconds. Usually by this point Santana has all the company and crew members memorized, but she’s starting to realize that this entire experience is going to be one stumbling improvisation after another for the first little bit. She meets the conductor, Will Schuester, who Quinn introduces as Schue; Kurt Hummel is the head of costumes and he talks rapid fire as he explains some important quick changes while Santana scribbles down notes in her prompt book; Finn Hudson and Noah “Puck” Puckerman, who leers at her and Quinn while Santana resists the urge to make fun of his nickname, work in props and are running the department while the head, Emma Pillsbury, is out sick; Quinn rolls her eyes when she introduces her to the sound crew and its head, Blaine Anderson, and the sound his voice already sets Santana’s teeth on edge; Unique Adams explains some of the more complicated lighting calls from her booth and Santana adds some more notes into her prompt book; Quinn points out the head of the automaton department, Dave Karofsky, who is busy wrestling with some of the ropes on a fly; Lauren Zizes is the fourth and final member of the stage management team, and she gives Santana a wide smirk and a good luck before turning back to talking to Artie over her headset.

Quinn also introduces her to some of the corps dancers and kids, but she doesn’t pay much attention because she has more important people to memorize before the show starts, like the name of every department head that she’s pretty sure she’s already forgotten.

Quinn hands her a headset with an apologetic glance. “I know it’s pretty overwhelming—”

“I’m not overwhelmed,” Santana protests automatically. Quinn just keeps staring at her blankly. “I’m a little bit whelmed at the most,” Santana finally concedes, and Quinn snorts in amusement.

“This is going to be interesting,” she says as the announcement booms throughout the theatre for half hour.

Santana settles the headset over her ears, and it eases her instantly; there’s a crackle of static as Quinn stands too close, but she quickly takes a couple steps away and then she grins at Santana, her teeth flashing eerie blue in the dim backstage lights. “I usually run stage right while Zizes does stage left, and Artie runs the call desk,” she explains. “I’m not sure where Holly is but—”

“In the stage manager’s office, sweet cheeks,” drawls through their headsets.

Quinn glances at Santana to point her in the right direction, but Santana is already heading that way.

//

Holly barely pauses in her near constant stream of phone calls to talk to her. It’s been years since Santana last worked with Holly as a director, back when Santana was just an overtired and overworked college student, but if she knows one thing about the older woman it’s that Holly’s practically a professional at improvising on the fly.

Which means she’s barely surprised when Holly explains that her flight got moved up and that Santana will have to learn the entire show from backstage with Quinn instead of from the comfort of the office where Holly could teach her the blocking over the screen pointed at centre stage. Santana’s done The Nutcracker three different times in three different cities, so she knows the show, which only marginally helps her out because every single production has its quirks, and she has absolutely no clue what to expect with this one.

But she tries not to think of that, and instead nods at Holly and adjusts her headset, clutching her prompt book like it’s a life preserver that’s going to keep her from drowning, which, she realizes, is actually fairly apt. She heads out of the hallway of theatre offices to find Quinn backstage, absently listening to her have an argument with that Blaine guy from sound over the headsets until Zizes interrupts with a particularly harsh quip regarding Blaine’s mother and where, exactly, he can stick it, and the argument dies pretty quickly after that. Quinn is pinching her nose when Santana arrives, only a couple minutes before the five minute call. She seems grateful that Santana’s there and pushes her headset off her ear for a brief moment, tugging the mic away from her mouth and waiting until Santana does the same. “The dance captain for the flower corps just called and she’s stuck on the subway in Brooklyn.”

Santana glances around. “Okay?” she says slowly.

“What do we do?”

Santana blinks at Quinn. “I barely know who the fuck any of these people are, what exactly do you expect me to do?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “This is a you problem, you’re the production stage manager.”

“For like a three minutes,” Santana mutters but flips through the prompt book anyways. “The flower corps don’t come in until the end of the second act,” Santana says slowly, “If she’s not here by intermission we’ll deal with it then.”

Quinn nods and pushes her headset back into place so she can relay the order to Zizes and Artie. Dancers have already started to gather in the wings, doing last minute stretches, and the team of stagehands Santana still hasn’t met yet dart between them for last minute checks. She spots the two lumbering guys from props heading towards the Christmas tree before they’re hidden behind the fly being lowered to the floor, and then the lights are dimming and the announcement to put cellphones away is booming, and the curtain rises as the first strains of the orchestra fill the theatre.

Santana’s thankful that she already has some experience with the show, because otherwise she would be making even less sense of the chaos backstage than she currently is. Santana mostly ignores Quinn, instead focusing on the blocking and comparing it to her prompt book in the dim, but somehow still harsh blue light backstage. Santana finds herself slipping easily into her position, and soon enough she’s adding her own voice to Quinn’s on the headset. Santana’s always had an instinct for stage management from her very first experience in a theatre, for the mechanical, repetitive, and yet still unpredictable nature of the job, and the instinct has served her well over the years, and before she knows it, intermission is starting and Quinn is clapping her on the shoulder with a grin.

Despite the chaos around them and the too warm weight of Quinn’s hand, Santana has a feeling she’s going to really like the challenge of this production; it will keep her busy and distracted, at the very least, which is something she always needs during the month of December.

//

Santana’s always found the second act of The Nutcracker to be a little boring without the frantic energy of the party and then the battle in the first act, and she feels almost lazy as Quinn helps herd children into place in the wings; they may be tiny professionals, but it’s only the eighth show so far, and the chaos of backstage can be a little overwhelming, especially for the younger dancers. It’s not until Quinn nudges her and points out the Sugar Plum Fairy, giggling and whispering with some kids, that Santana finally notices the presence of third principal. The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy is always the most interesting to Santana in the second act because the energy of the audience always changes and perks up as soon as that first pluck of the string section drifts through the theatre. Santana creeps closer to the front of the stage as the Sugar Plum Fairy, Brittany, leaves the safe darkness of backstage and emerges into the harsh onstage lights.

The strings pluck the first chord as Brittany enters the stage en pointe, her limbs long and poised with an easy grace, her stiff classic tutu moving easily with her waist as she makes her way to centre stage. On the first note of the celesta, Santana can see the exhilarated smile on Brittany’s face for a split second before she blinks and falls into character even before the second note is ringing out. She moves with the music as if the conductor is pulling on her puppet strings and Santana forgets to concentrate on the blocking and the musical cues in favour of just watching Brittany.

She looks like something off of a ballerina music box, beautiful and delicate, but as she spins across the stage Santana can see the strength and power in her legs, the certain grace and ease in her movements, the concentration and glow in her eyes. Santana’s seen a lot of dancers through her years of stage managing, enough to recognize that spark that differentiates people who dance for a living and for those who live to dance, and Santana can’t help the wide smile spreading across her face as Brittany draws to a stop and the crowd bursts into applause; having that spark in one of the principals is rare, and more than Santana could ever hope for in any production.

//

She manages to survive both shows with only a little bit of nausea at the thought that she’s supposed to be in charge of the entire production tomorrow; Holly left during intermission of the first show, but Quinn, Zizes, and Artie already work well together, and Santana just needs to find a way to fit herself among them without causing too much friction.

She wanders down the principal hallway, on her way to meet up with Tina before leaving the theatre, when she hears a persistent, loud banging against the wall right beside her. Santana jumps but manages to bite down on her shriek and glances wildly at the wall. The banging pauses for a second before resuming and Santana makes her way to the closest door, poking her head in without knocking; it’s not like anyone would hear her knock over the banging anyways.

She finds the Sugar Plum Fairy, her blonde hair still pinned up but dressed in loose sweats and a baggy sweater, smacking her ballet shoes against the wall with a focus Santana’s rarely seen in anyone, least of all in someone banging their shoe against a wall. Santana clears her throat and Brittany starts a little and quickly glances up.

“Hi,” she grins, giving the shoe one more firm smack against the wall, “You must be Santana.”

Santana swallows the retort on the tip of her tongue when the bluest eyes she’s ever seen land on hers, somehow sparkling even in the poor lighting of the dressing room. She manages a nod as Brittany bends her shoe a little before tossing it onto the coffee table where another shoe, a tiny sewing kit, a hot glue gun, an x-acto knife, and a small pile of resin are scattered. Santana glances at the wall, littered with tiny smudges of pink from Brittany’s banging, and laughs a little, finally realizing why Brittany’s beating the wall with her shoes so violently. “Who knew the Sugar Plum Fairy bangs her own shoes,” she says.

Brittany’s face creases in a smile, thin lips curling up a little lopsided on one side, her cheeks scrunching her blue eyes until they’re catlike and sparkling, and Santana’s chest does this weird spasming, fluttering thing that she tries to ignore. “Well, the Land of Sweets is pretty low on funds,” she says easily.

Santana laughs a little before she steps forward, holding out her hand. “Santana Lopez,” she formally introduces, “Mostly confused, new production stage manager.”

Brittany takes her hand, her fingers sure and strong as they wrap around Santana’s. “Brittany S. Pierce,” she says, “Sugar Plum Fairy and professional shoe banger.” Brittany’s nose wrinkles adorably as she realizes what she just said. “Ew, not like that.”

Santana giggles and only briefly wonders at how easily Brittany coaxed that sound out of her; usually it’s only Tina and Mike that make her comfortable enough to giggle instead of smirk, and that’s mostly because she’s known them for far too long, but there’s something easy about Brittany’s smile that already makes her drop her guard a little bit. “That wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing I’ve seen someone in the company bang,” Santana whispers.

Brittany’s eyes widen comically and she leans forwards eagerly. “Seen?” she exclaims.

Santana shudders, suddenly regretting that she brought it up when the image burned into her memory starts replaying for her. “Unfortunately.”

Brittany giggles and clasps her hands together, rocking backwards on her heels. “Like a train wreck, right?” she asks knowingly.

