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#Santa clause isn’t real
robfozdarling · 9 months
Text
It’s ok Fozzie, Santa’s real, don’t listen to them
Just a little silly for Christmas time hehe
Here’s the pictures individually
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He’s so sad :(
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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years
Note
Hey my family out the Christmas decorations up today and it made me think of a cute little request for roosters brood? Like one where the kids tell the squad that they say mommy kissing Santa thought it would just be funny and cute 🥰
Aww that is super cute! I’m totally getting into the holiday spirit despite it being my busiest season, work-wise 😫 Hope you like this little drabble which may or may not have somehow turned into a Hannix thing.. I don't even know haha I've just been in a Jake mood lately 😅
The Secret
Rooster x Wife!Reader
Summary: One of your children confides in Hangman after he sees you locking lips with Ol' Saint Nick.
CW: just a tiny drabble, fluff, Christmas, kids, hints of Hannix
WC: 400+
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“Guess what?” you hear your son say excitedly as he pulls on Jake’s pantleg while the latter is hanging a string of lights above your window.
“Chicken butt,” Jake responds without looking down.
“No!” Your son cackles. “I have a secret!”
Jake glances at him with a smirk. “Let me guess,” he says. “You’re not planning on keeping it.”
“Keeping what?” the boy asks in confusion.
Jake’s grin widens and he steps down from the stool to sit on it instead. He leans forward and gives your son his undivided attention. “Alright, go ahead.”
Your son brings his face to Jake’s ear and starts saying something when Jake jerks away from him. “Buddy!” he exclaims. “When you’re talking into my ear, whisper. You’re gonna burst my damn eardrum.”
“Bagman!” Phoenix tosses a garland at his back. “Language.”
“Phoenix!” he responds, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Can you save the violence for when we’re alone?”
Natasha’s eyes widen and her mouth curves into an outraged grin. She goes back to her poinsettia arrangement in silence.
Jake returns his attention to your son, who starts whispering feverishly into his ear.
“Oh, really?” Jake says, his mouth stretching into a wide smirk. He glances up at you with a roguish smile.
“You can’t tell daddy,” your son warns.
Jake nods, still watching you. “I agree.”
“What was that about?” you ask Jake later that evening after Bradley goes to put the kids to bed.
Jake turns to you with a laugh. “Apparently, you’re on the naughty list.”
“What?”
“Little Pete –”
“It was Nick,” Natasha interrupts Jake, rolling her eyes.
“Whatever, they’re practically the same person.” Jake waves his hand. “Little Nick saw mommy kissing Santa Clause.”
You clap a hand over your mouth, gasping. “Oh no!”
“What happened?” Bradley asks, coming down the stairs.
“Bradley was trying on the new Santa costume he bought,” you say with a slight whine. “I can’t believe they saw us!”
“I don’t know what’s worse,” Natasha muses. “Finding out that Santa isn’t real or thinking that your mom’s having an affair with old Saint Nick.”
You cringe. “Both are terrible!”
Bradley makes a face. “Someone saw us?”
Jake nods. “Yeah, Pete –”
“Nick,” Natasha corrects him again.
Jake sighs in exasperation. “How can you even tell them apart?”
Natasha shrugs. “Pete is shorter.”
Bradley chuckles, taking you by the waist and kissing your cheek. “Don’t worry, darling,” he mutters. “We’ll just tell the kids that Santa kisses everybody.”
Jake glances at the two of you sourly and then reaches over to take Natasha by the arm. He pulls her toward him possessively. “As long as Santa doesn’t demonstrate it,” he comments with a grimace.
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askfriskandcompany · 10 months
Note
Has anyone figured out that Santa Clause (and Krampus by extension) is real? I’m sure many businesses would like to hope that they aren’t, since they’d have to pay royalties of using their likeness over the past century or so.
Santa has no intentions of perusing any copyright claims. As far as he’s concerned, the mythic figure of Santa Claus is and always should be public domain. Plus, he’s got more important things to do with his time. Namely, rescuing kids. And that’s easier to do if the public eye isn’t on him.
-TQ
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nctsplug02 · 2 years
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Hey ash! You truly are an amazing writer! Could you maybe write a boxer jaehyun au for us???
[6:50PM]
GENRE: FLUFF | SMUT | PARENTS AU | BOXING AU
WARNINGS: kissing, mention of condoms, mention of birth control, marking, BDSM, oral sex (F receiving), fingering and creampie!
FEATURING: na jaemin as their four year old son!
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you pull out a cart while you son clings onto your leg. “mama, can we get a gingerbread house?” you look to where the boy is pointing to.
it was a shelf with multiple choices of gingerbread houses.
“sure, let’s go check it out and then you can pick which one you wanna do.” jaemin gets all giggly as the pair of you make your way to the shelves.
when reaching the shelves, jaemin lets your hand go and squats down. “mama, a beach!” he points to the box with a gingerbread beach set on the front. “that’s cute— do you want that one?” he shakes his head.
jaemin stands up and then lets out a gasp. “mama, can we get this one?!” it was a regular gingerbread house but mini version. “i think it’s perfect! we can absolutely get it.”
jaemin claps in excitement and grabs three boxes. “three of them?” you ask and your son nods, stacking them on top of one another. “one for you, me and daddy!” you see him struggling and you take the boxes from him.
“you have a good reason.” you set them in the cart. “should we get some extra candies and frosting just in case?” jaemin takes a second to think and nods. “alright, then can you pick out some colored frosting and some candy you think we should decorate our houses with?” jaemin nods and begins to pick out some frosting and candy.
after, he’s done, the pair of you walk away from that section.
“okay, nana. do you remember what we’re here for?” jaemin nods. “we’re here to pick out daddy’s christmas present!”
“well, santa already got daddy christmas present. but, nana just wants to add on, right?” jaemin presses his lips together and pushes them to one side with furrowed eyebrows.
“mama, santa clause isn’t real.” you slow the cart and look at the boy seat in front of you. “whoo.. said that?” you raise an eyebrow and he giggles. “my best friend jeno in my class! he says his older brother, mark told him that santa isn’t real and then he told me.”
you softly laugh and push your hair back. “he also said our mommies and daddies are the real santa clause. is he lying?” you bite your lip and give your son a weird look.
“look, you’re four and i’m not gonna lie to you— yeah, mommy and daddy get your presents, not santa.” jaemin lets out a sound of confusion. “okay.”
“okay, so let’s move past that! why don’t you get out of the cart and look around to daddy’s gift?” jaemin nods and is pulled out with your help.
“so, where should we go first?” you ask as the little boy holds onto the holes on the cart. “um.. let’s go get some clothes for dad.” you nod and stroll the cart towards the men’s isle.
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“toothpaste..” you scan the isle. “ah, here we go.” you grab the pack of toothpaste. “what’d you grab, nana.” you say putting the box in the cart. “how did you know i grabbed something?”
you look back at the boy and smile. “deodorant?” you pick up the boy and grab the deodorant from his hands. “yeah, it’s for dad! he needs it because after he fights with people, he stinks.” you laugh and jaemin giggles.
“alright, we’re definitely getting that for a laugh.” you toss the deodorant in the cart.
“we’re all done, right?” jaemin wiggles from you hold and climbs on the side of the cart and nods. “i think so, mama!” he gives you a quick thumbs up before grabbing onto the cart, again. “okay, then let’s go check out.”
jaemin nods and you pick him up, sitting him in the seat. “nana,” you say when pushing the cart. “yes, mommy?” you stop when another person pushes their cart in front of yours.
“when we check out, you can pick a candy. okay?” jaemin gasps and nods. “you’ve been such a good boy today and that’ll be your reward.” he nods, again with the biggest smile ever.
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after finishing with the gingerbread houses, the three of you moved to the living room and sat near the christmas tree.
“i don’t know which one to pick.” jaemin bites his thumb and looks at his several presents.
it was christmas eve and it was tradition to open one present the day before christmas so, therefore, jaemin stood by his presents debating which one he wanted to open first.
“well, you’re gonna open them all tomorrow.” jaehyun says with hot cocoa in his mug and his arm wrapped around you.
“you’re right.. um, i think i wanna do this one!” he picks up a small box with his name written on it. “alright! let’s sit in a circle and see what we got.” you start but jaehyun starts bickering.
“hey, hey— i haven’t picked out my present yet, mama.” your cheeks flush in embarrassment and in a reaction— you felt like a snowman in the summer whenever he called you a nickname.
you clear your throat as jaehyun detangles his arms from you. “i.. hm, i think i want this one.” jaemin giggles when seeing jaehyun pick out the present that jaemin had gotten him.
jaehyun sits in between you and jaemin and sets down his hot cocoa.
“mommy, you go first.” jaemin speaks up and you chuckle. “okay.. this one says it from daddy.” you look at your husband and tear the wrapping paper.
you look down at the present and gasp. “jae.. did you actually?” you stare down at the valentino box. “i don’t know,” he giggles. “did i?” you frown and open the box, pushing past the extra paper to find the most gorgeous heels.
“babe,” you whine and pick one of the heels up. “it’s so pretty!” it was the valentino garavani tan-go platform pumps, in black. “do you like it?” jaehyun asks in a giggly voice. “like it? no, i absolutely love them!” you slip one on and jaehyun helps with the straps.
“i’d love to see you wear them to my next match.” jaehyun says letting your foot go. “sure, if you don’t mind looking short next to your wife.” you and jaehyun laugh. “i don’t mind. i just want to see my wife in her new heels.”
