#xmas 2k23.

[wolfofwinchester]

@casketdweller (beloved) asked: For Claudia to find tucked in among the gifts for the children, was a stuffed toy of her own. Shaped in the form of Gelert, There was a blue-green ribbon tied around its neck. There was obviously no, indication who left it for her, but it had her named written in that familiar script on the tag lovingly attached to the ribbon.

It was the boy that found it first, somewhere among the rain of paper and ribbon, and bounding black hounds chasing hollow wooden balls tossed by giggling maids. It was cleverly hidden, Vincent thought to himself, tucked behind the biggest boxes beneath the branches of the pungent tree (one's nose would clear right up if got too close!). The little canine was carefully retrieved and given an eyeballing, and the name tag, after a moment, earned something of a sly and smug grin.

Poke. Francis's new wooden sword jabbed Vincent right in the shoulder, earning a playful and muted 'ooow' as he drew a hand to clasp the spot. ”What are you smiling about over here?” She inquired suspiciously, twirling the wooden end side to side as if to dig in. “Bring it out. You are meant to open your gifts where we can all sight it.”

“It's not mine,” Vincent responded, wiggling the mini Gelert at his little sister who scrunched her brows curiously. “it's ma's. Let you have three guesses as to who it came from.” His grin only widened, knuckles crowning beneath his chin.

Down drooped the wooden sword as the young maiden examined it, eye quick to catch the tag dangling from the ribbon. Her brows scrunched deeper, tapping it up to the light. “How did he get in here? The morning has been too busy, someone should have seen him.”

“You are only asking now how he gets into the manor? Only now?” Vincent chuckled. “How many times have we spotted him and we hadn't the slightest clue where he popped from? He could be coming down the chimneys for all that we know. Would you be surprised if there was a secret door through the solarium?“

That earned a scoff and a roll of those blue eyes. ”Not in the least.“

”Ask not from whence Mr. 'Callows' came, my little sister.“ Vincent tapped at Francis's nose before giving it a buzz with a pinch. ”Ask where he is going only.“

”Beneath our pine?“

”Perhaps he is hidden amongst the ornaments, shrunken down to the size of a thumb.“

”You're daffy.“ The sword drew up and gave a gentle bonk to Vincent's noggin. ”Give mama her present, it is not polite to hold hostage gifts meant for ladies.“

”Since when is it that ma has enjoyed being treated with the courtesy of a lady~?“

Another bonk. ”Daffy boys are run through with swords and left outside for crow's pinochle, you know. National decree by the Queen herself.”

“Oo,” Vincent made a face, squinting his eyes at his little sister and pointing at her. “You, my sword maiden, are malevolent.” A swat at the sword and a rustle of his fingers through her hair with very audible protest, and Vincent rose up and wandered across the floor to Claudia at last. Francis was naturally tailing him, fixing her hair with grumbles beneath her breath and huffs. “Ma?“

Ma — Claudia — was somewhere on the nearest lounge buried beneath a long draped blanket, a shawl, a slumbering wolf, and fresh curly wood shavings, her wood cutter's blade fiercely at work shaping out the crude satyr. Her brows popped in acknowledgement, white-pupiled eyes flicking up from her work. ”Aye? Are we ready to move outside?” She inquired with a grin and squint of the eyes. Oh yes, despite the horrible fact that it was sheet upon sheet upon sheet of snow out there, Claudia would expertly drum up the interest of playing in it with the children. Just because she hated the blasted cold did not mean they needed to inherit her grudge for the season!

But lo, her eyes hooked onto the Gelert and lit up into a bloom. “Ohhh.”

“It's for you.” Vincent offered, hopping up next to his mother, never minding the wood chips. Francis flanked on the other side, very much minding the wood chips and sweeping them off before getting cozy and burying her face into Gelert's coat. “Hidden in the tree.”

Crooning with adore, Claudia abandoned her work to cradle the toy and bring it in close to embrace, stroking fingers over the head and tapping at the little ears, her expression completely melted with drooping lips and a matching hum. ”Did you fall asleep again? You got a pup now!” She remarked to the wolf, who only snored in response. Her eyes rolled and a hand clapped heartily at his side with affection before pinching at the name tag.