Santana blinks out of the memory, focusing on the much more pleasing image of Brittany’s sparkling eyes. “Definitely.”

Brittany laughs a little, relaxing again, and there’s a small lull that would normally make Santana fidget with her hands, but Brittany just smiles softly at her and Santana finds herself smiling in return. “So, are you ready for the shows tomorrow?” Brittany finally asks, her voice quiet and warm.

Santana shrugs. “They’re going to be,” she pauses and glances up at the ceiling as she thinks of the right word, “interesting, to say the least.”

The fingers of Brittany’s right hand twitch towards her arm, but freeze a moment later and drop back to her side. Santana wonders what it would feel like to have those clever fingers grazing over her skin, but manages to snap out of her daydreaming with only a little bit of heat in her checks when Brittany speaks again. “I’m sure you’ll do great,” she says easily, “I was talking to Quinn after the show and she was saying that you were a quick study.”

Santana blinks. “Really?” she wonders. It’s not that she thought Quinn would hate her or anything, but, in Santana’s experience, shoving a new person into the production this late always ends up having issues; when sometimes she covers for other stage managers there’s almost always a little bit of tension as everyone tries to adjust to each other.

Brittany nods easily, a small smile curling her lips. “She said that you fit in really well.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was so worried that everyone would hate me or something,” Santana says, before blinking in surprise. She hadn’t meant to admit that, she’s barely talked about her reservations regarding this job with Tina or Mike, yet somehow Brittany is on the receiving end of Santana’s sudden lack of a filter. “Um, you were amazing tonight, by the way,” she redirects quickly.

Pink blooms in splotches across the peak of Brittany’s cheeks despite the fact that Santana knows that this can’t be the first compliment that Brittany’s ever got. “Thanks,” she mumbles bashfully, and something in Santana’s chest twists when she realizes she really wants to see that blush again, and she’s about to go about doing just that when a voice interrupts them from the door.

“Santana?”

Brittany and Santana both turn to the door, finding Tina smirking from the doorway. Santana feels her face heat up for absolutely no reason as Tina’s eyes dart between her and Brittany. “I thought I heard you in here,” she explains, “I see you’ve finally met Brittany.”

Brittany brightens a little. “Your battle scene was great today,” she greets, “Sam said you actually nailed him in the eye.”

Tina laughs, her face opening and brightening at the compliment. “I threw it weird and didn’t even think I would hit him, but he slipped on his turn and instead of missing him I got him right in the face.”

Brittany grins. “Mike said it was glorious.”

Tina chuckles before glancing at Santana. “You coming? Mike’s already impatiently opened a bottle of wine at home to celebrate your first day.”

Santana hesitates. “There’s two shows tomorrow,” she protests weakly, “And I’ve gotta go through the prompt book a couple more times.”

“The matinee’s not until one,” Tina says easily, more than used to having to drag Santana away from her work.

Brittany glances back and forth between the two friends before settling her eyes on Santana, and the warmth in Brittany’s gaze makes that thing spasm in her chest again. “You only have one first day,” she says wisely.

Santana sighs and glances between the two. “Fine,” she mutters. Tina cheers from the doorway, but Brittany just gives her a quiet smile.

“Have fun,” Brittany says.

Santana sucks in a sharp breath through her nose before offering Brittany a small smile in return. “Thanks,” she murmurs, “See you tomorrow.”

Brittany waves her goodbyes to them as Tina drags her out of the dressing room, marching Santana to the stage manager’s office so they can collect Santana’s jacket and prompt book before she can change her mind and insist on going back to her apartment without celebratory drinks. Tina’s lucky enough to have a good parking space in the building’s parkade, being a principal and all, and they head to the elevators that will take them to the parking level in comfortable silence.

“So what do you think?” Tina says as she starts her car and backs out of her parking space. “How do you think it will go?”

“It’s going to be challenging,” Santana admits, “But, interesting, I think.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Santana bites her lip but once she realizes Tina is sufficiently distracted by watching traffic for her chance to pull out of the parkade her reluctance fades, “I have a good feeling about this show.”

Tina apparently wasn’t distracted as Santana thought she was and glances at Santana out of the corner of her eyes, her eyes curious and intrigued in the brightness of the streetlights and taillights around them. “Really? I haven’t heard you say that about a show in years,” she says carefully.

Blue eyes and a soft smile come unbidden to her mind, and Santana’s thankful for the darkness because it hides the blush she can feel creeping along her cheeks and the back of her neck. “Yeah,” she finally says, “I have a really good feeling about it.”

[whatsupwhump]

Whump Bump of the Month:  Laws of Motion

(where the new, the slightly old, and really old fanfic gets bumped to your attention in broken down, comprehension reviews)

Whump Bump of the Month: Laws of Motion

Written by: pennflinn

Posted on Ao3: November 26th, 2017

(word count: 4,858)

Fandom: Flash (CW TV)

Ship: Barry Allen/Iris West

Summary: A collapsing building is just part of the job. Being buried beneath the rubble was never part of the bargain.

Obvious but obligatory warning: The following contains spoilers for the entirety of the aforementioned fan-fiction. It contains quotes and personal opinions, both done out of appreciation for the author’s time and efforts put into their work.

“Laws of Motion” written by @pennflinn was chosen for the b-lated January Whump Bump of the Month for it’s astounding ability to allure a heartfelt sense of loss of hope, struggle, pain and heroism in its such short word count.

@pennflinn is far from new to bringing her audiences in with little words, instead focusing on simplistic punches that wrap up her plots tighter than a shiny Christmas present. There’s no dragging alongside a prologue or introduction when starting this fic -- rather you’re immediately presented with the problem Team Flash and Barry Allen are faced with: a collapsing building.

As the narrative so wonderfully goes on to say, none of this is new for our characters. Iris makes a mental note that, albeit hesitate to call it routine, burning buildings and breaches in the space-time continuum were all coming to be the norm. Still, Pennflinn doesn’t fail to captivate a sense of urgency between characters, gut-punching usage of verbiage like “His groan turned into a drawn-out yell” and “She was staring at her phone, pale as a sheet” doing wonders to satisfy a whump itch.

Character Whumped:

Barry Allen

The Enjoyment of Whump!Barry:

Barry Allen is a unique character for whump, not in the sense of being a superhero -- of which a lot of fans like to gravity towards for the trope of “hero who can’t save themselves” -- but because he has superhealing and an intolerance to prolonged pain, poisons and medications. It’s the latter that really makes the Whump!Barry spark. Though your time torturing the fastest man alive is limited, it can be intense, brutal and bring a mental and/or emotional pain after.

Flavor of Whump:

Foreign object in the skin -- a building collapsed leaves Barry with a back full of tiny shards of glass.

Comforter of the hurt/comfort:

Primarily Iris West with a dash of Cisco Ramon and Caitlin Snow.

[ Laws of Motion ]

The story transcends similar to a constantly moving camera, capturing moments of time scattered throughout an otherwise routine and somewhat insignificant event in Team Flashes life. It’s even mentioned in narrative that after having his back broken, clearing the use of his legs leaves more than just Barry with a sigh of relief.

[ Laws of Motion ]

| Cisco broke into a shaky smile. "So, you've just had a building dropped on you. How do you feel?"

"Spectacular," Barry croaked. He was cut off from further comment by Caitlin tearing off his cowl and fitting him with her own oxygen mask.

"Does anything feel broken?" she asked, while simultaneously shining her penlight into his eyes. Iris didn't need the light to tell that he was definitely concussed. "Can you move your legs?"

It was always the worst case scenario, ever since the Zoom incident. And judging by the way he'd been hunched over that girl, tons and tons of metal pressing down—

Barry's face scrunched as he agonizingly bent one knee, then the other. He groaned as he let them drop back to the table, but he bent each of his arms up as well to prove his mobility. At least, what limited amount he had. |

The groundwork is laid down neatly and without hesitation as Caitlin goes on to explain what the readers already know, and are subsequently excited for.

[ Laws of Motion ]

| Tweezers already in hand, Caitlin felt around for one piece near Barry's shoulder blade. "I'm going to have to pull these out, Barry," she said, having learned over time to narrate her actions. Whether or not it helped with the pain itself, it at least seemed to help Barry in identifying the source of it. "Some of these are..." She moved lower, frowning at the soft flesh beneath Barry's ribs. "...they're buried pretty deep, and I'm afraid some may have splintered into smaller pieces under your skin. They're going to require a minor surgical procedure—"

Barry moaned, and Iris whipped her head toward Caitlin. "Surgery? Isn't that the kind of thing that local anesthetic is for?"

"Minor surgery. We can't use anesthetic," Caitlin said, her face drawn and tight and deliberately blind toward much of the world. "You know that."

"I don't want to," Barry said, shaking his head, half-delirious, the fingers on one arm clenching and unclenching on the sheets. Based on the look of it, Iris was pretty sure the other arm was broken. "Please. Don't. Not now, please." | 

The introduction of a Barry who doesn’t have the strength, mental or physical, to withstand the usual agony of healing his injuries is what makes this story so unique. Pennflinn goes on to spend time focusing on Barry’s struggle with the pain, his ability to hold it together deteriorating moment by moment.

[ Laws of Motion ]

| She pried the pieces from his upper back first, and quickly, so Iris and Cisco could plant their hands on Barry's shoulders and hold him down while he thrashed, screamed, begged, sobbed.  |

Credit where credit is due to a moment of weakness written sharply yet precisely as Pennflinn makes the decision to capture Barry’s pain in short, gut-punching words.

Comfort is later found in the source of Barry’s lightning rod, Iris West. After giving him as much time as she felt she could, she goes to find him in one of the bathrooms in the deepest part of STAR Labs.