“how did you even get your hands on these?” you slip on the other side. “well, i almost fought someone for these.” you let out a small gasp and he laughs. “i’m kidding. i drove to like.. six different stores and found these beauties at a store that was an hour away.”
you sit up on your knees and lean forward, wrapping your arms around your husbands neck and throwing yourself onto him. “thank you, i love them.” you plant a kiss on his cheek. “and me?” you laugh, slightly tossing your head back. “i love you too, of course.” he softly laughs, satisfied with the three specific words.
“can i go now?” jaemin asks, patiently sitting with his present in front of him. “oh, of course! sorry, mommy and daddy were distracted.”
“it’s okay.” jaemin says while ripping open the wrapping paper. you bite your lip, waiting for his reaction. “it’s a watch!” he holds up the present. “oh, really?” he nods and attempts to tear it out of its packaging.
jaemin looks up and pouts. “yes, daddy will help.” you say while climbing off jaehyun. “thanks, hon.” you and jaehyun laugh.
jaehyun takes the watch from jaemin and undoes it from its packaging. “there we go.” jaehyun says, clipping it in place on jaemins wrist. “i love it! i’ve always wanted a spider-man watch and now i have it!” jaemin says as jaehyun fixes the time.
“okay, can you tell me what time it is?” jaemin looks down at his watch and hums. “i don’t know, i can’t read numbers.” you and jaehyun laugh.
jaemin crawls into your lap while fixing his watch. “okay, dad, it’s your turn!” jaemin says pointing to the green bag. “mm.. in excited!” jaehyun opens the bag and flings out the extra wraps.
“whattt,” jaehyun drags out while pulling out a folded t shirt. “it says ‘best dad in the world’ because you’re the best dad ever!” jaehyun smiles at jaemins words.
“i love it.” jaehyun sets the shirt in front of his and tugs off the black t-shirt. “love it so much that i’ll put it on right now.” he says towards jaemin who scrunches up his face.
jaehyun slips the shirt over his head and slips his arms through the holes. “perfect fit.” jaehyun says smoothing out the cotton material. “i knew daddy would like it.” you say and jaemin giggles.
“okay,” jaehyun shakes his head to fix his hair and fixes his glasses. “let’s see what’s next.” he pulls out a deodorant stick and starts heavily laughing.
“nana, tell daddy why you got him that.” jaemin giggles when seeing his dads reaction. “i got it because daddy stinks after he fights with people.” jaehyun sighs and nods. “thank you, nana. i.. i really needed this.” he laughs, again.
“there’s more, dad!” jaemin points and jaehyun nods, pulling out the extra stuff.
after jaehyun was finished— the three of you cleaned up and went to bed.
“babe,” jaehyun nods, taking off his glasses and putting them on his nightstand. “today, we went to target and.. i got us.. this.” you hold up the two boxes.
jaehyun sits up in excitement and shock. “a vi.. a vibrator and.. lube.” you nod, biting your lip. waiting to see how he’d react.
“jae,” you sigh and crawl onto the bed, sitting yourself in front of him. “i’ve been dying to have another baby and it’s my ovulation week!” you drop the items in your hand and cup his face. “i’m just.. waiting to hear what you say.”
“baby, i’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” your eyes widen and a squeal erupts from you as you squeeze his cheeks. “you have?!” you squeal in excitement.
jaehyun tosses his head back and lets out a laugh. “you don’t even know how hard it is to resist fucking a baby into you every time we make love.”
you slam your lips onto jaehyuns and he laughs against your lips. you moan and grind your hips, pulling at the slightly long locks.
jaehyun pulls away while heavily breathing. “strip for me.” he whispers.
you fight the urge to lift your shoulders in excitement— along with a smile. but, that didn’t stop your face from heating up.
you scoot back and begin to undress yourself. meanwhile jaehyun snatches the box up and rips it open. “oh, baby.” jaehyun softly chuckles. “we’re gonna have so much fun tonight.”
“fuck, we need batteries first.” jaehyun sighs and reaches over to your nightstand. he opens the drawer and shuffles around, picking up two batteries and sticking it in the toy.
jaehyun sits up to see you naked. “you look so beautiful. you always do.” he reaches forward and pinches your nipple. “you’re so beautiful, baby.” he whispers and rubs your hard nipple with his thumb.
“here,” jaehyun holds up the toy. “i want to see how you’d play with this.” you hesitate but take the toy from him. “i want to watch,” he says, again. “is that okay?” you nod and sit back, with your legs stilk pressed together.
“can i get a pillow?” jaehyun reaches behind him and grabs a pillow, fluffing it and handing it to you.
you tuck it behind you and you lay back, finally pulling your legs apart and letting jaehyun see your glistening pussy.
“fuck, baby.” jaehyun licks his lips and hisses at the sight.
you turn the toy on and gasp when it starts buzzing softly. “hm,” jaehyun grabs the box and reads the front. “there are five settings— let’s try them all.”
“a—all—?” your clit dying to feel the buzzing. “yes, all. we have all night. tomorrow’s christmas.” you bite your lip and gasp when jaehyun guides the vibrator to your clit.
your hips jerk inward and every muscle in your body clenches. “o—ooh, god.” you sigh and let out a string of moans. “o—ooh, my god.” you roll your hips and toss your head back.
“fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” jaehyun whispers and reaches up, grabbing ahold of your nipples and pinching them between his fingers. “i—im gonna c—cum!” you groan and clench around nothing.
jaehyun grins as you let out a soft gasp and watches as you go tense. your orgasm hitting you softly yet so roughly.
“hm, should we move it up a level?” you smile through your recovery and nod. “that’s my girl.” jaehyun rubs your clit with his thumb and takes the toy from you, switching it off and then climbing off the bed.
“wh—where’re you going?” you can barely lift your head off the pillow. “getting some of our other toys.” you watch as he walks to the closet and comes back with several rose gold silk ribbons.
jaehyun sits back in the bed and drags you to one of the bed posts. “don’t tie it too tight.” you say as he begins tying your wrists together. “ahh, i won’t.” jaehyun tightens it and a whimper is released from you as you bring your eyes to his.
“mm, im sorry, my love.” jaehyun softly chuckles and leans down, giving your forehead a kiss. “i said not too tight, asshole.” you say between (nervous) laughter.
jaehyun takes the next ribbon and uses it to tie your ankle— this ribbon was long so it was a given opportunity for jaehyun to bring it all up your legs and to your hips, where it ends, he ties it up into a bow and stands on his knees.
“so pretty.” jaehyun admires his work and bites his lip. “try not to roll off.” he says with a soft chuckle.
jaehyun reaches for the toy and the bottle of lube catches his eyes. “hm.” the corner of his lips quirk and his hand reaches for it as well. “let’s put this to use.” he flicks the bottle open and squirts some onto the round vibrator.
jaehyun flicks the toy onto the third setting and bites his lip at the buzz. “mm, this one is powerful— i wonder how the other settings will be like.” he lifts your legs and uses the toy to smear the lube on your lips.
you shudder at the cold feeling. jaehyun slips the toy into your cunt and a yelp escapes from you. the buzzing inside you felt so different. your walls clenched around the toy which vibrated more vibration.
“o—ooh, my god— get this thing out of me!” you shudder and squeeze your fists. “h—holy fuck, it’s so strong!” you gasp, digging your nails into your palms.
jaehyun chuckles at the sight of you being torn up from a toy. “how does it feel, baby?” you groan in annoyance (more like not being able to form any words), and flip to your side. “aw,” jaehyun groans. “cmon, baby. tell me how it feels.”
“so— g—god!” you shake your head and choke back a whimper. “i—i can’t!” you could feel tears forming in your eyes and they threatened to fall.
jaehyun hums, thrusting the toy further into you. “mm, yes you can, baby. i know you can.” an orgasm has you thrashing around and biting back a vicious moan.
“ah ahh,” jaehyun tuts as your moans become louder from the stimulation. “do you remember our baby boy in the other room, let’s try not to wake him, yeah?” you nod and bends your knees.
you let out a whimpery cry when feeling the buzz hit your g-spot. “t—that— god!” you scream and arch your back off the bed. “feels so fu— fucking good!” you manage to get out and jaehyun smiles down at you.
“i know you could do it.” jaehyun pulls the toy out and shuts it off.
“that was torture.. holy fuck.” you laugh and so does jaehyun.
“looked fun.” jaehyun says undressing himself. “oh, did it now?” he nods and you sit up. “why don’t we test it on you?” the man shakes his head and grabs you by the hips.
jaehyun fixes the way you’re laying and holds your thighs firmly, keeping your feet in the air. “not tonight, baby. another night. but, tonight is about you and making another baby— m’kay?” you nod, watching as your husband lays flat on his belly.
“now, sit still for me so i can eat this pretty pussy.” you moan and hide your face behind your arm as jaehyun dips his head and flattens his tongue on your pussy.
jaehyun hums, causing more vibration to buzz against your clit. (as if the vibrator wasn’t enough).
“oh, god.” you gasp and tip your head back with your eyes shut. “good god, jaehyun!” you cry out as he dips his tongue into your hole.
jaehyun groans and lets his eyes flutter shut while he laps your juice. your sweet sweet juice that he can never get enough of.
“sh—shit!” you attempt to laugh through the pleasure but jaehyuns nose rubs against your clit. “oh, god— i’m gonna cum.” you whisper.
your hands begged to be released. they’d begged to just be lost in his soft locks but the restraints held you hostage.
“fuck— i’m— i’m cumming!” you pant out.
jaehyun quickly laps up your juice and sucks your clit. he brings his a pair of fingers to your pussy and thrusts them into your cunt. it was a perfect fit— your walls snuggled him tightly while he thrusted them to fuck you through your orgasm.
“fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you squeal and turn to your side as it gets too much. jaehyun sits up and licks his fingers clean. “i wasn’t quite finished, baby.” you shake your head (and so did your legs).