Ah, there it was. A knowing, twisting smile grew across unpainted lips. Her heartbeat skipped a few regulated pulses. Vincent and Francis both observed, sharing a look with one another that matched in thought before glancing back to their mother and her 'mysterious' unnamed gift.

“Isn't that the sweetest little wolf ya ever seen?” Claudia asked, winding both arms around her children to yank them in and hug them close, patting the small wolf to her chest. “Soft the touch, too. Either of you really felt him?” Her head tilted, wiggling it at Francis's nose and making it give her a kiss, which made her face scrunch, yet earned a small smile in its wake. “He's even got a ribbon! I don't know whether to keep it tied, or put it on one of you.”

“All the better to noose Vinny with.” Francis hummed, leaning her head into Claudia's shoulder and finally reaching up to actually pet the little wolf plush, stroking the top of its noggin. Claudia gasped with false shock, hand drawn to her chest.

“Ma, she is wicked this morning.” Vincent shot, fist pinning to his cheek. “I don't think Franny should have gotten any presents for such behavior. She's likely to turn green and grow warts with that very attitude. It's more fitting for a goblin.”

“I am deserving of them. I have dealt with you all this year, have I not?” Francis clicked. “You are utterly incorrigible and sneaky as a fox.”

Vincent fluttered his eyes at Claudia. “I?”

“You.” Claudia smirked, gently elbowing his shoulder. Her son only sighed defeated, shoulders slumped. “She does have a point, you know.”

“If I may say,” Tanaka spoke from his perch behind the chaise, a gentle but impish smile of his own on his face. “he has you for a role model, my Lady.”

A scoff! “I?!“ Claudia exclaimed.

”You.“ All three responded.

”Damn and double damn.“ She relented, holding mini Gelert up to her face and wiggling him. ”Am I worthy of this persecution, little Gelert?“

The toy wolf's eyes only shined in the light of the morning. While it held no opinion itself just yet, perhaps the stealthy gifter would be a fourth to agree.

[tricks-tickles]

merry (late) christmas and a happy new year to @blue-little-angel! trust me to finish this one singular day before the deadline haha, thank you to @squealing-santa for bearing w me. anyway here is your fic! i may have misread your prompt a little and so this is only sigma and nikolai but i hope you’re still happy with it. This is also my first bsd fic so sorry if the timeline/characterisation/vibes are off haha

ANYWAY

word count: 1228

pairing: Lee!Sigma & Ler!Nikolai

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Sigma~!’

He stayed very quiet. Focus on work: read over that paperwork… sign on the line, okay looking good-

‘Siiigma!’

Maybe if he was quiet enough Nikolai just wouldn’t see him. Like a T-Rex, if it’s not moving it can’t see it.

‘Ah! There you are~.’

Shit.

Out of all the members of the Decay of Angels, Nikolai was Sigma’s least favourite. He was far too unhinged, occasionally visiting Sigma just to threaten him as a joke, or play around with him. Never really hurting him though, Sigma suspected that Fyodor had ordered him not to.

That was another thing. Nikolai hated any time Sigma spent with Fyodor. Few as it was, in Nikolai’s opinion it was time that should have been spent with him instead. Nevermind that they were only discussing their great plan, or giving meagre updates on the Casino, according to Nikolai that was time that ought to have been spent with him, Fyodor’s best friend or boyfriend or whatever.

Sigma truly did not wish to be a part of either of their schemes. All he wanted to do was run his Casino. And yet.

“Sigma!” Nikolai pouted, “Why were you ignoring me?”

Sigma took in a long, measured breath.

“I did not mean to ignore you, I was just focussed on my work.” Which I would love to get back to, he thought bitterly.

“Oh, okay!” Nikolai said, taking a seat on his desk, scattering papers to the floor. Sigma leaned down to pick them up.

“It’s just… what were you up to today?” Nikolai said, seeming earnestly curious.

