#YOU PROBABLY ALSO HATE THE GRINCH

[ieatpeoplelotsofpeople]

SHUT UP, THE LONG SLEEVES ARE AWESOME

Here we can see a BASTARD in disguise, hidden behind anonimity. You DISGUST me. Long sleeves are so, SO bad. They make you hot and stick to your skin. They get in the way because they're stupid. AND YOU CAN'T JUST TAKE THEM OFF WHEN YOU'RE OUTSIDE AND IT'S TOO HOT.

I bet you also like Santa, don't you? God. You people make me sick.

[sushirrrry]

RIBBON a harry styles christmas one-shot; 15.4k words cw: intercourse (m/f) summary: harry, a cynic during the holidays, meets marianne, who turns his holiday blues into the prettiest colors of reds, greens, and whites. happy holidays <3

The only thing that Harry hated more than Christmas was the obligational Christmas parties that would precede it.

Anything that revolved around Christmas seemed to harsh his mellow; it was a build up to a day that truly didn’t seem to mean anything to him. He wasn’t religious, wasn’t surrounded by the family anyone would call supportive or happy, and most of all, he was alone most of the time beside his friends that seemed to keep him grounded. But they all had lives, families of their own to celebrate with.

Maybe it was because he never felt the joy in it—the simplicity of laying around the fire in the morning, sipping coffee as he looked out at the snow falling in heaps from the sky.

The holidays felt like a chore, like something people did because they always felt that they had to. Harry didn’t want to, so he just chose not to. Maybe that disillusioned cynicism led him to be more Scrooge than Frosty, but his hatred of the color red, twinkling fairy lights, and eggnog didn’t seem to cease when he was walking towards a house with a gift tucked under his arm, and a bottle of red wine was held in his other hand.

His friend, Manuel, had invited him for a holiday party—while he had attempted to say no, the office where he worked seemed to convince him that it wasn’t just about the party, but more about the conversations and refreshments that would also be involved. Drinking was a hobby that Harry could definitely get behind, so he found the bit of holiday joy in him.

Just for an hour, anyways, he had told himself.

Harry had been sat at his desk, staring at the blinking cursor on his laptop screen. It mocked him, a silent reminder of the article he had promised to deliver three days ago, but had been caught up on his phrasing, which meant that his true journalistic tendencies had given him the worst imposter syndrome since he had begun working there over five-years prior.

The topic was festive cheer in London—a piece meant to capture the magic of the holidays for his editor’s seasonal roundup. But every time he tried to summon the right words, his mind wandered to the irony of it all.

Harry, the self-proclaimed Grinch of his social circle, tasked with romanticizing a season he barely tolerated. Yet, there he had been, writing about the holiday markets, sending letters to Santa, and the most festive places to find the holiday lights.

The idea of writing about twinkling lights and joyful carolers felt disingenuous, like trying to paint over a gray sky with glitter. He sighed, rubbing his temples. Maybe he’d made a mistake trying to test his abilities on writing what he didn’t know—he had decided to try something new in taking on a project that he didn’t necessarily love. He was good at writing what he liked, so he was trying his hand in writing something he knew nothing about.

Now, the only person to hold accountable for choosing this was himself. It mocked him;  Harry’s cynicism made every attempt to write about holiday joy feel like a bad joke.

It was then that he heard Manuel approach his desk, a sly look on his face as he started off with, ‘I know that you probably won’t come, but.’. Harry had rolled his eyes, but kept the smile on his face to let his friend and coworker know that he wasn’t just doing this for the holiday, but that he was still a good member of society, and a social one, at that.

So, instead of complaining, he had found a small gift for Manuel and his girlfriend, Franny—again, against everything that Harry was, and found it in himself to at least look the part of joyful.

When he had approached their home, Manuel looked him over with a already drunken, precarious smile that welcomed him as soon as the door opened.

“There he is,” Manuel laughed, pulling Harry inside, “Didn’t get the memo that you were supposed to wear red or green, but I guess I can’t be picky.”

Harry looked down at the black jumper that coated his body, the black denim pants making him stand out against the bright, bold colors of the holiday season. He handed Manuel the small gift—which was a puzzle of Dachshunds with Santa hats sitting around a fireplace. He knew that Manuel and Franny had two, so he was a bit chuffed with himself that he could find a gift that would actually make sense.

“Red and green just aren’t my colors,” Harry told him with a smirk. “Coal is black—still Christmas themed.”

Manuel laughed, “Only for the bad boys and girls.”

Harry shrugged with the same smirk that he had been wearing; Manuel took Harry’s coat, along with the gift and led him to the kitchen. “You can put the wine there in the kitchen—feel free to open it and get yourself a glass.”

The flat was already buzzing with the chatter of partygoers and the faint strains of Christmas music when Harry arrived. The scent of mulled wine and spiced biscuits lingered in the air, mingling with the occasional waft of a fresh pine wreath hung by the door.

Warm fairy lights draped across the walls cast a golden glow over the room, illuminating the sea of faces as people laughed and mingled, their cheeks rosy from the warmth and alcohol. It seemed that Harry knew most people here—knew was also a strong word, but he had been familiar with a lot of the faces here.

Harry could hear bursts of laughter coming from the kitchen, where someone was loudly debating the merits of figgy pudding and the actual necessity for fruitcake in the holiday season. The whole scene was a chaotic patchwork of holiday cheer, meticulously curated to appear effortless. He scanned the room, his writer’s mind noting every detail as potential material, before grabbing a glass of mulled wine from a nearby table and retreating to the sidelines.

Manuel’s place was decorated within an inch of its life: fairy lights twinkled around every doorway, garlands adorned the walls, and a massive Christmas tree dominated the living room, its branches weighed down by an excess of ornaments—each one meticulously placed. Harry stood with his glass of mulled wine from the kitchen and tried to blend into the background, his writer’s mind quietly cataloging the clichés for potential use later.

That was the way his mind worked, using every ounce of inspiration he needed was standing in this room with him.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The voice caught him off guard from his studying of the atmosphere. He turned to see a woman standing beside him, her dark hair tied up in a loose bun as strands fell into her face. She had an easy smile and the kind of confidence that put people at ease; the reindeer on her sweater was wearing an elf hat, which Harry took note of quite quickly.

“It’s... definitely festive,” Harry said, lifting his glass took take a small sip of the warm liquid, nodding to himself. He hadn’t recognized the woman, not knowing if she had worked in his building or not.

“Festive?” she repeated, her eyes narrowing in mock offense. “You’re not a Grinch, are you?”

Harry took a moment to look at her, wondering if she had been serious with her approach. When she saw her smirk and lifted eyebrow, he bit the inside of his lip and shrugged at her.

“I prefer the term ‘realist’,” he countered. “But sure, I guess we can villainize the term with ‘Grinch’.”

She laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made him smile despite his deepest will to not show any smile at all.

“Marianne,” she said, extending her hand out to him; her eyes were a deep chocolate brown, almost matching the doe-like creature on her sweater. Her lashes fluttered, long and full of volume to brighten them in a way that Harry felt intrigued by.

“Harry.” He shook her hand, noting the faint speck of paint on her knuckles. “Artist?”

“Teacher,” she corrected. “And you?”

“Uh, a writer,” He nodded, referencing Manuel who had been standing next to the tree, talking to a few other coworkers of his, “I work with Manuel, actually. Same agency. Currently battling a deadline, actually. Thought I’d come tonight to find some… inspiration.”

“Ah, the glamorous life of the creatively tortured,” Marianne teased, which made Harry’s heart skip a beat at the nonchalance of her wit, “What are you writing about?”

Harry sniffled, feeling his body get warmer at the thought of her initial intrigue; she was watching him intently.

“Uh, well,” He swallowed, “Really just writing about the festivity of London during the holiday season. What makes everyone so happy this time of year. That kind of thing.” Harry looked down into his cup, almost like he had been ashamed that he was unable to come up with those areas in his life.

Marianne nodded in understanding, humming along as she thought about it.

“You’ve really got that ‘I’d rather be anywhere else then here’ look, which is ironic considering this party is practically a Hallmark movie, and I’m not sure I know anyone that would pass up a comfy little Hallmark movie.”

Harry felt the smirk he had been wearing continue to creep up on his face. “Don’t let Manuel hear you say that. He’s very proud of his aesthetic,” Harry looked at the 8ft tall tree, “Lots of… color.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Did you see the mistletoe over the door? Also, very subtle.”

Harry turned towards the mistletoe that he had been standing underneath in the doorway from the kitchen space to the living space. A flush grew on his face as he took a few steps forward.

Marianne noticed, biting the inside of her cheek at his forward awkwardness before she took in a breath.

Harry licked over his lips before he turned back towards her, “So, how do you know Manuel and Franny?”

Marianne held onto her own mulled wine taking a gracious sip, her other hand in her back pocket before blinking a few times. “Uh, well, I work with Franny, actually. We work across the hall from one another.”

It occurred to Harry that he recalled Franny being a teacher, “Oh, right—I knew that. I mean—I knew that she was a teacher.” He corrected himself. His eyes looked up at the television that had started to play Last Christmas, people’s faces were audibly excited to hear it. Harry took in a breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sound of it.

Marianne hummed, “Yeah, she teaches older kids, but I’m with the little ones,” She showed him her knuckles again, “As you can see by the lack of coloring inside the lines.”

Taking another long swig of the mulled wine, Harry cleared his throat noticing that it had gone down rather smoothly. His shoulder was bumped by someone trying to get by, and he took a step towards Marianne. But this time, he was tackled by the smell of an ocean breeze, coconuts and the salty air.

He furrowed his brows before shaking his head.

Harry glanced at her knuckles, biting back a smile now that he was a bit closer to her. “You have the hands of someone who truly understands chaos.” He teased her dryly, licking his lips to taste the subtly of the mulled wine remnants.

Marianne raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Ah, yes, artist. I think some artists may be offended by the comparison. Don’t expect me to pull out the crayons and start coloring in the lines with you, Harry.”

Harry chuckled, the sound light and easy, then his gaze flickered back to the TV, where the first few notes of Last Christmas were filling the room. Again. He groaned, shaking his head. “If I hear that chorus one more time tonight, I might just start questioning my life choices.”

“Poor Harry,” Marianne said dryly, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Are you going to cry into your mulled wine now? Do I need to get you a tissue?”