“i think.. i think im done for the night.” jaehyun uses the back of his hand and wipes his mouth and around. “hm, i think i remember you saying that this week is your ovulation week and that.. you’ve been wanting another mini us. right?”
you turn back and face him with a nod afterwards. “i do but, i don’t think i can have so many orgasms in one night. i mean, don’t get me wrong— it feels amazing but, sir, i am going to be sore before sunrise.” you laugh and jaehyun reaches forward, untying the ribbons from your hands and ankle.
“one more round, baby. one more.” you look at the clock on jaehyuns nightstand— it was almost three in the morning.
you bite your lip to hide the cheeky smile. “i guess another round wouldn’t hurt.” jaehyun softly chuckles and grabs you by the waist.
jaehyun hovers you over his lap and sinks you down on his cock. “w—wow.” you laugh with nerve and adjust to the size.
you swore he grew everyday.
“god, you’re so.. huge.” you and jaehyun both laugh. “take your time, baby. we’ve got all night ahead of us.” you rest your hands on his shoulders and let out a extended exhale.
“that’s it, baby.” jaehyun says as he feels you move your hips in a circular motion. “keep moving your hips like that.” he sets his hands on your hips and squeezes them while your roll them in circles.
jaehyun reaches down and uses his thumb to rub your clit. “i—im sensitive, dickhead!” you grab his wrist and he laughs. “i’m sorry, i am.” jaehyun hugs your waist and presses a kiss on your chest.
jaehyuns hands rest on your ass and pulls you on. “let me help, baby.” jaehyun drops your ass and picks it back up.
you moan and jaehyun smiles. “i love how you sound, baby.” you dig your chin into his shoulder in embarrassment. “you sound so fucking adorable when getting fucked by me.”
jaehyun holds your hips still and uses the wall as a support for his back to push his hips up.
“oh, my god.” you gasp, nails digging into his soft skin while jaehyun pounds into you. “oh, god, im gonna cum.”
“wait for me, baby. i wanna cum together.” jaehyun whispers.
several seconds pass by and you are reaching your climax with jaehyun. his cock pumping his load into you while you attempt to recover from your orgasm.
“can we shower?” you ask with drowsy eyes. “how’bout we take a bubble bath instead?” you softly laugh, lifting your head off his shoulder. “use nanas bubbles?” jaehyun nods and you do as well.
jaehyun holds you close while climbing off the bed and to the bathroom where the pair of you took a bath with bubbles.
you’d fallen asleep which jaehyun thought was absolutely adorable.
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A/N: tbh there was no boxing related in here HAHA. but, it was just a cute little thing to write. :)
364 notes · View notes
stardustprompts · 2 years
Text
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house of ashes  -  the dark pictures anthology  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying     tw ;  language ,  war ,  death ,  drug mention ,  religion mention 
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‘I don’t know where i’d be without you.’ 
‘don’t you think it’s about time you came clean?’ 
‘all’s fair in love and war.’ 
‘I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.’ 
‘with all due respect, I think that’s the wrong call.’ 
‘quit being a bitch!’
‘I’ve got a real bad feeling about this.’
‘I wish you’d reconsider.’ 
‘it’s been a long time since we last saw each other.’ 
‘not a day went by when you weren’t on my mind.’ 
‘I’ve missed you so much, (name).’
‘how we left it ... things weren’t so great between us.’
‘we’ve been through worse. a lot worse.’ 
‘I wish I shared your optimism.’ 
‘you wanna ask me something. I can tell by the look on your face.’
‘you’re fucking with me.’
‘you got any other surprises you wanna drop on me?’
‘that’s gotta be about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’
‘I don’t know about you guys but something doesn’t feel right about this place.’
‘so is that this women’s intuition I keep hearing about?’
‘I don’t believe in curses, the tooth fairy, or santa clause.’
‘fuck. we’re so fucked.’ 
‘I won’t do it. this is not right.’
‘stay the hell away from me.’
‘you better not miss.’
‘you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ 
‘I fucking knew it. I knew you weren’t ready for this.’ 
‘you didn’t see shit!’ 
‘I flunked history at school.’ 
‘tell me you don’t feel something...’
‘I don’t feel shit.’
‘we need to get out of here right now!’
‘you want the good version or the bad version?’
‘what the hell are you? what do you want from me?’
‘are you okay? are you hurt?’
‘I’m pretty good at looking after myself.’
‘I guess we could classify this as ‘quality time’.’
‘doesn’t this remind you of old times, (name)?’
‘maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.’ 
‘after you left, I learned to deal with pressure.’ 
‘do you not watch horror movies?’
‘you didn’t hear that?’
‘I didn’t hear anything.’ 
‘you can’t blame yourself.’
‘we’ve both made mistakes.’
‘I didn’t make it easy on you, (name). I know that.’ 
‘I don’t think either of us expected to be out of each other’s lives for so long.’
‘I’ve missed you, like you wouldn’t believe.’   
‘maybe there’s hope for us after all.’ 
‘there you go, reading my mind again.’ 
‘you always were a good guy. maybe too good for me.’ 
‘I want you back, (name).’ 
‘we were pretty damn good together.’ 
‘I know you better than you think, (name).’
‘admit it, there’s someone else, isn’t there?’
‘give ‘em hell, buddy.’
‘you gotta stop struggling!’
‘do you believe in god?’
‘you wouldn’t believe me even if I tried. hell, I don’t believe and I was there.’ 
‘come on, you’re jumping at shadows!’ 
‘whatever you think you’ve seen, it’s bullshit.’ 
‘take a mental picture and snap the fuck out of it!’
‘you got us into this mess, you better get us out.’
‘you wanna repeat that? that’s what I thought.’ 
‘I’m not sure of anything anymore.’
‘in battle, these things are often difficult to judge.’ 
‘are you on fucking drugs?!’
‘we’ve lost enough today.’ 
‘we can get through this, but only together.’
‘I’ve seen their weakness. they burn in sunlight.’ 
‘like any living being, they can be killed. a stake through the heart.’ 
‘we do this together, okay?’
‘what the fuck are we up against?’
‘never before have I ever seen anything so vicious.’
‘do you believe in demons?’ 
‘if you had asked me that before, I’d have laughed in your face.’
‘like you, I also never believed. but look around you.’ 
‘I don’t want to hurt you!’
‘there’s no point in fighting. not anymore.’ 
‘after all we’ve been through? thanks a lot!’
‘we fought it together and we won.’ 
‘I hope you’re a believer. when those things come back, you’re going to need a higher power to pray to.’ 
‘if I gotta fight these things, there’s no one else I would want by my side.’ 
‘cut the bullshit, (name). I know you and I know you care.’ 
‘trust me, you wanna get that shit out in the open.’
‘why is it that no one ever tells it straight? everyone just makes up bullshit to get by.’ 
‘if we die down here? maybe that’s what we deserve.’ 
‘‘fuck’ doesn’t even start to cover it.’
‘there’s no such thing as luck.’
‘do you mind?’
‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘how did I know you were going to say that?’ 
‘gee, thanks, (name). you ever think about going into motivational speaking?’ 
‘that’s gotta be about the dumbest question I have ever been asked.’ 
‘I guess I just wanted to let go. you know, be someone new.’
‘you think it bothers me what they call me? i wear that shit like a fucking badge of honor.’ 
‘you and I... we’re not so different.’ 
‘please. please don’t leave me down here alone.’ 
‘don’t quit on me now!’ 
‘truth is so overrated.’ 
‘if you turn, it won’t be you I’m killing.’ 
‘I know you can do it, (name). you just have to have hope!’
‘you’re screwed enough as it is! if you stay with me, there’s no hope for you at all.’
‘(name) could lose his own ass if it wasn’t pinned on him.’
‘embrace the suck.’ 
‘you follow me, or you stay here and rot.’ 
‘it’s good to see you, (name). I thought we lost you.’ 
‘that’s not (name) anymore.’ 
‘you worthless pile of shit!’
‘the enemy of the enemy is our friend!’ 
‘well this looks like the worst place in the goddamn world.’ 
‘I don’t mean you any harm. I swear.’ 
‘honestly? I’m just glad to see a human face.’
‘my father once told me that if something looks like shit, and it smells like shit, you don’t have to taste it to know that it’s shit!’ 
‘I think you need to give your mouth a rest.’ 
‘every time you say something smart, you follow it with something dumb.’ 
‘hope is all we got left.’
‘funny how you can know someone for years and never really know them.’ 
‘a time will come when you will deeply regret this manner.’
‘I don’t carry regrets.’ 
‘it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.’ 
‘not exactly honeymoon material, is it?’
‘my sole objective, (name), is to make you happy. doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re going through, I’ll always put a smile on your face.’
‘I thought I lost you!’
‘thanks for looking out for me.’ 
‘I can’t pretend like this didn’t happen.’ 
‘I still love you, (name).’
‘I knew you would always be there for me.’ 
‘I wanna try us again.’
‘I can’t turn my back on my past.’ 
‘if I didn’t give you a chance, I’d always regret it.’
‘you fucking deserve each other.’
‘I can’t end up like this.’ 
‘we are being judged. god is punishing us all for the mistakes we’ve made.’
‘we all have our reasons, they don’t have to be profound.’ 
‘I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing here.’ 
‘I can hear you thinking.’ 
‘start believing, (name). we’re gonna get out of here and see the sun again.’ 
‘we’ll stand together. it’s the only way.’ 
‘in this place, everything’s possible.’
‘I thought you were dead.’
‘keep your head clear of everything but the task ahead. it’s the only way we’ll live.’ 
