#Christmas at Sugar Plum Manor

[sharpewords]

Review: Christmas at Sugar Plum Manor by Roseanna M. White.

Publisher: Bethany House Publishers. Release Date: September 1st, 2024. Category: Historical Romance, Christian Fiction. Source: From NetGalley in exchange for an honest review/I also own a paperback copy. Synopsis from Goodreads: As the beloved stepdaughter of the Earl of Castleton, Lady Mariah Lyons cherishes her home at Plumford Manor, but her idyllic world will be threatened when the…

[hiddenmoonbeam]

The Nutcracker

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin | ~4k words | Read on Ao3

Here we are, with my entirely unplanned and belated Christmas gift to anyone interested, an au I never knew I needed. It only exists because Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy got stuck in my head out of nowhere one night when I was trying to sleep, and once the idea had formed it wouldn’t leave me alone: a cursed boy, a mouse king turned grey-backed rat, and a good-hearted hero looking at a thing deemed broken and undesirable, and seeing someone lovely instead. This is the beginning of the story. I might write the ending too, because I keep thinking about it. The fate of the middle is more uncertain, though I do have some ideas for that as well. We’ll see how it goes. But for now, I hope you enjoy this. Have a lovely end of the year, and beginning of the next. 💖

It’s Christmas Eve and every inch of Black Manor shines. First the ice sculptures in the garden, followed by the fragrant evergreen garlands hanging around windows and door frames. Candles flicker in chandeliers leading the way from the gates to the great hall. And in there stands the most beautiful tree, so high the star at its top nearly touches the ceiling. It casts a magical light over the sea of gathered guests, glimmering in the women’s dresses and jewellery. The banquet table overflows with delicious dishes, and servants silently pass through the chatting groups carrying trays of sparkling glasses. 

Maybe once upon a time, Sirius enjoyed these occasions. When he was too young to attend, and could spend these endless and magical hours sneaking away from the nanny to spy on the whole spectacle together with his best friend. But that was before said best friend’s parents expressed one too many unorthodox opinions, and the family no longer received an invitation to the yearly party. Before Sirius’s own parents decided he wasn’t a good enough heir, or brother, or potential husband – or person, in general. And now at 16, he would rather sneak away and hide in the attic than play this game of performative small talk with distasteful relatives and their equally bad acquaintances. 

Which is exactly what he’s successfully managed to do. Once he’d made sure enough guests had seen him, greeted them and listened to them boast about themselves, countered backhanded compliments with his own, shot back with a smile and such finesse they wouldn’t realise the insult until later – once all that was done, he made his escape. Praying his mother would be too busy acting the perfect hostess to have time to search for him.

He’s been here in the attic for at least an hour by now, reading his book by candlelight between boxes and old furniture. It’s all calm and quiet, but for the sudden scratching sound somewhere to his right. He ignores it at first, but as the noise grows worse, probably because whatever is causing it got company, he gets up to check what uninvited guests have joined his solitude. And much like he suspected he finds the pair of rats in a dusty corner behind an old table, chewing on what looks like a wooden toy. Sirius shoos at the pests, and watches as they skitter back into the dark. He’d ask where the cats are when they’re needed, but he knows they’re probably being fed by the cook in the kitchen. 

Sirius’s gaze returns to the toy – a nutcracker, he realises. He sighs as he picks up the battered thing; one arm hangs loose, the paint is peeling off, and long jagged cuts cross the wood, both from time and the rats’ teeth. It’s not much to look at, yet something about it tugs at his curiosity. Like a whisper of something old and forgotten. With all its faults it’s rather misplaced in this Manor, where everything is clean and polished, and Sirius can’t help but relate. He wonders where it came from. The attic offers no answers.

It’s risky to return downstairs, but Sirius can no longer focus on the book he brought with him. So as silently as he can manage he sneaks down to his own floor, intending to retrieve the tool box he’s hidden under a floorboard in his room. Before he can get there though, he sees his mother by his locked door, demanding his presence downstairs. She hasn’t yet noticed him at the other end of the hallway, so he quickly slips into the old nursery instead, hoping no one will think to look for him in there among the covered furniture and toys neither he nor his brother has played with for years. It’s a ghostly room; decorated for Christmas like the rest of the Manor despite its lack of use, yet shrouded in shadows cast by the moonlight outside. The tree stands by the long windowed wall opposite the door, visible from outside, all for appearances. Everything else has been frozen in time, waiting for the next generation to bring life to it yet again.

Beneath a white sheet, a few steps into the room, Sirius uncovers the Clockwork Castle the Black cousins once received from the eccentric old clockmaker and inventor, Mr Lupin. The beautiful creation seems to glimmer with a timeless magic, even after all these years. It’s been nearly a decade, but Sirius still remembers his younger self’s fascination with the mechanics of it all. Mr Lupin showed him how to operate it, as well as the box of tools hidden beneath the silvery swans frozen still on the moat. He’s glad for it now, as he finds what he needs to fix the Nutcracker’s broken arm.

In the light from the candle, he settles in the corner farthest away from the door, not to risk the light breaking through the cracks around it and giving him away. Right behind him the moon shines through the tall windows, reflecting in the glass doors of the old toy cabinet. Close beside it, the grandfather clock ticks past eleven thirty.

While he works he tells the Nutcracker in a hushed voice about how much he wishes he could leave his family and the duties they’re set on forcing upon him. His mother caught him kissing a boy last summer, and now she insists on matching him with a suitable wife before he comes of age. Several of these young women are downstairs tonight, waiting for him to show himself again, to dance with them, and behave like the heir he is. How pathetic they’d find him if they knew he’d instead hidden away in this room surrounded by distant memories and childish toys. 

“There,” he says finally, placing the Nutcracker on its feet on the floor with a pleased smile at his handiwork. “As new.” 

The grandfather clock in the corner chimes for midnight – once, twice… but the third one falters. Sirius frowns up at the clock, the slowing pendulum. The fourth chime comes out eerie, the muffled music from downstairs suddenly quiet. 

At the fifth chime, a gust of wind swoops past, from nowhere; the Nutcracker topples over; the candle flame flickers, dies. A sparkle runs up his spine as Sirius rises to his feet, the comfort from just a moment ago now gone. Accompanying the still slowing chimes of the clock, he hears whispers and scurrying noises growing from inside the walls, like hundreds of tiny feet climbing closer. 

Sirius turns, and the room spins with him. Spins and spins, everything in it growing out of proportion while the ghostly chimes echo between the walls, through his head. He stumbles and barely catches himself against an accent table, vaguely aware through the turmoil that the height of it seems wrong; his knees hit the floor and he can no longer reach the edge.

Once everything stills, even the clock now frozen right before the final chime of midnight, Sirius stares up at furniture ten times their normal size, towering above him where he lies on the floor. To his right stands the extinguished candle, now nearly as tall as him. And to his left is the Nutcracker, the toy shimmering as the stiffness melts away, revealing a boy with skin scarred the same way the wood was marked. Sirius stares, mouth agape, while the boy, not quite human but also far from a lifeless piece, blinks back at him, eyes wide. His joints crack painfully as he moves, his motions slower than Sirius’s as they both rise to their feet.

Sirius’s head races with thoughts, one wilder than the last trying to make sense of what is happening. He must have fallen asleep – but that idea even crossing his mind suggests he actually is wide awake. Shrunk to the size of a doll, standing before a Nutcracker-turned-boy. Mind full of questions, but unable to voice any of them.

For a long moment the other boy doesn’t seem to know what to say either. He watches Sirius with a mesmerised expression, eyes flickering back and forth over Sirius’s features. As if it was Sirius who just magically came alive, wood giving way to that adorable face. Then it comes, a low, soft, “oh”. It pierces Sirius’s chest, etches into his core. Oh.

Something sad falls over the boy’s face then, his whole posture, as his eyes trail down to his scarred hands and worn clothes. Sirius knows that look; embarrassment, shame. As much as he hates seeing it, he understands the stark contrast between the two of them. Sirius in his beautifully embroidered waistcoat made especially for the festive occasion, and this boy in a uniform with the red paint peeling off. Because on closer inspection, Sirius realises the fabric isn’t fabric at all; it’s still wood, as are his hands, his almost life-like skin, even the soft curls peeking out from under his hat remain still in the same position no matter how he moves his slightly too large head. Yet he somehow feels more real than any of the guests downstairs.

Sirius reaches out, fingers to the boy’s wrist – and those pretty brown eyes meet his own again. Something passes between them, invisible, curious. Sirius opens his mouth, just about to speak, when a sudden noise from behind him breaks the moment. The boy’s gaze snaps over Sirius’s shoulder, his expression shifting to alarm. Sirius turns, and what he sees freezes the blood in his veins.

All over the other half of the room, from the Christmas tree to the Clockwork Castle, dozens upon dozens of rats have gathered, even more spilling out from the hole in the wall. And at the front stands the largest of them, risen on its hind legs and impossibly tall, a sword in hand, and head crowned with gold. 

The boy gasps, fingers clutching the sleeve of Sirius’s shirt – and suddenly the memories hit, old and filed away, of that Christmas when Mr Lupin presented them the Clockwork Castle. Of the Nutcracker found beneath the tree, and the story Mr Lupin told them about how it’d come to be; of far away lands steeped in magic, where toys come alive among gingerbread houses and castles covered in sugary frosting; of the vengeful Rat King and the cursed princess, and the young man finally breaking it by offering her the nut no one else had been able to crack.

And of course; the curse that befell him instead, turned him wooden and ugly. How the princess’ rejection made him shunned by all and cast out of society. Of the Rat King’s oath to hunt him down; the battle and love that must be won to free him again.

Staring back at the boy now, the terror on his face, Sirius’s own voice whispers in his mind from the past, What’s his name? Mr Lupin looked at him, startled and confused. So Sirius, slightly annoyed that this adult didn’t understand his perfectly reasonable question, added with a precocious tone, He must have a name, has he not?

“Remus,” he breathes now, echoing Mr Lupin’s soft response, and all of a sudden he understands the sadness in the old man’s eyes. The Nutcracker boy looks at Sirius with a similarly startled expression, and through the wood and growing age gap, Sirius sees the resemblance. “You’re Mr Lupin’s son.” 

It’s insane. Absolutely impossible. Yet Sirius is convinced it’s true – with the ghost of a nod, an illusion of tears in his eyes, the long lost Remus Lupin stands before him, the cursed boy from a bedtime story somehow alive and here in Sirius’s old nursery.

“Are you done hiding, little Nutcracker?” the Rat King calls, his wheezing voice sending shivers down Sirius’s spine. “Will you finally let me end your sad existence once and for all?” 

Sirius doesn’t know how he manages to push away from the insanity of it all to act. He scans the room, the army of rats in the opposite end of it moving in on them, and the closed door behind their growing number. Even if Sirius could reach it, there’s no way he would be able to open it while this small. Which only leaves the impossible option to fight, the two of them alone against a murderous army that would have been scary enough at his right size. Now, it’s downright terrifying. 

On the floor beside them lie the small screwdrivers he’d used to fix Remus’s loose arm. He dives for them now, desperate for at least some form of weapon; they’re heavy and awkward, and he hears the Rat King’s mocking laughter as he struggles to hold each with only one hand. He pushes one to Remus, who clumsily manages not to drop it. It’s clear it won’t do. They’ll need something better, something more sword-like, something made for their size–

Sirius’s racing thoughts and feverishly searching gaze finally settle on the toy cabinet, and fragile hope leaps in his chest. If only they can get inside, they’ll have an arsenal of swords and rifles, even cannons, at their disposal, though he has no idea how well any of those toys will actually work. But it’s something. He even thinks he sees movement in there, though he doesn’t dare wish for what that could mean. 

With a quick glance over his shoulder at the approaching rats, Sirius grabs Remus’s hand, and runs. 