“My empty mulled wine cup,” Harry shot back, half-joking. “I mean, it’s basically a Christmas carol written by a sadistic mastermind who knew exactly how to ruin people’s will to live. It’s basically Stockholm Syndrome in song form,” He rolled his eyes, “But I only give it a small pass because it’s Wham!”

Marianne snorted into her drink, clearly trying not to laugh. “Honestly, though, I get it,” She raised her brows, “The Wham! part, I mean. I love George Michael.”

Harry said, a playful edge to the tone in his voice. “We’re all trapped in this toxic cycle of holiday cheer, Marianne. How are we supposed to be happy in the state of the world?”

Marianne shot him a look, trying to suppress a laugh. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right? Did Santa spit in your eggnog? Maybe you should think more about being thankful that your world is supplying mulled wine and Last Christmas on repeat rather than the worst parts of the world right now.”

“Sounds kind of dirty.” Harry said, leaning in with a grin, ignoring her attempt to turn his thoughts around, “Don’t want to think of Santa spitting anything.”

Marianne flushed at his comment, “Oh, so you’re freaky, too? Who thinks of Santa doing salacious acts?”

“You’re telling me Santa isn’t getting it on up there?” Harry quipped, “You’re telling me there’s other things to do in the North Pole than having salacious affairs with his wife?”

Marianne’s eyes widened in mock horror, and she nearly choked on her mulled wine. “I—what? Oh my god, Harry, stop.” She quickly wiped her mouth, though her face was flushed with both laughter and embarrassment. “I did not sign up for this version of Santa Claus. I’m just trying to have a holiday conversation here, and you’ve turned it into... whatever this is.”

Harry leaned back with an exaggerated look of innocence, grinning ear to ear. “What? You’re telling me you never wondered why Santa is so jolly all the time? Living in the coldest place on Earth... how do you think they stay warm?”

Marianne rolled her eyes, her expression a perfect blend of disbelief and amusement by his conversation. She hadn’t found this kind of conversation all night. “I don’t even know where to begin with that. First, no one needs to know about Santa's... extracurricular activities. And second, you're really going to make me picture Santa in some very inappropriate situations, aren’t you?”

Marianne reached into the kitchen, grabbing an open bottle of red wine before pouring more into each of their cups.

“Hey, I’m just trying to broaden your holiday perspective on the why,” Harry teased, nudging her shoulder. “Maybe you’ve been too focused on mulled wine and Christmas carols and not enough on the real holiday truth of it all.”

Marianne let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be exasperated, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Yeah, because Santa's private life is exactly what we need to be focusing on. Forget world peace. Forget the spirit of giving. Let's talk about Santa's salacious affairs with Mrs. Claus, maybe that’s what will save our Christmas joy.”

“I’m just saying,” Harry shrugged with a playful grin, “some things need to be looked at a bit more closely.”

“Well, maybe it’s you that needs to be unpacked,” Marianne quipped, she raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, I think this may have some underlying tones for you. I saw you walk away from the mistletoe, but,” She bit her lip, “Maybe you’re ignoring some aspects of your life.”

Harry looked into his cup, pursing his lips to the side before he felt a chuckle leave him.

“All I’m saying is ff I’m not here, who will remind you that everything isn’t as wholesome as it seems?”

“True,” she said, taking a longer, deliberate sip of her drink, clearly still flustered but enjoying the chaos of the conversation. “But next time, could we please talk about something that doesn’t involve Santa Claus' imaginary affairs, or the world’s most depressing Christmas carol?”

“You’re just mad I’m ruining this precariously false magic of Christmas for you,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. “But, fine. Next topic: What’s your big Christmas wish this year? Aside from not having to think about Santa’s... extracurriculars.”

Marianne gave him a long, pointed look. “It’s for world peace and... if you make sure the wine stays full.”

“Well,” Harry grinned, taking the bottle that she had just sat down back on the table. He tilted it up pouring in a bit more to her cup, “that’s a wish I can definitely make come true.”

Her eyes narrowed for a split second as she studied him. “I mean, you’re tolerable. For now.” She took another sip of her wine, then leaned back against the wall, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “But honestly, I don’t know how you manage to be such a Scrooge with the Christmas spirit in the air.”

“I’m just realistic,” Harry replied, winking. “You can’t expect people to act like happy little elves when they’re being force-fed Last Christmas and peppermint lattes all month long. It’s exhausting.”

Marianne shook her head with a smile, clearly enjoying the banter between her and Harry now. “Maybe you just need to let loose a little. Have some fun. I don’t know... maybe kiss someone under the mistletoe or something.”

“Did the wine go straight to your head, then?” Harry’s grin widened as he met her gaze. “Is that an offer?”

Marianne shrugged nonchalantly, feigning indifference. “Only if you stop conspiring about Santa and his possible sexual affairs with Mrs. Claus. I must paint the holidays in a positive light for you, it seems.”

“Bold move,” Harry said with a half-laugh. “But I think I might need some help doing that, however, with your painting skills, I don’t know how well that will work.”

In a confident pass, Harry took a large step backwards, letting himself standing under the doorway that the obnoxiously large mistletoe had been hanging. Leaning against the doorframe, he took another large sip of the maroon wine before raising his brows at her.

Marianne soon felt a rush of adrenaline; her eyes landing on his green ones that had somehow been completely thought upon until they met in that moment. Taking a step or two, Marianne moves closer to him, letting her hand move to the nape of his neck. Taking the initiative, she let the distance between them close—her lips landing on his quicker than he had expected.

When they kissed, it was impulsive but electric, the kind of spark Harry hadn’t felt in a long time. His breath hitched as their lips met, the warmth of her touch grounding him in a way that startled him. Marianne’s fingers brushed against the nape of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine, while his free hand instinctively settled on her waist, pulling her closer. Their hips touched, brushing against each other.

For a moment, the room around them blurred—the music, the chatter, the festive chaos fading into an unimportant hum.

Harry’s mind raced, caught between the raw intensity of the moment and a nagging disbelief that this was actually happening. Marianne tasted faintly of mulled wine, her kiss both confident and exploratory, as if testing the boundaries of this unexpected connection. The steady rhythm of his breathing had grounded her in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, both catching their breath even when neither had exerted any energy whatsoever. Something about it was breathtaking.

Harry chuckled softly, his voice low and a little unsteady. “Well, that was... unexpected.”

Marianne let her hand drop, a bit confused by his statement, “You knew it was coming, right?”

Harry blinked, swallowing as he shook his head then, “Oh—yeah. I wasn’t talking about… that.”

Marianne blinked a couple of times as if trying to process what just happened, seeing his eyes sparkle by the help of the twinkling lights that hung around the living space filled with people. But, in some odd way, she had found herself drawn to the one person who sat in the corner on his own.

“So, there you go,” Marianne took a step back, letting the space between them became vacant again, “Just making sure you are given the first-hand experience for your Christmas writing piece.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, a smug grin creeping across his face. “I’m just here for learning the traditions.” He looked in his cup, wondering how it was empty again. But the dizziness of his head had started to make more sense, he thought.

She tilted her head, clearly not buying it, but there was a flicker of humor in her eyes. “You know, I don’t think you’re as smooth as you think you are.”

“Hey, I’m just going with the flow,” Harry said, shrugging dramatically. “Can’t help it if I’m naturally charming. You were the one telling me I should take part in the mistletoe of it all.”

She narrowed her eyes, a hint of mischief in her smile. “Oh, I see how it is. You think this is your grand holiday conquest? I’m just one of many victims of your holiday charm?”

“Victims is a crazy word to describe yourself in this moment, Rudolph,” Harry’s thumb nudged the redness of her nose, knowing it was a fresh blush from the wine—possibly the kiss they partook in, “Now I’m the villain in your Christmas story? I was just trying to make your night a little more interesting.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Marianne replied, her lips still slightly parted, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement at the way that he had certainly waltzed into her life. “But I’m going to need a little more than a holiday kiss to think you’re anything other than trouble. A quiet, Grinch sitting in the back of the Hallmark movie of a party. How do I get myself involved with your type?”

“Trouble?” Harry chuckled, leaning against the doorframe casually, still watching her with that confident smile. “I’m nothing but a good time, Marianne. Don’t act like you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“I’ll enjoy myself more when you stop making me think about Santa's love life,” she shot back quickly, her tone still playful at him. “You seriously ruined that whole festive fantasy for me, by the way.”

Harry grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “What can I say? I’m a truth-teller—it’s a gift. Someone has to keep you grounded in this reality.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “That’s what you think, huh? Well, I’ll admit, the night wouldn’t be nearly as interesting without you here. I had a conversation with someone who was a banker. Don’t know if I made great financial decisions this holiday season after that convo.”

Harry stepped forward again, not too close, just enough to keep the tension hanging between them. “I’m pretty sure that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night,” He licked over his lips, which he noticed she had taken quite an interest in, “Being a tortured poet, or whatever you called me.”

The words sat between them when Marianne tucked her hair behind her ear, the parts that had fallen out of the messy bun. The moment stretched between them, the playful tension still hanging in the air like the faint scent of mulled wine.

Harry broke the silence first, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced toward the door that he hadn’t walked in too long ago. “So… want to get out of here?”

Marianne blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion, but the idea wasn’t entirely unappealing—she was just a bit unsure that he had offered at all. She took a small step back, still holding onto her drink. “Really? Just like that?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry said, his grin widening as he stuck a hand in his pocket. “It’s the holiday season. The lights are up, the streets are empty, bit of snow on the ground... I don’t know. Seems like the kind of night you’re supposed to be doing something a little reckless.”

“Reckless, huh?” Marianne repeated, arching an eyebrow as she looked him over. “Is that the angle we’re going for now? I’m supposed to just follow some guy I barely know into the night and trust it’ll be… memorable?”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping him. “Fair point. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. But, y’know… it could be fun. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to exchange deep secrets or anything.”

“Right,” she said, her voice slightly guarded but still curious at his intentions. “A walk could be good. In the cold. And no deep secrets—got it.”

Harry took a step closer, his eyes flicking to the door as if to give her the opening to say no if he was being a bit too forward. But he felt that he had been listening to and reading the signals correctly. “Well, if you’re not too afraid of a little adventure, I’d be happy to escort you around.”

She gave him a look, trying to read him, her lips quirking up at the corners despite herself. “I don’t know. A walk with a guy I just met. Seems a little… risky.”