‘secrets keep you sick.’ 
‘if you need me, I’m here for you.’ 
‘I’ll always love you.’ 
‘you’ve come to join the fun.’
‘we’re not out of the woods yet. but what I see in front of me, you’re the best. fuck that, the best of the best.’
‘there’s too many of them!’
‘it’s been interesting knowing you.’
‘you’re late and you look like shit.’
‘I’m going to make sure those things stay buried in that hellhole where they belong!’
‘I’ll have to live with that.’ 
‘I learned not to rely on anyone but myself. I was stronger than all of them.’ 
‘I’ll never get used to this job.’ 
384 notes · View notes
leafatlaw · 11 months
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in between npmd relistens I’ve become more and more fond of the barbecue monologues song and Ruth as a character.
Because, in the meta of things, the barbecue monologue is just the latest of StarKid reoccurring gags they do every show. In every Hatchetfield musical there’s one song that isn’t from the musical, but instead exists in universe. Working boys, Santa clause goes to high school, and now, the barbecue monologues. A silly overdramatic song from a high school production of a made up play. But there’s something about this song that’s sets it apart from the others and makes it more than a meta joke:
The song actually has an importance on the story. Look I love working boys as much as the next guy, but as a whole, it serves to be the one song that’s a normal song in cannon, aka not part of the alien parasite. But beyond that, it’s supposed to be a purposely cheesy corney musical written by a guy living alone in a bunker. It’s cool but not much else.
And then the Santa clause one from Black Friday, is a call back to the original. Fans loved it so much they did it again! And it’s good, as well, it’s a fun little song. And in addition to that, it complements the shows theme, being a cash grabbing soulless movie musical, that uses the holidays to sell tickets. It’s perfect for a show which is a critique of capitalize and all it inspires! It’s thoughtful but ultimately just something to show while our two main characters get together.
So that brings us to npmd, by now it’s become a staple of the trilogy, but now the series has changed as well. The world of hatchetfield has come alive with people and places, enough to fill two seasons of nightmare time! So the song changes as well. For the first time, the song being sung has an impact beyond being sung in canon. The barbecue monologue serves as our first and finale looking into Ruth as a real character. Before this she had been nothing, but a funny side character, a really really horney nerd. But in the span of one song, we find out so much about her. She wants to be an actor singing on stage but her anxiety prevents that. She belts out a song that has nothing to do with her own life but relates to it nevertheless. The emotion she puts into “the burning of the candle”, the love of attention her and the character both share, they’re both stuck in lives they hate but are trapped in, just for once-
And unlike the character in the play, Ruth doesn’t get the chance to be middle aged and unhappy. She’s dead, in the same moment we realized she was a real person, she’s gone. And that’s why I love this song so much. What could have been a silly gag is now one of the most emotion charged songs of the musical and lets us see the character in a whole new light. anyways
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men-written-by-women · 4 months
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“I thought…” Barty doesn’t finish his sentence, but Regulus doesn’t have to guess what he was going to say.
“Yeah, me too. I mean, I’ve always hated the idea of love.” The statement isn’t meant to sound so dramatic. It’s the truth. Regulus has never witnessed anything remotely close to ‘true love’, so it’s always been something he believed adults said to kids to give them something nice to believe in. Like Santa Clause or the tooth fairy. Something that isn’t real. “You don’t need love,” he continues, “at least not the romantic kind.”
His friendships over the years have shown him that he doesn’t need a happily ever after to know that someone cares about him.
“I always told myself I didn’t want that kind of love. That I wasn’t capable of having it. But now that I’ve felt it…”
“You loved him?”
And oh.
That question hits Regulus harder than it should.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I think I could have. And that hurts because he made me feel all of these things that I preached about hating, and then he went and proved me right and broke my heart.”
Regulus knows he shouldn’t put all of the blame on James. They are both at fault for the way he feels right now. It’s just difficult to be fair when it feels like you’ve lost something that was never really yours to keep.
Regulus realizes too late that his eyes are beginning to water, and honestly fuck James Potter for making him cry. For making him feel this way, and making him believe someone could genuinely love him as he is.
“I should feel some sort of satisfaction about being right,” he says, tears threatening to spill, “but mostly I just want to lay in bed and cry.”
Barty doesn’t say anything after Regulus’ revelation. He just scoots a little closer, allowing Regulus to lay his head on his shoulder.
They stay like that for a very long time.
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shiorilizzy · 6 months
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My thoughts about Wriothesley
Literally my thoughts about him, and his personality when I play the game.
He had a wonderful childhood, before he knew the truth. He thought he was the lucky child in the world, had been adopted and lived happily with silbling.
Based on his personality when we get close to him (and his sense of humor), I think he used to be a talkative child. Not the energetic one but the one who has a positive, extrovert vibe. I can image Wriothesley, in the past, giving newcomers a sweet and encouraging smile while walking them around the house.
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So well-behaved *sob*
His smile used to be so pure and sweet, kind. I think in a normal life, Wriothesley could be a kind entrepreneur or a nice, helpful officer. He is easy-going and willing to help others.
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So when he knew the truth, it devasted him. Imagine your dear parents, your saviors, your most loved ones, you used to swear that you would protect them when you grow up, but actually use you like livestock. He would feel like a clown. He was furious from the betrayal. I’m sure it ruins every memory, warm feeling of him about childhood. I can imagine how struggling he was (or is) to endure the thought that his dear memory was nothing but fake.
Think about a lively teenager who suddenly lost everything. He couldn’t rely on anybody or anything. He must be angry so much. Why now? Why did they lie? Why they were careless to let him know the truth? Why?
I think Wriothesley, sometimes, just sometimes, wishes that he could die without knowing the truth. So he could remain as a pure boy who had a beautiful childhood.
But nothing can undo, his memory about his childhood now was stained by the dirty truth. He may talk about his past with ease now but it still bothers him.
After all those years, he still healing and comforting his wounds. He avoids touching it or digs deeper into it. He even doesn’t connect with any of his “silblings”, knowing that helping them could hurt him more.
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Living in the fortress taught him that everyone has their own story, their own reason, well most of them. So do his “parents”, but he doesn’t want to understand that, he doesn’t want to empathize with them. If he does, who will empathize with him? Who will bring back his pure childhood to him? Who will let him have a life as a “clean profile” citizen? No one. So just let him despite them.
 That’s why he went himself to the criminal house in the teaser. He wants to protect that child’s world so she can live a happy life, unlike him. When that girl gets older, she will understand her father's guilt.
Although Wriothesley is an easy and sassy guy, he will bonk whoever tells children that Santa Clause isn’t real.
Overall, Wriothesley is deeply hurt and he is trying his best to heal that trauma. I know every character in Genshin has an unforgettable past but hyv did really well at Wriothesley’s. I can feel his pain and struggle through every single line. (or maybe because I like him too much ig lmao)
Wriothesley is smart with craft things. If whoever plays Tears of Themis, you will understand what I mean. Wriothesley plays with materials just like Luke. We can bring him a broken clock and he will fix it as if his hobby. Maybe he will even add more functions to that clock lmao. (Something like an alarm when is tea-time).
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Wriothesley admits that he has trust issues and most of his friends are not human. I guess they are Melusines. They may be weird a little bit and cannot understand or act like humans, but Wriothesley can trust them since they are not as greedy as humans
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As a happy boy he used to be, Wriothesley loves playing =))) He enjoys his daytime with many entertainment. He will delay work till night if it’s not urgent. He is smart enough to be lazy.
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One more reason is he wants to sleep faster. If he does the work at night, it will drain his energy. As soon as he flops on the bed, he falls asleep. Better if he is tired enough that he can’t even dream of anything. He doesn’t want to sleep alone in bed, thinking about his life, past life.
Omg please Wrio let me hug you. I will pamper you into sleep every night QAQ.
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Lmao he has a sweet tooth. I thought he likes the bitterness of the tea when I heard that he drinks it usually until I see this. Ptff men are just bigger boys.
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navnae · 2 years
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Dustin: guys I caught Steve kissing Santa clause!
Nancy: don’t be silly Santa isn’t real
Robin: that was just Eddie in a costume
Dustin:
Dustin: *gags* I think I would’ve liked the first option a lot more
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leahblackk · 2 years
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Matilda
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summary: Spencer finally knows all Yn’s past.
Warnings: Mentions of SA (sexual abuse) by a family member however it’s not specified. Crying, bits of angst.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader.
this has been one of the hardest fics i’ve ever written. it might not be good enough, but it’s something i wanted to bring for @imagining-in-the-margins comfort fic challenge hoping it might bring someone out there a little bit of comfort. <3
i will not be adding my taglist as if i don’t know if they want to read this one.
Spencer knew that he couldn’t erase what was written in the past. He tried many times, different situations in his life, he tried to change it. He wondered if there were ways he hasn't figured out now that could just, with a movement, with words, he could just eliminate it. If it wasn’t possible from the past, at least from someone’s memory.
He mostly wanted it for himself, he wanted to erase the bad memories, he wanted to make it go away. He suffered so much throughout his life, he has felt helpless tons of times. But he has never felt as helpless as he feels now. Spencer never wished so much to erase someone's past until he met her.
He has never wished to wipe and erase something like this.
He wished he didn’t know body language. He wished he wasn’t a profiler right at this moment, he wished that he didn’t know without her having to speak it out loud.
The way she tried to stay as far away from him as possible, as she tried to run away from something. She was trying to run away from him, from that shadow. From that memory of a second that lingered for the rest of her life.
She told him, of course she did, she told him everything about her, from the beginning of her memories to the little things she remembered or saw during the day. He knew every single scar in her body, and the story behind them, but he didn’t quite think she’d have such a deep, unhealed scar quite like this one.