“I’m not a fighter, I–I’m only, I was only a clockmaker apprentice,” Remus stammers out. “I don’t know how to–”

“I’m right beside you.” Sirius squeezes his hand, maybe as much to reassure himself as Remus, who stares at him in disbelief. “We will do it together.”

Remus shakes his head, though he looks ill from refusing the help. “I can’t let you–you have nothing to do with this. You might get hurt–”

But I do, Sirius thinks, and he can sense it, somewhere deep down, that it is true. Mr Lupin must have known what he was doing, leaving his cursed son here of all places, all those years ago. There must be more to the story than what he revealed to them back then. There’s a reason this is happening now; a reason Sirius has been magicked into it all, shrunk to fit the missing piece of the puzzle.

When they finally reach the toy cabinet, Sirius sees to his great relief that the movements weren’t an illusion of the moonlight. Behind the glass doors the residents of every shelf now stand up, joining forces to push them open from the inside. As their own rapidly growing side leaps past to the sound of the Rat King’s rage, Sirius can’t help a mad grin from spreading wide. He knows these toys; he gave half of them their personality, and the rest he learned from his brother and cousins. Tin soldiers with many a battle beneath their belts, wooden horses ready to charge, teddy bears with protection sewn into their very seams. Even his cousins’ pretty dolls gather at the rear, brandishing their parasols and purses with determined looks on their rosy faces.

They’re not alone, after all.

One of the toys hands Remus a sword – a real one, it looks like, made sharper and deadly by the same magic that woke them all up. Remus eyes it warily. 

“Do you know what’s needed to break your curse?” the doll asks, while a tin general barks orders for the gathered defence now between them and the rats. 

Remus looks towards the Rat King who swings at the first toys within reach with maddening force, and his wooden hand trembles a little as he grips tighter around the hilt. “I do,” he whispers. 

The doll gives a curt nod. “But you are not yet ready,” she continues. “The Rat King is a great warrior, and tonight you would not stand a chance against him. You must first return home, and learn how to defeat him.”

“Home?” Sirius asks, confused.

She points with her arm, and as if on cue, the Clockwork Castle lights up above the chaos of rats and toys, the mechanics coming alive, a musical hum rising from its core. “Once you’ve entered he cannot follow you that way, as those gates only work for toys and invited guests. It will buy you time.”

“But… the rest of you–”

“We can be mended. We are not fragile like bleeding humans.” She sends Sirius a look at that, before turning back to Remus. “Nor cursed to oblivion should we lose.” 

Sirius nods, while accepting another sword from a different toy. Again he scans the scene for their best option. The table with the castle still lies behind enemy lines, but the rats around the legs seem unnerved by the musical tunes, scattering away from it. Still, they will have to fight their way over there. He’s never had to fend for his or anyone else’s life before, not properly, but at least he’s somewhat prepared thanks to his fencing lessons. Remus on the other hand looks ill again; if a wooden face could pale, his would have lost all colour. But meeting Sirius’s eyes, determination still settles over his features.

It’s chaos. Tin cannon balls break through the army from a distance, the firearms powered by what can only be magic. Rats tear into the soft bellies of the dolls and teddy bears, stuffing spreading over the floor like fluffy intestines. The bizarre scenario is made even worse by the sickening feeling of slicing the sword through actual flesh, the screaming rats falling at Sirius’s feet. His hair, loose from the ribbon at his neck, whips into his face as he turns to fend off the next attack.

The Rat King fights to get to them. But the toys do their best to keep him away, shielding Remus while helping to clear a path towards the Clockwork Castle. Sirius doesn’t know why they’re so ready to protect him, or how they’re aware of his foretold and final confrontation with this vicious enemy. But it’s hardly the strangest part of the night, and so he lets his questions slide to the back of his mind, full focus instead on the task at hand.

They reach the table, wooden guards from the Castle already at the edge of it, throwing down a string of yarn for them to climb. Sirius pushes Remus towards it, not allowing him to argue which of them should go last. “I’m right behind you,” he urges when Remus hesitates. “Go!”

Behind them, just as Sirius grabs for the end of the string and the guards haul them upwards, the Rat King breaks through the defence. Sirius climbs as fast as he can, hoping against hope the rat won’t manage to follow after. But it’s a futile wish; he digs his claws into the white tablecloth, pulling himself closer with practised strength and speed. Far too soon he’s at Sirius’s feet, cruel eyes shining with malice as he grabs at his ankle, tugging hard. 

Sirius tightens his grip of the string, knuckles whitening, palms burning. He kicks down hard, boot connecting with the Rat King’s ugly snout. He lets out an angry roar, clawing towards Sirius’s leg again. But the force was enough to have him lose his grip of the cloth, and he tumbles back down to the floor.

Heart hammering in his chest, Sirius manages to climb the last bit to the edge. Remus is still there with the toy guards, wide-eyed and reaching down to grab Sirius by the arm. Sirius lets himself be pulled up, and even as the helping guard steps back to let him catch his breath, Remus’s hold on him remains.

One of the guards tells them they must hurry, that the rat is climbing again – and they’re back on their feet, rushing towards the towering, shining Castle now finally so close. They cross the moat, the crystal clear water swirling around the graceful swans gliding over the surface beneath the drawbridge. It’s raised behind them, forming the first solid structure between them and the threat. Cutting it all off like this place in itself is a different world altogether. Or at least an in-between, a break, a moment to breathe.

The courtyard looks even more magical like this, viewed from within rather than observed from above like by a god. Sirius stares, turning in a circle to admire the insane details of Mr Lupin’s handiwork, and how this magical night has spelled it all to life. On every side, figures are moving around, cogs and gears turning in their complicated patterns. Miniature Christmas trees line the roads, dusted with sugary snow and sparkling ornaments. Small lanterns hang on strings between beautifully carved columns, casting the setting in a warm glowing light. To their right a couple of wooden children skate around a frozen pond, a decorative fountain splashing water closeby despite the illusion of cold. To the left, a family of snowmen clad in hats and scarves sway to the tunes of the music. And ahead is the castle itself, front gates glimmering like a portal to yet another realm.

With a lurching sensation in his stomach, Sirius realises that’s because it is.

“The Rat King cannot breach these walls,” a guard informs them. “You will be safe here until the battle is over.” He says the last bit to Sirius, who responds with a grateful nod, though he has no intention to stay behind.

“I cannot thank you enough,” Remus says, also facing Sirius. Not until now does he let go of Sirius’s arm, and he finds he misses the contact instantly. “For all the help to get here, but also for fixing my arm, talking to me…” Sirius’s cheeks heat up when remembering what he’d been saying before all this started. But Remus doesn’t seem the slightest bit judgemental or uncomfortable about it. He’s wearing that mesmerised expression again, eyes flickering over Sirius’s face. “I feel like you even woke me up, though I cannot say how.” 

“I can’t take credit for that,” Sirius chuckles, averting his eyes and scratching at his own neck. His gaze trails back to the gold breaking through the opening gates, a strange, invisible pull tugging him closer.

Beside him, Remus adds apologetically, “I wish I knew how to turn you back to normal.”

“We’ll have to figure that out too, then.” Sirius steps towards the gates, a lot less concerned about his own state than he probably should be. He looks back at Remus, who frowns. “What? I’m coming with you, of course.”

An uncertain pause, then, “Of course.” Remus lets out a little laugh, nervous yet so endearing, before adding softly, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Sirius.”

Remus stills midstep, eyes widening. “Like the star.” 

Sirius almost responds with a good-natured eyeroll, pointing out that hardly warrants such an awed expression. But then he hears Remus’s added murmur, a whisper from the past, echoing the end of Mr Lupin’s tale.

His fate now lies in the hands of the stars.

Sirius freezes too, unease piercing his chest. Mr Lupin’s mysterious words were spoken with promise, hope, as he placed the Nutcracker with the older Black children. Three young girls then, now all of them married off, while Mr Lupin’s son remains in his wooden prison. And it hits Sirius then, that this role was never meant for him. He’s just the one the magic has to settle for, with the desired options gone. The idea of a part to play suddenly doesn’t feel as welcome anymore. Not like this, not if it means he will wield power over the outcome he isn’t supposed to have. It’s one thing to offer help, to do whatever he can to support and encourage. Another entirely to have the future of this already so mistreated boy laid into his hands, trusting him to somehow make the right choice, the one that will save him. It’s too much responsibility, too easy to fail, to ruin everything. And this time he won’t be able to fix him again, like his broken arm.

Remus eyes him in silence for a moment, head tilted. “You can stay here,” he starts, but Sirius quickly shakes his head. 

“No, no it’s not that.” Silence again, while Sirius chews on his lip, his words. “I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what it means, what I’m meant to do.”

Something soft falls over Remus’s face, a small smile meeting Sirius’s frown. “We will figure it out,” he says, holding out his hand. “Together?”

Ahead of them, the gates stand open. Golden light pulsing within the frames. The pull tightens, whispers wordlessly, their destination waiting beyond the shimmering veil. Remus faces it with his back, his edges shining with the magic. Sirius meets his gentle eyes, looks at the scarred fingers still held out between them. And he realises it doesn’t matter he isn’t meant to be here – wanted or not, he’s the help Remus has been given, and he won’t leave his side out of fear of failure. 

So Sirius returns the smile; moves forward; takes Remus’s hand. Gives it a squeeze, to reassure them both. “Yes,” he agrees. “Together.”

And side by side, they enter the unknown.

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne - Christmas Special (10)

All I Want For Christmas Is You - Link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 10/10 - Merry Christmas To All - previous chapter (X)

Words: 3.1K+ words

Summary: Lisa wakes up to a few surprises on Christmas morning.

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Lisa wakes up, sitting up so quickly she nearly gives herself whiplash. Taking deep steady breaths, she finds herself back in Parker Manor, specifically the living room. It was daylight outside, early Christmas morning and the snow had stopped falling. 

The fire had burned out in the fireplace, small clusters of ashes at the base, but the room was still warm. The sunlight shining through the window reflected on the ornaments of the Christmas as Lisa calmed her nerves, adjusting her position. She looked down at herself, finding herself back in her pajamas. 

The spell worked. The Sugar Plum Fairy brought her back home. Or. .  was it really all just a dream?

“Lisa, good morning!” A cherry voice caught her ear as she glanced over, finding Peter B. and Miles already up. “Merry Christmas!”

Lisa jumped, her cheeks flushing as she saw them. She was so caught up in her trance that she didn’t even notice them sitting in the center of the room, Peter B. already dressed for the day, while Miles wore a long sleeve shirt and comfy sweatpants. 

They appeared to be playing with MayDay who had already opened up one of her gifts, a cute little toy doll. Lisa smiled softly at the sight as she managed the energy to pull her legs over the window nook, pushing the blanket off of her. “Merry Christmas to you too,”

“We didn’t wake you, did we?” Miles spoke up, a quick apologetic look in his eyes as he waved at her.

“No, not at all,” She shook her head. “Just a. . . restless sleep is all,”

“You were mumbling in your sleep there for a quick minute,” Peter B. gave her a concerning look. “You feeling okay? Was it a nightmare?”

“No, just a. . .” Lisa was at a loss for words as she tried to describe what exactly she had seen. “Just a very strange dream,”

“Maybe Aunt May was right. No hot chocolate before bed,” Miles disgruntled, shaking his head. 

Soon the rest of the Spiderkids came down to sneak a peek at all the presents, playing with MayDay wanting to show her that ‘Santa Clause came’. Lisa smiled at the sight as the kids talked, trying to predict what gift they got. But there was still someone missing and her heart ached as she glanced over, finding Nutcracker right where she left him on the window nook. 

Lisa smiled at Nutcracker, gently picking him up and setting him down on the coffee table. She reached for her phone, glancing at the lock screen. No messages or missed calls from Miguel. Was he still flying over, or did he make it on the plane?

“Lisa, look outside!” Gwen suddenly spoke up, shaking her shoulder as she pointed at the window. 