Sigma leaned back up, shuffling the stack back together and setting them down neatly on the desk. “I had breakfast with my head of staff, then had a brief meeting with Fyodor-”

“See,” Nikolai interrupted, “That’s what I heard, but I thought it couldn’t be true because Fyodor was meant to meet with me this morning and I thought ‘There’s no way my best friend Dostoy would blow me off for you!’, But now you’re telling me he did? Why would Dostoy do that?” He leaned in closer, kicking his feet childishly, “I think you must have done something… forced him.”

“I can assure you,” Sigma put on his best ‘Manager’ voice, “That I did in no way force Fyodor to meet with me, nor did I have any idea of your plans.”

“Hmm…” A mischievous grin broke out on Nikolai’s face, “If you say so~!”

For a second, Sigma hoped that would be all. For a second, he turned back to his desk and lifted his hand to the paper on top of the stack, when all of the papers were suddenly lifted away from him. He looked up, mouth open in protest as Nikolai tossed the papers into his cloak.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, a fluttering noise at the end of the room as the papers scattered out of Nikolai’s portal.

He did not turn to look, did not sigh, or even blink. Nikolai’s face was stretched into a massive, wobbly grin, as though he was trying not to laugh. It did not last long, as he burst into a loud, maniacal laugh. Now Sigma did sigh, as he raised from the chair and walked to the mess at the end of the room.

Apparently Nikolai did not deem this punishment enough, for as soon as he had turned his back he felt a heavy weight flop on top of him, arms wrapping around his core.

“Oh Sigma~.” Nikolai sang in his ear, and began prodding at his sides.

Fuck.

He tried to keep his composure, but Nikolai’s fingers were relentless, working their way under his blazer and pinching gently at his sides.

“Nik- Nikol- Nihikolahai! Stop!”

But it was too late, from his first laugh he knew he was a goner. Nikolai was like a shark, once he tasted blood (giggles) he was relentless. See, he may not have harmed Sigma, at least not physically, so his new favourite way to extract revenge came in the form of… tickles. Oh the humanity.

“Tickle tickle, Sigma~” Nikolai whispered, wiggling his fingers along his sides. Sigma felt his legs begin to give out as he fought against the laughter blooming within himself.

“I prohohomihihise! Ack- I did nohohohot fohohorce Fyodohohor to mehehehehehet mehehehe.” Sigma choked out, falling to his knees as Nikolai grew heavier on his back.

“Oh I know that, as if you could have any influence on Dostoy~.” As he spoke Nikolai’s hands worked up his body, pinching at his ribs and making him writhe.

Sigma squealed, his hands jumping up to weakly push Nikolai away, “Thehehen whahahat dohoho yohohouhu wahahahant!”

“You work too hard, Sigma. I’m just helping you relax.” Nikolai pouted.

“No yohohouhuhu aren- Hey!” Sigma’s arm slammed down as his quick fingers began to flutter under his arm.

“Sure I am. You don’t believe me?” Nikolai grinned, before putting on a hurt voice, “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Nohohohohoho!” Sigma called, even though that was exactly what he was doing. One of Nikolai’s hands was attempting to wriggle into his armpit, while the other was wrestling with his wrist, clamped tightly against his chest.

Nikolai rested his head on Sigma’s shaking shoulder. “I think you are~,” He cooed, “I don’t like liars.”

Sigma began to protest weakly, as Nikolai gripped his wrist and slowly forced his arm up, and into his cape.

It disappeared. There was a soft glow in front of them as his hand reappeared on the floor in front of them, and the portal tightened until he couldn’t pull it back through. He twisted till he was looking at Nikolai, still crouched over him and beaming.

“Noo, Nikolai please- just let me get back to work, you could see Fyodor now! Don’t waste your time on me, please.”

“Hmm,” He appeared to be considering it, but Sigma knew better than that by now. He braced himself.

“Nope~!” Nikolai called, and his fingers came skittering under Sigma’s arm.

He shrieked, pulling as hard as he could, but to no avail. He could do nothing but fall into hysterical cackles as his worst spot was clawed at mercilessly. He fell to the side a little, practically slumped in Nikolai’s arms as he half-hugged him to get at his spot, his other hand holding his cloak open.

“NIHIHIKOKOLAHAIHI!” Sigma cried.