“That’s the fun of it,” Harry said, his voice lowering slightly, his smile taking on an edge of uncertainty as if he was testing the waters himself. “Who needs safety when you’ve got the Christmas lights and a bit of mulled wine to keep us warm, right?”

“Mm, right,” Marianne murmured, her eyes flicking between his, the flicker of doubt still there but quickly overshadowed by something else entirely. “You’re really persistent, aren’t you?”

“It’s the innate journalist in me,” he answered with a soft chuckle. “But maybe I just really want to know where this night goes, and it’s something I have to investigate for myself.”

She paused, still unsure, but the weight of the moment—the chance to step outside her own box, to experience something unexpected—tempted her. “Okay, fine. But only for a little bit,” she warned, her voice light but serious, as though setting a boundary. “I’ll have to get my coat.”

“I’ll make no promises,” Harry replied, grinning. “But I’ll try my best.”

Marianne took a deep breath, then reached for her coat that had been hanging by the front door. When she had moved towards the door, he turned towards the open bottle of wine, taking it in his hands nonchalantly, hiding it against him before following her.

“Here, take this,” He handed the bottle to her, putting on his own coat, finding it within himself to tease her further, “Figure we don’t need a cup. Already shared lips, and all that.”

Marianne rolled her eyes, attempting to be disgusted by his charm but it was seemingly working against her.

“Alright. Let’s go, then. But I’m warning you—I’m not some easy Christmas miracle.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled as he held the door open for her. “You don’t have to be, but I’m already smiling in the face of a ten-foot tree filled with nutcrackers and elves, so you’re already doing something right.”

As they stepped outside into the crisp winter air, slipping away from the noise of the party, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that this walk—this simple, uncertain step into the night—was somehow an attempt at him moving outside of his sheltered, inhabitable box. But, then again, they barely knew each other. It could be awkward. It could be nothing. Yet, as the chilly air hit his skin, he found himself hoping for a little something.

Their conversation meandered from the absurdities of Christmas traditions to a shared love of books. With each few steps, Harry took a sip, passing the bottle to Marianne before she’d stop at a house and marvel at the lights that covered the snowy homes.

Marianne lit up as she described her favorite art books, her hands animated as she talked about the way colors and brushstrokes could evoke emotion. Harry, in turn, shared his fascination with biographies, his voice gaining energy as he recounted tales of writers and their chaotic lives.

“So, what’s the most pretentious book you’ve ever read?” Marianne asked, a teasing glint in her eye as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her long coat.

“Easy,” Harry replied, his breath frosty in the air. "Proust’s In Search of Lost Time. Took me two years to get through it, and I’m still not sure I understood half of it."

She laughed, tilting her head. "Two years? That’s dedication. I gave up on it after fifty pages. Life’s too short for that much existential pastry talk."

“Pastry talk?” Harry chuckled.

“You know, the whole madeleine thing? It’s like an entire chapter about a biscuit or tea cake or whatever the hell it was. Something about taking the time to look back.”

Harry smirked at the way that she described it, almost laughing at her memory. “Fair point. What about you? What’s the most overrated book on your shelf, then?”

"The Great Gatsby," she said without hesitation. "It’s just rich people being sad."

Harry gasped in mock offense. "That’s a classic! That actually has a good point to it.”

"Sure, if you like a story where everyone’s miserable and nobody learns anything and it doesn’t even have a happy ending—Daisy just succumbs to societal pressure, and Gatsby lets her get away. And Tom is a fucked-up man with residual trauma and blood on his hands."

Harry chuckled, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over at her, clearly intrigued by the passion in her voice over talking about the story. His own thoughts and curiosity raging inside of him as he continues to question and push her thoughts, “But I still think there's something about the way it captures the illusions we all chase, right? The idea that money can buy happiness—or at least the appearance of it. Gatsby just sits in that large house, waiting, and longing for something that money can’t buy him.”

Marianne snorted, kicking a small patch of snow off the sidewalk as they walked. "That’s exactly it. It’s like a big, glittery metaphor for capitalism. Everyone’s just pretending to be happy, but underneath, they’re all screwed up. Like… it’s not even about Gatsby wanting Daisy—it's about him wanting the dream she represents. The 'American Dream' that’s totally unattainable and hollow, if you ask me."

Harry gave a low whistle. "Okay, you're really passionate about this." He smirked, trying to tease her, but buying into to rile her up more, "Maybe you're right. Or maybe I just like reading about rich people doing dumb things. It's... comforting in its own way."

Marianne shot him a side-eye, amused by his statement. "You would. You’re probably one of those people who reads Gatsby with a glass of scotch in hand, pretending to understand the intricacies of wealth and how the story itself was stolen in the first place."

Harry took a swig of the bottle of wine, handing it over to her, kicking a bit of snow himself. "Okay, maybe not the scotch part, but... you can't say it isn't fascinating. The idea that these people are stuck in their own version of the dream, but none of them can see how messed up it is because they’re just blind to their own misery. Gatsby is kind of tragic, in that way."

Marianne raised an eyebrow, her breath misting in the cold air. "I’ll give you that," she said, turning to face him, a teasing smile on her lips. "Maybe you're not as much of a lost cause as I thought. Understanding tragedy in a way that Shakespeare would be proud of."

Marianne took her own swig of the bottle; the warmth of her fingers was thankful for the liquor flowing through her veins.

Harry grinned, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets as they walked through the snow, the soft crunch of their footsteps blending with the gentle fall of flakes around them; he grinned at the sight of them falling from the dark sky. "Do you think it’s a love story? Gatsby?”

Marianne shook her head, laughing softly. "It’s not a love story. It’s an existential crisis in a green light. A beautiful, well-written existential crisis."

"Now who’s the cynic?" Harry remarked, his tone warm despite the teasing. "You know, for someone who seems to always look on the bright side, you’re sure good at analyzing all these sad, tragic romantic stories."

She shrugged nonchalantly, her breath visible in the cold before she felt a ping in her chest that was going to lead them down a different road of conversation.

"Sometimes the most realistic thing about life is that it doesn't end the way we want it to. And that’s fine. People don’t always get happy endings. So, yeah, maybe I’m a cynic in that way, but I do try to think about happy endings. But I think the stories that end badly are the ones that have the most to say."

Harry’s eyes lingered on her, a little more serious than before. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe we just don’t know how to recognize a good ending when it’s staring us in the face. So used to being cynical you forget there are happy parts sprinkled into the story.”

For a moment, the lightness of the conversation faltered, the cool air between them carrying a heavier silence. Then, as if breaking the spell, Harry smiled, nudging her with his elbow. “But hey, I’m still not convinced Gatsby was a waste of time. He had a plan—he had the right idea for how to be romantic, but it just didn’t turn out in his favor that time. At least it’s better than reading a book about some random guy pretending to be some tragic, tortured soul who ends up alone, right?”

Marianne shot him a smirk at his placed words. “You wouldn’t happen to be describing yourself, would you?”

Harry’s grin grew wider, shaking his head. "Well, I did just say I wasn't the tragic type—so... guess we’ll never know."

Marianne felt the laughter dance out of her, the sound light and genuine, and they both slipped back into an easy rhythm as the snowflakes danced around them, each of them lost in the moment but strangely at ease with one another despite how little they really knew about each other.

Their banter flowed easily, the conversation peppered with playful jabs and surprising insights. By the time the topic shifted to their favorite holiday stories, the space between them had shrunk. Harry found himself watching the way Marianne’s eyes sparkled when she laughed, while she noticed the way his face softened when he spoke about writing. The connection between them deepened, unspoken but undeniable, as the night carried on.

As the night wore on, their banter became more flirtatious, the space between them shrinking until they were leaning in closer than necessary, arms practically touching each time they would stop to linger and look at the lights of the house. The way that the wine worked was in their favor, letting them be loose with the spirit of the holidays wrapping around them—even if Harry hadn’t expected it.

When they were stopped for a moment, Marianne turned her head into a tilt as she stared at the house in front of them. There happened to be a slur in her words as she mumbled out, “I have a bad astigmatism, and don’t have my glasses on, so these lights are kind of wigging me out. Feels like I’m on one and I really don’t know how I feel about the stupid light up gnomes.”

Harry bit his lip as he started to laugh at her remarks, trying his best to keep it inside. But when she turned to look at him, she noticed that the dimples in his cheeks were trying extraordinarily hard not to bust out laughing—which in turn, made her start to laugh even harder.

Tears started to build up in her eyes as she found it harder to breathe then, pulling her sweater over her face. She used her hand to push at Harry slightly, “Stop laughing,” She said, finding her breath, pointing her finger at him.

But it didn’t stop—he didn’t stop. Instead, he found himself laughing harder. Marianne wiped at her eyes, feeling the coolness of her fingers before shaking her head.

Harry let out a snicker, still grinning from the laugh she’d triggered. "I’m sorry, but you’ve got to admit it’s hilarious. Gnomes, really? Someone got paid and spent their money on Christmas gnomes? Horrifying. Especially if you can’t see that well."

Marianne rolled her eyes, trying to fight off the smile that threatened to spread across her face. "You're awful. I’m out here having a moment with these damn lights, and you're over here cackling like some evil villain."

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening at her accusations. Unfortunately, his lips hurt from the amount of smiling he had done that evening, "I can't help it! You’re too easy to amuse. You’re all serious about gnomes, and then—" He stopped himself, letting out a breath of laughter. "Sorry. Can we pretend I’m a gentleman for, like, five more seconds? I liked that part of the night."

She bit back another laugh, wiping at her eyes. "You are ridiculous. You know that, right?"

"Hey, I’m just appreciating the moment." Harry stepped closer, trying to hold his composure. "Look, we’re out here in the snow, freezing our asses off. Gnomes are the least of our worries, except if you’re you."

Marianne tilted her head slightly, her eyes still glinting when she took another close look at him. "Yeah, maybe we should get out of here before it gets worse."

Harry’s expression was far too immodest to hide from her, suddenly looking at her with the same glitter in his eyes that he had shown he before stepping under the mistletoe. “And you were the one saying it was too risky to go on a walk. Now you’re taking me home? Sounds like a perfect excuse to find somewhere warm.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, the weight of his words starting to sink in as she felt herself warming from the inside out. “I mean, if you’re cold, I do have a warm place nearby,” she said, her tone garnered in a bit of a tease now, though a little less controlled than before.