The sound of a car catches their ear as Lisa turns to look out the window. It’s a taxi, and stepping out of the back passenger seat was–!

“Miguel!” Lisa squeals as she scrambles out of her makeshift bed at the window nook. 

“Miguel?” Pav repeats, his eyes brimming with excitement. 

Lisa paid no mind to the rest of the Spider-gang as they watched her slip on her boots. She didn’t even bother grabbing her coat as she ran for the door, throwing it open before stepping outside. Miguel hadn’t even taken a step away from the taxi cab when he saw her barreling down the stairs. 

“Hey, where’s the fire?” He cackled, his arms open wide. 

“You’re here!” Lisa exclaims as she jumps into his awaiting arms, hugging him for dear life, tears in her eyes. “You’re actually here!”

“I told you I’d make it, mi amor,” He grinned, his strong arms engulfing her in a warm embrace as he slowly spun her around. “Where’s your jacket, aren’t you cold?” - love 

“Don’t patronize me,” Lisa muttered into his neck.

Miguel laughed again, pulling away just enough so that he could see her face as his hand snaked up to caress her cheek. He leaned in close, pressing a long, tender kiss to her lips. “Merry Christmas, mi Mona Lisa,”

“Feliz navidad guapo,” Lisa grinned up at Miguel, returning the kiss. - Merry Christmas handsome 

“You two come inside now before you catch a cold,” Peter B. called out to them from the door, holding MayDay close to him. 

The baby babbled excitedly seeing Miguel as the spider kids waved at them through the front window. Miguel grabbed his bags from the cab and the pair made their way back inside the manor. Everyone welcomed Miguel with open arms and holidays greetings and now the Spider-Christmas party was officially well under way. 

The rest of the morning went by quickly, but as the old saying goes, time flies when you’re having fun. After eating a quick breakfast, everyone gathered back in the living to open their gifts. The floor was littered with wrapping paper and gift bags as laughter, cheers, and other sounds echoed through the room.

MayDay’s smile was contagious as Peter B. helped her open her gift from Miguel and found that it was a new spider-man beanie, but with Miguel's suit design. MayDay clapped, wanting to immediately put it on. 

“UNKLE MIGAL!” she cheered. 

Hand over her heart, Lisa melted at the sight, leaning into Miguel who wrapped an arm around her. “That is so cute!”

“Miguel, how did you do that?” Peter B.’s  eyes went wide in delight as he helped MayDay adjust it to her liking. 

“MJ helped me make it,” Miguel smiled as he looked up at the red head, offering her an appreciative nod. 

MJ, holding a steaming mug of coffee, smiled back, offering him a toast. 

The gift giving winded down as everyone settled, showing off their new gifts. Gwen played with her new drum sticks, Miles admired his new set of wireless headphones, Hobie got a new guitar, and as it turns out, Aunt May was Pav’s secret santa and surprised him with homemade chai and a trio of tea leaf pouches. The poor boy was beside himself; he couldn't stop crying. 

After a late lunch, it was quiet in the house as Miguel sipped his coffee. He lounged on the couch next to Lisa who cuddled beside him, nestled in the cute sweat he got her. Jess steps into the room, “Hey, don’t mean to interrupt, it’s time for my daily walk and my husband normally spots me, in case this little one decides it's time. Lisa, would you mind coming with me?”

“Oh, sure! Not at all, Jess,” Lisa smiles up at her before glancing over at Miguel, pecking his cheek. “Be back soon,”

“I’ll be waiting,” He smirked over at her as Lisa got up.

Lisa slipped on her boots and coat, making sure she had her phone on her. “If the baby does come knocking, we’ll call you!”

“That would be some Christmas miracle,” Jess grinned before waving the others off. “We’ll be back in a few!”

“Be careful with the ice,” Aunt May waved back, cautioning them as they shut the door. 

The room goes still as they leave, everyone frozen in place as they listen to the sounds of the ladies boots stomping down the front steps. Miles glanced over towards Gwen who was the closest to the window. 

“Are they gone?”

Gwen peeked through the glass before offering them a thumbs up. “All clear,”

Miguel’s face suddenly turned serious as he sat up, setting his coffee down before looking to the rest of the group. “You all know the plan, right?”

“Right!” The kids cheered.

“Alright, it’s showtime people, get to your positions, we got about 5, maybe 7 minutes if we’re lucky,” Miguel instructed as he glanced down at his watch. 

“Let’s move it!” Peter B. ushered the kids to move as they scampered along, grabbing their boots and coats before sneaking out of the house through the back door. He placed a steady hand on Miguel’s shoulder, looking over at his companion. “You ready?”

Miguel reached a hand into his pocket, his fingers clutching on to the small box inside. “More than ready,”

////////

Lisa and Jess take a walk around the woods near the manor, sticking to a hiking trail away from the main roads. The pair talk and gossip among themselves to pass the time. Lisa laughs at a joke Jess made as they turn the corner and something catches Lisa’s eyes. 

There’s a tree decorated with white Christmas lights. Lisa was temporarily captivated with its charm until she glanced over and noticed another tree was decorated with lights, and the one behind it. In fact, a whole row of trees were decorated, as well as the ones across from them.

As if they were leading somewhere. . .

Lisa’s heart fluttered as she glanced over towards Jess. “Uh, did we accidentally walk into one of the neighbors' yards?”

Jess gives Lisa a look that gives off the sense that she knows more than she’s willing to tell. She shrugged her shoulders. “Beats me. Should we see where it goes?”

Lisa takes another glance between the decorated trees and Jess. The fact that her spider-sense wasn’t going off told her that they weren’t in any real danger. But this was all becoming very suspicious as Lisa offered her friend an arm to help her. “Alright then,”

The two girls follow the lights, each flashing and sparkling in different colours. The deeper they went down the path, the more Lisa’s palms began to sweat. Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach, giving her an anxious feeling. What was going on?

Although she couldn’t stop the corner of her lips from going upward as her mind began to wander. 

When they came to the end of the steep trail, Lisa and Jess found themselves in a clearing, free of trees and untouched snow. There was a large tree in the center, decorated with more colourful lights and some ornaments. Surrounding the base of the tree in a large circle were small electrical candles.

Miguel suddenly emerged from behind the tree, stepping around wearing his cozy sweater and gray trench coat. There was a soft smile on his face as he looked towards them, hands behind his back. Lisa’s knees began to quake as she realized his attention was focused solely on her. 

“Wait. . .” Lisa looked between him and Jess, her voice wavering. “What’s going on?”

“Go on, now,” Jess nudges Lisa to start walking over, a big smile on her face. She pulls her arm away from Lisa before showing off her left hand, her engagement and wedding band glistening in the sunlight. “I got mine already. Go and get yours,”

That did it for her. Now it was really starting to sink in as Lisa’s heart swelled, tears threatening to burst free as she glanced back towards Miguel. He didn’t move, waiting patiently for her at the Christmas tree. Managing a shaky breath, Lisa quickly brushed away the tears and slowly began to walk forward. 

With every step, Lisa’s heart pounded in her chest. She fiddled and fidgeted with her fingers to aimlessly distract herself from falling apart completely, because everytime she would look up at Miguel’s face, her cheeks flushed and had to fight the urge to cry tears of joy. She carefully stepped over the line of candles, the snow crunching beneath her boots while approaching Miguel. 

Don’t lose yourself now. Let him do what he needs to do first. 

Miguel’s smile was gentle as his arms relaxed, moving from his back as he reached out to take her hands in his. “Hi,”

“Hi,” Lisa replied back with a nervous, goofy looking grin. “What are you doing?”

“Something I was going to do two weeks ago, but this felt like the better place and time to do it,” Miguel chuckled back as he answered, marveling at the look on Lisa’s face when she realized what he had meant. 

“You mean you– at the restaurant or the ice rink?” She gasped, her mind racing as she shook her head. “Nevermind, this. . . this is perfect,”

“Well, good thing I changed tactics then,” Miguel teased, winking at her.

They both shared a laugh and Lisa could feel her nerves calming briefly. But then she watched Miguel close his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His grip on her hands tightened every so slightly, and when he opened his eyes again, there was nothing but love and devotion in his eyes.

It was time. 

“I didn’t know what to expect when I first met you. But day by day, little by little, you showed and taught me kindness, compassion, and patience. The most I have seen quite possibly in any person I’ve ever met in my life. I know I can be. . . taxing, at times, so the patience I especially admire,” He began, Miguel’s thumb gently brushing against her skin in circular motions. 

“Well, you’re my asshole, remember?” Lisa cracked a smile as they both laughed.

Miguel’s laughter toned down, shaking it off as he composed himself. His fingers brushed past her hands, wrapping his arms around her middle, holding her close. “And don’t you forget it,”

Lisa nodded, her cheeks flushed as she motioned for him to continue. 

“And as the days turned into weeks, and then months, Lisa I… I thought I’d never get a second chance at this. At more than friendship, but when I realized I could, I haven’t and will never look back,”

Lisa could feel a lump in her throat forming, the waterworks threatening to break loose as she smiled at him.

“You helped me learn how to have fun again, and I laugh every time your child-like wonder rubs off on me. Now that it’s been years, and I’m assuming things are going well? Great even?” He raised a curiously teasing brow towards her. 

“Yes, it’s been great,” Lisa nodded her head, giggling softly as a few stray tears raced down her cheeks.

Miguel’s eyes glistened. “I want many more years with you, mi Mona Lisa, and I hope, judging based on your reaction, that you want that to,”

He was just teasing her at this point, edging her on. Lisa laughed again, squeezing his hands. “More than anything!”

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do then. I have one more gift to give,” Miguel gently pulled his hands away from her. He took a step back and Lisa couldn’t stop the sob like gasp that escaped her lips as Miguel got down on one knee. There was a hint of concern in his eyes as he looked at her, “Are you okay?”

Covering her mouth with her lips, Lisa eagerly nodded, ushering him to continue. 

Miguel’s smile never faltered as tears formed in his eyes. “Lisa Kendrick, mi Mona Lisa, my Spider-Muse, mi corazon, mi princesa, will you make me the happiest man in the multiverse. . .” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring. “And marry me?” - my sweetheart, my princess 

The floodgates broke loose. Lisa’s legs quaked as she collapsed, falling to her knees. Instinctively Miguel reached for her with his free hand, his arm wrapped around her to steady her. Lisa sniffled, sucking in a breath as she met his gaze, cupping his face. “Oh, Miguel, yes! Of course I will!”

Tears raced down Miguel’s cheeks as he kissed her passionately, his arm latched around her tightening as he held her close. He kissed her once more, twice, before his lips wandered to kiss away the tears on her cheeks. “I love you, Lisa. I love you so shocking much,”

Lisa couldn’t tell if she was crying or laughing or a mix of both. They both pulled away to give each other some air as Miguel carefully plucked the ring from the box and helped put it on Lisa’s ring finger. It fit perfectly, and Lisa’s hand trembled as she looked at it.

Miguel placed a gentle kiss on her fingers. “Merry Christmas, soon-to-be Mrs. O’Hara-Kendrick,”

Lisa’s smile brightened, rivaling that of the sun as she hugged Miguel tightly. “Merry Christmas to you too, soon-to-be Mr. O’Hara-Kendrick,”

Lisa’s crying almost toned out the new sounds that erupted around her. Sounds of cheering and laughter as she pulled away and looked up to see the rest of the Spider-gang converge on their position. Had they been hiding this whole time saw the whole thing?!

“Congratulations!” They cheered. 

Lisa’s smile was bright as she briefly pulled away from Miguel, glancing between him and the kids as Miguel laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “They helped me decorate,”

Her eyes widened as she looked at their friends. “You knew?!”

Miles nodded with a grin as the rest of the kids laughed. “Miguel texted me two weeks ago asking for help in planning this,”

“You planned it that far in advance?” Lisa gawked. 

“Was I not supposed to surprise you?” Miguel teased, running his fingers through her hair. 