[ Laws of Motion ]

| Barry was facing away from her, and even though he was in front of a mirror, he didn't see her—his head was bowed over the sink, his working hand planted on the side and shoulders hunched. The way his spine curved reminded Iris of how he'd looked when he'd been uncovered from the rubble. Arched over the little girl, bracing against whatever might bear down on them both, getting crushed beneath the weight of a building. A loose shirt covered the damage: the stitches, the layers of gauze, the deep red bruises, the cast that encased his shattered arm.

In the ten seconds Iris waited in the doorway, he didn't move an inch, not even when she gave a light knock. It was only when she stepped into the room itself, her heels too loud on the tile, that Barry stirred. She knew better than to touch him, especially not without warning, especially not now. The physical wounds on his back were one thing, but she knew from hard past experience that they were only part of the unconscious touch aversion in situations like these.

"Barry?" she whispered, venturing to break the ice that way instead.

At this, he lifted his head and met her eyes in the mirror.

The lower lids of his eyes were pink, and his whole face sagged. He met her gaze with desolation, misery, a pleading look that said, I don't want to do this anymore.

Without a word, Iris moved forward. She reached out a hand tentatively. He allowed her to place it on his shoulder, her touch light. His face didn't crumple, exactly, but it wilted deeper into defeat. His breath shuddered under her palm, and she softened. |

The clarity of imagery here is worth noting and while never caught properly on the show, I would pay to see this recreated by an artist. Iris’s ability to wordlessly comfort Barry in his weakest moments, free of any judgement or disgust, is beautifully written here.

It’s not long after that Barry disappears, seemingly stuck in his own head.

[ Laws of Motion ]

| He picked up on the fourth ring, just when Iris was beginning to wonder if he'd left his phone behind as well.

"Iris."

"Hey," she replied. All at once she was very aware that she had no idea what she intended to say. "I just woke up. Are you alright?"

"Taking a break." Barry's voice sizzled, popped, through the phone line. "Might be a couple days. Don't worry."

He hung up before Iris could confirm that she was worrying, despite anything he said to the contrary. She held the phone up to her ear still, listening to the dead air.

It was only later that she'd see the international charges tacked on to her phone bill, a twenty-second call at 5:45 in the morning. |

His return is met with doubt, capturing a side to the hero often not seen. The strong, brass, brave Flash is suddenly exposed in the presence of his loved one, stating his nearing approach to a breaking point.

[ Laws of Motion ]

| After the meta had been safely locked away, Barry sat alone for a long while in the recovery bay, elbows up on the cot, face buried in his hands.

"I can't do it," he'd said when Iris had sat beside him. Even under her light questioning, he hadn't said a word more, and eventually she'd let him be.

That evening in the apartment, Iris kept the evening news on low while Barry made dinner. It was part of her nightly routine, practically required given her choice of profession. Tonight, she tuned out most of the national news, the breaking stories, in favor of listening to Barry putter about the kitchen. Steam whistled from a pot, a knife thunked against a cutting board, a can opener ground dully against metal.

The latter part of the newscast, near the end of the broadcast, was what caught her attention. Not because of what they were saying, but by what they were showing. Images of the ruined apartment building, the few piles of rubble that still remained.

Throwing a glance over her shoulder to ensure that Barry was busy, she turned up the volume a few clicks.

"…still missing, following an evacuation by Vibe. Vibe has since ignored our request for comment. With us tonight we have a very special guest in the studio. Six-year-old Grace Parks was shielded from the falling building by the Flash, and she has a message for him tonight. Grace?"

Grace Parks, round-faced and pink-cheeked and so vibrantly alive that only a six-year-old could be, faced the camera. She wore an earnest expression as she studied the camera lens, no doubt never having anticipated appearing on the news.

"I just wanna say," she began in her squeaky voice, "that Flash told me I was gonna be okay and now I'm okay. And I hope he's okay, too. I miss him." She glanced furtively off to the side, as if looking for confirmation that she was doing well. When she turned back, the corners of her mouth were downturned slightly. "Flash, if you're listening, I miss you. Thank you for saving me. You're my hero. And I wanted to say that. Thank you."

The feed cut back to the two news anchors, one of which was nodding sympathetically. "No doubt we all feel the same as little Grace—"

Some sixth sense caused Iris to angle her face back, and she was shocked to find Barry standing behind the couch, fixated on the TV. She quickly punched the mute button on the remote. |

Barry’s struggle between his own physical well being and the well being of others is so well detailed in the story, if not profoundly stated in the scene that follows.

[ Laws of Motion ]

| Once, when they were kids, Iris had accidentally knocked over Barry's Lego Star Destroyer and sent hundreds of tiny pieces skittering across the floor. Through her tears, she'd apologized over and over, feeling she'd destroyed something precious, something that could never be put back together. But it can, Barry had told her. Staring at the seemingly infinite number of broken parts peppering the bedroom floor, Iris had asked How? And Barry had smiled reassuringly: One block at a time. |

The story concludes as Barry aka the Flash goes to spend his time rebuilding the building that collapsed, inspired by the little girl he saved and returning her home to her.

Favorite Aspects:

[ Laws of Motion ] holds a side of Barry Allen that I have yet to see in any other written works. It seizes a side of weakness to his character without over-saturating the emotions. The blip of tears, cries, struggle and agony are all believable if not as well executed as Grant Gustins performance of Barry Allen within the show.

With his friends and family lending support, as well as all of Central City, he moves forward past another physically demanding injury with the mere words of, “tell me where I can go next.", exquisitely if not perfectly capturing the true essence of the the Flash.

[marsgrove]

Process Entry: Dec 3rd, 2020

It’s winter now, or at least it’s nearing Christmas time. It doesn’t really look like winter out there (meaning the lack of snow and warm weather). I am starting this series of journal entries on process now, but I will recap the last couple of months as an update. 

So, September I had a bit of a difficult time. Summer, even with the pandemic, seemed relatively normal I suppose. I worked at a coffee shop, but not much. I did, although, go out with lots of people (friends, co-workers, dates) and I feel like part of that was because we had been quarantined for months before since the pandemic started in March. It was really scary at first because, like I said, we were really quarantined (that meant no going to shop, everything was shut down, and school was online). So summer returned basically to normal. With September brought the signs of a resurgence of this virus, and I started to get pretty worried. I was in a pretty bad state in September and October because of course I had planned to finish my graduate degree in Creative Writing in March, but then that got pushed. I had a very hard time completing much of any writing, and so it got pushed again. I had never really recovered from my experience with a toxic series of university relations before, and had never really gotten help. 

The problem was that I was creating nothing, writing nothing and most certainly not working on my novel and feeling more and more shame for not graduating “on time”. It got to the point in October where I was so depressed that I would not leave my bed or go to work. 

In October I got help and at first it was hard because I am not very good at asking for help or being vulnerable in that way, but the more I talked to the therapist, the more I opened up. Within weeks I was slowly making progress again, slowly restarting my life and coming to accept that yes, Masters is hard work and in many ways unfair and terrible, but I was sucking into playing the victim and depending on hatred, which wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t helping me or anything.

So I started to turn things around and realize that, yes, I was doing this and yes, I was going to graduate eventually and get this done, and no, it will not be as fast as I would have liked and that was okay. 

So the past month of November, due to massive surges in the virus, I’ve been staying home most days unless essential. I’ve slowly been chipping away on revisions of my novel that once was so daunting that I could not even open the file. I’ve prioritized sleep, so I get 8-9 hours a day. I don’t wake up super early. I usually wake up and then work in privacy downstairs with coffee for a couple hours and then have a healthy, light lunch. After lunch I have now been getting up to more mobile tasks, whether its looking for stuff to sell, taking content photos for social media, brainstorming, etc. After that, every single day I have been working out. I’ve found it to be the best use of that time in mid-afternoon, which I usually struggled with a lot. I start with learning a kpop dance or doing a dance workout for cardio. I’ve currently upped my learning roster to TXT’s Blue Hour, BTS’s Dynamite, Seventeen’s Left and Right and Jackson Wang’s Pretty Please. Then I do isolated training on a specific body area (arms, legs, chest, etc.)

As for today...

I’ve gotten today as an extra day off because hours are being cut with my job, which is fine with me because it’s pretty dangerous out there right now and sometimes I feel like places like coffee shops shouldn’t even be open. I did more work on my novel today, which included revising chapters 16-18 or the very end of ACT 3 (I’ve split my novel by four acts). In November I revised my entire outline and restructured the story, and then I went through all of ACT 2 and fixed it to generally match my outline. I haven’t touched ACT 1 yet, but that’s because it’s not that far off from my outline. I’ve also written out different plots (A plot, B plot, C plot and D plot). My A plot follows my protagonist’s hero’s journey, my B plot is the romance plot, my C plot looks at the climate/ wildfire affects on my story and the D plot is an addition of a series of letters written by the Grandpa for the protagonist to read throughout the novel. Next I will begin revisions on ACT 4. 

My current plan of action is to go through the entire novel like this once so that the novel matches the outline, even roughly. Then I can go back and expand and make the writing and plot stronger. 

Anyways, that’s all for today!

[jackrgaines]

Get Set for Shipping During Your Store’s First Holiday Season: Your How-to Guide

The post Get Set for Shipping During Your Store’s First Holiday Season: Your How-to Guide appeared first on HostGator Blog.

So far in our series on How to Rock Your Online Store’s First Holiday Season, we’ve focused on tasks that might make you feel like one of Santa’s elves.

That’s because we’ve been creating cool things for your customers, like holiday promotions, holiday marketing campaigns, gift offers and more. All of this planning can help you bring more customers to your store and get them to buy, so your store can have a great first holiday season. 