Harry’s expression shifted, a teasing spark in his eyes as he tilted his head. “A warm place, huh? What, like Mrs. Claus, offering me a drink to get me in out of the snow?”

Marianne found herself laughing again, shaking her head. "You’re seriously comparing me to Mrs. Claus now? Maybe I’ll just have to start baking cookies to seal the deal."

"Honestly, though, that’s probably how she got Santa in bed." Harry smirked, crossing his arms as he gave her a sideways glance; he rolled his eyes in a bit of mocking manner, “I mean, you can’t just offer someone warmth without it leading somewhere.”

Marianne chuckled, shaking her head but giving him a sidelong glance to match his. “Oh, you think you're that irresistible, huh?”

“I mean… you’re the one inviting me to warm up at your place,” Harry stepped closer, his voice lowering, the flirtation more obvious now. “So, if the shoe fits.”

She felt a flutter of something unfamiliar at the way his gaze softened, but she shook it off, trying to keep the conversation light. "Alright, alright. If you’re really that desperate for warmth, my place is a couple blocks away." She shrugged, pretending to be casual, but the slight flush on her cheeks betrayed her as she fell into his touch a bit more; his hands moved to the sides of her arms before she turned to look at the gnomes once again.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his grin growing wider. "Well, you are offering warmth... can’t turn that down, can I?"

The air between them shifted. Marianne swallowed, her heart suddenly beating a little faster. “You sure about that? It’s not like I’m offering you a hot tub and a massage, you know. It’ll be more…” She thought for a moment, “More momentary than that.”

Harry chuckled, stepping even closer, “I’m sure. Besides, how bad can it be? Worst case, I end up on your couch with a drink and no gnomes. Preferably no Christmas lights. Not exactly the worst way to spend a night,” He shrugged, “But I guess I could also get behind us taking our clothes off and lying next to each other to conserve body heat—preferably you on top of me, if that is an option I can choose.”

She met his gaze, biting back a smile. "You’re intolerable."

They started walking again, the snow falling more steadily now, the night feeling warmer despite the chill. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, the tension thick but unspoken, a shared understanding between them as they made their way down the street, the promise of something more hanging in the air.

When they arrived at Marianne’s home, she walked up the small steps before reaching for her keys in the jacket pocket. They were both covered in a bit of snow, as it had started to fall more than before. The streets were starting to line with it; Harry stood with her under the awning to hide from the weather.

Her hands slipped the key into the lock before opening the door, the warmth of the house meeting Harry as he walked in behind her.

“Shit, it’s cold,” She cursed, kicking off her shoes and hanging up her jacket. “You can—I mean, just throw your stuff down there.”

Harry nodded a few times, kicking his own shoes off and placing his coat on the hook next to hers. The moment now started to feel a bit more real as he turned to notice her home around it. It was the definition of warmth and comfort; the space smelled like gingerbread, his eyes homing in on the garland wrapped around the staircase railing.

“Would you like something to drink? Hot Toddy maybe?” She offered, shuffling her way towards the kitchen, throwing away the empty wine bottle she had been carrying, “I can also do just tea if you think the alcohol limit has been breached.”

Harry put his hands in his pockets, moving his way into the kitchen to follow her. “Uh—whatever you’re having is fine with me.”

Marianne licked over her lips, tucking her hair behind her ear before she set the kettle on the stove and turned on some hot water.

“I—you know what, actually,” Harry made a remark as they stood in the kitchen. His eyes turned to her as he watched her lean against the counter, her arms were crossed over her chest as she watched him approach her with a look on his face that melted the frigidness of her hands.

Instead of speaking again, his hands reached to grab at her face, pulling her into him with a swift motion. The fluttering of her stomach nearly making her drop to her knees as he tilted her head back, letting his lips roam around hers.

Marianne felt herself moan into the kiss, her hands reaching to hold onto his wrists that held onto her so delicately, but with a needed force that had practically picked her up off her feet.

Pulling away for a moment, Marianne caught her breath; the kiss was unsuspected but entirely encouraged. “Okay, so— uh, let’s—”

“We—I think—” He pieced together, nodding, letting his nose rub against hers.

“Sofa—that’s fine.” She hummed, letting her eyes dim at the feeling of his hands wrapping around her waist. In an instant, his hands picked her up, placing her on his hips as she let her legs hold against him tightly.

The soft feeling of his black jumper under her hands was welcomed as he took them into the living room, placing her down on the sofa—she fell quite a bit from his hips, but laughed at the feeling when her back hit the cushion.

Harry’s eyes stayed on hers but flashed up to the window before he scattered a chuckle, “Window’s fully open.” He murmured, walking over before closing the curtains dramatically quickly. “Your neighbors almost saw you get fully rattled.”

Marianne placed her hand over her eyes in a flush of embarrassment by his words, shaking her head at the way that he spoke. Her feet hung off the edge of the sofa arm where he had left her, “You’re just so charming.”

Harry pulled the jumper off over his head, revealing the white t-shirt he had underneath, his eyes a bit dazed in the heat before he returned to his called upon place. Practically crawling, he found his way above her, the giggle coming from her made him smile. Her legs opened to allow him space for him on the sofa before her hands ran down the cotton of his t-shirt.

Marianne pulled herself up, letting her head rest against the accent pillow closer to the other armrest. Harry braced himself with one hand on the armrest, the other slipping around her waist, pulling her closer. His grin softened as his eyes scanned her face, lingering on the flush in her cheeks and the way her lips parted slightly now, caught somewhere between teasing and expectation.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “for someone who just called me charming in an entirely mocking way, you’re making it really hard to believe you’re not into it.”

Marianne raised an eyebrow, her hand still resting against his chest, fingers curling slightly in the soft cotton of his shirt. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself too much. This is about getting warm, remember?”

Harry let out a soft laugh, leaning in closer, his breath brushing against her ear. His nose making it nudge against her throat as he felt her sink into the feeling; her eyes shut at the way that his tongue softly lapped at her jaw. “Is that so? Because from where I’m sitting—or, well, crawling—it feels like you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. Maybe vice versa.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk, but she didn’t move away. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just easy to manipulate.”

His laughter faded into something softer, lifting his head as his gaze dropped to her lips. “Dangerous words, Marianne. You keep talking like that, and I might have to prove you wrong. Play hard to get and all that.”

She met his gaze, her pulse quickening as the air between them thickened. “Big talk for someone who was just crawling.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” He whispered, his mouth finally brushing against hers, tentative at first, as though testing her reaction. “I have a feeling that you could get me to crawl anywhere right now.”

Marianne didn’t hesitate. Her hand slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. It was slow but deliberate, a mixture of heat and resistance, the kind of kiss that felt like it could spiral out of control if either of them let it.

When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested against his as they both caught their breath. Marianne let out a shaky laugh, her fingers still tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Well… this escalated quickly. I thought my night was just going to be mulled wine and ginger biscuits.”

Harry’s grin returned, lazy and utterly pleased with himself. “What can I say? I told you that holiday shit was overrated.”

Marianne rolled her eyes but didn’t move away from him.

Harry tilted his head, his fingers lightly tracing circles on her waist as he felt he needed to draw her attention back a little. “Maybe we’re both a little to blame. You’ve got this whole… 'irresistible' thing going on.”

She laughed, the sound more genuine now, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “You realize we’re strangers, right?”

Harry nodded, his grin softening into something more sincere. “We know each other’s stance on Gatsby, and you’re calling us strangers? At the very least, Marianne. At the very least.”

When he pulled back, she let out a soft sigh, the weight of the moment settling over them. “Well,” she said after a pause, her voice lighter but with a subtle edge of mischief, “if you’re feeling so confident, maybe we should find another way to get warm. A heater would work splendidly in your place.”

Harry laughed, his voice low and rich as he leaned closer. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? A heater?”

She smirked, nudging him with her knee. Instead of reacting, Marianne took her fingers at the bottom of his t-shirt, letting it wrap in her fingers before pulling it up. The reveling underneath made her mouth dry at first; she didn’t want to give him too much attention, or it would only make his confidence stronger.

As their lips met again, Harry’s hands cupped Marianne’s face gently, his thumbs brushing along her cheekbones as though he were committing every detail of her to memory. The warmth between them intensified, their breaths mingling as the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate. Marianne’s fingers found their way into his hair, tugging softly, and he exhaled a low, contented sound against her lips.

The room around them seemed to fade into the background—only the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree casting a soft, warm glow in the dimness. Harry shifted, his hands sliding down to her waist as he pulled her closer, their movements unhurried but full of intent. Marianne let out a soft laugh, her head tilting back as she felt his lips trail along her jawline and down her neck, each kiss sending a flutter through her.

“Harry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of hesitation and invitation. Her hands moved to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms.

He paused for a moment, pulling back to meet her gaze. His eyes searched hers, a question lingering in their depth. She smiled softly, her hand brushing along his jaw, answering him without words as she leaned in to kiss him again. The way she melted into him left no room for doubt.

Harry stood, pulling her with him, their bodies fitting together effortlessly. His hands lingered at her waist, steadying her as they moved toward the sofa, her laughter soft against his shoulder as they stumbled slightly. He eased her down onto the cushions, the glow of the Christmas lights illuminating the warmth in her expression as she looked up at him.

Their movements slowed, deliberate yet electric, each touch and kiss building the connection between them. Neither rushed nor hesitant, they navigated the space between them with care, the world outside falling away entirely. It wasn’t just the warmth of the firelight or the blanket that had been tossed aside earlier; it was them, discovering something in each other that felt both new and undeniably right.

As they drew closer, their hands found new places to hold to steady, and their breaths fell into sync. In the quiet of the room, surrounded by the soft hum of Christmas melodies and the faint scent of pine, their closeness became something unspoken, a silent understanding that this moment was theirs.

His hands moved to quickly remove her pants, threw her sweater off, his pants were off. The touch of their skin was electric as he practically panted into her kiss, noses nudging one another as he moved to touch along the edges of her panties.

Marianne bit on her lip as his fingers moved against her, she pressed herself against him. Harry moved the edge of her panties away, letting his fingers brush against her without the barrier between them. She gasped the feeling, knowing that she had been practically dripping for him without direct touch. The teasing, the night they’d had had been building to this moment before she threw her head back in anticipation for what she needed most.

“Don’t wanna’ wait any longer,” She murmured, the wine felt like it had been sitting on her brain, making her decisions cursed, “No messing around.”