“Come on, Aunt May’s got hot cocoa and a cake waiting for ya’ll back at the house,” Hobie motioned for the pair to follow them as he took the lead.

Smiling sweetly at one another, they helped each other to their feet, brushing off the snow from one another. Miguel offered Lisa his arm and she took it, wrapping her arms around him as the pair walked after the others. As they walked, Lisa glanced down at her hand, admiring the engagement ring on her finger. 

Her heart swelled, watching as the diamond seemed to glisten along with the snow. She leaned her head against Miguel’s bicep, humming to herself. Then she started to sing softly.

“I don't want a lot for Christmas

There is just one thing I need. . .” 

Lisa could feel Miguel’s eyes linger towards her as they walked. “Mona, what are you doing?”

“I don't care about the presents

Underneath the Christmas tree. . .” 

Lisa glanced up to meet his gaze, her eyes twinkling as she sang to him. It didn’t take long for Miguel to put two and two together. He smiled at her before gently taking her hand in his, lifting it up as he guided her to slowly twirl. 

“I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know. . .” 

When Lisa had twirled completely around, she felt Miguel’s strong arms caress her waist as he lifted her up. She squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck as his arms wrapped around her, carrying her. What surprised her even more was when Miguel sang back. 

“Make my wish come true!” 

Lisa smiled softly at Miguel as her fingers curled into his hair. She pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes and basking in his presence, his warmth. 

“All I want for Christmas is you~”

As they shared one more kiss, snowflakes started to fall, and there was nowhere else Lisa would rather be than right here at this very moment. 

///////

Happy Holidays everyone! Work on Silk & Cologne will resume in the new year on January 1st!

[bimboothefool]

A very special thanks to @smittenroses for inviting me to this memories over gifts event!! Apologies for my late story entry my life's been quite hectic, but hopefully in 2023 I'll be able to create my art more often! Merry belated Christmas or whichever holiday you're celebrating and a Happy New Year!! Now enough talk time for the show to begin!!

Frost settled itself against the windows that protected you and the rest of the others that live within the manor.

Currently you were reading Robbie and Memory a story, that being the Nutcracker Prince. Every time Christmas or any other holiday they'd always want you to read them a story relating to the respective holiday. It was practically tradition at this point, but it was a welcomed one.

You suggested that a story like this calls for a warm mug of hot chocolate and cookies for this occasion. They happily agreed and you put a bookmark, made your way towards the kitchen. Once you went inside with Memory and Robbie, you saw a familiar face and puppy.

“Oh hello (Y/n), Robbie. And you too Memory! What brings you three here?” Victor's amber eyes looked at you with fondness as Wick scampered over to the two children happily. “We're just here to make hot cocoa and cookies to accompany the story I'm reading.” You smiled back at Victor.

“Is that so?” Victor asked and Memory hummed eagerly as the blonde haired man laughed airily.

“Do you wanna help us?” Robbie asks awaiting Victor's answer and he nods. “Oh of course. Let's get to it.” The two kids cheered as Wick wagged his tail with glee.

~~

After the cookies and warm cocoa were made, you invited Victor to join you. He agrees and lends a helping hand, once at the library you all sat down.

Memory and Robbie eagerly awaited with baited breath as you opened the red and gold book. “Now where was I..?” You hummed as Victor sat alongside you enjoying the warmth the mug of hot chocolate and your smile provided.

~~

Both Robbie and Memory fell asleep a little after they finished their drinks, Wick slept as he was nestled in between them. You felt Victor nudged your side and your heart warmed at the wholesome sight before you.

“Let's get them back to their rooms.” You agreed with Victor's suggestion. Victor held Memory and you carried Robbie. Wick yawned and stretched, shaking off his sleepiness. He walked with the two of you.

“That story always excites me, especially whenever I imagine the scenes.” Victor's smile held fondness for that memory. “Really, now. I find myself casting our friends in those roles sometimes.” This piqued Victor's interest.

You both started chattering about who'd be what in the Nutcracker. “Vera as the Sugar Plum Fairy sounds oddly fitting for her!” Victor chuckled at the idea and he added in. “Luca would probably be the Rat King, given how much energy he exudes.” You laughed at the mental image that he's painted in your head.

Soon you blurted out. “I think you'd be the Prince.” Victor's amber eyes widened as his jaw slightly dropped. “Oh sorry, was that a bit too out there??” You worriedly asked, hoping you didn't startle him.

Victor shook his head and mumbled out, with a flustered smile. “Personally I see you as Clara… Truthfully I wouldn't mind protecting you…” You stopped with your heartbeat picking up speed. “Really..?” Your voice was soft for that moment, he nodded with a loving look in his eyes. “Of course, you'll always be the one who I'll cherish and adore.”

You couldn't contain your smile, even after all these years or however long you two have been lovers in this manor. He still knew what to say that makes his words feel like Cupid's arrow. The two of you are always falling in love over and over again.

“Same goes for you Victor…”

~~

Once the two kids were back in their rooms, you two headed for the ballroom. You took notice of the entrance, a mistletoe was hanging above the two of you. “What are you looking at?” Victor's amber eyes trail to your line of sight as he feels his heart flutter. “O–Oh…”

“It's tradition isn't it?” You cheekily teased, tapping your lips. “Ye–Yes it is…” You cupped his cheeks and went in for a soft romantic kiss. He slowly kisses you back, enjoying the warmth of the kiss.

The two of you broke the kiss and stared into each other's eyes lovingly. “Shall we make haste and dance the night away?” You hummed yes to Victor's question. He took your hand, placing a light kiss on your knuckles. He held your arm as he led you to the large ballroom. Ready to dance with you to his heart's content.

[idontunderstandchemistry]

Hope you had a good holiday! I was thinking of the reader from Indecent Proposal going over to Tim's house for some fun just before Christmas. Like maybe the 23rd. But a snow storm blows in and she can't get home so they're stuck hanging in Tim's room trying to hide the fact that she's there from his siblings. I feel like some hijinks will ensue.

Omg this is so fucking cute! I don't know if I can make it the 23rd (The reader is going to be invited to go to Cass' Christmas Recital, and also, I don't think reader's mother would simply let her spend the night at Tim's house on the night before the Christmas Eve, such an important date for Latinos, even with a snow storm), but I can definitely work with the idea!

It would be so funny because Alfred would totally know that Tim sneaked someone into the house and Damian would be confused about why Titus wanted to get into Tim's room so much!

Duke would try to help Tim to hide her and terribly make thinks worse drawing all the attention to Tim's quarters and then suddenly all the family is camping in front of his door and Bruce demands him to open it.

Reader would try to hide on the balcony but Tim would never allow, so he opens the door and the there is a girl completely blushed trying to explain to Bruce what was she doing in his house and apologizing for not being able to leave.

But Bruce simply don't care about it and the first thing he asks is why the fuck Tim didn't borrowed some of his winter clothing for his girlfriend. Tim would be incandescently happy because reader didn't deny being his girlfriend (maybe it was because 6'4'' Bruce Wayne, built like a fridge is fucking intimidating, maybe it's because her own parents think Tim is her boyfriend already) that he wouldn't even bother when Steph or Jason jokes about how Tim was keeping Reader warm.

And then reader would have to use Tim's winter clothing (that are obviously specially made for his maximum mobility and etc) and she would be like “Why the fuck is this so comfortable? You rich people really like to gatekeep your secrets from the mass...”

Alfred would probably make hot chocolate and tell reader that if she likes, her dates with Timothy could be in other parts of the Manor, since now they were forcibly removed from the closet. Tim thinks that this is a great idea and takes the reader to the cinema room and they would watch some holiday rom-com together and all the family ends up joining.

Damian would be suspicious because, yeah, he actually cares about Tim and would ask Reader a bazillion questions during dinner and Reader, being good with children, specially annoying children, would be rocking the interrogation.

Dick would just be so happy that his baby brother is in love (he already had his suspicions, since Tim was taking better care of himself in the previous months, even sleeping more, something he only does when he is trying to make things work with someone)

Steph, being Tim's bestfriend and also an icon, already knew about Reader. Actually, she was the one to incentive Tim to ask Reader out in the first place (I plan to post Tim's POV from some of the scenes in the future), but despite being a hopeless romantic, Tim has no idea about how to do romance and things kinda got out of his control. But that's okay, because all that's well ends well.

And then on the next day, before reader can leave to actually go back to her family, Cass invites her to watch the Christmas Recital in which Cass is playing the Sugar Plum fairy, around Christmas time.

Reader would be so flattered and happy about how the Waynes treated her so well despite her intrusement that she simply couldn't deny it and Tim is, once again, the happiest man in the world.

Anyways, now that i have imagined it, you guys are getting it on the storyline. It might take a while because here on Tumblr IP is still on early/mid-october, but you will get silly chistmas fluff scenes!

(Also, sorry for the delay in posting, I was moving from my previous apartment [yes, during the holiday bc my previous landlord is a shitty man] and was without internet for a couple of days)

[fablefan]

Lupin III -- Nutcracker AU

I am once again back on my AU bullsh/t and return with something festive for the holiday season (of which I’m sort of speed-running the description of)

This is something of an amalgamation of a lot of different versions of the story + some others, but most prominently the Barbie Nutcracker version because it is one of THE BEST and I will FIGHT people on this

So Lupin is the role of Clara in this AU, currently living with his family and cousin Albert and uncle Gaston in their manor in France. On Christmas Eve, his grandfather, Lupin I, arrives and comes bearing gifts, with Lup’s being a particularly special one: a nutcracker doll, with colorful robes and a strange-looking sword, said to protect him when Lup needs him most. Lupin doesn’t quite believe that, but it’s still a wonderful piece of craftsmanship and a lovely gift, so he keeps it close to his chest.

Midnight falls over the household, and while everyone’s in bed, Lupin, having passed out on his living room couch, is soon left dealing with a very small problem: an army of tiny ice soldiers appearing from a mouse-hole in the wall, and leading them is the North King, a man with a magic scepter and supposedly the darkest heart of them all.

Fortunately, Lupin I’s promise was right, and Lupin’s nutcracker doll -- Goemon -- awakens just in time to fend them off from his charge, and, in the ensuing fight, Lupin ends up getting shrunk in the process by the North King -- Jigen -- and his magic scepter, and is reduced to the size of a toy.

As the battle rages on, and seeing the crowd of soldiers starting to overwhelm his dear doll, Lupin ends up helping Goe fight... by smacking Jigen in the face with his shoe.

Jigen does eventually end up falling back when Goemon proves too much for him, but swears that what happened isn’t over. Lupin, scrambling down from where he made his mad dash up the Christmas tree, gets to meet his savior, as Goe explains how he’s currently in his service as a protector and guardian, on the order of his grandfather.

He also needs Lupin’s help — the North King has taken over the Land of Sweets, and even went behind the Snow Queen, to whom he had sworn loyalty to, and struck her down, stealing her magic scepter and her army. His heart, after having done so, was supposedly frozen solid, rendering him incapable of love or emotion. Even worse, the Sugar Plum Princess (Fujiko) is currently held hostage in his castle, and who knows what sort of horrendous torture he’s doing to her --

(Fujiko, up in her cell, throwing dried sugarplums at a scowling, ice-pack-holding Jigen: Can you at least bring up a coloring book or something, I’m bored to DEATH up here —) So Lup follows Goe into the Land of Sweets in an attempt to avenge his fallen masters and reclaim his kingdom, encounters a few new faces along the way, and maybe learns that there’s more to this frozen king that meets the eye.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Christmas Cookie War

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,720 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Aye! Day 14 of the Christmas fics! Bake some cookies this season! -Thorne

          Connor was sneaky. Which was good when it came to his career as an Assassin. On the rare times that she’d actually seen him in action, she was utterly blown away at how such a heavily built person could move with such stillness. She’d watched him take down every soldier in the fort within minutes, and not a single alarm bell had been rung, nor did any soldier see or hear him coming—he was a master hunter, and she was proud that he used his skills for the better. That being said, Connor had a streak of using his skills for the worse.