When he noticed the way she tried to hide herself, with Spencer, with his body. He wanted to cry, but anger grew in his body at all the sight of the man that one time hurt her.
The pain he felt for her, to think of her one time being so helpless and scared, hurt him deeply. She didn’t tell him that.
She didn’t tell him the story of what he did to her. He isn’t mad at that, he understands, of course he does.
He holds her hand under the table, softly stroking her knuckles with his thumb as the Christmas dinner happens right in front of him, with her family. But he can’t focus on everyone’s joy and happiness when he knows she isn’t completely joyful.
He tries to find an excuse to get her out of there as quickly as he can.
He remembers how she told him stuff, about her childhood, how some things that happened hurt her but he never thought of something like this.
He looks at her, while she smiles like it’s no big deal. While he sits on the other side of the table, and he talks as if he hasn’t done the worst thing imaginable.
He feels furious, but this isn’t about Spencer, this isn't about how much he hurts for her or how angry he feels, this is about her. He holds her hand, and makes sure she’s alright.
She notices, of course, a change in Spencer’s behavior. Perhaps even more protective than he was before, but she doesn’t pay attention to it.
As it starts to get later and later, and the party settles down, Spencer and Y/n say goodbye to everyone, to her family where he felt welcomed, but now a gut wrenching feeling settles on his stomach. It's like when you grow up, you realize all the things your parents once told you, weren't true. The tooth fairy isn't real, Santa Clause much less, It wasn't all happiness.
They make their way to the car, where she sighs, away from the thoughts, away from him.
Spencer looks at her with puppy eyes, hoping she’d speak, she’d say something. But she doesn’t. So he waits, as he drives to their home, where he knows he’d do anything in his power to protect her, to keep her away from all of it.
He smiled softly at her, knowing she'd tie up her hair and smile like it was no big deal.
They walked in the house while she giggled telling him stuff about the dinner they just had, asking him if he enjoyed it.
Spencer looked at her deeply into her beautiful eyes, ones he had seen so many times before, but this time it was different, not in a bad way, never in a bad way but rather of admiration, of proudness going through his veins.
He felt proud that she was still there, he wasn't happy that she had to go through all of that, but he was proud that she was there, right in front of him and then, he made a promise to himself. She would never have to go through anything harsh ever again. He's gonna protect her, he's gonna take care of her.
He smiled at her, and he brought her closer by her arms. She didn't make a sound, but Spencer knew she was confused. She hugged him back, nonetheless. He quickly put her head close to his chest, stroking her hair in the process.
She chuckled, “Don't take this in the wrong way, but, what is this for?”
He rubbed her back and spoke, “I know.”
She frowned, “You know what?”
“I know that, angel,” he emphasized.
Silence. Silence was all he heard and his heart started racing, thinking that maybe it wasn't the best way to approach the topic. Maybe he should have waited for her to tell him? Oh god, what if he ruined everything?
What if…
She snuggled closer to him, and he heard a muffled sob, against his cardigan, “I was gonna tell you, i promise i-i just didn't know how? I wasn't sure if you were gonna see me differently and-and-,” she rambled.
Spencer shook his head, “Shh, angel, it's alright. I'm not mad at you for not telling me. I promise,” he cooed, “There's nothing wrong. I just noticed it and I just couldn't not say anything. I'm sorry,” he sighed, bringing her impossibly close, “I do see you differently, but not in the way you think. Never in that way. I am proud of you, for being so strong. I'm sorry you went through all of that and if there's any other day you might wanna talk further about it, i'm always here to listen. I'm sorry you have to see him like that, my love.”
“Is how it's always been,” she shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, “I-I wanna talk about it, but not right. I do enjoy the hug and the words of encouragement, though,” she softly chuckled. Trying to light up the humor.
He kissed the side of her head, “It wasn't your fault baby,” he whispered, knowing she never got those so desired reassuring words, “It wasn't your fault, it was his. No one else's, okay?” she nodded, and he continued, “I promise, you're not alone. I'm here to listen, to hold you, hell, even if you want me to put him in jail I will. But whatever you wanna do next it's all your decision. I will support you and stand right here next to you. I got you, I promise I got you.”
She cried silently, wetting his clothes, but he didn't mind, not even a little bit. He rubbed her back, his heart aching for her, and for knowing he couldn't take the pain and darkness away, but even if he couldn't, at least he'd stand there, in the darkest with her, holding her until she felt better.
“It's not your fault. You're here, with me, safe. He can't reach you here my love, I promise you that. And I, not only as your husband but as your best friend, I will not allow him to get close to you ever again.”
He held her, for the rest of the night. Whispering sweet nothings, and words of comfort into her ear, hoping, wishing and praying it would ease her pain a little bit, And in that night, when he saw her completely vulnerable, he fell in love with her even more.
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me-uglypretty · 2 years
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believe me
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Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Reader
Summary: Leigh finds herself enjoying a festive night with someone than being alone, where believing doesn’t feel like false tale of hope.
Warning: (18+), fluff | 5k words
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A festive holiday bloom cheers around, thrusting shades of Christmas merriments unto faces and places, pestering some into spitting verses that wakes their spirits than leave them in their own tranquillity. Jiggle bells chimes piercingly, overplayed music made jaded by radios and people striving in their festive cheers.
And Leigh Shaw, who ironically, doesn’t hate the holiday, but rather preferred the tranquillity aspect of it.
The fragments where she was left alone in her own space, without anyone ushering her into sampling Christmas cookies or festive themed perfumes, without her mother urging her to try on another ugly sweater while her sister slips pass easily with an excuse of work, without pretending that she wasn’t still dodging the idea of Christmas after the last was spend without him, and another year marks that loneliness in her chest.
Though, she had moved on—but festive seasons left her in an indistinguishable state.
Despite that, she had accepted Drew’s invitation for his annual white elephant party. Her friend insisted her attendance as compulsory which left her scowling at the small Christmas themed paper bag that held a large scented candle.
It most definitely wasn’t taken from her mother’s vast collection of candles.
Thus, she found an escape in the kitchen. Hope bubbling in her chest that peace would remain in her own vacant space, and she could for few hours, ignore her required attendance for Drew’s party.
“Honey, can you grab those papers for me?” her mother’s voice resonates from somewhere in the house.
Leigh’s eyes darts around the kitchen and fell upon the stack of papers. “Are you leaving now?” she asked, already taking the steps ahead to take those papers to her mother.
Amy appeared by the kitchen entrance with a large beige tote bag hanging from her shoulder. “Yes, those children have long wishes for Santa Clause this year.”
While she was wallowing in her own pity, her mother had volunteer at a Christmas event made for an orphanage which became a reoccurrence deed after her parents’ divorce.
“And who’s breaking the news to them that Santa isn’t real?” her nose scrunches at that.
Amy crossed her arms with an offended look on her face at the supposed dreadful words of her daughter. “Maybe you could write a letter to Santa to help with that attitude.”
Thus, her mother snatched the stack of papers from her with a victorious smile plastered on her face at her daughter’s shocked face. Leigh doesn’t budge from where she stood, staring at her mother’s form leaving their shared house.
In the silence of her home, Leigh contemplated the idea. Those youthful Christmas evenings which were pleasant and calm. She was seven then, always rousing in anticipation at every sound of bells, aiding herself into being good as naughty children aren’t allowed to enjoy their gift. Though, the spark of mischief does flutter about.
Amy conceived the idea of writing to Jolly Saint Nick as a fun activity for their family. Leigh was beyond trilled at that young age, unaware of fictional versus reality, and only relishing in sheer innocence.
Of course, the sparks of such glee faded after her parents’ separation.
“Oh, fuck it,” she expressed bitterly. The heavy stump of her feet reverberates throughout their typical American home’s agile wooden frame.
Leigh asserted herself an unpredicted task. The white paper she found on her work desk, a pen that was laid on the floor, and an old envelope with a strange yellow tinge. And there, in the comfort of her room, she sat by her desk, tongue peak at the edge of her mouth as she wrote with an undeniable fury in mind.
The letter was written with an imaginal speed, alternating between glaring out the window at someone’s hired Santa Claus, then at the messily laid items on her desk and settling on the piece of paper again. She knew exactly what she wanted to inform the jolly man, from what she had seen in the recent years to that of a folk tale not granting the worthiest wishes.
“Yeah, we’ll see what you think after this!” she was certain at that hour, he would read the fury filled confessional letter and would understand the utmost fury in her chest.
By the time she was slipping the letter inside the enveloped, and gluing it shut, her phone vibrates with a text. It diverted her sheer focus on the significant task which wakes a frown on her face, eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed tightly.
Leigh was pained at every night glowing from faux light and the morning brighten by the sunrise, and atmosphere so optimistic, that she approached it as the worst symptom. But the envelope holding a letter to a fictional person, those were the seconds where she wasn’t in utter sorrow.
She persevered her clear avoidance for a second longer, then reluctantly checks her phone. A message indicating as a friendly reminder for the party in an hour. The reminder itself fuel annoyance from within, as she sighed, grumbled under her breath and pushed away the mess on her desk out of frustration.
Unbeknownst to her, the letter written in her own privacy and encompassed with a fiery anger, and perfectly folded in a stained yellow envelope, had miraculously fell into the Christmas themed paper bag which was untidily tossed on the floor. It daunts her silently for whatever truth it might carry or perhaps, a letter written in spirits of silliness than sheer hatred.
Leigh monotonous movement paid no mind to the fallen items nor the thought of ensuring her white elephant gift was in perfect condition. She wanted—needed the obscurity of a celebration to end before other requests for her labour were made.