Harry nodded into her neck, kissing her softly before he took himself in his hand, pushing open at her entrance before he let his mouth drop open slightly. He had been ready from the moment that she wrapped her legs around his waist. His brows furrowed at the feeling; the way that she wanted to surrender to him so quickly. When he pushed in, they both gasped at the feeling.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry breathed out, his eyes shutting before he clenched his fist on the armrest, his shoulder holding him up. He knew if he opened his eyes, he’d look down to see Marianne looking up at him with the bright, chocolate brown eyes—the demeanor of two people just needing affection to the highest.

It had been quick, no frills. They had barely undressed; her sweater was off, the black lace of her bra pushed against her breasts, her underwear pushed to the side, the thrill of their need for someone—anyone—had gotten the best of them as Harry’s hips pushed her legs apart.

The warmth that enveloped him was almost overwhelming. Marianne let out a soft gasp, her fingers digging into his hips as she pulled him closer. The urgency of their encounter left no room for gentleness or finesse; it was raw and intimate and something that neither of them had expected going into that night, but only what could have possibly been the best outcome.

Harry's hips began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing fervor. The creaking of the sofa that held their bodyweight beneath them punctuated their ragged breaths and muffled moans. Marianne arched her back, pressing herself against him, seeking more contact, more friction from their compromising position that was entirely unsuited for what they both desired.

"Harry," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "Look at me. Please."

He hesitated, knowing that meeting her gaze would make this real, would shatter the illusion that this was just a nameless, faceless encounter. But the pull was too strong. Harry opened his eyes, looking down to find Marianne's warm brown eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and passion that made his breath catch in his throat. In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them suspended in time with the only light of the lamp in the dark living room space.

Marianne's lips parted, her breathing shallow as she reached up to cup Harry's face with trembling hands. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted sharply with the urgency of their coupling, adding a layer of intimacy that neither had anticipated. She hadn’t expected to feel the way she had, only knowing him for so long but the feeling of their skin on skin had somehow felt right.

"I—" Harry started to say, but the words died on his lips as Marianne pulled him down for a kiss. It was deep and desperate, their tongues tangling as they sought to convey through touch what they couldn't through words.

The kiss seemed to ignite something within them both. Harry's thrusts became more purposeful, angling to hit the spot that made Marianne gasp and shudder beneath him. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red marks in their wake, a physical manifestation of the intensity building between them. The pain mingled with pleasure, driving Harry to push harder, deeper, chasing the release that hovered just out of reach.

Marianne broke the kiss, throwing her head back against the arm of the sofa. Her legs wrapped tightly around Harry's waist, heels digging into the small of his back as she met his thrusts with equal fervor. The room filled with the sound of skin against skin, punctuated by their shared gasps and moans.

"God, Marianne," Harry groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply with a groan following, drinking in the scent of her perfume mingled with sweat and arousal. It was intoxicating, clouding his senses and pushing him closer to the edge.

Marianne's hands tangled in Harry's hair, tugging gently as she felt the familiar tension building within her. Her body trembled beneath him, every nerve ending alight with sensation. She could feel herself teetering on the brink of that all too familiar feeling of want, desperate for release but wanting to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

"Harry, I'm close," she whispered breathlessly, her lips brushing against his ear. "Please, don't stop. Please. Fuck."

Her words spurred him on, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own climax. The couch creaked dangerously beneath them, but neither paid it any mind, too lost in the sensations coursing through their bodies.

Marianne's back arched sharply, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she finally tumbled over the edge. Her inner walls clenched around Harry, pulling him deeper as waves of pleasure washed over her like the ocean of her dreams. The sight and feel of her coming undone beneath him was too much for Harry to bear.

With a deep, guttural groan, he followed her over the precipice, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside her, the shaking of his body only stilled that her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer for the relief he desperately needed.

For several long moments, they remained locked together, bodies trembling with aftershocks as they struggled to catch their breath. Her chest pushed upwards as she breathed; their lungs practically touching as Harry laid upon her, feeling light as a feather. The reality of what they had just done began to seep in as he stared at the nape of her neck for a few moments, replacing the mystical haze of lust with a mixture of confusion and lingering desire.

Harry slowly lifted his head from Marianne's neck, his eyes meeting hers once more even when he realized that he shouldn’t have. The vulnerability he saw there made his chest tighten. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself at a loss for words.

What could he possibly say to make sense of this unexpected turn of events?

Marianne's hands slid from his hair, trailing down his back before coming to rest on his shoulders. She bit her lip, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features as she searched Harry's face for any sign of regret or disappointment that could have possibly been lingering in that moment. Finding none, that she could notice, she let out a shaky breath, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.

"I... I don't know what to say," Marianne whispered, her voice barely audible. She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "This wasn't... I mean, I didn't expect..."

Harry nodded, understanding her unfinished thoughts. “Me neither," he admitted, his voice rough.

It was unspoken; but he concluded that he was still inside of her, blinking a few times in the heat of the moment. He shifted slightly, suddenly aware of their still-joined bodies and the awkwardness of their position. With a soft groan, he carefully disentangled himself from her, immediately missing the warmth of her embrace.

It was the odd feeling of wondering why he missed it then; he had only met her, but he knew that could have been the first and last time.

Marianne sat up, pulling her underwear back into place and readjusting her bra. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her discarded sweater, pulling it over her head.

Harry watched her, feeling a strange mix of emotions as he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up his jeans. The air between them felt heavy, charged with unspoken questions and lingering desire. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, trying to gather his thoughts before either of them was able to speak again.

Harry cleared his throat, licking over his lips as he sat next to her, fully dressed in her still in her underwear.

"I should probably..." he began, gesturing vaguely towards the front door.

Marianne looked up, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "Oh," she said softly, disappointment evident in her voice as she realized that he hadn’t wanted to stay. She glanced towards the window, where she could see the snowflakes lashing against the glass, driven by howling winds in the silence between them. "I-I mean, it’s really coming down out there."

Harry followed her gaze, noticing for the first time the storm raging outside. He'd been so caught up in the moment, in Marianne, that he hadn't even registered the sound of the wind or the snow that seemed to harbor on the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice hoarse. He hesitated, torn between the desire to flee from the intensity of what had just happened and the practical need to not walk back to his place in the weathering mix of snow and ice. "I suppose it wouldn't be safe to walk back home yet, then.”

Marianne nodded, a flicker of hope crossing her features. "You could... stay, if you want. Just— I don’t know, of course, whatever you want." she added quickly, not wanting to seem too eager or presumptuous that he would want to stay the night.

Harry considered her offer, his eyes roaming over her face. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, he found himself drawn to her, unable to ignore the connection that had sparked between them. "Yeah, okay," he said softly. "Thanks."

A small smile tugged at Marianne's lips as she stood up, smoothing down her sweater as she placed it over her; leaving her in her panties that had the pink lace over the waistband. "I'll get us some tea," she offered, padding towards the kitchen on bare feet. “You— uh, if you’d like to clean up, you can head upstairs to the bathroom. I can be up there in a moment.”

Harry watched her go, his eyes lingering on the sway of her hips as she disappeared into the kitchen. He let out a long breath, running his hands over his face as he tried to process everything that had just happened. The sudden intimacy, the intensity of their connection - it was all so unexpected.

With a soft groan, he pushed himself up from the couch and made his way upstairs. The bathroom was small but tidy, decorated in shades of pale blue and white. Harry caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink and paused, taking in his disheveled appearance. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and there was a faint red mark on his neck where Marianne had nipped at his skin.

As he washed his hands and splashed some cool water on his face, Harry's mind raced. What did this mean for them? Would things be awkward now?

Harry stared at himself for another moment longer, looking directly into the mirror before he pushed the hair off his face. When going to leave the small upstairs washroom, he found himself standing in the hallway near the stairs; tension in the room was palpable as Marianne returned, two steaming mugs of tea in her hands. Harry had settled to follow her into her bedroom, his hair still damp on the front from the quick wash in the bathroom.

Their eyes met, and a spark of electricity seemed to pass between them.

Marianne set the mugs down on the nightstands; first one side, and then the other, her hands shaking slightly. She hesitated for a moment before sitting next to Harry at the end of the bed, close enough that their thighs brushed. The contact sent a shiver through both.

"I..." Harry began, but words failed him. Instead of being able to finish his words, his face turned towards hers when he felt her reach out, cupping Harry’s face in her hand. He leaned into her touch, eyes fluttering shut as they faced one another now.

In an instant, the tentative atmosphere shattered. Their lips crashed together in a desperate kiss, all thoughts of tea forgotten, once again. Marianne climbed onto Harry's lap, straddling him while his hands moved to push her down onto his crotch; the feeling of her once again drove his eroticism to a new height.

“Wait,” Harry told her softly, holding onto her wrists to pause her action. His hands reached to hold onto her in an affection to let her know that he hadn’t wanted to push her away, but to give him a moment. “Marianne, uh,” He swallowed, but felt her hips push into his, causing a moan to escape his lips unintentionally, “Fuck. I—I forgot.”

Marianne chuckled a little bit, her tongue leaving a small lick on his upper lip as she teased him.

“Was it important?” She asked, her voice a bit hazy and erotic. “You’re not married, are you?”

With a heavy breath, Harry held her hips into place again, letting a grin take over before he shook his head. “No, no—uh, but,”

Marianne stopped at his word; a bit curious to his need to speak then. Her eyes searched his face. Harry’s sentence hung in the air, unfinished as Marianne tilted her head, her darkened eyes searching his face. Her breath was warm against his cheek, her lips still ghosting over his as if daring him to finish the thought. She moved her hips slightly, testing his resolve, and Harry’s grip on her tightened, his fingers pressing into her waist as though anchoring himself.

“But what?” Marianne prompted; her voice soft yet dripping with playful challenge. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his jawline now, teasing him further. “You’re not exactly making a convincing case for stopping.”

Harry let out a breathless laugh, his head tipping back against the air as his hands slid to her thighs, squeezing gently. “It’s not that I want to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough with the strain of holding back. “I just... I don’t usually—”

“You don’t usually what?” she interrupted, her lips trailing down to the corner of his mouth. “Get this lucky? Because trust me, I don’t usually climb into laps, either.”

That earned a laugh from him, one that was half-frustration, half-admiration. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re stalling even thought we could already be halfway through round two by now,” she countered, her fingers brushing over the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “So, unless you’re about to tell me that you’re some kind of undercover royal or a spy with a secret identity, I think we’re good here.”