***

           She glared at him for what seemed like the millionth time and pointed to the doorway.

           “Out with you,” she commanded. “You’re not allowed to put one foot in this kitchen until I tell you to.”

           Connor shifted his weight between his feet, standing just outside the entrance to the kitchen. “But (Y/N),” he whined. “The cookies.” His eyes shifted to the tray she was about to put on the rack at the fireplace.

           Shaking her head, she denounced, “But nothing, Ratonhnhaké:ton. If everyone else has to wait for the cookies to be made, baked, and cooled, then so do you.”

           She narrowed her gaze and shoved the wooden spoon in his face. “If I catch you in here again, I will welt your hands black and blue.”

           He met her stare head-on and she could see him internally mulling the pros and cons over before his amber eyes flashed with indignation, and she knew he was taking it as a personal challenge.

           Connor conceded and tipped his head down. “As you wish, (Y/N).” He stood back up and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”

           Huffing, she remarked “I know what you’re doing Ratonhnhaké:ton.” She spun on her heel and marched over to the table. “Please take this in the nicest way possible, my beloved,” (Y/N) met his gaze and hissed, “Get lost.”

           A growl sounded from his throat, but he turned and stalked off, the door slamming, signaling his exit. With satisfaction, she turned back to the bowl of flour on the first side table, watching as he walked past the window outside, glaring at her; she stuck her tongue out at him. Let the games begin.

***

           The entire house smelled like one giant, mouthwatering concoction of every dessert ever made, and on more than one occasion, Achilles had drifted in to see what she was making for the Christmas party. Happy knowing that it all smelled wonderful, she’d showed him the trays of cookies and pies, managing to ease his dislike of the giant mess along the table with a promise of cleaning later. He complimented her on the outcomes of each dessert, especially the chocolate chip snickerdoodles she’d made—which also happened to be the cookies that Connor was hellbent on snatching from her.

           Achilles wiped his mouth on the handkerchief he carried and nodded his head. “Those are excellent, (Y/N). Sweet, but not overpoweringly so.”

           A warmth grew on her cheeks at the praise, because she knew that the old man wasn’t one to give it unless truly deserved—and even then, it was hard to get it out of him.

           “Thank you, Achilles.” She murmured, turning her gaze to the crackling fireplace, a tray of apple pies baking to perfection.

           “Has Connor come in yet?” he asked, humor in his tone.

           (Y/N) tossed a glare over her shoulder. “Oh, he definitely has. Twice.” She scanned the kitchen, craning her neck to see into the dining room—he wasn’t in there. “I’m waiting for him to try again.”

           The old man leaned on his cane, umber eyes regarding her with an amusing look. “You think he will?”

           She scoffed and flattened the dough with a rolling pin. “I’d bet my last pound he will. The only thing bigger than his heart is his sweet tooth.” She paused and pointed the pin at him. “Mark my words, he’ll die by sugar coma if he doesn’t keel over of old age first.”

           Achilles simply snorted and the rapping of his cane against the hardwood floor left her alone in the kitchen.

           (Y/N) grabbed one of the cookie cutters and began cutting out the shapes of little men. With a smile, she placed them on the tray and switched them out for the pies that were done. Setting the pies aside, she swiftly turned and looked around, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

           She grabbed the wooden spoon and walked to the entrance of the kitchen, sticking her head into the entryway. It was clear, and a quick glance to the hallway showed a spotless center as well—still, it didn’t ease the wariness and she moved back into the kitchen.

           “I know you’re in here, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” (Y/N) walked to the dining room. “Let me catch you with a cookie,” she warned. “I’ll break a finger.”

           Grabbing the handles of the dining room doors, she swung them shut and with a click, she locked the doors. Only one way in and out. She thought with a smug smile.

           Though something felt off, she set the feeling aside and focused on the rest of the desserts, knowing that she had only a couple more hours until the Christmas party—she had to finish early.

           As she passed by the clothed table, she paused and scanned the surface, satisfied that nothing had been touched. (Y/N) yanked the cookbook over to her and leaned over, reading over the recipe.

           “Now let’s see…what were those treats that Father Timothy wanted?” she ran a finger down the page. “Sugar plums! That was it.” Her eyes drifted around the kitchen. “Do we even have any plums?”

           Frowning, she checked the baskets in the corner of the kitchen, standing on her tippytoes as she looked in. She rummaged around a bit, then smiled as she found a bag of them.

           “Here we go—” a thump sounded behind her and she whirled around, surveying the kitchen. She ran to the table and examined each tray until she came across the chocolate chip snickerdoodles—one of them was gone.

           A growl escaped her, and she ran to the entryway, glancing in both directions. “Where are you!” she yelled. “I know you were in here!” (Y/N) ran through the hall to Achilles’s study, glowering inside.

           The old man cocked a salt and pepper brow at her, but said nothing and she turned, sprinting up the stairs to check the bedrooms and galleries. Still, they were empty, and by the time she returned to the kitchen, she was about to tear her hair out. (Y/N) made thirty of those cookies—eight were missing.

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton!” she screeched. “When I get my hands on you, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—I’m—ARGH!” Snarling, she slammed her heel into the ground. “I am going to make you a sorry man.”

           (Y/N) sat down at the table and put her head in her hands, silently simmering with unbridled rage. Impulsively, she kicked out her legs and upon feeling her foot brush something she went still, suddenly calm.

           She placed her hands flat on the table and seethed, “Are you underneath this table?”

           A moment of silence passed, then she heard a quiet, “I love you, (Y/N).”

           She leaned down and raised the tablecloth, staring into Connor’s wide eyes. The smile she gave him sent shivers up his spine and warning bells in his brain.

           “I love you too, Ratonhnhaké:ton,” she said sweetly.

           He swallowed thickly. “You—you do?” he questioned warily.

           (Y/N) nodded. “I do.” Her face contorted from the kindness he loved to a wrath he’d never seen before nor wanted to see again. “But you have five seconds to run or I’m—”

           She didn’t even get to finish her threat and he was scrambling madly from beneath the table, her clambering off the bench after him. She’d never heard Connor scream before, but the howl of terror that left him as he sprinted from the kitchen to the stairs told her he was in a state of pure fear.

           “COME BACK HERE!” she fumed.

           Connor gave a cry as he stood behind the stair railings, her glowering at him from the top step. “FORGIVE ME (Y/N)!”

           If she’d been a cat, she would’ve hissed at him. “I’m gonna forgive you when I kick your butt!” As she set foot on the second floor, he turned on his heel and leaped over the railing to the back door.

          ��(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she ran to the railing, staring down at him. “Don’t you dare,” she growled, and he smirked at her before disappearing into the kitchen, returning moments later with the tray of cookies.

           “Put. Those. Back.” She demanded and he raised one to his mouth and took a bite.

           “You have outdone yourself Otsi’tsa. They taste fantastic.” He replied before shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth and fumbling behind him for the doorknob.

           She glared at him as he pulled the door open and started backwards outside. “You’re a dead man when you come back tonight.”

           Connor shrugged. “I have lived off the land all my life.” He met her gaze and retorted, “Who says I cannot do it tonight?”

           (Y/N) placed her hands on the railings and leaned over. “Oh beloved, you’re gonna be doing it for a week after this little stunt.”

           “We shall see,” he winked.

           Sensing that her threats were falling on deaf ears, she stood straight and glared down her nose at him. “Come back tonight then. I dare you.” Connor chuckled and disappeared outside, leaving her to fume.

           A silence entered the manor, then she heard from the stairwell, “That was your fault for not checking under the table.” Her face pinched at Achilles’s quip, then a devious idea came across her.

           “Achilles, do we have any beet roots?” she asked.

           “Probably in the baskets.” He went quiet. “Why?”

           His question was hesitant and (Y/N) grinned evilly. “Rule number one of starting a war, Achilles. Don’t leave your gear where the enemy can find it.”

           She walked down the stairs and smiled at him. “I think Ratonhnhaké:ton will look absolutely wonderful in pink robes, don’t you agree?” He simply sighed in return.

[quillsareswords]

Christmas Eve

Batboys Headcannon

What’s it like to spend Christmas Eve with each of the boys?

Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)

Dick Grayson

  Christmas Eve at Dick’s apartment is magical. The extravagant decorations are up, music is soft, presents are wrapped neatly under a perfectly sized tree. There’s no obligations and no worries, aside from the annual ball of Bruce’s that you’ll attend the next day. But even that isn’t until the evening.

  Christmas is his favorite holiday, right above April Fools and Valentine’s Day. He’s thrilled to spend it with you, and even more so when you agree to stay the night before, which is arguably a separate holiday of its own.

  He pours you a glass of eggnog and a mug of hot chocolate, and then you huddle up on the couch beneath a red and green striped blanket to watch every Hallmark Christmas movie ever made.

  At the end of your marathon, you exchange small gifts. It’s a tradition you’ve upheld for the past three years, and he certainly isn’t about to let it go. Sometimes it’s a cozy pair of socks you become obsessed with, sometimes it’s a new pair of pajama pants he scarcely takes off, and sometimes it’s giant box of candy you both end up emptying before New Year’s.

  This year, it’s a snuggly, ugly sweater from you, and tickets to a ballet the next day from him.

  Then, you move to the bedroom, dragging that red and green striped blanket with you.

  You slide under the covers with him, curling close to keep out the cold that thin window panes do little to defend you from, fully intent on getting to sleep at a decent time.

  Alas, as seems to happen every time you lay down in hopes of sleeping, you end up lying awake until nearly midnight, chattering about old memories of snowflakes and shining wrapping paper and evergreen trees.

Jason Todd

  Jason Todd, as hard as he tries, doesn’t have a lot of spare time.

  He’s either in his dark office, out patrolling, or off in some part of the world farther from home than you’d like for “work”. Any spare second he does have is spent making it up to you. You don’t mind. You’re busy enough with your own masked duties and a day job.

  Even through the holiday season, you’re both a bit lost in blue screens and odd phone calls.

  Thus, Christmas Eve is typically spent putting up a few cheap decorations and wrapping simple—albeit thoughtful—gifts all while listening to age old Christmas movies.

  This year, you ended up spending Christmas out of Gotham. A safehouse somewhere in New York City. It was shabby and a little odd smelling, and you didn’t have a TV.

  So, you lit cheap candles to chase off the smell and set up your laptop on the coffee table. Jason griped and groaned about having to bring your single, fully packed tote of Garland and lights and other odds and ends of red, green, and gold. But around eight o'clock, you found him fussing over the little tree you’d propped up in the corner with a bowl of water.

  “Even the Charlie Brown tree and a bulb on it,” he argued. “At least you can have some lights and these little ornaments.”

  You let him do the tree himself. You always do. You trust him with the handful of childhood decorations you kept. He didn’t have much of this through his childhood. Even with Bruce, the tree was set up and decorated while he was asleep.

  When the living room is finally finished, and the tote is empty, you settle down on the couch with a glass of wine each to finish the playlist of Christmas movies.

  This year, you fall asleep with heavy eyes settled on the modest pile of presents wedged under the tree that barely reaches your waist.

Tim Drake

  For as long as you’ve been together, you’ve spent both weeks of Christmas and New Years at Wayne Manor. Partially because Bruce always has a place at the table for you both, and particularly because Bruce always needs help with the holiday mugging and minor theft.

  The manor is always decorated perfectly to the heavens for the holidays. All you and Tim bring into the house, aside from your bags, is a few presents. Though secretly, Tim’s been bringing some of your hand-me-down family ornaments to be sure they make it on the tree, on an endtable, or anywhere else he and Alfred can find a safe, subtle spot.

  You always carry on your family’s tradition of ruining the kitchen on Christmas Eve. Sugar cookies, pineapple cookies, peanut butter balls, coconut rockers, mint brownies, and half the kitchen’s contents all strung about the wide counters of the huge kitchen.