“Is something the matter?” Came his shit eating response.

“YEHEHEHES, IHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!! PLEHEHEAHAHSE!” Nikolai’s response was to dig deeper, the tips of his fingers scratching into the divot under his arm while his thumb dug into Sigma’s ribs. He tipped his head back and laughed, now fully boneless against Nikolai.

After a long moment, he realised that Nikolai had stopped. He released the portal and Sigma’s arm came crashing through. For a second he lay there, panting, until he realised he was lying in Nikolai’s lap and shot up.

Nikolai followed him up, snickering, “You looked so comfortable~.” He teased.

Sigma blushed. “Yes well- is that all?” He really had no idea how to end these ‘sessions’.

“Mhm!” Nikolai said, skipping away, “I think I’ll go see if Dostoy wants to have tea with me, bye!”

And just like that, he was gone. Sigma turned around and sat heavily at his desk, still somewhat short on breath.

There was silence, then another fluttering of paper. He looked up, confused and blinked at the messy stack that had appeared on his desk, only catching the last golden glimmer of a portal. Sigma swung round in his chair, but Nikolai was gone.

One single piece of paper drifted from the top of the stack towards the floor.

Sighing, Sigma picked it up and got back to work.

[chestnutisland]

Hope y'all are having a good holiday! And for those who don't celebrate it, I hope you have a great day as well!

[airxn]

i have been gifted hot choccy milk .u.

[mayarparker]

Merry Christmas @wolfontheloose

[blackbird-brewster]

Not gonna lie, fam. It's been a rough few days, dealing with some wild drama and now Aunty arrived today for her annual stay with us, and it's already become ten times more stressful within a few hours of her arrival.

I have really been trying to get into the festive spirit this year, but damn, if I'm not already exhausted. Being people is fuckin hard.

This is my reminder to everyone, take breaks, look after your wellbeing, and rest when you can. This time of year can be so friggin stressful.

Even if I'm not posting actively, I'm around. Feel free to hit up my inbox if you need a friend to talk to

[randomoranges]

iiiiiiit's the return of christmas song bonanza fics! i've had this idea in my head since october 2022 when the backstreet boys released their xmas song cd. when i heard this ony particular song, this idea came to me. however, since it's not the usual Happy Christmas Fic, i didnt feel in the right mood to write it and then actual real life stuff happened.

then, this year, more real life stuff happened that was more similar to the main idea of the fic, so i channelled these feelings into this thing.

writing's been really hard recently.

this could be part of the rock star au from ages ago but it could also be just another piece that exists under the christmas song bonanza universe.

the ending is left vague and unresolved on purpose

Same Old Lang Syne

Étienne paces the nondescript hotel room he’s in. He doesn’t like it and quite frankly, the one part of his job he hates is this bit; the constant travelling and the parade of hotels he goes in and out of. He could have roomed with any of his bandmates, or even his sister, but the idea of being with any of them post-show, right now, makes his skin itch. He both desperately needs his space and fears being alone, but one of those two things seems worse than the other, at the moment.

He clutches his phone tightly and waits and prays for the line to pick up on the other end. He knows it’s late. Or early. Or – not the time one should be calling, but it’s – it’s been tradition for so long. To call. After a show. To hear Edward’s voice. To reconnect (or attempt to, as it has been of late.) And – right now, he could really use Edward’s voice – a sign, really, that – it’s not all lost. That there’s some shred of normalcy left. Hope. Something. Anything.

It's Christmas Eve, after all, somewhere. He’s a bit disoriented between jet lag, the time it is where he’s at and the time it might be where Edward’s at. But, he’s sung enough about the magic of Christmas and such. It would be nice if it could manifest itself for him. At least this one time. Étienne figures he deserves about that much.

He’s partially convinced that he’ll need to hang up and call again – or give up entirely, when finally, he hears a click.

“What?”

Étienne’s heart stills at the cold and icy tone he gets from Edward. God – that voice used to be so warm and sweet in his ear. Full of laughter and wonder. Amused fondness and the likes.

Fuck, but what had he done, really to let it all go to shit? When had it all changed from fondness to resentment?