Harry’s lips parted as if to say something, but instead, he caught her mouth in another kiss, silencing any further conversation. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. His hands roamed her sides, sliding beneath her sweater to find the bare skin of her lower back, and Marianne gasped softly against his lips. Her nails grazed the nape of his neck, drawing a low groan from him that reverberated between them.

Marianne leaned into him, pressing her chest against his as she tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” she murmured, her voice edged with impatience. Harry obliged, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank the shirt over his head before pulling her back to him.

The warmth of her skin against his sent his pulse racing, and his hands found their way under her sweater again, mapping out the curve of her spine. Marianne shifted on his lap, her movements deliberate now, and Harry’s grip on her tightened instinctively.

“God, you’re trouble,” he muttered against her lips, his voice laced with both amusement and desire.

“You love it,” she shot back, her smile audible even with his eyes shut, even as she kissed him again.

Marianne pushed at his chest so he would lay on his back, letting the softness of the flannel blanket that laid across her neatly made bed touch his hot skin. As she crawled up his body, letting her lips flutter against his, he smiled again.

“You’re really going to make me go again? Christ, Marianne, you’re a bit of a minx.”

She paused for a moment; letting the tension sit with him. When he responded, making his lips yearn for hers, she had the answer that she desperately wanted from him.

“Seems like the want is mutual.” Her voice was a whisper, hot against his lips—his were parted, letting a moan fall through them.

Harry shook his head, “I’ll go all night.”

The tension between them crackled like static, the rest of the world falling away as their shared laughter melted into something deeper, something raw. The flicker of the Christmas lights reflected in their eyes as they lost themselves in each other, the cold night outside forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Marianne woke to the faint light of dawn streaming through her window. For a moment, she lay still, her mind piecing together the events of the night before. The complete covering of her body under the covers kept her warm, taking in a deep breath.

She turned her head, half-expecting to find Harry still beside her, but the bed was empty.

The night had been overwhelming in the most unexpected way; she rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. Pushing her hair away from her face, her thoughts traveled to how the night had unraveled a stream of ribbon – her skin felt hot remembering the touches of his hands on her.

It had been a while since she had been that intimate with someone like that. One of the deepest regrets was knowing that she was waking up with him not there. It was always unspoken; waking up in the morning from the night before, padding out of the room with a mission to leave before you wake the other. She should have expected this, but in her mind, it had been more than just going home with someone.

She had felt that her and Harry had a connection of some sort. She wouldn’t even know how to get in contact with him if she wanted—she didn’t know his last name. She supposed that she could ask Franny at work for his contact information, but given that he wasn’t there the next morning, she figured that maybe he didn’t want to hear from her.

It had been a whirlwind. Making their way to the bed that night felt like a triumph in itself; she hadn’t expected their lingering touches to last, but almost every hour she would feel his hand creeping along her side, almost like he had been thinking in his sleep.

As Marianne sat up, she tried to not think too much of the night before but think more of the upcoming day instead. She stretched up, letting her arms dance above her head as her shoulders and neck felt tight.

When her feet hit the floor, it felt cold beneath her. She searched through her drawers, finding a long-sleeve cotton sweater that hung to her thighs. She threw her hair into a bun on the top of her head, before making her way to the stairs.

Padding into the living room from the staircase, she found him standing by the front door, his coat in hand. He looked up, startled, as she made her entrance.

Even in the morning, hair tousled with sleep, eyes a bit puffy from the early morning rise, he looked good. It looked like he may not have slept too well, which made her heart sink at the thought that she may have kept him awake.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, shaking his head. His coat dangled from his arm. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I was just heading out.”

“Couldn’t figure out the lock?” She teased, her voice still husky with sleep.

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I—yeah.”

Marianne crossed her arms, leaning against the railing. “Guess you can’t get away that easy,” She took in a deep breath, “Or without saying goodbye first.”

Harry took in a breath, putting one hand in his pocket as he turned towards her then. “I—I mean, I didn’t want to just leave, but I- I didn’t—”

Marianne shook her head, “No, I get it. Hook-up etiquette is…”

“Weird.” Harry bit his lip, “I’m a bit out of practice, I guess.”

“Hooking up with a lot of broads, then?” Marianne’s tone was teasing, and she smirked when the flush returned to Harry’s cheeks.

They stood in a beat of silence before she cleared her throat, trying to make the most of the time that he had been standing there—maybe to break the awkwardness that had come into the room yet again.

“Well, if you’re here, you might as well help me with something. I have a hard time doing it by myself—physically.” She bit her lip, eyes widening at the way her words may have been perceived, “Oh! I mean—not that, uh,”

“I mean, I guess we can go again, then. I guess I was pretty good at it last night, wasn’t I?” He chuckled, interrupting her to make the joke, then shrugged. “But, yeah, I can help with whatever.”

“Decorating the tree,” She pointed to a box of ornaments and a slightly crooked artificial tree standing in the corner of the room. Harry followed her gaze, a skeptical eyebrow raised. “I can’t reach a lot of the top. It’s just easier with two people.”

“You’re really leaning into the Christmas spirit, huh?”

“When you live alone, you’ve got to make your own magic,” she replied, already pulling the tree upright. “Or are you going to stand there and criticize my technique?”

Harry sighed but set his coat aside on the edge of the sofa. He had taken note that she still hadn’t put on pants, her underwear now had small bows of ribbon patterned in red, “Alright, then. Let’s do this—uh, is there any way that this can involve coffee?”

Marianne lit up, “Oh—yeah, of course. Let me go make us some. Can you start to take items out of that box?”

On her way to the kitchen, she put on a pot of coffee, waiting for enough for the two of them. Harry had begun to look through some of the items that she had for decoration.

Marianne opened the second box when she returned, setting a cup of coffee next to Harry on the coffee table. When she looked in the box, she was suddenly met with the remembrance of last Christmas; the way that she hadn’t put the lights away alone but was going to have to bring them out alone if Harry hadn’t been here. As they worked, untangling fairy lights and hanging mismatched ornaments, their banter softened into a rhythm that felt almost natural, like they had done this a dozen times before.

"Do people actually enjoy untangling these?" Harry muttered, holding up a knot of fairy lights with a grimace.

"Maybe they see it as a metaphor for life," Marianne quipped, carefully hanging a glittery bauble coated in silver. "Unravel the mess, and you find the beauty."

Harry snorted at her cute remark, "That sounds like something out of a self-help book."

"Hey, some of us need a little optimism to get through the day and the holiday season," She shot back, though her tone was light. "Besides, it beats your Grinch-like grumbling."

"Touché," He admitted, smirking. "Alright, Cindy Lou, where do these go?" He held up a string of lights, their multicolored bulbs catching the morning light.

Marianne stepped closer, her fingers brushing against his as she guided the string toward the tree. "Around the middle, I think. It needs some sparkle in there."

As they worked together, the conversation drifted from playful teasing to quieter, more introspective topics. Marianne shared snippets of her life—how she’d recently picked up pottery to distract herself after the breakup that past spring, how her students had surprised her with handmade ornaments last Christmas, especially when Harry picked one up and examined it with a bit of curiosity.

"One of them made this," she said, holding up a slightly lopsided clay star painted in bright primary colors. "He told me it was supposed to be ‘abstract.’ Big word for a four-year-old."

Harry chuckled as he looked up at it, he placed a red bauble on the tree, "Abstract is a solid excuse for anything that doesn’t go as planned."

Marianne gave him a warm gaze, letting her eyes fall to the way that his sweater sleeves had been rolled up. She watched the way that he took a step back, letting his eyes fall over the way the that the lights cast a soft colorful light over the room then. It was still early, but it looked like he had been contemplating for a moment.

Harry hesitated before speaking, then confessed, "I think I’ve been stuck in my own mess for so long that I forgot how to step back and just... appreciate things."

Marianne looked at him, her expression softening. "Maybe untangling fairy lights wasn’t such a bad metaphor after all."

The morning light filtered through Marianne’s small space, highlighting the modest but cozy living room. The faint smell of coffee mingled with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree standing bare in the corner. Harry stood beside it, holding the string of tangled lights, his hair still slightly disheveled. Marianne sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a box of ornaments, her sweater slipping off one shoulder as she worked.

“Alright,” Marianne said, holding up a particularly gaudy ornament shaped like a snowman. “This one’s either going on the tree or in the trash. Thoughts?”

Harry tilted his head, inspecting it with mock seriousness. “Trash. Absolutely trash.”

She laughed, tossing it to the side. “Wow, you’re ruthless. Remind me not to let you near any sentimental ornaments. My niece made me that.”

He smirked, kneeling beside her and picking up a small, glittery star. “This one’s safe, though, right? It’s classic.”

“Classic,” she agreed, handing him a hook for it. “Go ahead, looks like the last one.”

Harry rolled his eyes but stood, carefully placing the star on one of the branches. He stepped back, pretending to admire his handiwork. “Perfect. The tree’s basically done now, right? The lights are placed right?”

“It looks great,” Marianne shrugged, letting her smirk take over with a quick tease, “Well, the parts I was involved in.”

He chuckled but didn’t respond, his smile faltering slightly as he stared at the tree. Harry took a seat on the sofa, letting his gaze over the tree settle. Marianne noticed the shift in his expression, the way his shoulders tensed just a bit. She crossed her arms over her chest, her voice softening. “Hey. You okay?”

Harry glanced at her quickly, hesitating as if he didn’t want to answer, before he shrugged. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

She moved over to take a seat next to him, brushing her hands on her sweater as she moved closer to him. “Thinking about what? I—I mean, I don’t know if you have something against Christmas, I figured it was just your sense of humor, but…”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not really my favorite time of year,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. There was a part of him that felt odd giving her any information like this, but he figured that she had more intimate memories of him, so this didn’t seem quite as big, “Never has been.”

Marianne frowned, folding her arms. “I think it can be difficult for a lot of people, for a lot of reasons.” She trailed off, watching him closely.

He let out a soft laugh, though it lacked his usual warmth. “Shouldn’t be.”

She didn’t press, just waited, and after a moment, he continued.

“It’s just… growing up, I didn’t really have a family to spend it with. My parents… they weren’t around much. And when they were, Christmas was more about them fighting or making a show for other people than it was about actually being together, just the three of us, you know? By the time I got older, it just felt pointless to even try to get everyone together. They were never happy memories. Everyone else was celebrating, and I was just… there.” He gestured vaguely, as if searching for the right words. “I guess it just became this reminder of what I didn’t have.”