  You always get your cookies made, but true to tradition, most of the ingredients end up all over your clothes, the floor, and somehow the ceiling. And once, despite every manor of logic, the roof (a story your family loves to hear at every gathering. They lose it every time Ace plunges through the window, even though they’ve heard it a thousand times).

  Damian is never sure how the baking gets done. Every single time he strolls past or pops in to steal a few fresh made goods, you’re singing loudly and off key while Tim guides you around in some sort of messy ballroom freestyle. He doesn’t say anything, because you’re always grinning, and he’s always laughing, and the cookies are very good.

  Once all the cookies are finished, and rationed, you steel upstairs to clean up and slip into pajamas.

  You always finish the night off with delicious dinner and warm fireside conversation with his family, and this year isn’t any different.

Damian Wayne

  Typically speaking, you’re more inclined to stay in all night and most of the following day. You aren’t close with your family, and he finds his own a bit overbearing when all in one building.

  Though, they drop in separately, throughout the evening. They have their own plans, most of the time, but they always seem to find time to stop in and say hello, and merry Christmas, you hermits.

  You don’t do gifts. Since you were childhood friends, you’ve never exchanged gifts on particular occasions. You decide it just isn’t all that practical, with all the money you spend of one another on random days through the year. Though, you always join forces to tackle the long list of family he has to shop for and the never-ending stream of Christmas cards from and to your family.

  Christmas Eve is a lot of movies. And some baking, but mostly movies. You’ve both worked hard to make sure you both had the extra time to take a week long break, so you’re both exhausted. By movies, we mean sleeping on the couch all day, you on top of him (and a few times, him on top of you), with holiday movies playing in the background.

  You can’t count the number of times you’ve cracked your eyes open, still bleary and half-witted, to find his droopy, tired eyes sparkling as he smiles so sleepily at the dumbest Hallmark romance tropes. You never comment, never speak of it. You merely close your eyes again, and drift back off to sleep with dreams of sugar plums and fairies and your Ice King (a name he earned over a triumphant feast following a won snowball fight with his brothers last year) and his glittering cold crown.

  That evening, when you’re both wide awake, you sit down with glasses of wine and a holiday puzzle with more than 1,000 pieces. By the time you finish, you’re mumbling words to Christmas songs that you aren’t sure are entirely correct, and he’s laughing loudly about it.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: Love Language, ch. 1

Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Sabine Cheng/Tom Dupain, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Wayhem

Characters: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Kagami Tsurugi, Tikki, Tom Dupain, Tomoe Tsurugi, Sabine Cheng, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, Kitty Section, Jagged Stone, Penny Rolling, Clara Nightingale, Alec Cataldi, Nadja Chamack, Fang, XY, Lila Rossi, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste's Bodyguard

Additional Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Language of Flowers, Gifts, Traditions, Holidays, Cultural Differences, Kimono, Qipao, Family, Love, Romance, Celebrations, Symbolism, Aged-Up Character(s), Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Christmas Fluff, Identity Reveal, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, Family Dinners, Airports, feeding each other, sharing ceremony, Anxiety, Engagement, Kissing, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Admiration, Pet Names, Cuddling & Snuggling, yin and yang, Communication, Smut, Food Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Bathing/Washing, Podfic Welcome, Kagami is a boob woman, Nudity, Instagram, Social Media, Sleeping Together, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rings, Lila salt, Alec Cataldi salt, Food Porn, Paparazzi, Panic Attacks, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Lila Rossi Lies, Date Night, Adrien Sugar, Relationship Goals, Uncle Jagged Stone, Protective Kagami Tsurugi

Summary: Marinette gets a package from Japan shortly before Christmas, with a special hinted message. Kagaminette.

Note: Several people on the Discord server I used to take part in gave me the idea of Kagami sending treats to Marinette from Japan. I did a lot of research, and if I got anything wrong that's on me. More on the kimono here: https://rosethornewrites.tumblr.com/post/611555117585629184/love-language-kimono

@obliviousblondesunite suggested I post this chapter tonight! Stan the Hamster!

AO3 link (smut in chapter 3) FFN link (implied sex in chapter 3)

This is also part of my Catch a Falling Star series.

-----

The lines were coming together on the shirt taking form on the page of her sketchbook, meant to match the skirt beside it, an embroidery pattern partly drawn out on the page next to it. Vaguely, she heard someone calling, but it wasn’t enough to break through to her as she paused in the shirt design to add more aspects to the embroidery idea.

This was a planned outfit for Kagami, something she could wear at formal occasions that wasn’t a kimono, but she only had vague ideas still.

Even though Marinette’s lycée still had several weeks until it was let out for the holidays, Kagami’s private schooling had allowed her to accompany her mother to Japan, where they would stay through Christmas. That gave Marinette a bit more time to make her gift, thankfully.

“Marinette?”

Marinette was startled out of her creative fugue when Sabine’s head popped into her room.

“Maman?”

“You must have been in the zone. You have a package from Japan.” Sabine had a twinkle in her eye. “I can’t imagine who that’s from!”

Marinette could feel her cheeks turn red, flustered and excited. She stood and rushed down past her mother to find a positively immense box in Tom’s arms.

Her jaw dropped. That had to have cost Kagami a lot, and here Marinette had to wait for her to return to give her her Christmas gift.

Tom laughed at the look on her face. “Your girlfriend must love you a lot to send such a big package international.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, instead lugging the package into her room and setting it next to the chaise.

“We’ll give you some privacy to open it, hon,” Tom told her. They left her to it.

Marinette pulled her non-sewing scissors from a drawer and took a seat, reaching forward to trace Kagami’s name. She loved how Japanese names worked, something Kagami had explained when showing her the characters that made up Kagami. Hers was 香海, which she had explained broke down into “incense” and “ocean.” A fragrant ocean.

It had inspired Marinette to call her ma sirène. In retaliation, of sorts, Kagami had started calling her Mari-tō, which she said was essentially “sugar Mari,” joking it was a bastardized term of endearment. They had giggled over that, and Mme. Tsurugi just shook her head the first time she heard Kagami say it.

“Oh, I wonder what she sent for you!” Tikki exclaimed, alighting on the box.

She gently slid the blade of the scissors under the flap to slit the tape, and opened it once Tikki took to the air again. The first thing, atop what seemed like a mountain of smaller boxes, was an envelope labelled “マリー糖, please open after the gifts.” It made her smile.

Underneath, there were two packages labelled for her parents, and so she pulled them out and took them downstairs, letting Tikki know she’d be right back.

The bakery was closed for the day, and her parents were preparing supper.

“Maman, Papa, Kagami sent gifts for you!”

She presented the packages, brightly wrapped in beautiful paper, to her parents, then sat at the kitchen table to watch them open them. She’d get to her own later.

Tom opened his first, revealing a deep green silk men’s kimono, with a pattern that looked like a bamboo forest. When he opened it, they were able to see the green faded lighter toward the bottom, which had an intricate pattern of different trees. An envelope fell with it, and the paper inside explained it was a shōchikubai “three friends of winter” pattern of pine, bamboo, and plum, which symbolized strength and happiness. The letter explained how to wear the kimono, and underneath the kimono itself were all the pieces of clothing to wear with the kimono, including the obi and zori.

At the very bottom of Tom’s box was also a book on traditional Japanese sweets, which he immediately started flipping through.

Sabine’s kimono was far more intricate, red with white blossoms on branches woven throughout. On the back was a golden dragon. An envelope underneath had a note explaining the meaning of the flowers—plum, or ume, blossoms, which Kagami chose due to their dual meanings in Japanese tradition and Chinese philosophy. Good fortune, elegance, and faithfulness in Japanese tradition, and the five blessings of longevity, prosperity, health, virtue, and good living in Chinese philosophy. The golden dragon represented wisdom, kindness, and helpfulness, and was holding a pearl to indicate good fortune.

In addition to the same instructions as Tom’s letter, Sabine’s included an invitation from Mme. Tsurugi for the family to attend a traditional Japanese New Year celebration at the Tsurugi manor and visit Sanctuaire Yabuhara with the Tsurugi family. The kimono were, in part, for them to wear to the event.

Sabine looked up at Marinette, her eyes shining. “She says you have one, too.”

Marinette tore back up the stairs and pulled a similar looking package from the box, bringing it downstairs to open.

The kimono was deep purple fading to white and back, with a beautiful wave of flowers splayed across it—pink and white roses, lily of the valley, purple and white lilacs, bluebells, among others. She knew before she read the note the symbols—innocence and love, purity, reverence, trust, happiness.

She didn’t realize she was crying until Sabine dabbed at her cheek with a tissue.

“She really loves you,” Sabine murmurs. “She’s so good for you.”

The letter told her there were violets to represent the sincere bliss of their relationship. White and pink sakurasou for long-lasting love. Falling ume blossoms for the same reason as Sabine’s, but also to represent Marinette’s pure heart. Camellias for perfect love.

“This must be why she asked for all our measurements before she left,” Marinette said finally, snuggling against Sabine. “I had no idea she planned to do this. Proper kimono are incredibly expensive, and these must be custom!”

Sabine simply smiled. “You’re dating a very traditional girl, and for her family money is no object. And I believe the symbols she chose clearly indicate her intentions.”

Marinette felt her face turning red, and she realized that her parents looked absolutely blissful.

She couldn’t say it was completely unexpected—she and Kagami started dating shortly following her fifteenth birthday, after Kagami had given up on her relationship with Adrien—it had been going nowhere, and it seemed he had someone else on his mind.

It hadn’t been Marinette; she was his ‘good friend,’ and in having André serve ice cream for Kagami and Adrien, she had given up on anything more. He didn’t see her like that. And, as it turned out, it seemed neither she nor Kagami were in his heart.

She had briefly tried to return Luka’s feelings, but he had recognized her heart wasn’t in it, and had asked instead for her friendship.

When Kagami had informed her, at her birthday party, that she wished to date her, Marinette had been thrown for a complete loop. The following days had been filled with self-reflection and careful consideration; she’d been thirteen when she’d fallen for Adrien, and her obsession had left her little room to consider her own identity. She’d never thought beyond.

Eventually, she had confessed uncertainty to Kagami, who had asked that they attempt to date and if it didn’t work out, remain friends.

Over two years later, Marinette could say with certainty that she loved Kagami Tsurugi.

When Sabine shooed her from the kitchen to open the rest of her gifts, she felt like she was walking on clouds. She brought her kimono and letter with her, and got to listen to Tikki talk about all the different complex meanings of the flowers and exclaim over the quality of the fabric and embroidery.

The process of opening the rest of the packages, filled with gorgeous fabrics, seeds for Japanese flowers, crafting supplies, stationery, several hair sticks, and Japanese treats slowly brought her down.

When Marinette opened the last package, however, it felt like the world stopped. Spread at the top of the box was a tiny kimono, black with branches of red and white tree peonies, and very tiny ladybugs. She nearly dropped the box.

Underneath was an envelope with a ladybug drawn on it.

“Tikki… I, uh…”

Tikki landed on her shoulder. “Oh…”

She opened the envelope with shaking hands, reading quickly. The letter revealed that Kagami had figured it out a few months ago, having caught a glimpse of Tikki and connecting it to her experience with Longg. The peonies represented good fortune and honor. And of course ladybugs symbolized luck—but also had an association with lovers in Japan.

Under the letter were a variety of Japanese sweets, including some specialty yatsuhashi from Kyoto and different flavors of konpeitō.

The letter ended, “Please tell your kwami that these gifts are a measure of appreciation—for the guidance and protection she has given you.”

“That’s very sweet of her, Marinette,” Tikki offered. “She, um… I think she caught me the last time she spent the night.”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself; she was the Guardian now, so she made the rules. Marinette could allow her girlfriend to be aware of her identity as Ladybug. It felt a little like cheating, though.

Tikki seemed to recognize the decision and quickly pulled on the kimono—it looked adorable on her.