Now, it’s time to get out of the elf mindset and into reindeer mode, because once your customers buy from you, you’ve got to make sure their stuff arrives on time. And while you won’t have to entrust your fulfillment to team of flying caribou, holiday logistics can be tricky.

Get them right and you’ll delight your customers and keep them coming back. Get it wrong and you’ll be on your customers’ naughty list.

Figure out your holiday shipping game plan now

New eCommerce store owners are sometimes tripped up by shipping at the holidays, even if they’ve been handling it great until then. Why? Shipping is different during the November-December holiday rush. Here’s what you need to know to be ready and keep your customers happy.

Delivery can take longer

Shipping delays make headlines every holiday season—so much that it would be more newsworthy if everyone’s packages arrived on time. There are three big reasons why shipping takes longer during the holiday sales peak.

More packages. People are buying more stuff online, so there’s more for carriers to sort, load, transfer and carry the last mile. 

More staffing issues. In many places, the holidays coincide with flu season, not to mention the ongoing coronavirus pandemic. That means employees who are already hustling to handle a flood of packages may also be covering for co-workers who are out sick or quarantined. Even with extra temporary workers, it can be a struggle.

More weather challenges. Rain, sleet, snow, ice, polar vortices and bomb cyclones can all slow or halt ground and air transportation. 

All of this means your packages need to go out earlier than usual to arrive on time. To make sure that happens, you need to:

Know your carriers’ cutoff dates for ground, expedited and express shipping.

FedEx and USPS post their holiday deadlines in advance, although FedEx tends to put their holiday information out earlier than the post office. 

FedEx last days to ship for the holidays

U.S. Postal Service holiday newsroom

UPS is a different beast. The carrier offers a menu of services with rates and delivery times based on your region and the destination of your packages. For example, UPS ground shipping can take anywhere from 1 to three or more days, depending on the distance involved:

Give your store some extra time.

Once you know the last days when your customers can order for each type of delivery you offer, add a day or two to create your store’s deadlines. 

For example, if your store uses FedEx, Dec. 15 is the last day you can ship FedEx Ground for delivery by Dec. 25, 2020. So, let your customers know they need to order by Dec. 13 or 14 for Christmas delivery. That way if you’re swamped with last-minute orders you can still get everything wrapped, boxed and ready for pickup before the carrier deadline. 

Make your shipping deadlines easy to find on your website.

Add a shipping deadline link on each product page. Put a clear explanation in your FAQ and in the checkout process. You can make shipping deadlines part of your marketing, too, if you wish—maybe a series of social posts reminding followers that deadlines are coming up.

Add tracking tools to your store.

In our post on local holiday delivery deals, we covered some apps like Shippo, Route and WooCommerce Shipment Tracking that show your customers where their stuff is. That means less stress for them and fewer customer service calls about shipping for you.

Delivery can be more expensive

Most shippers add surcharges during the holidays, at least for some kinds of parcels and some delivery speeds.

If you’re competing on price and offering free shipping, then that extra cost could push you into money-losing territory. But if you pass along shipping cost increases to your customers, they could be upset. So, you need to:

Know your carrier’s holiday surcharges.

This gets tricky, because some services carry a flat-rate surcharge, while others are based on the size, weight or even number of packages you ship. Each carrier will have its own dates when surcharges apply.

FedEx surcharge information

UPS surcharge information

U.S. Postal Service surcharge information

Adjust your pricing to avoid losing money on free shipping.

You may need to revisit your store’s pricing structure or at least change the pricing on items in your store with especially low margins. 

Make holiday shipping rates clear on your website.

Add this information to your updated holiday shipping deadlines so your customers know what to expect before they order.

Deliveries can be a fraud issue for merchants

One more thing to think about while you build your holiday shipping plan: fraud prevention. It’s a sad fact of business that criminals are always looking for ways to rip merchants off. One of the ways they target online sellers is by exploiting loopholes in the ordering and shipping process. 

Here’s how that can work: A criminal who’s shopping with a stolen credit card orders something expensive from your store and pays extra for overnight delivery. This order gets through your payment processor’s fraud controls because they use the cardholder’s billing and delivery address at checkout, so it looks like the real cardholder is placing the order. 

How does the criminal get the item? After their order is approved, they call or email someone—your customer service team or the shipping carrier—with a plea to reroute the delivery to a new address because they entered the wrong one/found out the recipient is at the new address/etc.

How can you prevent this? 

When you get a rerouting request, the safest approach is to cancel the current order and have the customer order again with the new shipping address. This way, the fraud screening system can re-check the order with the new information. 

Talk to your carriers and find out if they allow your customers to reroute packages after purchase. You want to avoid this if possible, or at least get a notification from the carrier if they’re making a change, so you can review the order and cancel it if it seems fraudulent. 

What’s next?

After you build your shipping plan for the holidays, it’s time to get into the nuts and bolts (or boxes and tape) of order fulfillment. We’ll talk about the best way to set up your holiday order workspace in our next Rock the Holidays post. Stay tuned!

Find the post on the HostGator Blog

from HostGator Blog https://www.hostgator.com/blog/ecommerce-holiday-shipping-guide/

[haleyfury]

October was a month filled with so many (good) things and moments in my academic and personal life. That being said, my life was more busy and honestly hectic than it’s ever been before. October often marks midterm season in the college world, which meant a few papers and writing assignments on my end, including having to start drafting my first of two senior research papers. I know I haven’t been too specific about my senior project for my English major (honestly I’m still working out my subtopics and arguments even with my 15-20 page draft in the works), but I can reveal that I’m talking about Angie Thomas’ The Hate U Give! I’ve luckily read a decent amount of contemporary literature in my English courses, but this is my first time studying YA.

Between also balancing my course-load alongside my jobs and social time (trying to make the most of my last year living with all of my best friends), my brain has been feeling fried and not exactly in the mood to read at the end of the day. Probably also not helping my reading life, I watched so many great new TV shows this month.

I really wish I was reading more, but I’m at the point where I have to dedicate my free time to the aforementioned things. However, I 100% admit that my senioritis is definitely kicking in and I’ve been finding myself drifting  to blogging and reading when I should probably be doing school work. I think it’s also because it’s almost (!!!) the end of the year and I’ve been working on my favorites, yearly wrap-up, and holiday-themed posts, but I’ve been so in the mood to read lately because of all the new books coming out still this year (I’m looking at you, The Toll and The Queen of Nothing.

The Chase by Elle Kennedy | 4/5 Stars

I was so excited to jump back into the Off-Campus world with The Chase. Although it’s not my favorite Elle Kennedy book, I loved having Fitz as one of the protagonists.

The Beautiful by Renée Ahdieh | 4/5

The most Halloween-esque book that I read in October, I enjoyed The Beautiful for its atmospheric setting and for the fact that it broke my usual reading habits with its paranormal and mysterious story.

10 Blind Dates by Ashley Elston (ARC) | 4/5

October marks Christmas season prep in the Fangirl Fury handbook, which further encouraged me to pick up 10 Blind Dates. 10 Blind Dates was a fun holiday mood read. I really enjoyed its family focus.

Full Disclosure by Camyrn Garrett (ARC) | 3/5

I appreciated that Full Disclosure took on a ton of important topics, as its main protagonist lives with HIV. While I appreciated its mature discussions surrounding sex and sexuality, I wasn’t a big fan of the writing style and plot.

Crier’s War by Nina Varela | 5/5

Hands-down my favorite book of the month, I absolutely loved Crier’s War for its unique world and fantastic character and story arcs.

The Politician S1 (Netflix)- Hands-down one of my favorite TV shows of the year, The Politician stole my heart in October. It’s such a quirky show and honestly feels like a blend of Ryan Murphy’s other shows (Glee, AHS, and American Crime Story). I freaking loved Ben Platt (which led me to also being addicted to his album, Sing to Me Instead this month) and the overall cast. The show luckily came out during my fall break, which meant that I was able to binge-watch all 8 episodes before heading back to school.

Insatiable S2 (Netflix)- My guilty pleasure show the month, Insatiable season 2 was definitely more dramatic and crazy, but somehow much more developed than the first season. This show is totally not the best, especially in light of all the controversy, but it is a fun watch for me personally.

Schitt’s Creek S1 (Netflix)- I started watching Schitt’s Creek over the summer, but I struggled getting into it. My best friend (and lets be honest, Twitter) encouraged me to get back into and I’m absolutely loving it. David is for sure my favorite character.

Modern Love (Prime)- Towards the end of October, I flip-flopped between watching Schitt’s Creek and Amazon’s new show based on the Modern Love column. My favorite episodes are “When the Doorman is Your Main Man” and “When Cupid Is a Prying Journalist.”

You’ve Got Mail- I 100% admit that I am still confused over the fact that English major and lifelong reader me did not watch You’ve Got Mail until 2019. IT’S A MOVIE ABOUT BOOKSTORE RIVALS!!! I absolutely love movies from the 80s and 90s, and You’ve Got Mail was no exception.

Isn’t It Romantic? – One of the funniest rom-coms I’ve seen lately, I absolutely loved the cast (Rebel Wilson, Liam Hemsworth, & Adam DeVine) and it made me laugh out loud so much.

Reviews 

NEW FAVORITE FROM FAVORITE AUTHOR: The Fountains of Silence Review

FAVORITE LEIGH BARDUGO BOOK: Ninth House Review

THOUGHTS, FEELS & RANTS: Wayward Son Review

FALL MOOD READ: Pumpkinheads Review

PERFECT HALLOWEEN READ: The Beautiful Review

THE BOOK OF YOUR READER DREAMS: The Library of Lost Things Review

STAR-CROSSED SWOON: Twice in a Blue Moon Review

BEST NERDY ROMANCE: Comics Will Break Your Heart Review

A 2019 FAVORITE FANTASY: Crier’s War Review

Bookish Fun 

‘TIS THE FALL SEASON: The Autumn Tag

LIBRARY LOVIN’:The Library Loves Tag

Top Five Wednesday: Most Halloweenish Books on My TBR

My life happenings section always flips between monthly fangirl news or my IRL happenings, and today’s a mixture of both!