Marianne’s heart twisted at the vulnerability in his voice. She reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “Harry, I’m sorry. That sounds… really lonely.”

He shrugged again, his gaze fixed on the tree. “It was what it was. But there just didn’t seem to be any reason to make any memories surrounding it. I just ignored this time of year.” He glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“It—but this is nice. I like this,” He chewed on his bottom lip before he stared at the way that her hand settled on his forearm, his fingers brushing hers for a moment. “Thanks, Marianne.”

“For what?”

“For… I don’t know. Letting me be here, I guess. For not making this weird.”

She smiled, her expression soft as she took in a deep breath, “Everyone deserves to have one happy Christmas memory, at least,” She swallowed, looking back at the tree then, “I hope this is one of those.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he looked back at the tree. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, “Very much so.”

For a moment, silence settled between them, not awkward but contemplative. Harry felt a quiet shift within himself, a glimmer of something he couldn’t quite name but wasn’t ready to dismiss. Marianne’s sarcastic edge gave way to quiet vulnerability, while Harry’s usual cynicism melted into genuine curiosity about her. She told him about her students, and her decision to spend Christmas embracing her independence this year.

Harry glanced at her; her face illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights. For a moment, he felt the tension of his deadline and his usual holiday cynicism slip away, replaced by an unfamiliar warmth that tugged at the edges of his guarded heart. The glow of the fairy lights and Marianne’s quiet presence seemed to momentarily bridge the gap between his disillusionment and the simple joys he had long dismissed.

The multicolored lights blinked haphazardly, casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the room. A patchwork of ornaments dangled from the branches—some glittering with polished perfection, others endearingly imperfect like Marianne’s lopsided clay star. Tinsel shimmered unevenly, catching the soft glow of the fairy lights. Harry tilted his head, his critical eye scanning the mismatched decorations. It was far from magazine-perfect, but something about its imperfections made it feel... genuine.

"It’s a little chaotic," he murmured.

Marianne smiled, nudging him gently. "Kind of like us, don’t you think?" He glanced at her, the warmth in her eyes mirroring the soft glow of the tree, and felt his usual cynicism begin to wane.

"I think it’s perfect," he admitted quietly. It was far from perfect—the lights blinked unevenly, and the ornaments clashed—but it felt oddly right.

Harry let his gaze linger on Marianne, taking in the way the soft light caught the curve of her smile and the slight furrow of her brow, as if she were deep in thought. He wondered what was going through her mind, whether her thoughts mirrored the strange mix of contentment and uncertainty that churned within him.

Marianne, for her part, noticed the way Harry’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the side of his mug, betraying a nervous energy he seemed intent on hiding. It was a moment suspended in time, the world outside the small flat fading into irrelevance as they sat side by side, each silently grappling with the fragile, burgeoning connection between them.

Marianne glanced at him, her resolve to keep things casual wavering.

It was then that Harry decided he should be getting home. Marianne agreed, nodding a few times before Harry lifted from the sofa. She had followed him to the door, his coat in his hands before they stood in front of the door again.

“I had a great time,” He finally said, “With you.”

Marianne let out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest as she felt the cold from behind the door already. She pulled her top lip in her mouth before she cleared her throat, contemplating whether she wanted to say anything else. She noticed that he had been baiting her to speak, tilting his head.

“What are you doing tonight?” She asked tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry looked at her, his usual cynicism replaced by something warmer, softer. “No plans.”

Marianne bit on her bottom lip, taking every part of her independence away as she stared at him with a longing glance that caught his attention

“Would you like to go,” She shrugged, “On like, a real date?”

Harry pushed his hair off of his forehead, trying his best to hide the smile that caught on his face. It somehow wouldn’t go away. “I—yeah. I would, actually.”

Letting out a breath of relief, Marianne rested her hand on the back of her neck. “Great. Great—yeah.” She grabbed a piece of mail that sat next to the door, using a pen to write down her phone number. She stood to hand it to him, “Text me when you get home, and we’ll set something up.”

As a gesture, Harry took the half of the envelope she wrote, to write his own number—just in case they were to lose touch. Harry took the empty envelope she wrote on, folding it and putting it in his pocket before he leaned in kiss her. It was a soft kiss this time, one that melted for a moment before he pulled back and let his eyes fall over her. The breath was held in his lungs before he nodded a few times.

“Will do,” He told her, reaching for the front door, “Bye, Marianne.”

“Bye.” She stated softly, watching as he pulled the door behind him, a last fleeting glance.

Marianne stood by the door for a moment after Harry left, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, running her fingers through her hair. The reality of the night settled over her like the falling snow outside—quick, fleeting, and somehow magical.

She wandered back to the couch, sitting down and pulling the throw blanket over her lap. The Christmas lights on her tree twinkled softly, casting a warm glow around the room. She sipped the last of her coffee, the faint hum of the music station still playing faintly in the background.

For a moment, she thought about texting him first but decided against it.

“Let him make the move,” she whispered to herself, smiling at the memory of his crooked grin, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her.

Across town, Harry walked briskly, his hands buried in his coat pockets, the envelope she’d written on folded neatly inside one of them. The snow crunched under his shoes, the cold biting at his cheeks, but he didn’t care. His mind replayed the way her lips felt against his, the sound of her laugh, the spark in her eyes when she teased him. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—lightness, as though the weight of the world had been lifted.

When he reached his flat, Harry sat on the edge of his bed, pulling out the envelope at the quickest moment he could. Her handwriting was rushed but endearing, the kind of messy scrawl that hinted at a bit of chaos, a bit of charm. He smiled as he unlocked his phone and began typing.

Harry: Made it home in one piece.

Harry: Free all day. Don’t want to sound too desperate, but I’d love to have dinner tonight.

He hesitated for a moment before sending another text.

Harry: Would love to do more Christmas light viewing, too.

He stared at the screen for a second longer than he needed to before hitting send. Tossing the envelope on his nightstand, he leaned back against his pillows, his mind drifting back to the warmth of her apartment and the way she’d looked at him like he wasn’t just passing through.

Back at Marianne’s place, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She picked it up, her smile growing wider as she read his message. With a grin, she replied:

Marianne: Glad you didn’t freeze. Dinner and a walk would be great.

Harry’s reply came almost instantly.

Harry: Pick you up at 7?

Marianne laughed softly to herself, leaning back into the couch as she typed her response.

Marianne: I’ll be the one in the ugly Christmas sweater.

Harry bit his lip, shaking his head.

Harry: I’ll be the one in black.

As Harry set his phone down on the nightstand, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The faint glow of the sun trying to peak from behind the grey clouds outside his window cast long shadows across the room, but his thoughts were nowhere near the cold night or the city beyond. Instead, they lingered on Marianne—her laugh, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she’d somehow made him feel less like a cynic and more like someone who might just believe in the magic of the season again.

He stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a contented sigh.

Christmas had always been something he tolerated rather than celebrated, a time of year that often felt more like a reminder of what was missing. But now, as he thought about seeing her again in just a few short hours, the easy way they fit into each other's company, he couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself.

For the first time in a long time, Christmas didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like a beginning.

[kangals]

what does the grooming process look like for stellina and kep?

my 'process" for grooming is very much what i would call 'poor man's dog training':

get a silicone lick-mat

apply peanut butter very generously

slap that bad boy onto the front of the fridge/kitchen appliances at dog eye-level

groom while they're distracted

i start this process day 1 as puppies and continue it through their whole lives. should i actually be putting in the effort to actually train them to stand still and quietly for grooming without the need for food distraction? yes. do i? no i'm lazy.

or if you're asking about like, what grooming i'm actually doing:

hair: i do an all-over brush at least once a week (should do twice but again, lazy and not needed). takes like 20-30 mins. my 'schedule' for brushing is basically this:

red areas (behind ears, arm/legpits) are high-friction and very prone to matting. these you have to brush out at least once a week, no exceptions, or you will get mats. this is also very sensitive skin so it's good to desensitize them to brushing as much as you can.

yellow areas should be brushed at least once weekly to comb out any tangles and debris, but are less prone to matting.

and then the rest of them i'll brush through but that's about it, that part pretty much never tangles.

i normally just use a pin brush and slicker brush, and a metal comb for the yellow/red areas. sometimes an undercoat rake if they're very sheddy.

collies are 'dry' dogs - they don't really drool, and they don't have the oily waterproof coat that breeds like a lab or hound does, so they're naturally low-odor without much of a 'doggy' smell. i'll bathe every 4-8 weeks depending on what the weather's like and if their skin seems like it's getting cruddy. 2-3 times a year i'll take them to a groomer to have them do a 'deshed' treatment where they really blow out the undercoat, because this makes a huge difference in keeping them comfortable in the heat, and in how much hair i have to vacuum.

for stellina i've also been getting an outline trim (shortening up the yellow areas on the pic with long feathering) in spring and fall, it just keeps things cleaner and it makes a huge difference in the amount of time i have to spend brushing.

feet: i dremel nails every week, same PB-mat method as with brushing. every week is probably overkill but i think it's good desensitization and also i hate long nails on dogs so i'm a bit anal about it. collies tend to get long hair on the feet/between the pads, some people like the 'grinch feet' look but personally i fucking hate it so every 4-6 weeks i just take round-tip scissors and clean them up.

other: the rest i do as needed, e.g. if i see any wax/debris in the ears i'll do a clean with OTC ear cleaner and a cotton ball. one of stellina's eyes tends to be teary, so about once a week i take a warm washcloth and wipe them down to prevent tear stains. and then i vacuum my house weekly, sometimes every 2 weeks if it's not too bad.

honestly i'm writing a lot but what i've listed here is way less than 1 hour a week on average, collies IMO are not particularly high-grooming needs dogs (compared to, say, a doodle or OES that needs daily brushing and regular professional grooming). i find the grooming and hair totally manageable. i honestly prefer dealing with long hair because it tends to clump together on the ground, rather than short hairs that fly and scatter into everything. people tend to see roughs and go 'oh no way too much hair' but like, it is super manageable as long as you've got half an hour at some point each week to brush your dog. i'm very obsessive about my pets being 'neat' and i do fine.

sorry for the incredibly overly-long answer to your very simple ask lmao

[sunkissedscribbles]