Marinette tore open the letter addressed to her.

マリー糖 ,

I would have told you all of this in person, but you tend to catastrophize, and I thought you might prefer to do that privately in the counsel of your kwami. I am given to understand that she has helped you gain a measure of self-confidence in the years since her arrival. I have been honored to know the you shaped by the responsibilities you took up, as you are passionate, kind, and honorable.

I know this places you in an awkward position, but I of course will protect this knowledge with my life, for it is yours.

Mother wishes I inform you that she tried sakura macrons at a famous pâtisserie in Tokyo, and they were pitiful in comparison to those your father made for her last spring. The book she sent for him includes multiple types of pastries and jellies he may enjoy experimenting with, some of them sakura-focused. She hopes to order some traditional winter treats for her party, and I will send you a list upon your confirmation of receipt of this package.

I look forward to celebrating the New Year and sharing our traditions in the coming weeks, and to greeting the first sun of the new year with you and your family. Perhaps we can observe the Chinese New Year together in accordance with the traditions of your ancestors.

Yours always,

香海

Marinette held the letter to her chest, touched by Kagami’s desire to share their traditions together. The idea spread warmth through her, and eventually she set the letter aside with a soft sigh.

“I suppose it’s okay she knows… since I didn’t tell her.” She gave Tikki a rueful smile.

Tikki looked sheepish, even as she preened over how she looked in the kwami-sized kimono. “You’re the Guardian now, Marinette. You get to make the rules.”

She sighed. “Yeah. I just wish it was safer—we need to work harder to uncover Hawkmoth’s identity so that threat is ended. I need to be able to plan for after lycée.”

She sent a text message to Kagami to let her know she received the package and to video chat with her at her earliest convenience, then decided to try on her own kimono.

The instructions were easy to follow, despite the layers. It was a very traditional kimono, involving a hadajuban, nagajuban, and soft sash to go under the kimono. It was almost a soothing process, putting on each layer, folding each side of the kimono properly, tying on the datejime, and finally tying the lovely obi—pink with cranes—into one of the knot options. It was not easy afterward getting the tabi socks on, which told her next time to do it before the kimono. The zori slipped right on, though it was odd to get used to them.

Just as she finished, her phone rang, and she slid her finger against the bar to accept the call.

“You look stunning in that, as I expected,” Kagami said. “I wish I could see more.”

Tikki grabbed the phone from Marinette’s hands and moved it away so she could twirl.

“Much obliged to your kwami. You truly do look lovely. Though, in the future, fold left over right. Right over left is for the dressing of a body at a funeral. I should have written that in the instructions—I apologize. As such, it is a bit discomfiting seeing you dressed in that fashion.”

Marinette let Tikki keep holding the phone while she quickly untied the obi and datejime to correct the mistake, then retied both.

Kagami beamed at her. “Absolutely beautiful. I look forward to seeing your parents in them on the New Year. I will send you a list of the traditional activities to expect for my mother’s soiree. You will be meeting a larger portion of my family, to be introduced to them.”

Marinette took the phone back from Tikki, who landed on her shoulder.

“Ah,” Kagami said, surprised. “I can see the kimono, but nothing else. That is fascinating.”

“Her name is Tikki,” Marinette confessed.

“I apologize for discovering your secret. It was unintentional on both our parts.”

That got a nod from Tikki.

“It’s okay,” she replied softly. “I… It’s a relief that someone else knows, honestly. Especially when that someone is you.”

“I am honored to know, and it explains quite a bit. Your disappearances at times, for instance.”

Marinette could feel her face turning red.

“I had not realized they all coincided with Akuma attacks, to be honest. I had worried you were hiding a chronic ailment.”

She couldn’t quite stop herself from giggling at that. “Oh, you must have been worried.”

“I still am, Mari-糖,” Kagami said seriously. “But I hope with my knowledge, I can perhaps be of service in the coming year, perhaps to end Hawkmoth’s reign of terror for good. But we can discuss that later—it is quite late here in Kyoto, and I have commitments early tomorrow. I simply wished to make sure you weren’t upset.”

“I’m not,” Marinette said with a smile. “I could never be, not with you. Sleep well, ma sirène.”

After hanging up, Marinette sat back on her chaise with a sigh. “Tikki, I think she’s hoping to introduce me as her intended for New Year.”

Tikki patted her cheek. “And how do you feel about that, Marinette?”

She was quiet for a moment, letting the sounds of her parents making dinner float through her open door, the scent of lasagna wafting in as well.

“I—”

The phone dinged, and the text message was from Kagami, with a list of different sweets Mme. Tsurugi wanted to order for the party. It also featured a stunning picture of Kagami in an intricate kimono with gold, black, and red, covered in white geometric patterns with a bouquet of flowers in the front and sprigs of blossoms throughout.

She looked amazing.

And suddenly Marinette knew exactly what she wanted to make Kagami for Christmas—a qipao to wear when they celebrated the Chinese New Year, with the gold five-clawed Long embroidered on it. And she would make her own with a phoenix, in colors that complimented Kagami’s.

Marinette stood, changing quickly and hanging her kimono and all its undergarments in the closet, before settling back in front of her sketchbook and turning to a new page.

By the time her mother called her for dinner, she had much of the concept sketched out, complete with plum blossoms, lilies, and a lotus cupped in the claw of the dragon. She intended for her phoenix to cup one as well in its talon.

Kagami wasn’t the only one who knew how to use symbolism. Marinette intended to have this ready to present to her girlfriend before the New Year, to give the answer to the question she was hinting she’d ask.

[blue-rose-89]

What did we learn on Ducktales this week (Last Christmas!)

It’s a Christmas episode! 

Today we learn that.......

-We get a Christmas themed intro. 

-Mcduck manor has a sugar plum fairy infestation every year.

-Instead of being haunted by three ghosts like in one of the Disney cartoons (remember the Christmas Carol special with Scrooge?), Scrooge is buddies with the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future. Every year Scrooge time travels with the three ghosts to re-live the perfect Christmas from his past.

-With the exception of Santa Claus, Scrooge actually likes Christmas. And no we still don’t know why he hates him (something that involved cookies).

-Beakley has a crush on the Ghost of Christmas future.

-Picking a fight with a cricket can lead to a cool fight.

-Donald went through an emo phase when he was a kid. Della on the other hand is the adventurous girl who loves spending Christmas with Donald even though Donald didn’t like Christmas in the past.

-The origins behind Donald’s rage came from breaking his guitar during a fight with a Wendigo.

-The Ducks twins have gone through four weird Christmases, hence why they weren’t phased about meeting Dewey, their future son/nephew. 

-Donald knows the rules of time travel because he has seen ‘every movie.’. To be honest I was expecting him to say a movie title that references ‘Back to the Future.’

-Back in the present day, Della is working on getting back to Earth. Will she succeed or will the family come her as soon as they learn that she’s alive?

Because I love Christmas episodes this is a good episode by default.

[ceslawrites]

What The Dickens?! A Fiddauthor Christmas Carol

A one shot fiddauthor fic for @tunaraptor, my @disford Secret Santa partner! Enjoy below the cut, or read on Ao3!

To begin with, Northwest Manor had been no stranger to Christmas parties in the days when the Northwests properly owned it. Naturally, those parties were exclusive only to the cruel clan’s wealthiest friends and allies; they were lavish affairs meant only to flout the Northwest’s many possessions. There were feasts consisting of meat from all sorts of endangered animals that had been killed in various nasty ways, presents for the children that had been bought from embezzling Christmas charities, and dull party games that were just thinly veiled excuses to insult each other under the guise of holiday cheer. Not a true drop of good will towards mankind could be found at these splendid affairs, as sparkling and hollow as a crystal ornament dangling from an endangered Redwood’s boughs.

Thankfully, those days were as dead as a doornail now that the mansion belonged to Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Good fortune had smiled down on McGucket in the last few years; his inventions had given him wealth beyond his wildest dreams. This might have made a greedier man miserly, but McGucket loved nothing more than to give his fortune back to his friends, neighbors and loved ones, with Christmas being his most favorite time of all. He too liked to throw a holiday party every Christmas eve, but the guest list included everyone in town, with enough accommodations to satisfy all.

On the night before Christmas, everyone who lived in Gravity Falls, both human and magical creature alike, was at McGucket’s party. Food from Greasy’s Diner was served at the feast, lovingly provided by Lazy Susan (I can say with full certainty that no finer Christmas Dinner of pancakes, omelets and coffee had ever been seen in the history of the Yuletide season). The gnomes had formed a roving chorus of carolers that roamed the halls serenading guests with cheerful holiday carols, afterwards they would then ask for a small donation to the local children’s hospital under threat of bodily harm. Both Dipper and Mabel, who were visiting for the holidays, had taken to decorating the mansion with their friends and Gideon, who refused to leave them alone. Even Stan was in a marvelous mood, having dumped an entire flask of gold ru—I mean, “Happy Jolly Christmas Water with No Alcoholic Properties Whatsoever” into is carton of eggnog.

  While all this pandemonium broke out through the house, Ford Pines was navigating the vast sea of revelers in order to find his husband. He fiddled with one of the wedding bands on his left hand anxiously, Ford never cared much for huge parties with lots of people, preferring to spend his evenings left to his own devices or, at the most, with his family and closest friends. Fiddleford was the one who loved celebrations, and yet he was nowhere to be found.

           “Kids,” Ford called up to Mabel, who was standing on top of a ladder hanging a sprig of Mistletoe above one of the doorways. Her friends Candy, Grenda and even Pacifica Northwest herself were stringing garlands of holly everywhere, not particularly caring where they ended up as long as it looked festive.

 “Hey Grunkle Ford,” said Mabel cheerfully, accidentally dropping the mistletoe on top of Pacifica Northwest’s head. “Whoops! Sorry!”

 “Oooh,” said Candy and Grenda in unison. “Paz is gonna get kisses!”

 “Get this moldy, sexual harassment weed off of me,” Pacifica sneered as she yanked the mistletoe out of her hair. She passed it off to a flying gaggle of sugar plum fairies, who later nestled the mistletoe into the hair of a pretty white haired elf, which lead to another romantic holiday tale for another time. All stories lead into other stories, and this party was a mass of stories waiting to be told, but we must focus on the tale Ford and Fidds for tonight, or we’ll lose ourselves entirely.

 “Girls,” said Ford patiently, “Have you seen Fiddleford anywhere? He’s missing his own party!”

 “I saw him sitting by the tree in the game room earlier,” said Pacifica, pointing down the hall to a slightly ajar door. “He looked like he was having some, I don’t know, old age introspection, so I left him alone.”

 “Thanks Penny—”

 “… Pacifica?”

  “—Right. Sorry,” mumbled Ford absentmindedly as he made his way to the game room. “Honestly though, who names a child that?”

 “Old Money sociopaths,” Pacifica replied as she turned her attention back to decorating.

 Ford found his husband staring up wistfully up at the top of a magnificent Christmas tree, where high above a mechanical angel Fidds had invented gleamed in the dim light of the room.

 “Everything all right, Fidds,” asked Ford, placing a hand on his shoulder. Fiddleford smiled as he placed his own hand on Ford’s.

 “I guess I was just feelin’ a little blue,” sighed Fidds, “seeing the kids having a good time… I cain’t remember what Christmas used to be like when I was young. I didn’t want to spoil the party, so I just came in here to act all pensive and melancholy on my lonesome. Ya don’t have ta stay—”

 “Of course I do,” Ford whispered. He took Fidds’ hand and kissed it tenderly. “Why don’t we sit on the couch together and watch the fire, maybe that’ll make you feel better?”

 “Aw, I don’t wanna keep ya cooped up here,” said Fidds, gifting Ford with a smile, “They’re gonna start playing A Christmas Carol out on the TV soon, ya don’t wanna miss that.”