IRL 

Lucy’s Deli on Sixth- I’m in the city twice a week for class this semester, so my friends and I try to do New York things on our lunch breaks and after class. I was on Twitter one weekend earlier in October and Jess from The Book Bratz shared a photo of a stuffed/felt avocado from a pop-up shop in Rockefeller Center, Lucy’s Delicatessen on 6th. This pop-up was set up like a grocery store and featured hand-sewn and felt food. My friend and I went on our lunch break that week and we had so much fun looking at ALL the cute things.

Fall-themed Saturday- I’m always wanting to do seasonal things, so I was really excited when my best friend and I decided to spend a Saturday afternoon at a local farm. We had a mini photo shoot (okay, it wasn’t that mini or spur-of-the-moment, I came prepared with my Canon) in a pumpkin patch and then we went apple-picking. This was my first time apple-picking and while its near the end of the season where I live, the orchard was really beautiful. I think all the apples I picked were honey crisp, which I used the next day to make an apple pie.

Fangirl Things

10 Things I Hate About Pinky Cover Reveal- The cover for Sandhya Menon’s second book of 2020, 10 Things I Hate About Pinky, is officially out in the world! I love how much it compliments her other books, and I’m just so excited for this one and Of Curses and Kisses.

10 Things I Hate About Pinky cover reveal Sandhya Menon Credit: Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing

More details about Sarah J. Maas’ Crescent City– I haven’t been able to find Sarah J. Maas’ full panel on Crescent City from New York Comic Con ’19, but Kristin of SuperSpaceChick included a clip of the panel in her NYCC Haul. I highly recommend checking out Kristin’s entire video! Anyway, SJM revealed more about the plot than she has ever have before. In shot, picture the ACOTAR universe set 3,000 years in the future (yes that means cell phones and cars), every paranormal and mythological creature possible, a party and half-Fae girl who finds herself involved in a murder investigation, and true to SJM, steam/romance.

Let It Snow Trailer- I’m just generally excited for Netflix’s holiday movie line-up, but I feel like I’ve been waiting for the Let It Snow adaptation for forever! This book was one of the first YA books I’ve ever picked up and while I probably need a reread, I’m excited to see it on the screen come November 8th.

Ninth House/the Alex Stern series is being turned into a TV show- While much attention in the Leigh Bardugo TV-world has been on the Netflix Grishaverse adaptation, it was recently announced that Ninth House will be adapted into a TV show by Amazon, with Leigh attached as the writer and executive producer. Since Ninth House is officially my favorite Leigh Bardugo book, I am so looking forward to seeing this show come to life!

What did you read and watch in October? Share in the comments!

BOOKS, TV & FALL THINGS: October 2019 Wrap Up October was a month filled with so many (good) things and moments in my academic and personal life.

[mikemortgage]

AP FACT CHECK: Trump’s murky claims on weather, shutdown

WASHINGTON — There’s nothing like a cold snap to bring out the global-warming skepticism of President Donald Trump.

The fact that periods of extreme cold happen in a warming climate is well known by his government but Trump’s crack Sunday — “Wouldn’t be bad to have a little of that good old fashioned Global Warming right now!” — suggests that hasn’t sunk in for the president.

Over the past week and through the weekend, Trump and his team misstated the reality on myriad issues, many connected with the partial government shutdown, Trump’s proposed wall and the Russia investigation. Here’s a look:

RUSSIA

TRUMP: “Remember it was Buzzfeed that released the totally discredited ‘Dossier,’ paid for by Crooked Hillary Clinton and the Democrats (as opposition research), on which the entire Russian probe is based!” — tweet Friday.

THE FACTS: Trump’s claim that special counsel Robert Mueller’s Russia probe is based on a “discredited dossier” is false. The FBI’s investigation actually began months before it received a dossier of anti-Trump research financed by the Democratic Party and Hillary Clinton’s campaign. The FBI probe’s origins were based on other evidence — not the existence of the dossier, which has not been discredited.

Last year, the Republican-controlled House Intelligence Committee found the Russia probe was initiated after the FBI received information related to Trump campaign foreign policy adviser George Papadopoulos, not the dossier. The committee’s final report was praised by Trump.

——

CLIMATE CHANGE

TRUMP: “Large parts of the Country are suffering from tremendous amounts of snow and near record setting cold. Amazing how big this system is. Wouldn’t be bad to have a little of that good old fashioned Global Warming right now!” — tweet Sunday.

THE FACTS: Trump is suggesting, as he has done before, that global warming can’t exist if it’s cold outside. But he is conflating weather and climate. Weather is like mood, which changes daily. Climate is like personality, which is long term.

The climate is warming, which still allows for intense cold spells.

While much of the United States was frigid Sunday, that is still less than 2 per cent of the world. Earth on Sunday was about 0.9 degrees (0.5 Celsius) warmer than from 1979-2000, according to the University of Maine’s Climate Reanalyzer.

The White House in November produced the National Climate Assessment by scientists from 13 Trump administration agencies and outside scientists. It amounted to a slap in the face for those who question whether climate is changing.

“Climate change is transforming where and how we live and presents growing challenges to human health and quality of life, the economy, and the natural systems that support us,” the report says.

The White House report swept aside the idea, already discredited, that a particular plunge in temperatures can cast uncertainty on whether Earth is warming. It says more than 90 per cent of current warming is caused by humans: “There are no credible alternative human or natural explanations supported by the observational evidence.”

——

THE SHUTDOWN

TRUMP: “As a candidate for President, I promised I would fix this crisis, and I intend to keep that promise one way or the other. …To physically secure our border, the plan includes $5.7 billion for a strategic deployment of physical barriers, or a wall. This is not a 2,000-mile concrete structure from sea to sea. These are steel barriers in high-priority locations.” — remarks Saturday.

THE FACTS: His campaign promise to build a concrete border wall continues to evolve.

During the 2016 campaign, Trump pledged to build a “big, beautiful wall” made of concrete, rebar and steel across the length of the southern border with Mexico. Back then, he lashed out at the suggestion that what he was proposing had anything in common with mere fencing.

“Jeb Bush just talked about my border proposal to build a ‘fence,’ he tweeted in 2015. “It’s not a fence, Jeb, it’s a WALL, and there’s a BIG difference!”

And as recently as Dec. 31, he tweeted, “An all concrete Wall was NEVER ABANDONED.”

He now commonly refers to the wall as “steel slats” and “steel barriers.”

——

TRUMP: “If we build a powerful and fully designed see-through steel barrier on our southern border, the crime rate and drug problem in our country would be quickly and greatly reduced. Some say it could be cut in half.” — remarks from White House on Saturday.

TRUMP, on the virtues of a wall: “We can stop heroin.” — White House remarks Saturday.

THE FACTS: His comments fly in the face of findings by his government about how drugs get into the county. Drugs from Mexico are primarily smuggled into the U.S. at official border crossings, not remote lands that can be walled off. His proposal Saturday to end the government shutdown implicitly recognizes that reality by proposing money to improve drug-detection technology specifically at land ports of entry.

Even so, Trump pitched a wall as a solution to drugs and crime.

The Drug Enforcement Administration says “only a small percentage” of heroin seized by U.S. authorities comes across on territory between ports of entry. It says the same is true of drugs overall.

Even if a wall could stop all drugs from Mexico, America’s drug problem would be far from over. For example, the government says about 40 per cent of opioid deaths in 2016 involved prescription painkillers, made by pharmaceutical companies. Some feed the addiction of people who have prescriptions; others are stolen and sold on the black market. Moreover, illicit versions of powerful synthetic opioids such as fentanyl have come to the U.S. from China.

On crime, many researchers have found that people in the U.S. illegally are less likely to commit violence than U.S. citizens.

——

TRUMP: “Nancy Pelosi’s in Hawaii over the holidays, now she’s in Puerto Rico with a bunch of Democrats and lobbyists, you know, enjoying the sun and partying down there.” — Fox News interview on Jan. 12.

TRUMP: “I’d rather see the Democrats come back from their vacation and act. … I’m in the White House, and most of them are in different locations. They’re watching a certain musical in a very nice location.” — Fox News interview.

TRUMP: “A lot of the Democrats were in Puerto Rico celebrating something. I don’t know, maybe they’re celebrating the shutdown.” — comments Jan. 14.

THE FACTS: Far from “enjoying the sun” in Puerto Rico, Pelosi stayed in Washington, which got a big snowfall. She spent that weekend working at the Capitol, said Drew Hammill, her deputy chief of staff.

Senate Democratic leader Chuck Schumer did not go to Puerto Rico, either. The senator from New York spent that weekend in New York, said spokesman Justin Goodman.

Most Democratic lawmakers were somewhere other than Puerto Rico. Most who went are members of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus. They attended the annual winter retreat of the caucus’s political and fundraising arm.

Some attended “Hamilton” as the musical opened a two-week run in Puerto Rico expected to raise millions of dollars for artists and cultural groups struggling in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria. Referring to Democrats at the fundraising performance in his Fox News interview, Trump called it “frankly, ridiculous.”

During the trip, lawmakers indeed met political contributors but also made several visits to local and federal institutions, said Marieli Padro, spokeswoman for Puerto Rico Resident Commissioner Jenniffer Gonzalez. Last Saturday, a small group visited the veterans’ hospital to learn about its needs post-hurricane, while another group met U.S. Coast Guard officials.

Trump is correct that Pelosi visited Hawaii over the Christmas holiday.

——

TRUMP: “We need strong barriers and walls. Nothing else is going to work.” — remarks Thursday at the Pentagon.