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The evening was essentially meant for relaxing, but here she was, mingling as her friend said, and meeting acquaintances to inform of her very much alive state. Despite the whispers observing her sadly, as though her mild happy mask might fall and they would expect to witness the bite of a widow.
Leigh couldn’t place herself in that head space. At least. not for that night. She was uncomfortable herself, and still, she vetted the best way to converse with others and hope the night ends sooner.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” the teasing voice of her friend appeared at her side, and a large arm fell over her shoulder. “I told you. It’ll be fun!”
She held herself from spewing filthy phrases at Drew. “Hmm, very nice. I’m loving the attention for this month’s widow, by the way.”
Drew muffled a laughter, his hand failing at this attempt as he releases the amused sound. “Oh god, Leigh, even death can’t stop your humour.”
“Because death doesn’t stop people from talking, Drew,” Leigh pointed out. “Anyway, when are we starting this? I have the house to myself and I would like some peace before chaos break loose.”
And with that—a loud voice echoes through the hall room, interrupting heaps of conversation, and those snacking to their stomach’s content.
“I’m sorry! Traffic was shit and I’m exhausted. I really need a drink and we can start this.”
In the blooming sound, mixes of cheers and greetings, Leigh’s attention was drawn to their recently arrived guest. There was a certain flair, appearing so out of breath and tired, but carrying the conversation around in such a tranquillity. She wasn’t aware of who had roused such attention, but she was curious to know why.
“Hey, you’re late again,” Drew exclaimed, and hauls Leigh to where their mysterious guest was chatting away. “I told you what time and look at you, arriving fashionably late.”
An excused smile traces the curves of your lips. “Traffic, Drew. It’s horrible and I don’t get how any of you haven’t lost your mind yet,” you explained, then your gaze fell upon those narrowed eyes, a chartreuse shade that seemingly drew your attention closer.
“Leigh, meet my business partner—”
You interrupted Drew as your hand extended coyly in greeting, followed by, “Hi Leigh, I’m Y/n.”
There seemed to be a decided difference between you and Leigh, only kept obvious as she stared at your hand, then meet the gaze of her friend and nodded her head.
“Are we starting this?”
Drew doesn’t prolong the greeting. He understood from very early on that her friend’s patience wasn’t something to tease. Instead, he smoothly led his friend to the empty space on the couch. The party attendees crowd around the same area, eagerly awaiting to exchange their gifts with another.
Leigh situated herself among festive cheers. The overplayed Christmas songs in the background and shameless voices singing off-key, entirely buzzing from the holiday that she wanted to barf in her absolute angst phase.
An announced was made in commence of white elephant. The brief explanation consisted of;
“On this beautiful evening, we are gathered here together. To share our warm embrace, our love and our appreciate. We have our special gifts under the tree. My handsome husband would pass the hat filled with number chits, so everyone picks one. Just one, don’t get greedy! Once that’s done, we’ll start calling out the numbers and you would get your amazing white elephant gift.”
Murmurs around enlightened her, the transparency of those only arousing for gifts more than the celebration of being together. It irks her as they chatted about a thousand different topics, incidents that had occurred which surely wake a glance at her direction, then the hope for those outside to have an equally pleasant Christmas.
After the hat had arrived at her side of the wide maroon couch which neither strangers nor acquittances decided on sitting beside her, only Drew and his husband weren’t treating her like an outcast—she forced a smile, picking a number chit out, and crossing her arms on her lap as they continued.
On the opposite, beneath the pale amber shine from a lamp, you were seated with an amused smile and waiting—then, you met her gaze, the sight of your smiling face made her shift her gaze to the table. Her chest felt unnerving under your gaze, like were people truly that drawn to your charm and were you truly thrilled by such obscurity?
Leigh remained with her riveted facade as the activity continued, regarding the knowing feeling of your firm gaze. She resumed a placid expression on her face while a gloomy calm whirl from within. She nodded her head when her number was announced, muttering her thanks, and cradling her square shaped gift.
Just few more minutes, she had reminded herself with the flickering hope that her freedom would be granted soon enough. And she wouldn’t have to contemplate you for whatever reasons she couldn’t rationalise nor be known to.
So, she waited, burrowing her mind into the miniature decorations on the table, some grazed by her fingers in sheer interest. At some point, she had completely redrawn herself from the happening around, and absentmindedly picked at the wrapping paper layered over her gift.
“And number 22! Oh look, it’s our late comer.”
The laughter that erupts, nudged Leigh’s attention ahead and where her gaze fell upon you. An apologetic expression displayed on your face as you muttered several excuses before receiving your gift. Unlike the rest, voices were ushering you into opening your gift with the reasoning of your recent arrival in town.
The small gift that was handed to you—in what miraculous way—was the same brilliantly considered gift by Leigh. The unmissable Christmas themed paper bag that she could perceived among cluster of people, as it was the same paper bag gifted to her by her estranged father, two years back.
It wasn’t anything—and yet, she was anxious. Her eyes widening by seconds that pass, and her gaze fixed on you. The motion of your hand removing the extra crumpled coloured papers inside, how your fingers twitches and the subtle reaction on your face at what you saw. It was confusion at first, till a grin appeared heartily.
A white candle, it was short but wide in size, entirely held by your hand as the other grips the Christmas themed paper bag. It was considered favourable in your gleaming eyes, inspecting it, and sniffing the scent with a satisfied smile.
Among the scene of your contented appearance and her face pulling in a smile, the murmurs wake in disdain sounds. Questions rose of the cost, sneering judgment at the gifted object, and condemning eyes assessing for the culprit on their cheap gift.
Their criticism had only ceased by the sound of your whistle, mockingly at those convicting faces. “A candle,” you muttered, tilting the supposedly offending object in your hand. “It’s funny. I was considering buying one of this, but I was quite busy and now…” you motioned toward the candle, “I have this.”
It was faint, the jiggle melodies drifting in the air and the grumbles of some. Rude, she heard one said. Someone else muttered, boring.
“I’m reading the room and it’s telling me,” you paused, fluttering your eyes for affect before staring absently at the Christmas tree. “It’s telling me that some people love showing off which is weird…isn’t Christmas about being grateful with what you have? Or I’m missing the whole point.”
A blanket of silence made your statement more thrilling, at least, for the captivated mind of Leigh. Perhaps, she wasn’t regretting the idea of attending her friend’s Christmas party. If drama was promised among self-praised and rich brats, she would had happily skipped her way into the party.
You were stunning at that, alluring them into your trajectory and waking the worse of their nightmares. To be called out in front of many, and your triumphant smile stirred a fuming crowd.
“Okay! We all love candles! Don’t we just love them? Let’s move on!” Drew exclaimed, diverting the attention from your outburst and hollering for his husband to announce the next number.
The attention on your form declined as the next number was revealed. Leigh watches warily as you slipped out from their mind and away from the room, without attracting the slightest attention. It propelled her curiosity, blooming furiously to know who and why you had reacted so differently than most, and why she was persuaded into needing to know you.
Leigh stood up with impatience. If the night was to end, it must end by her own preference. By that, the curiosity of which she followed, wide steps and poised body. Her eyes observantly tracked your whereabouts.
It seemed impractical. “I just have to thank this kind person for appreciating a scented candle,” she spoke to herself, the feeble attempt of steering away from her true intention in replace for deception.
A thud from a closed door, directed her towards the sound. Her wanted exit, and where you lingered outside, ignoring the cold wind and clutching the Christmas themed paper bag in your hand. An additional jacket was draped over your shoulder. You were making a desired exit from the party, the same way she desired.
Leigh announced her presence, the same way she would when she leaves them stunned.
“Hey, you,” she uttered with utmost irritation. “What— hey, why are you laughing?”
Leigh furrowed her eyebrows and her mouth gaped, she looked perplexed at the laughter that left your mouth. It does nothing, but made her stomach uneasy, dotting down the unfamiliar sensation in her chest as she approached you. Her ardent gaze fixed on you and gift you clutched to your chest, and the shake of your head, as if, you had changed your mind over something.
“I’m assuming you want this back?” you inquired, without irritation laced in your tone, but something softer and kind. A pointed gaze fixed on the Christmas themed paper bag.
She appeared surprised at your revelation. “How did you know?
“I have my ways,” you teased, straightforwardly extending your hand towards her direction. “Nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your articles,” you praised her, then squinting your eyes, “You’re not wearing that magical eyeliner, are you?”
This wasn’t the expected conversation she formed in her head. It brooded her mind to what she assumed and what made her need to meet you. While the soft humming of a familiar Christmas song wobbles her heart, the muscle of your throat bobs with that, and it feels like a stroke of youth, the innocence and untainted joy.
There’s a certain spark in your posture, seemingly free from the world’s burden, and vibrant, so alive than the image of herself, reflected on a foggy mirror. And you smiled, mindful to her attentive eyes.
Leigh’s eyes dart the width of your face and hindered on your mouth, where your lips move, talking to her of something she hasn’t registered in her mind. “What are you?” she asked, taking another step closer and clasping your hand in hers.
It's strange—the warmth of your palm, the cold that seeps at the tips of your fingers, the softness of your skin, and the lines in between where she felt a little roughness.
You squeezed her hand, a split second, your gaze fell on linked hands before meeting her ardent eyes and drawing your hand back. “Drew’s business partner for his new gay bar or something, he hasn’t decided yet. So, eyeliner?”
It's even stranger, more so, when her lips curves with smile and her cheeks felt the unfamiliar stretch of skin. “Drew is always changing. He’s very indecisive,” she shared, her body relaxing as the hand that touched yours, pressed on her arm, a palpable itch surfaced. It’s nothing, she convinced herself in blunt falsehood.