 “Oh yes I do,” said Ford disgustedly. “Charles Dickins’ A Christmas Carol is the most trite, sentimental story in the entire canon of British Literature, and only hacks with no imagination whatsoever rely on it whenever they want to tell a Christmas story.”

 … And then Ford slapped himself in the face for no apparent reason.

 “Ow!”

 “What cha do that fer?” asked Fiddleford, startled.

 “I’m… not really sure,” said Ford, rubbing the place where his hand had struck. He smiled apologetically to Fidds, and then set his sight on an old record player sitting across the room. Suddenly hit with inspiration, Ford made his way over to the machine and put in an old album

 “Truth be told,” said Ford with a warm smile as the first few bars of the Arabian Dance began to play, “I was always fonder of The Nutcracker myself.”

He offered his hand to Fiddleford.

“Would you like to dance?”

Fiddleford took Ford’s hand without a drop of hesitation. The slow, sultry sounds of woodwinds and cymbals filled the room as they danced a sort of tango across the game room floor. It wasn’t long before Fiddleford unshackled the gloom that had weighed him down like great chains of lead, losing himself completely to the music and Ford’s gentle touch.

“Where’d ya learn to move ‘round like that,” Fidds giggled as Ford lowered him into a sudden dip.

“The Dance Dimension, the one where everyone communicates through dancing,” Ford said before kissing the tip of Fiddleford’s nose.

“Y’ought ta show off them fancy moves off at the party,” said Fiddleford.

“Soon enough,” Ford shrugged as he pulled up his partner, “but I want to finish this one first.” Ford spun Fiddleford around as the music began to slowly fade away, finishing it off by pulling his partner close into a passionate kiss. It was a perfect moment.

Pity that’s the exact time the ghost showed up.

The fire in the hearth blew out as an unearthly chill engulfed the room, the door slammed itself open and closed, drawing the attention of the girls decorating in the hall. The walls rattled ferociously, knocking several of the mounted animal heads onto the floor, all while an ominous moaning began to fill the air, louder and louder until it was an unbearable pitch.

“What’s going on?” shouted Mabel over the commotion.

“I don’t know,” Ford cried back as he held a frightened Fiddleford close to his chest. “But it’s possibly a category ten ghost—you girls stay back just in case!”

The apparition finally manifest itself into physical form, bound in chains that clasped in the middle and weighed it down miserably.

“PRESTON NORTHWEST,” wailed the creature, its gruesome face frozen in rigor mortis even as it spoke in a horrible, hoarse voice.

“… What?” Fiddleford blinked in confusion.

“Ugh, Uncle Marley, dad doesn’t live here anymore, now stop bothering Mr. McGucket,” said Pacifica, making her way into the room with the rest of the girls.

“Uncle Marley?”

“Yeah,” said Pacifica, rolling her eyes, “He was Great-Great-Grandfather’s business partner a hundred years ago who died stealing Christmas from all the children of townspeople who owed him money, and now every Christmas he’s stuck warning every new generation of Northwests that if they don’t change their ways, they’ll be trapped to the same fate he earned.”

“Ohhhh, that’s so festive,” cheered Mabel.

“It gets old quickly,” said Pacifica with a scowl.

“Well,” Fiddleford stepped toward the ghost nervously, “I’m awful sorry mister, but Preston Northwest don’t live here no more. And don’t bother the girl neither, she’s a good kid.” Fidds clapped a protective hand on Pacifica’s shoulder, which made her smile. “Ain’t anybody haunting anybody here tonight. Although, yer more than welcome to join the party downstairs, there’s plenty of ghosts ya can hang out with there if’n ya want to stay.”

“Alas,” said the ghost mournfully, “I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere—”

“Didn’t stop you from ruining my fourth grade Christmas sleepover,” mumbled Pacifica under her breath.

“I must admit this is most inconvenient,” said the ghost, scratching his chin pensively. “I was sent to herald the arrival of the ghost of Christmas Past, Present and Yet To Come, they’ll be quite put out that they won’t be able to perform their duties tonight.”

“Wait,” said Ford with a bright smile that began to glow in the darkness of the room. “Perhaps we could work something out…”

The Ghost of Christmas present was, in his entire jolly splendor, a welcome edition to the party, providing a surplus of food and comfort for all to enjoy. He and Mabel became fast friends as they lead the party to new heights of merriment, to the point where even Pacifica couldn’t help but crack a smile.

The formidable Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come wanted nothing more than to haunt Preston Northwest with visions of his terrible fate if he were to continue to be a jealous, greedy jerk, but the specter was content to postpone that frightful encounter as Candy and Grenda quizzed him on such pressing matters as whether or not Marius would give Grenda another palace for Christmas, and who Candy should kiss on New Years Eve.

Of the haunting trio, however, the Ghost of Christmas Past was the one Ford had most wanted to see.

“Can you show him a few Christmases from his childhood,” he indicated Fiddleford with a gesture of his hand, “It would mean the world to him.”

“Of course,” said the luminous child, taking both old men by the hand.

In an instant, they were transported into a series of faded memories: young Fiddleford ice skating out on a pond in Tennessee, then another scene where little Fidds unwrapped a new banjo underneath a Christmas tree, Fiddleford tucking his young son into bed and reading The Night Before Christmas to help the child fall asleep soon. Old McGucket could barely hold back his tears of joy as each scene danced before him in an instant.

“Is this all right,” said Ford nervously, “do you like it? We can stop if you want–”

“I love it,” Fiddleford croaked, throwing his arms around Ford’s waist. “Thank you… thank you so much…”

Ford gently kissed the top of Fiddleford’s head.

“Screw it,” he whispered. “God bless us, every one.”

[moverevolutionestateagents]

Move Revolution Christmas Girls Wish List 2018!

Our Move Revolution Girls’ Wish List was such a huge hit last year we have updated it for 2018… with so many compliments about the different independent businesses, we have added in all their new gifts for 2018 – fantastic for last minute ideas! We originally wanted to create an Ultimate Girls’ Christmas Wish List using all the local knowledge from the girls (and guys) in our Move Revolution offices throughout Surrey, Sussex and Kent! It was decided that our list needed to be ‘local’ either produced by someone local, or stocked by someone local.

As an independent business, we know how much hard work and dedication we invest into delivering the very best possible customer service for our clients….having started with one office in Nutfield, Surrey which covers the Reigate, Redhill, Horley and Oxted area we now have offices throughout Surrey, Sussex and Kent, at Move Revolution we all have a real love for what we do, as do all these local businesses!

This is our 2018 gorgeous sparkly list – get ready to buy all the things for yourself (or share this with your partner with a big hint!!)  

Move Revolution’s Girls Shopping List 2018-

(To read full details on each of the item, and why we love it, see below!)

1.  All about Eve at Home (Reigate)- Dark Amber

2. Willow & Boo (Tunbridge Wells) – The Nutcracker Box

3. Bradshaw & Sons (Sevenoaks) – Sevenoaks Satchel

4. The Gin Kitchen (Dorking) – Artisan Dancing Dragontail or Gutsy Monkey Gin

5. Ivy Florence (Lingfield) – Christmas Flowers

6. Squerry’s (Westerham) – Sparkling Wine

7. Monty Bojangles (Head office – Kenley, Truffle Bar – Reigate) –  Winter Wanderland

8. Gravetye Manor – Amazing Dining Experience

9. Time Hair & Beauty (Caterham) – ‘Going Out Hair & Beauty’ Gift Voucher

Find out a little bit more about the gorgeous items on our ultimate shopping list 2018!

 (1) The perfect Candle  – All about Eve at Home Dark Amber

These are truly gorgeous candles – and we love the latest edition!

“A hypnotic fragrance of amber and leather on a base of jasmine, smoky spices and a hint of citrus, make this a truly sophisticated seasonal fragrance.

Hand poured in the UK by candle specialists, our candles hold 220gms of wax, burn for approximately 40 hours and burn evenly right down to the bottom of the glass. Our customers love them as they really do hold their strong fragrance right to the very end!!”

All about Eve at Home Dark Amber

(2) The perfect handmade gift – Lollipops!

Do you remember Willow & Boo (recommended by our Royal Tunbridge Wells team) this year, inspired by the film they have created  The Nutcracker box….

A lovely treat box with-

Mother Gingers sherbet Jar with a strawberry gold swirl lollipop

A lemon snowflake

Blackcurrant sugar plum fairy slippers

Strawberry nutcracker lollipop

and a little gilded sugar mouse.

The Nutcracker Box

   (3) The Sevenoaks satchel – Every girl likes to feel unique!

“Inspired by the bags of the 1930’s and 40’s, when artistry was paramount, the Sevenoaks Satchel is a respectful nod to history, a new classic for a changed world. Designed with versatility in mind it can be worn on the shoulder, hands-free across the body or brief-case style using the top handle. The Sevenoaks satchel features a generously proportioned duel moulded body, single buckle brass closure and detachable internal pocket. Streamlined and minimalist but imbued with character, this unique Satchel is your new style must-have”

(4) GIN GIN  GIN ! (Need we say more!)

A few of us had the pleasure of visiting the Gin Kitchen this summer – it was truly amazing, they have launched a new gin – they are feeling in the pink this time!

“As our NEW Blushing Monkey Pink Gin hit the shelves of Fortnum and Mason in September 2018 for our fourth Spirit of the Month. Our latest addition is our unique interpretation of the pink gin revolution – our amethyst portal to the divine! We’ve created a juniper-led but gorgeously floral gin with a delightful sweet (but not too sweet) fruity twist by macerating our mischievous Gutsy Monkey with a bashful cluster of sweet black grapes! With the addition of tonic, the initially translucent Blushing Monkey transforms into a pearlescent pink elixir. Our favourite serve is to add the tonic first so the gin forms a candifloss-coloured cloud.”. http://gin.kitchen

(5) The gift of flowers – discover Ivy Florence!

The secret florist is tucked away in Lingfield Village – Ivy Florence in Lingfield is a treat to visit at the this time of year! With attention to detail you really will be thrilled, and importantly so will the lucky recipient!

Wonderful flower gifts 

(6) Pop the cork! Who can resist a glass of bubbles!

“Vintage sparkling wine that reflects the amazing spirit, rich heritage and the beautiful terroir of our North Downs Estate”

With a gorgeous selection of sparkling wines… and wonderful experiences based at the vineyard – this really is a wonderful way to toast Christmas morning!

  Wonderful bubbles

7)  Monty Bojangles – Truffles!

Monty Bojangles is a huge favourite of Louise Simpson’s, our Head Office Area Sales Manager. This year they have a ‘Winter Wonderland’ selection.. perfect for any Christmas Stocking!!  Either buy online or at The Reigate Truffle Bar which is a great place to visit for Christmas shopping (and amazing hot chocolate)

  8) An amazing dinner! 

We have been hearing wonderful things about Gravetye Manor… just take a look at the beautiful setting and incredible menus! (you will be very tempted!)

“Prepare to be delighted by our magnificent Michelin Star meals. Our immensely talented head chef, George Blogg takes the freshest ingredients from our Kitchen Garden and transforms them into a culinary masterpiece. If it’s not in season, it’s not on the menu”

9)  The Ultimate ‘Going Out Out Package’ with Time Hair & Beauty 

We know that many of you enjoyed this package last year … so we have included it in our list! Treat yourself or wonderful friend / girlfriend / wife a TIME Hair and Beauty pampering packages.  Created by Katherine Casey-Farmer (Kat) who trained and worked in Covent Garden, Camden, Croydon and Reigate – this is perfect as a gift.

If you are not sure what to choose… Kat has created a ‘Going Out Out Package’- what a wonderful treat for any girl!

Going ‘out out’ Blowdry

Going ‘out out’ Make-up

Going ‘out out’ Gel Manicure

 If you’re thinking of moving, call the team on 0330 223 1000 or fill in the valuation form.

We can’t wait to chat with you!

  The post Move Revolution Christmas Girls Wish List 2018! appeared first on Move Revolution.

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