TRUMP: “You can have all the people you want dressed in military. You can have ICE. You can have Border Patrol. If you don’t have that barrier, there’s not a thing you can do. You know, they all say, ‘We like technology.’ I like technology, too. But we can have all the drones in the world flying around; we can have all the sensors in the world, but if you don’t have a strong steel or concrete barrier, there’s no way you’re going to stop these people from rushing.” — remarks Jan. 14 in New Orleans.

THE FACTS: The evidence is inconclusive on the effectiveness of border walls or other barriers.

The Government Accountability Office, Congress’ auditing arm, reported in 2017 that the government does not have a way to measure how well barriers work to deter illegal immigration from Mexico. Despite $2.3 billion spent by the government on such construction from 2007 to 2015, GAO found that authorities “cannot measure the contribution of fencing to border security operations along the southwest border because it has not developed metrics for this assessment.”

Few people dispute that fences contributed to a sharp drop in crossings in cities such as San Diego and El Paso, Texas. Before fences were built in San Diego, crossers played soccer on U.S. soil as vendors hawked tamales, waiting until night fell to overwhelm agents. But those barriers also pushed people into more remote and less-patrolled areas such as in Arizona, where thousands of migrants have perished in extreme heat.

When barriers were built in the Border Patrol’s Yuma, Arizona, sector in the mid-2000s, arrests for illegal crossings plummeted 94 per cent in three years to 8,363 from 138,438. When barriers were built in San Diego in the 1990s and early 2000s, arrests fell 80 per cent over seven years from 524,231 in 1995 to 100,681 in 2002. But both areas also saw sharp increases in Border Patrol staffing during that time, making it difficult to pinpoint why illegal crossings fell so dramatically.

——

KEVIN HASSETT, Trump economic adviser: “You know as soon as it’s resolved, then people get their paychecks and the government will go back to acting normal and the economy will go back to the 3 per cent growth that President Trump’s policies have delivered.” — interview Tuesday with Fox Business Network.

THE FACTS: It’s true the economy probably will get a boost once the shutdown ends, but few independent economists think that boost will be sustained. The economy is facing other headwinds that make it unlikely growth will return to 2018’s pace. Before the shutdown, most independent economists already were forecasting that growth would slow this year as the impact of President Trump’s tax credit fades and trade tensions and slowing global growth take a toll.

Even if the government shutdown ends up being a wash in economic terms, with strong growth in the second quarter offsetting weakness in the first, the economy is likely to be weaker this year than last. Scott Anderson, an economist at Bank of the West, expects last year’s stock market drop will cause many wealthier households to pull back on spending, a drag on growth this year.

He’s not alone. A group of 15 economists at major U.S. banks earlier this month projected that growth would slow to just a 2.1 per cent pace in 2019, down from roughly 3 per cent in 2018.

The economy’s current health is difficult to gauge because the partial shutdown means many economic statistics aren’t being released. Recent signs are mixed: The job market is strong, with few layoffs in sight, and manufacturing output rose in December. But higher interest rates have also caused home prices and sales to fall.

——

SYRIA

VICE PRESIDENT MIKE PENCE: “The caliphate has crumbled, and ISIS has been defeated.” — remarks Wednesday at State Department.

THE FACTS: Pence’s remark followed the deadly suicide bombing claimed by IS, which demonstrated the extremist group, however weakened, has not been vanquished. The bombing underscored Pentagon assertions that IS still poses a threat and is capable of deadly attacks.

The attack killed at least 16 people in Syria, including two U.S. service members and two American civilians. It was the deadliest assault on U.S. troops in Syria since American forces went into the country in 2015.

A tweet Wednesday morning by Pence’s press secretary, Alyssa Farah, indicated the vice-president had been briefed on the attacks before he delivered his remarks claiming the defeat of IS. Pence later released a statement acknowledging the fatalities and IS “remnants” but reaffirming Trump’s plan to withdraw troops.

“We will never allow the remnants of ISIS to re-establish their evil and murderous caliphate,” he said.

Trump, in a Dec. 19 tweet, announced the withdrawal of U.S. troops from Syria. He said: “We have defeated ISIS in Syria, my only reason for being there during the Trump Presidency.” He said the troops would begin coming home “now.” That plan triggered immediate pushback from military leaders and the resignation of Defence Secretary Jim Mattis.

Over the past month, however, Trump and others have appeared to adjust the timeline, and U.S. officials have suggested it will probably take several months to withdraw American forces from Syria safely.

——

VETERANS

TRUMP: “Just announced that Veterans unemployment has reached an 18 year low, really good news for our Vets and their families. Will soon be an all time low! Do you think the media will report on this and all of the other great economic news? — tweet Tuesday.

THE FACTS: Trump is wrong in terms of up-to-date monthly data, right when measuring veterans’ unemployment over a longer term.

It is true that the average veterans’ unemployment rate for 2018 was 3.5 per cent, the lowest annual figure since 2000, when it was 2.9 per cent.

On a monthly basis, the rate is more volatile. The lowest vets’ unemployment rate under Trump was 2.7 per cent in October 2017, and it has risen a bit since then to 3.2 per cent in December, the latest data available. In the 18 years that the government has tracked veterans’ unemployment data, the lowest monthly rate was 2.3 per cent in May 2000.

Veterans’ unemployment has fallen mostly for the same reasons that joblessness has dropped generally: strong hiring and steady economic growth for the past eight years.

——

TRUMP: “We got Veterans Choice. We got Veterans Choice approved, which is pretty amazing. They’ve been trying to get that for years and years — decades and decades.” — remarks Jan. 14 in New Orleans.

THE FACTS: No, he is not the first president in “decades and decades” to get Congress to pass a private-sector health program for veterans. Congress first approved the Veterans Choice program in 2014 during the Obama administration.

The program was approved after some veterans died while waiting months for appointments at the Phoenix VA medical centre. It allows veterans to see doctors outside the VA system if they must wait more than 30 days for an appointment or drive more than 40 miles to a VA facility.

Trump did sign legislation in June to expand the Choice program, part of his campaign promise to give veterans greater access to private care at government expense. The exact scope of that new program will be subject to yet-to-be-completed rules that will determine veterans’ eligibility as well as federal funding. The VA has yet to resolve long-term financing due to congressional budget caps that could put money for VA or other domestic programs at risk later this year.

——

Associated Press writers Eric Tucker, Christopher Rugaber, Seth Borenstein and Jill Colvin in Washington and Danica Coto in San Juan, Puerto Rico, contributed to this report.

——

Find AP Fact Checks at http://apne.ws/2kbx8bd

Follow https://twitter.com/APFactCheck

EDITOR’S NOTE — A look at the veracity of claims by political figures

from Financial Post http://bit.ly/2U2WBkv via IFTTT Blogger Mortgage Tumblr Mortgage Evernote Mortgage Wordpress Mortgage href="https://www.diigo.com/user/gelsi11">Diigo Mortgage

[stirlinguwhc-blog]

Stirling University Ladies Hockey Club 2017/2018 Roundup

President

This year has been a busy and exciting year for the club! Behind the scenes I have been keeping everything ticking on, making sure the club functions at its best potential. On top of everyday tasks like meetings with the union; helping member of the committee fulfil their roll; and diffusing any situations that arise; myself and committee have been concentrating on funding applications, mental health, and community links. We successfully received funding to improve our goalie kits, to purchase first aid kits for all teams, and to send members to umpire courses and first aid courses. I had many meetings with the union to design a presentation to give to the club on mental health and where to get help and how to help each other, and we have successfully got 7 members of the club through Scottish Mental Health Training too, myself included. We have established a relationship with Start Up Stirling and completed two very successful food collections over the two semesters and have also just started a relationship with Babes in the Woods, who we are raising money for in the form of a fun tournament. Being president, this year has been filled with challenges but has also been a very rewarding year and the club has developed in a positive way! I wish next year's committee luck and all the best.

 Treasurer

This year we started on £2035.80 after a successful previous year and the annual annuity we get from the sports union. We received approximately £6400 from membership fees throughout the year. Our biggest expenses were for coaching which was £1832.50 and Scottish Hockey affiliation fees at £1060. The remainder of expenses were mainly for transport costs including fuel, MPV hire and insurance. With the fortunate help with some additional funding, the club was able to freshen up a bit. Before hockey started back we invested in hockey sticks which can be used freely by anyone in the club, aiding the impact for first time players when they join. This was done through club sport Dundee and they were very helpful. Around November time we looked into purchasing new kit. All five teams were provided with new bibs, balls, cones, and first aid kits – the club paid for some, funding paid for other parts, and the union paid for our first aid kits after some sweet talking. We were also granted funding for first aid training, mental health training, goalie kit, and umpiring. Kit was an unfortunately lengthy process, by going through the sports union we were doing things ‘by the book’ but have since learned this is not always the best option. To advise then future treasurer to please just use somebody’s bank account as it clearly indicated who has paid and who has not, and you are aware of exactly when the payments have been processed. For members which are not aware, we have changed the membership fees for the next year. These new membership costs are: • £55 for players not playing BUCS leagues i.e. the current 4s and 5s • £70 for players in BUCS leagues. If girls are non-BUCS players to start and then change during the course of the semester, they will be required to pay the additional £15 in January. We feel this is a fair move due to the difference in what girls can ‘get out of their membership’. For members who have played no games this year to be paying the same as girls that travel across the UK for hockey and play games twice a week in addition to more training is not very reasonable hence this change. We have £1933.14 (as of 26th March) to bring forward on to the next year.