Opposite her, contemplation rouse in your mind. “Want to get out of here? I think I saw a hot chocolate booth somewhere down the street,” you spoke with delight in your voice. “We don’t have to, but I think we could use something more exciting than this,” and you vaguely gestured towards where the sound of cheers could be heard.
Leigh played an indifference facade at the offer. “Sure, whatever,” she shrugged.
When the offer was accepted, you grinned, then shake your head, like a silent joke was made and you knew it better than her. But it doesn’t irritate her as most do, as it only increased her curiosity, and she undoubtedly followed your exit from the party she dreaded.
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The night breathes a whiff of brilliance and a frosty touch which left throats drought, and thirsty for something warm. Leigh felt that dryness spread from her mouth to throat, and her hands, one holding the gift while the other grasped by the wind. Silence was conveyed between two with something in between, the impulse to speak and the warning to wait.
As soon as the hot chocolate booth appeared in your line of sight, the flair of excitement which she perceived as endearing, appeared with a thumb pointed at said direction while the distinguish warmth latched to her hand, made her motionless. Leigh doesn’t comprehend the touch of your hand over hers, neither did your consciousness reminded you the grasps of strangers.
The childlike manner in which you dragged her towards the booth, establishing a wordy thought of not missing out on something warm, and the soft chuckles that send waves of a new song to her heart.
An elderly couple greeted their new customers. The clasps of hands tighten as the order was made with clear description for the most favourable cup of chocolate drink. Neither Leigh or you, had acknowledged the differences in the night air. Not after ordering and paying while still holding a stranger’s hand, not after sharing a brief conversation about the weather, and only after a comment passed jovial faces, did she realise the unknown, and similarly, so did you.
“Aren’t they a lovely couple?” one voice claimed, sharing years of wisdom in an elderly tone, and the other returned with a soft hum. “Merry Christmas, and we hope you have many more Christmas together.”
The faithful event diverted Leigh’s gaze from the steaming cups to where her hand was linked with yours, the firm touch of something so different, the same that lifts the air she breathes, and upwards where a bemused expression settled on your face. Upon noticing her eyes gazing directly at yours, almost instantly, your hand fell from hers and an obligatory distance was made between two.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassment spread your cheeks with warmth. “Got a little carried away. You know, hot chocolate,” you nodded your head towards the brown recyclable cups on the counter, before taking one of them in the same hand that once held hers.
Leigh mirrored your action, grasping the cup with her free hand and taking a short sip. She smacks her mouth, tasting the sweetness that tickles her tastebuds, and played on her known unbothered facade. To further push her narrative, she waves her hand with the gift, dismissing the mistake, and nudged her head towards a vacant bench.
However, she found herself deeply invested in your bashful appearance, a vast difference than the peak confidence that woke annoyance within some. Your round eyes, curious and warm, gazed at everything that wasn’t remotely entertaining, while maintaining a clear distance and avoiding eye contact.
“So, you’re new here?” Leigh questioned, adjusting her body to the wooden bench, as you sat contentedly and take mouthful sips of your drink.
Your eyebrows knitted, “Is it obvious?” and the cup was set aside. “Well, I’ve been around,” you briefly explained before crossing your legs on the bench and turning to face her.
Leigh followed your movement, both sitting crossed legs on the bench and facing the other. A smile drew on her face at your antics. The anguish that enveloped her, cease to exist in that hour. It’s almost charming, she thought. The way words flew from your mouth in haste and settled in a heartily laughter, the kind that made her chest feel contented. Despite the look of disbelief on her face.
“Hmm, you’re definitely going to be the talk for weeks,” she enlightened, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly.
You winced at the reminder. “God, what was I thinking?” you murmured, shaking your head.
At the same time, two phares caught between two voices; you weren’t and I wasn’t.
It made Leigh amused. “You’re so cancelled,” she drew out each word slowly, and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I don’t care,” you shrugged, gaze lingering on her mouth then meeting her eyes. “Plus, I got a candle, a delicious cup of hot chocolate, and a pretty girl by my side. What about them? They have nothing but their prestigious party and pretending. So, I’m obviously the winner here,” you declared, straightening your back as you did.
“Obviously,” Leigh repeated, purposely ignore the compliment that made her cheeks warm, and you, seemingly grasping her teasing tone, repeated the same word. “Obviously,” you said with a fond smile.
Leigh had barely, for the longest time, looked at someone in such captivation. But you were sat opposite her, beaming at the shared conversation, gazing into verdant eyes, so perfect beneath the pale street lights and flickers of faux amber light from stores close by.
“I want to show you something,” she uttered in a whim. “I think you would like it,” she added, the whispers of her heart claimed for more; I think I like you too.
The suggestion left you no room for denial as you nod your head, overcome with excitement for her outstretched hand and the warmth that resurfaced when skins touch.
“I have a feeling,” you whispered, a childlike tone in your voice as she leans closer. “It might snow in California,” the sheer optimism in your voice, almost made her melt.
She doesn’t stop the brief chuckle that fell from her mouth. “You’re silly,” she indicated, squeezing your hand in hers.
And it’s right—the warmth that tickles her chest and yours, the blow of wind that whispers of something so sweet, the glaze of a festive holiday they speak so heavenly of, everything felt right.
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The ocean whooshed a song, each wave resonating peace, and tranquillity carried forward to those stood by the structure raised above body of cold water—where Leigh breathes the air of salty and sweet, where your shoulder touched hers, and the pier buzzed for the encounter of two strangers.
Leigh always preferred to remain composed, and exercise her irritation in the privacy of her mind, unless provoked beyond concealing her genuine emotion. However, the feelings that woke with her each morning, and slept with her through the night, seemed like a feeble memory in her mind.
Why did she dread the holidays? Why was she happily immersing herself in your company?
“Aren’t you curious?” the sudden question in the air, made her shift her attention to you. “What’s in that box?” you pointed at the square gift still in her grasps.
Leigh squints her eyes, “Really? Don’t you have your own gift?”
“Ouch, sorry,” you huffed, appearing offended, while the round of your eyes remained with a glint that made her smile wider.
It never happened, it shouldn’t, but she passed the gift to you. “Open it, and I’ll hold this,” she takes the Christmas themed paper bag from you, but the tug from your hand hindered her attempt.
“No, what if you take back my candle?” you asked. “I mean, that’s why you came after me, didn’t you?”
Leigh pondered the question prodding through her mind. There was a liable reason on her intention that led to her tracking you down, accepting your offer and allowing you to lead her away from the dreaded party, and here, where the moon shone an enchanting glow across the night sky and reflecting flawlessly on the ocean.
Leigh takes a step back, her hand spread out on the wooden railing. She felt the coarse texture of worn timber, and the pulsing of her heart through her ears, but she hears the song of a peaceful ocean, and she thinks, this has been the most bliss she had felt in months, years, and just too long.
“I guess, you’re interesting,” she spoke with significance. “A new face, someone who’s not expecting something from me, I don’t know— it happens. Heck, maybe it was something in the drink,” she added the latter part impulsively, fearing a more in-depth confession to leave her heart.
Silence emits between two, and she glance at you, still staring ahead into the endless ocean. There was a quirk of your lips, like a smile teasing to curl and for her heart to drop, entirely surrendering to whatever made her feel better.
“I’m trying to play it cool,” you voiced out, Leigh’s gift placed on the railing while yours daggles from your hand. “But it’s really hard,” you paused, shifting your gaze to meet her.
The penetrating gaze troubled Leigh, but she forced a smile on her face, and for what unknown reasons, she felt the ache of rejection and feared it.
You slanted into her space. “I think you’re pretty,” you whispered. “Maybe, just maybe, I asked Drew if you were coming and…that was the only reason I went to that tedious party,” you confessed shyly, still maintaining eye contact.
Leigh looked at you, as though, the most unbelievable information was thrown her way and she forced to believe it—not that her heart gnawing for those words to escape, for the lump in her throat to fade, for you to come closer and for her to feel you, like how she wishes to know you.
She doesn’t know why, but the first start of it, seemed like the best as she uttered, “Just maybe?” and your smile widens to your round cheeks. “Just maybe,” you replied.
When eyes stayed gazing into each other, heart beats raised to the wondrous occasion.
“And how I can trust you?” she questioned, moving inches closer that she could almost feel your breath fanning over her face.
Then, she felt the familiar and wanting warmth that spread her hand, the same place where your hand rest.
“Like I said, I’m a fan of your articles, and I saw you at the office few days ago, kind of changed my life,” you admitted, “But of course, I tried not being weird about it— and here we are,” you lifted the Christmas themed paper bag.
Leigh doesn’t believe in faith or the universe’s mystical ways of working things out as her mother profusely believed. But a plague of hope pushes her further into your realm.
“Hmm, is this some Christmas hallmark movie?” Leigh turns her hand over, pressing her palm firmly against yours.
“Believe me,” you whispered, a sense of promise laced with your voice, and she fell for it—she believed you. “This is so much better.”
The most unexpected trust merged with a stranger, with you.
She takes a deep breath, and exhaled her worries. Then, the swift grasps of her hand in yours, pulling your body closer. The next act, an impulse press of lips, and she feels your surprised gasp, before your mouth surrendered and you were kissing her back.
She found solace there, without isolation or running off to another temporary escape, and it was you, the stranger who held her close and pressed bodies together.
“A Christmas miracle,” you claimed, slightly winded by the shared kiss. “Or whatever they say.”
The night continued from a fond encounter, an even sweeter kiss, and the touch that left her aching for days to come. A memory made for Christmases to come, better than the last, and perhaps, more beautiful than those fading images in her mind.