He stumbles through the words he’s wanted to say. Tries, really, to stumble through the words he’s wanted to say and rehearsed in his mind on the way back from the venue to this bland hotel he can’t even stand anymore. It’s funny, considering, really. He’s just performed for hundreds of people and yet he can’t find the right thing to say to his – partner.

It had been so easy.

Maybe it had been too easy.

And maybe, really, somewhere along the way, he had taken it all for granted and assumed that it would always work and be this way.

(I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you. We can figure it out. Please. Please. I need you. Please.)

“Are you drunk? Is that why you called? D’you have any idea what time it is over here?”

Edward sounds – upset. Tired. Angry. Hurt. (God, he sounds so done with it all. He wonders even why he bothered to answer. Who is to say that Étienne hadn’t interrupted him with a lover? Who is to say that Edward hadn’t been on his way out? For good. Forever. Ready to move on, while he desperately tried to cling to the last of what they once had. If only he knew how to patch it all back together and make it work again. He could change. Fuck he’d change, he’d quit, he’d do anything – anything!)

(Would he though?)

(Isn’t that why they’re here?)

(Does he really even want to fix all of this? Isn’t he tired as well?)

He’s in a nondescript hotel room with the same stock-standard furniture void of any personality. He’s been here once like he’s been here ten thousand times. It’s familiar and foreign all at the same time. He could describe this room better than his own back home and yet, it’s the first time he’s set foot in this space. Edward is presumably in their old home. Or – at least, not following him on tour, as he had for so long.

And, really, at first it was okay.

At first, it had been fine.

Because Edward had moved up in his job and it meant that he had bigger obligations. Étienne had been proud, obviously, but he supposes now, thinking back to it, that it was where the changes had started. Edward coming to less shows. Their conflicting schedules. His own wayward ways. It had grown. Expanded. Turned into some big quantum drift where it felt as though he was living with a stranger the few times they did manage to be in the same place at the same time.

And, really, at first, it wasn’t so bad.

They always had an understanding. Edward had never minded the way he was. It had never meant anything, anyways, when he picked up some eager person to warm his bed for the night. It was the post-adrenaline high of performing. It was his own way to combat his loneliness and the nondescript hotel rooms that made him want to scream.

He wonders when the line had blurred. (He supposes he knows. He knows he supposes it happened gradually. When he was back home, and Edward was away. When lovers had appeared in their own home. When the bed had been warmed by others, only for Edward, or even him, to come back home to find the usual empty spot occupied by someone else. When it had become easier to turn to strangers instead of his own partner.)

And, instead of using words – instead of telling Edward how he felt, instead of Edward telling him how he felt, they’d both said nothing and carried on with their lives, moving further away from one another, until the chasm they’d created threatened to swallow them whole. Until, if Étienne looked back, he no longer saw the man he had fallen for, but instead some stranger he had once known.

(He’d noticed it, really, with their phone calls. When at first the messages had been funny and flirty. When every one of them had started or ended with “I miss you, when are you coming back”. When between one show and another, it had changed to “Sorry, I’m busy” and when time zones became the convenient excuse. And then, when he hadn’t even felt like calling up Edward after a show and so he hadn’t. And Edward hadn’t bothered sending him a text.)

And how much it had hurt when he’d realised how broken they had become.

Maybe it’s the season that has made him more nostalgic, or maybe he really misses home, but something had made him call Edward tonight and he knows that if he could, he’d go back in a heartbeat. (Or, maybe, what he really misses is the ease of his old life. Of Edward by his side. Of the possibilities the future held instead of the black hole he seems to be aware of looming on the horizon.)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He finally answers when Edward doesn’t say anything else. He wants to apologise for hundreds of other things, but maybe he can do that when he goes back home. Maybe, they can sit and talk. Reconnect. Find solutions. “The show’s over and I wanted to…”

What does he want? Truly. What does he want.

(Edward’s laughter. Sitting on a couch together wearing cozy jumpers. He has his keyboard on his lap and he’s improvising some silly songs. Beside him, Edward sits close, their bodies touching, with his arm on his shoulder. His cheeks are pink with mirth, and he looks absolutely lovely. Étienne belts one song after the other, making up the lyrics as he goes along, and he wishes every evening could be like this.)