 PR / Fundraiser

Our pre-season tournament was slightly different this year, as we hosted a mixed tournament with the boys! This was good fun and made everyone really excited for the season to come. We only made around £230 which compared to last year wasn’t as much! In hindsight it was probably better to host an all-girls tournament as more clubs are interested and there was a better chance of raising more money. We have sold 677 Fubar tickets over the past two semesters! We have two more Thursdays left to sell and hopefully the chance to pick up extra if other clubs haven’t picked them up on time! This has resulted in a total of roughly £1000. Our biggest sell out date was the night of Welcome Drinks. We managed to pick up some tickets and sell all 100 and make £300! Thanks to everyone who has helped with the stalls over the past semesters, I really appreciate your help! Our Quiz which was held in the union on the 27th of September was a great success! Thankfully the football was on and a lot of people stayed back and joined in, which meant it was an extremely successful night! We raised £400 which was a lot more than we had expected. Our bag packing at Morrison’s in December was very successful and we managed to raise £362.87! Unfortunately, they have cut back on their bag packing slots this year and we did not ‘qualify’ for a space! Hopefully with these links bag packing can be continued in the years to come as it’s a great way to raise some money and help out the local community!

We were on target to raise about £500 for the tournament in January but sadly the snow caused it to be cancelled! Fortunately, we’ve got another chance to host this tournament on Wednesday the 4th of April! At the end of the AGM come down to the front and sign up a team. All the funds raised will go towards the Babes in the Woods Charity. This is a very worthwhile cause and hopefully SULHC and SUMHC can raise enough to support them in the start-up of their charity.

 1XI Captain / Vice Captain

Another season is drawing to an end for the 1XI, it's been action packed so far and we still have four matches to go before the season is done. We started the year off with gaining some very good freshers who made the 1's squad a lot more competitive! After getting to know our freshers, many soon found a place within the 1's and we all started to settle into the season. With this being our first year in Championship 1 it took us a few matches to settle into the league. Now after a lovely streak of wins, we are aiming to finish mid table which should help give the squad next year a good place to build on and improve on! We have seen many Bucs Wednesdays this year, some have been more eventful than others. Unfortunately though we are to go down a league in bucs next season, putting us into 2A. This hasn't been without a fight though, the 1's girls have worked extremely hard this season and this has been clear on and off the pitch. In our last bucs game of the semester against Strathclyde , everyone dug deep and we came away with a well deserved 1-0 win. This season has been a busy one for the 1's but we have still found time to get in those important strengthening and conditioning sessions with the amazing Clare Rafferty, who we are very thankful to have had this season. Overall this season has been exciting for the 1's and the girls are looking forward to finish this season off well and will hopefully finish with a couple more points under our belts and continue to improve and progress into next season!

  2XI Captain / Vice Captain

The 2XI started off the season slow but results and games soon picked up once our team began to become established and bond. Our formation changed in the first couple of weeks from last season which instantly worked better for us. As the press got tighter, we got fitter and we gelled as a team the winning streak began. We have achieved a lot this year; including 2nd in Midlands Division, 4th in BUCS and into the Semi-Final of the Conference Plate (yes it could have been a plate win but let’s not dwell). Overall this season, we have scored an amazing 87 GOALS!!!!! As a 2XI we have had great memories together: from beating Edinburgh 6XI; everyone tried there absolute hardest and achieved an extraordinary result (and changed BUCS table!!) or winning against Grove Menziehill 3XI to celebrating our first half success at Christmas dinner as a team! We also had the task of organising umpires for our home BUCS games and most Saturdays. A huge thank you to our 1s girls who always helped us out when they could. In particular, our 1s captain Claire was always the first to volunteer! SUMHC were also great in providing good umpires if we were struggling. So, thank you to all of our umpires for allowing an incredible 2XI season to take place! Overall, we have had a massive improvement from last season. Most nominated MOTM this season goes to Janey Deehan and most nominated DOTD goes to Ally Thorburn and Siobhan Grady.  Everyone has worked as a team and the results show how much it’s paid off. It’s been such a pleasure captaining the 2XI ship this season, full of such lovely dedicated players on and off the pitch. Our leavers: Niamh Coyne, Janey Deehan, Iona Craig, Mhairi Clark, Ally Thorburn, Siobhan Grady and Caitlin McLoughlin leaving us will be all be missed!

 1XI/2XI Match Sec

Concluding the 2017/2018 season with SULHC we are happy with how the season has gone. There have been a few issues throughout the year for both the 1st XI and 2nd XI regarding the union. Moving on from these issues it can be said both the union and the club have learnt lessons and taken steps to ensure none of these mistakes will be repeated. Communications with the union have been good, however, the change of staff within the union going into 2nd semester has proven to be slightly more difficult than anticipated. However, by working closely with captains and vice captains we have managed to keep things running smoothly. Our job has mainly consisted of attending the match fixture meetings on a Monday afternoon and ensuring the pitch is booked correctly for matches and then communicating these times to the opposition at latest 5 days prior to the game. Please note it has now been made mandatory for a member of the club to attend the Match Secretaries meeting every week. Booking buses has been stricter with the introduction of having to book two weeks in advance of the fixture. This also proving to be a bigger issue than normal after the changeover of the union. The two weeks’ notice rule regarding transport bookings has proven difficult at times with rearranged matches causing some issues and leaving us at points vehicle-less. We have thoroughly enjoyed working with the committee this year and filling our role as match sec’s. We wish the best for next year’s committee and especially those filling the big auld shoes of us both. We hope the club has a very successful season in 2018/2019.

 3XI Captain / Vice Captain

Overall, the 3’s have had a reasonably good season. Starting off strong in the season with a win, movement within the club lead to some restructuring of the team and lead to some strong connections being made. With the help of Ben and Moray, the 3’s have gone from strength to strength as the semester progressed, not only on the pitch but also off the pitch, with strong bonds being made amongst the girls. With a large intake of fresher’s in the club in general, the 3’s were lucky enough to get a great intake to join an already strong unit of current girls, something which looks promising for future seasons. While the 3’s haven’t come out on the top of the league this season, there has been a huge amount of progress with each and every game that was played, not only as a team together but for each individual under the guidance of Louise and Gabby, the current captain and vice-captain. The dedication to training and games each week shows how much each girl in the 3’s cares and the development can be seen individually, not simply as a team. The strengths of the 3’s can be seen in every game but were especially highlighted in the much anticipated “Derby Day” where SULHC’s 2XI and 3XI clashed for the first time due to both finding themselves in the same BUCS league. Coming out with a 2-0 defeat, the 3’s held their heads high, enjoying the day as a team and taking the loss in a positive way in order to build on it for future games. While the 3’s have finished all the games for the current season, there are aims to have a few more friendlies in order to continue the improvement as a team. For many members of the 3XI, this is their final year at Stirling and so many are eager to continue getting one last game together although luckily, there are a few events on the social calendar to keep everyone going for a bit longer. The 3’s look forward to final dinner, sports ball and one last tournament playing together before everyone goes their separate ways in the summer, but guaranteed, the 3’s can only go from strength to strength. Looking forward to next semester when Cat and Laura take control and continue building on the hard work that’s been put in from all the girls over this year and focus on the big things to come (mainly beating the 2’s in next year’s derby day!!!)

  4XI Captain

So, the year started out with preseason which was great fun, we did loads of mixed training sessions and fitness classes with the 3s and really bonded as a team. Once that was over it was time to welcome the new fresher’s into the club. We held a give it a go session alongside the rest of the club to separate players into teams for the upcoming season, with the 4s seeing lots of new girls raring to go. So many girls we actually had to create a 5s team, a first for the lady’s hockey club. Our first game of the season was against Glasgow University, where unfortunately we lost but being able to play together as a team was brilliant. We trained regularly in the first semester with our new coach Jonathan Belshaw, who created inventive and fun training sessions for us to improve our skills. We played a couple of other games including an away game to Dunfermline and some mixed games against the 3s and 5s. Then the snow hit, and games and training unfortunately had to be cancelled. But that didn't stop the girls and we hit the gym to do some strength training whilst the pitch was covered in snow. Unfortunately, due to cancellations the 4s didn't manage to play as much during the second semester, but I have high hopes for the next captain and vice, Sophie and Ivana, and I'm sure they'll lead the 4s to fantastic success next semester

  4XI Vice Captain

SULHC 4Xl had a wonderful first half of the year, with all girls old and new showing enthusiasm and commitment to the team throughout games and training. We saw mixed results on the pitch winning, losing and drawing games. Training constantly showed positive results with the consistently high turn outs and teamwork growing by the week. High quality training sessions coached by Jonathon Bellshaw definitely helped the team grow more confident as well as closer as a team. Unfortunately, this brilliant spell was short lived as harsh winter conditions caused training and games to be cancelled for over a month. This caused demotivated players and a lack of commitment throughout the team however this could not be helped due to the weather conditions. Although the weather is considerably better now, exams are getting in the way of training and causing commitment issues which isn’t ideal however we are here for university and not for hockey which is totally acceptable. I wish Ivana and Sophie all the best next year and hope the 4s continue to progress as strongly as they were at the start of the season this year, allowing them to enter BUCS and get more competitive games. I wish the team the highest success!

 Social Secretary

This year has been a great one for socials. We started off the year with the classic baby social and white t which both had amazing turn outs. Then onto one of our biggest - welcome drinks! The theme was pirates and sea creatures and everyone was so creative with fresher’s dressed from octopuses to oil spills. We then had a new social - team night in which each team represented a social which was more relaxed and helped members to get to know their teammates in a fun way. Cops and robber was the first social we ran early in fubar which had a great turn out. It then went on to be mixed with the boys which the girls seemed to enjoy very much! We ended first semester with Christmas Dinner. There were a few bumps along the way, but it was nothing we couldn’t figure out. Moving into second semester our first social was meant to be an after party for the 7s tournament, but this was unfortunately cancelled due to weather. However, we still had the mixed pres that night and it was a good way to return from Christmas break. Next, we brought back a big social from last year - Frat night. Throughout the night we played classic American games such as flip cup and beer pong. VK in the park was after this and I would go as far to say, it was one of the most enjoyed socials this year. Girls really got into the festival vibe and you would have never seen so much glitter in your life! We then had a traditional army social and a scavenger hunt for fresher’s to complete which got them to work with people they might usually not. The year is not yet over, and we still have final dinner and sports ball to look forward to! Hope all the girls in the club have loved the socials we’ve put on for them this year and that next year will be even better!