“Yes,” Leigh murmured, her hand that found space on your cheek, caress the skin beneath her touch.
Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion swirling in your mind for the answer of an unknown question. “What?”
It doesn’t feel embarrassing or sad, as she answered, “I am wearing that eyeliner.”
Confusion dissolved in your feature as the corner of your lips curls, not knowing to smile or to laugh at the sudden respond.
“Well,” you paused, feeling something wet dribble on your face as you lifted your head to face the sky. “It’s snowing…in California?”
The bewildered expression on your face made her laugh wholeheartedly to the extent of feeling the almost unknown ache in her stomach from laughing so hard.
“It’s rain, silly,” she teased, and kissed you with the utmost desire to feel you, every part of you.
There, where rain fell upon two, an unexpected weather forecast and an unexpected shower of love, where mutual feelings manifest for years to come.
Leigh observes your expression at that hour, for the next, till the morning came, and she felt the same. A growing sense of comfort and love. It fuels her chest to bring you closer with a promise to allow her heart to feel everything she dreaded, and to believe in love again.
And Leigh Shaw, who ironically, despised the idea of celebrating such festive things—found herself wrapped in your arms the following year, her chest bubbling with laughter from a joke shared as her family joined. The festive occasion marked the first year of a beautiful relationship.
“Of course, Leigh had a huge crush on me,” you murmured, pressing a haste kiss on her head.
Leigh doesn’t shift from her comfortable position. “Of course,” she repeated, teasingly slapping your thigh as you purposely conveyed the partly false narrative of your first encounter. “Of course,” you said,and when eyes meet, the love that blooms were promised forevermore.
And where love was found, still unknown to them was a letter hidden inside a paper bag—unopen and forgotten.
But the universe, majestic and all, works in mysterious ways.
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Bonus: Leigh Shaw’s letter to Santa Claus—
Dear Satan Santa Claus,
What the fuck is up man?
Everyone’s so excited for you. Don’t people go lay in the snow or go ice skating anymore? I know, I’m from California, but what’s the fuck is up that you have everyone under you spell? I literally saw a mom fight off another mom for the last Santa statue.
You’re fiction. But people believe you more than the news.
I think people believe in fiction more than reality. It’ll be easier to cope, right?
If I pretend that I’m not miserable, then I would be okay. Maybe I can pretend that my life isn’t cursed. My husband, still dead, can’t bring him back, but maybe, there’s this stupid love that latch on to me and I’m happy. Maybe it’ll snow and someone will hold my hand.
I just want to believe in something or someone without breaking my heart again.
New flash; I’m still a widow in my thirties, without a purpose in life.
Tell me, old man, why are people so confident that you would grant their wishes?
You didn’t give me my parents back for that shitty Christmas. A fiction tale, that’s you.
Honestly, fuck everyone for thinking that I shouldn’t feel shit during this time and that I should wake up feeling happy.
And fuck you, Santa Claus. I will never forget the worse Christmases that everyone swore will get better after you came at midnight.
I don’t want gifts. I want to be happy for once without feeling like something bad will happen.
Okay. I’m done.
Yours truly,
Leigh Shaw.
(p.s. i never wanted a ken doll, i wanted two barbies)
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yoi-incorrect-quotes · 10 months
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Minami: I just saw Yuuri kissing Santa Clause!
Yurio: Santa isn’t real
Chris: that was just Victor in a costume
Minami: wow!
Yurio: *gags* I think I liked the first option more
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everything-person · 10 months
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Kazoos Advent Calendar
@kazoosandfannypacks day
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⚠️WARNING ⚠️
Under cut is not to be shared with children!
Todays gift is a story of Emma trying to explain Santa to Killian.
“Swan?”
“Yeah babe?”
“How do we know Santa Claus?”
That caused Emma to stop she was doing and look up at her husband. He wore a genuine look of curiosity.
“Wh-” Emma paused giving thought to what exactly she wanted to ask.
Killian took this moment to speak up, “Earlier today you told Hope Santa Claus was coming. All day I tried to figure out who this person was and how we know them. My apologies love but I can’t remember them or their importance and I’d rather get this settled before their visit. When are they visiting?”
Emma couldn’t help the slow smile spread across her face and the small chuckle escape her lips.
“Swan I’m being serious.”
Emma waves her hands and shake her head. “No I know. I sometimes forget- Never mind. Um We don’t know Santa Claus personally.”
Killians eyebrows scrunch in further confusion. “Then why are they coming for a visit?”
“They aren’t.” Emma paused trying to think how best to explain this, “Santa Claus is a myth. We tell kids if they behave and are good kids. Santa Claus comes down the chimney on Christmas and leaves them gifts.”
As Emma is explaining she watches her husbands face morph from confusion to curiosity to horror to acceptance. “So we tell our daughter if she is good enough a strange man will break into our home and leave her a present.”
“He’s not a stranger. Everyone knows Santa. He lives at the North Pole and has elves to help him make all the toys. He rides a flying sleigh pulled by reindeer. He wears a red suit and hat with white fur trim, has a fluffy white beard, and is a jolly kind soul. He watches over kids and has a naughty and nice list. If you’re on the naughty list, you get coal. If you’re on the nice list you get presents.”
Killian nods, “So he’s a story.”
“Yes.”
“Like Peter Pan.”
“Yes. No. Kinda,” Emma stutters trying to find the best way to explain this, “Saint Nicholas was a real person. A kinda man who’s generosity gave way to the legend/myth of Santa Claus. Santa Claus now is a figure for the joy of giving. Anyone can be Santa we just all imagine him a a jolly old guy in a red suit. He’s one of the few pieces of magic we have in this realm.”
Killian hummed, “you sound like your mother lass.”
“Hey during Christmas that isn’t a bad thing.”
A couple of days go by and their conversation of Santa Claus all but forgot until one night.
Emma and Killian were curled up on the couch with Hope fast asleep on the floor in her nest of pillows and blankets and Henry drifting off in the arm chair. The family decided to have a double Christmas feature tonight. The credits of Santa Clause 2 began to roll on screen and Killian turned to his drowsy wife.
“Love were these based on the true story of Santa Claus?”
Emma let the giggle freely flow from her mouth, the word yes on the top of her tip but she bit down and said, “No I don’t think this is based on a true story. But in storybrooke you never know. I mean I am the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and my husband is captain hook.”
“Yes well, in that case there’s no possible way these are true. Look what your realm did to my story.”
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drbased · 9 months
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The difference between me when I was spiritual vs me now is like night and day. Spiritual beliefs kept me a scared, perpetual child. And now when I interact with the people who still have those same beliefs I see them as not just a scared, perpetual child, but also incredibly insecure. It’s like being a vegetarian around meat eaters - you just existing as an atheist in their vicinity will have them say things out of the blue like ‘I’m not in the preaching business but’ and then they go on to list some coincidence that happened in their life recently. And I’m there thinking, why are you telling me this? I literally don’t believe what you believe. I know it’s important to you, but if these experiences *are* so special and important and personal to you, isn’t that enough to simply feel them in your heart? Isn’t that what belief is literally about - your own personal relationship with the universe? Why are you telling me all this as if you’re clearly not trying to persuade me of something? Aren't you just kinda rubbing it in when you assert that you take such comfort in, say, there being an afterlife when I don't necessarily believe in one?
But, of course, it would be a social faux pas for me to say what I actually think - and, besides, I’m actually *not* in the business of converting people - so I just play along and nod. Because these things clearly give them some comfort, and I’m not about to interfere with that. Besides, part of me still feels like that inside - I was raised that way, after all.
It's been rather weird for me because I don't think I've ever explictly said out loud to these people that I don't believe in that stuff anymore - I've just sort of, not indulged them further than that smile and nod. I don't know how they figured it out, maybe I've looked really awkward or something. But I can't help but notice that even though I used to literally believe what they believe, they start with the square one arguments, as if that's gonna somehow convince me. One of those square one arguments is literally 'it gives me comfort' (as if that's a legitimate argument for proving anything!!).
And, you know, when the same person is really upset at some recent bad luck and thinks that it’s a ‘sign from the universe’ that they’re not Allowed to have some certain basic joy (such as - and this a real example - a fucking birthday party), you start to wonder just how much comfort they really get from all this. That comfort clearly comes from a deeply insecure place. You realise that people who believe things need *you* to believe it too - in fact, it’s a necessary component of belief that everyone else has to either believe it, or they’re just in denial. Simply knowing that there is someone else who doesn’t believe is enough to shatter the illusion. Not to be all edgelord here, but it's all very Santa Clause-esque.
Faith and belief are fundamentally insecure, and I'm tired of having to be the adult whenever I engage with someone with these beliefs. Especially when I know how much I benefitted in other, larger ways, from dropping these beliefs and taking full responsibility for my own actions. I mean, I guess that's an argument for 'comfort' from my end, too, but just to reassure you, I'm not in the preaching business 🙂
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pettytheftisntthatbad · 2 months
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Opinions on the santa clause anon?
I fucking hate them so much. It’s so goddamn annoying. Santa isn’t fucking real and even if he was, he wouldnt be that annoying
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hate when assholes use santa clause, the easter bunny, tooth fairy, etc being made up as a reason to be cynical or to make kids sad.
“tHeY LiEd tO uS As KiDs, mAgiC isN’T ReAL aNd eVeRyThiNg SuCKs” ok but did you ever consider that the fact those ARE lies is just as amazing? that the real magic lies in the beauty of millions of adults, with or without kids, all agreeing to tell those stories so young children can experience a kind of joy unique to childhood while they still can?
you rube. you utter buffoon. the most magical thing about this world is a society’s collective cooperation to ensure the happiness of others.
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