(Soft mornings. Cozy nights. Talking with Edward ‘til late at night. Finding him in a crowded room. Kissing Edward senseless after a show. Melting in his embrace. Feeling as if they are once more on the same page and want the same things.)

“I wanted to hear your voice.” He finally admits. Once upon a time, Edward’s voice had been able to calm his greatest anxieties and soothe all his worries away. Once upon a time, Edward’s voice had brought him nothing but joy and love. Now, there are times when he fears what it is Edward’s voice will tell him.

He hears Edward let out a breath, wonders if he doesn’t pass his hand through his hair, as he’s done countless times when he’s been unsure how to answer.

“Étienne, don’t.”

But Étienne ignores him. “I know I won’t be home for Christmas, but when I get back, we could do something. We can go out. Or stay in. We can catch up on all the occasions we’ve missed, yeah?” He tries to sound hopeful instead of desperate. He knows he doesn’t succeed but he doesn’t stop even though maybe he should admit defeat and quit while he’s ahead.

“You always say that. You say that and then you don’t.”

Étienne doesn’t know when Edward gave up. He doesn’t know when either of them started giving up, but he’s not ready to throw the towel just yet. He truly believes they should give it one more chance. One more desperate chance. Because Edward has been his inspiration for so long and they’ve been through so much already, so why should this be the cataclysm to their end when they’ve already made it this far? Why now? Why now when they’ve braved every other hurdle? Why should this one be the exception when he still wants and needs Edward in his life?

They could be good again. He needs them to be good again.

“It’ll be different this time, I promise. Look, I know I can change. I’ll change, okay?”

Étienne’s never begged before. Not for this. But something about tonight changes him, as if he feels the end of their relationship unravelling for good and he needs to grasp the ends and tie them back together before it’s lost forever. He needs Edward to understand this foreboding feeling he has. He needs Edward to believe in them just a little longer.

Edward lets a long moment of silence laps until he quietly speaks again. “You always say that.” He already sounds so very far away. Further away than he’s ever been. “Nothing ever ends up changing. I think it’s best we realise that and save what we can before we do each other more damage. I have to go. It’s late.” His tone is final and his mind seems to have been made up and Étienne already breaks inside. It was always one thing being aware that this was going to happen. It is another thing entirely hearing it.

“Edward, wait.” He pleads, one more time. One last shot. One last hope. “This time will be different. I know it can be different. We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

“Good night, Étienne.”

He’s always been a stubborn fool and he’s not about to change now. “I’ll see you when I get back.” He reiterates, clinging to this one promise. There’s a moment when he thinks maybe Edward will finally reach out, but then the line goes silent, and the call is over.

Étienne looks at the screen on his phone and watches it go black. He pockets the phone away and lets the silence of the nondescript hotel room take over.

Outside the wind picks up and howls, and Étienne walks out.

FIN

[payidaresque]

Payidaresque's Birthday and XMAS Celebration Event 2k23!

It's almost that time of the year! 🥳 Tommorow, January 6th, is my birthday, with Xmas following up, which is celebrated on January 7th here in Russia, and i wanted to make something special to celebrate it with you! Technically, it's 2 events in one, because i love interacting with you guys and want you to be a part of this special day! January 6th — Favorite characters as slavic gods and symbols; January 7th — Send me an assumption and i'll tell you if it's true or false | Send me an emoji and i'll tell you my favorite work of yours (mutuals only)

So tune in for the next 2 days to see what's coming, i can't wait to show what i have prepared and i really hope you like it 💜

[mayarparker]

Merry Christmas @jeremybeacom

[mayarparker]

Merry Christmas @matthewbaudelaire

[mayarparker]

Merry Christmas @thad-spaulding (and Norma)

[mayarparker]

Merry Christmas @wyatt-hennessy

[mayarparker]

Merry Christmas @marsdenlee (and Maria Elena)

[mayarparker]

Merry Christmas @werewolfroman

[mayarparker]

Merry Christmas @bashbaudelaire