[sosico]

Favorite Flicks of 2017

Like the previous year, looking back on 2017 through the camera lens, here are 12 of my favorite photos that I shot this past year - my favorite of each month - and the stories behind them. Enjoy...

Polaroid Test Shots  -  January 16

As far as my own photography work goes, 2017 was a slower year for me than I had hoped for. I shot a lot for clients, brands, and SOSICO. - more than I did for myself, but that's what you gotta do to pay the bills I guess. This will be the over-arching theme of the year and all of these posts, so get used to it...

Anyways, I started the year with a brand new polaroid camera that I received as a Christmas gift. This is a photo of the first photo that I shot on it -  a test shot selfie in a mirror in my basement with Allen lurking in the background. Classy.

Blank Face  -  February 12

It was snowing. It was cold as fuck. We sent it to Providence to try to shoot some content for the recent line, "Criminals Painted in a Bad Light". The "Blank Face Ski Mask" was the highlight of the line for me because of how dope it was to photograph, especially still coming off of a recent obsession with the (highly underrated in my opinion) Blank Face LP by ScHoolboy Q.

Alex and I sent it through the mall and to the other side of the parking garage to a pretty frequented photography location. This staircase has bright blue painted handrails and is incased in triangular shaped floor to ceiling windows that allow for tons of natural light. Because of the weather that day, the muted tones worked to almost "sterilize" the photograph and allowed the cyan criss-crossed handrails to pop out in the foreground while the S's logo dead center on the forehead of the ski mask stood in focus.

Blurred Vision  -  March 9

From a random shoot with Matt, Ricky and Johnny. We kept it pretty local on this one due to the weather finally breaking and warming up a little bit. I had envisioned this concept a while back and having my tripod with me, was finally able to execute.

While having the subject stand completely still, they would then move their head around rapidly while taking a long exposure - being sure not to move any other part of their body. If it all works out correctly, everything will be still and sharp, while their head and face become a complete blur.

Never stop experimenting with your art. Always try new techniques and new ideas. Don't get boring.

Beauty in the struggle  -  April 9

In the childhood home of Brodie Fresh in Elmont, NY.

This was my first time eating Jamaican food from Jamaican Flavors in Queens. This short trip was also my first time going to Philly. A couple firsts here. Things were good. Things were happy here. There was a lot of shit going on, on both of our plates, but we were making due with it all and at the end of the day we were both happy. It might look bad on the surface, and although shit sucked (underlying), it's never all bad.

I think that the struggles of life can simplify things sometimes.

Escape  -  May 30

Sometimes creating art for no reason is reason enough. Took some much needed time to wander around the coast that day with Alex, Will and Brodie. I had been working on a lot of different things lately, one in particular was planning for the store that we were about to open a couple months later.

This shot feels so West Coast to me. Like a warm Californian day looking out at a beach from the vantage point of an ocean cliff adorned with sweet flowers. It's not though, and that's why I think I like it so much. It was Rhode Island in late May. Warm enough, but still very overcast and the least bit tropical. Perspective is all it takes to let your mind roam.

Reserva Florestal de Recreio do Monte do Brasil, Terceira Isl. Açores  -  June 26

Looking over the West side of Angra do Heroísmo from the crater of the Reserva Florestal de Recreio do Monte Brasil. After a long hike to the top of 1 of the 4 peaks of a crater, Ricky & I hiked down into the middle & then back up the other side to the Southernmost point of this peninsula that juts out in front of the city of Angra. This photo is shot from just above the crater. As we continued, we were surrounded by nothing but rolling hills and the sights of trees & flowers with the city in view between the peaks in the distance.

Beautiful Abyss  -  July 1

Sitting on a whale watching boat in international waters off of the coast of the Island of Terceira. Out in the distance there was this one, singular low hanging thick puffy cloud gliding just above the calm sea. With nothing else in site or surrounding it, it felt so vast and empty - limitless like an abyss - but beautiful in the simplicity of it all.

Jamiacan Rain  -  August 19

Hot, humid, tropical rainy showers in Lucea, Jamaica. From the entrance to our hotel we could look out past the lush flowers and palm trees to the bright blue Caribbean ocean.

After I shot this photo, one of the gardeners at the resort insisted on taking a photo of us. He then asked us if we had ever had a fresh coconut before, to which we replied no. He asked us for our room number and told us he'd be by in 5 minutes.

There was a knock at the door shortly after. I opened it and he was standing there with makeshift water bottle vase filled with fresh flowers he'd picked from the gardens (for Bethanie), and a coconut the size of our heads with a small hole hacked in the top. I drank the fresh coconut water & instantly started speaking creole...

Swisher Sweet  -  September 30

September was lame, but I did get to shoot for Swisher Sweet. I also don't own the rights to this photo anymore, but I'm posting it here anyways.

of us  -  October 19

In early 2015 I founded a second clothing brand in the form of a creative outlet; OF US. The name is rooted from a mix of prefixes such as “de”, which translates to “of” in most latin based languages. My family name, Deus, is of Portuguese origin and translates to God. When broken in half, it becomes, “De-Us”, (how it is pronounced) or essentially, “Of-Us”. The OF US brand is the unofficial sister brand to SOSIC. and represents the creative balance between the two. Its backwards nature and concept deems it solely exclusive to the individuals behind and around it. It is created OF US and exclusively FOR US. In recent years, I have produced very small, limited runs of clothing under this moniker. If you asked me about it or what it was, I probably told you it was some shirt I bought in New York. This brand is more personal; an extended look into my conscious and subconscious. Do not expect it and do not try to understand it. It is of God; with contrasting beauty and fear. It is fleeting - here today and gone tomorrow. It is of ambiguity; bearing marvel and curiosity. It is release, to maintain balance in juncture. It is undivided, sole and unique among the masses. It is OF US & FOR US. Losers Never Win.

Dirty Mirrors  -  November 15

On a whim, we shot these looks for the "Dirty Mirrors" single promo content one night in the basement of the shop. We dragged these huge 4x8 foot mirrors down the stairs, and in the process fucked a lot of shit up. There were pieces of broken glass everything and Vincent sliced his hand open really good - to the point where he turned pale white and almost passed out from the blood. It was sick.

After a slight recovery, we positioned the mirrors into a pentagon shape with them all facing in towards each other and had Matt and Vincent sit inside one by one. We shut the lights off, and with an iPhone flashlight in one hand, and my camera in the other I proceeded to lean in over the mirrors from the outside and shoot away blindly.

The best part of this is how fluid and experimental it was. We just went for it and it worked and that's always the best. There was very little done in post which is always super cool too. This shot also reminds me a lot of some shit that The Weeknd would put out for content a while ago, back when he dropped House of Balloons and The Trilogy.

As it all unfolds -  December

I couldn't pick just one. I did this the previous year.

December was one of the better months for photography and even in general. So many cool things came from it. So much progress. Myself and all of my friends doing great things. It seems like things are finally unfolding and shit is gaining traction. We're starting to figure it all out.

UNTLD. launched their first single & I shot this crazy as photo of them for their profiles. I wish I had photos of the setup we shot this with lol - it literally looked like a big fucking disaster. We cleared out a corner of our soon to be photo studio room and shut the lights off in the shop right during the middle of the day. I rigged up a desk lamp on the floor, and rested a taller lamp down on a pillow on each side to try to diffuse the hard shadows behind them cast on the white wall. It looked like a mess. Each portrait of Matt & Vincent was shot separately and then brought together in post production with a good amount of editing to get it all to fit right. It was the first time I did anything like this, and I'm proud of it. Thoroughly.

A week after that I shot with Spocka. He needed some new general promo content. No set direction, just content. We drove around brainstorming and shooting random shit. After a while I got sick of how boring and overdone everything was coming out. The solution - "Bro, your hair!" "What?" "Everyone knows you by your hair 'cus you've got these really long dope dreads." In my head I was thinking of some crazy ass Busta Rhymes styled video angles so I just sat down and shot up with Spocka looking directly over the camera.

Later that same day, I shot more content for UNTLD. again. Walking into the location was like walking into the past. It had this old vintage feel, it was perfect. 100% plan on shooting there again soon. Hmu.

Elmont, NY. Brodie Fresh. Directed by Fred Focus. Lamborghini with the top down in the Winter. Enough said.

And finally - the first SOSICO. tattoo. Yes it's real. Yes, that's how we're really setting the tone for 2018. Get ready.

It's done, 2017 is a wrap and I'm so much more excited for 2018 than I've been for any other year. This past year felt like a dud, but I did a lot of learning. There were a lot of experiences and it helped me start to get my shit together - and so much more than I could ever explain in a blog, and so much in store for the coming year. I even have a list of resolutions. Is this what growing up feels like? Am I "adulting" now, finally, at a fresh twenty three years of age?

Things feel like they're coming together. I've been connecting the dots. I'm not worried about or focused on things I once was, it's past me, and moving on and focusing on the bigger picture has become the new trend I feel I'm on.

Photography is a direct reflection of one's self, and if you have a camera in your hands most of the places you go it will embody that. You allow people to see your point of view, literally. With that said, by the next time I'm sitting down to create my list of "Favorite Flicks of 2018", it will be from a much different perspective that I can't wait to share with you all.

Peace + Happiness

- Zack