☆ 𝑆𝐿𝑌𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑁 𝐵𝑂𝑌𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐶𝑇 - 𝐻𝑂𝐺𝑀𝐴𝑆 𝐷𝐴𝑌 𝟷𝟽

including: mattheo, theo, enzo, draco, blaise, tom

☆ HOGMAS 2024 LIST ☆ MASTERLIST ☆ TAG LIST ☆ KIARA'S PART

☆ 𝑀𝐴𝑇𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑂 ➵ he’s not really keen on new films, and finds most of the holiday ones generic ➵ not that we can really blame him for it, christmas films most of the time are generic ➵ what he loves is  difficult relationship (he’s secretly all for the drama) ➵ so how about a film with nine difficult relationships? ➵ his favourite is ‘love actually’. and of course, he has an opinion about all the pairs on the screen

☆ 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑂 ➵ he loves marvel, alright? ➵ he’s a bit of a nerd but he’s just perfect this way. and honestly? you love it ➵ so when ‘the guardians of the galaxy holiday special’ came out you didn’t have to ask twice ➵ in fact, you didn’t even have to ask ➵ because his reaction was “i’m booking the tickets for tomorrow” ➵ but he doesn’t necessarily like the other 300 you made him watch before

☆ 𝐸𝑁𝑍𝑂 ➵ see, he’s the least traumatized of the group and he did actually have a childhood ➵ thus, he can watch as many christmas films as he wants, his childhood favourite would always make him feel nostalgic ➵ so, briefly, teenage (and probably even as an adult) enzo still watches ‘santa clause’ every year and unashamedly claims it as his favourite

☆ 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 ➵ he says it’s a tie between ‘home alone’ and ‘die hard’ ➵ but he puts the home alone dvd’s to the side of the christmas section so if there is a fire he could just grab them and run ➵ he finds the pranks iconic and the story funny, he also gives a plus for the soundtrack and for kevin being a badass man character ➵ DESPISES the grinch; ”that dog is the only good part of the whole shitshow”

☆ 𝐵𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑆𝐸 ➵ just as the rest of the slytherins, he’s only a softie on the inside ➵ so he lives for romantic films, okay? ➵ and he makes you watch ‘the princess switch’ every week of the advent period ➵ he hates the ‘home alone’ films ➵ also loves iron man 3 and die hard

☆ 𝑇𝑂𝑀 ➵ he finds ‘a nightmare before christmas’ bearable. the rest? do not even ask. ➵ number 1 reason? it’s dark and creepy enough to compensate for the rest. ➵ secondly: it’s a classic ➵ though he’s seen grinch too. and hated it. ➵ he cringed when cindy lou started singing so hard he turned it off (nearly threw the dvd player out) ➵ and the third reason: he doesn’t like christmas anyway. he says it’s just a waste of time and money ➵ and he simply hated the titles of every other film you suggested

tag list: @mattiesgf @inksoakedparchment @girllblogging777 @mqstermindswift @myysunshine @yelanare @mamartinez @s00ty-feet @malfoylover4l @potterxz

[msookyspooky]

ᴹʸ ᶠᵃᵐᶦˡʸ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ᴴᵒˡᶦᵈᵃʸˢ ᵈᵘᵐᵇ ᵃˢ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ᶠᶦᶜᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵐᶦˡʸ ˢᵒ:

ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳˢ @ᵇᵉʳⁿᵃʳᵈˢᵇᵉⁿᵈʸˢᵗʳᵃʷˢ

Near Dark: During the Holidays

Platonic + Romantic: Severen, Caleb, Mae, Homer, Diamondback, Jesse

𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚗:

☆ Most of them come from bad families, no families or time periods were poverty was prevalent and spoiled Holiday Joy was scarce

☆ Most definitely do not Celebrate any Holidays

☆ Everyone DOES seem nicer during the winter because of the longer nights

☆ But if you come in wanting to; you might have interesting reactions

𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗:

☆ Isn't really the Jolly type but can be if he thinks everyone else is in the spirit. Especially if he likes you and you pressure him

☆ Most enthusiastic spirit out of everyone (Even if he's a bit chaotic and going about it wrong.)

☆ Just don't go pushing the 'love and peace' crap on him

☆ Thinks those Grinch stealing presents with screaming brats is the funniest idea he's ever heard and would if he was near kids (Homer don't count)

☆ Very much Uncle Eddie from Christmas Vacation Energy

☆ Makes any 'Cute Holiday' tradition into something chaotic.

☆ Sledding on a compacted snow hill? He coated the bottom in cooking oil. What? Ya wanna win, don't ya?

☆ Chopped down a tree from someone's yard pre-decorated or got a Charlie Brown Christmas tree that is a twig with tinsel; take it or leave it

☆ Gifts were stolen weapons, stolen jewelry, road signs, or a half conscious body to drink from

☆ 'Aw shucks, you did that for me? Ya shouldn't have! ♡' *Half dead person bleeding out with a bow on their head*

☆ Has blood on his mouth and a bloody Santa hat and a stolen gift bag from a mall Santa and like it or not that is his version of being Jolly

☆ If you're his s/o or crush; he will follow you around with a mistletoe (He's also wearing it on his belt...Well...Rules are rules.)

☆ HC he knows extremely inappropriate Christmas 'Carols'

HC:

- Celebrated Christmas Human but in a gritty drink yourself to death at a bar/saloon way

- Likes Cookies even if they provide no nutrients for him now (He nabs them whenever he sees them)

- Secretly happy as can be at you wanting to celebrate he just has to play aloof at first

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋:

☆ Sure, he'd be cool with watching everyone else celebrating a bit even if he's not gunhoe about it

☆ Misses his family and gets down during this time of year. Gets very defensive, grumpy or offstandish

☆ As a friend you'd have a hard time pulling him out of his solemn mood but he tries especially if you're a s/o and ask him for you to

☆ 'Alright...For you.'

☆ Him and Severen had a helluva a time decorating the newest rv with lights if you asked (They definitely fought at one point)

☆ Got you a nice piece of jewelry he bought with victim money because even if it came from the victims it makes him feel less bad

☆ Laughs at all the others being so weird about Holiday celebrations at times. It's like they're aliens with certain things.

HC:

- Was at that age of 'Christmas is Stupid' before turning and now he deeply regrets it and not appreciating Sarah and his Dad the last Holiday gets to him

- Loves Christmas Lights especially on Barns

𝙼𝚊𝚎:

☆ Probably the most normal one of the bunch. She isn't sad, she isn't chaotic, she isn't a grouch. She'd love to!

☆ Loves to go through cities you both visit and window shop at night

☆ Loves seeing the Christmas lights everywhere too

☆ Jokes about wanting a white Christmas even if you all are clearly in areas where snow is not a thing

☆ A gift from her would be homemade and heartfelt

☆ Is fascinated by the new spin on elf on the shelf that mortals keep making and finds it endearing

HC:

- Was not very close to her family but made the best of Christmas

- Sings Christmas Music to herself or hums it this time of year

- Favorite Movie was Frosty the Snowman growing up

- Over the moon and happier than usual at you wanting to decorate (And clean up GD.) the RV

Ｈｏｍｅｒ:

☆ The biggest Grinch/Grouch of them all

☆ Hates the Holidays (Hates everything) because he's got a pretty negative existence and was turned at an age where his childlike wonder of Holidays was ripped from him

☆ Refuses all of it. No. NO.

☆ Actively knocks down decorations and Nativity Scenes on Purpose

☆ Severen teases the hell out of him about being such a little Scrooge

☆ If he likes you he will get a gift that's surprisingly sweet just don't make a thing out of it

HC:

- Hates the Grinch song because Caleb and Severen (Maybe you) keep singing it near him! He's never even watched it, shut up!

- Secretly likes Rudolf bc he relates to it

- Chugs Eggnog

Ｄiａｍｏｎｄｂａｃｋ:

☆ Questions it the most on why you insist upon celebrating a human Holiday when they ain't human no more but she's not against it

☆ Might lecture you like a Mom on getting your hopes up on Monsters while actively decorating the rv or wrapping something

☆ Still kills and yet she's not as...In your face as Severen. She won't kill no one in front of you during this time. But she isn't against threatening to get you a gift she thinks you want

☆ Lectures Homer on being so negative that if YN insists then let's all take one day

☆ Has a soft spot for kids and only kids during this time

☆ If together; Teases you with a few kisses before giving you anything; "Been good this year?"

☆ Does the 'fly on the ceiling' bit just so you look up at a mistletoe and pokes fun at you before kissing.

HC:

- Is very fond of the more 'Noel' and soft winter vibes as she always imagined having that as a human but alas

- Can be bitter with always wanting a house full of kids opening gifts but life had other plans

- Is actually very grateful for you making it special

Ｊｅｓｓｅ:

☆ Not as Grouchy as Homer or as Solemn and depressing as Caleb but not as willing as DB or Severen (Definitely not Mae) He's very much 'You all can do what you want just don't involve me'

☆ "YN. We've been over this. I didn't celebrate the Birth of Jesus and Peace on Earth and all that joy of love and family crap while livin'. I ain't doing it now."

☆ Says nothing or rolls his eyes with a groan when you point out decorations or when you and Sev and Mae are singing Songs

☆ Ignores the decorations in the RV and bats tinsel or a mistletoe or garland out of his face as he walks by

☆ Grumbles at you get him a gift but sighs with a reluctant tight smile if it's something he enjoys like a new weapon or something sentimental from his living era

☆ If you're romantically together: Will surprise you at the end when you're both alone with a Santa hat and tattered coat he robbed off a body he killed and have you sit on his lap no matter what and dirty talk you about how naughty or nice you've been and what to do with you for 'naughty'.

HC:

- His 'Christmas' was an orange if your lucky and socks as a human

- Does not know any songs or movies because he never indulged and never stayed in a place too long to watch or listen. (Severen only knows what he's heard in stores they're both so fuckin old)

- Looks at it all as humans guilt for being assholes all year long as well as corporations guilting us to spend

- But he is fascinated by you 'taming' him like some housecat and jokes about it

Bonus:

Ｊｅｓｓｅ & ＤＢ:

☆ If you're in a throuple with these two; they even each other out

☆ Jesse acts like the stoic but protective masculine energy and DB the fierce yet nurturing feminine with you in the middle

☆ DB is even more protective of you than Jesse and while shoot him a glare if he brushes off too many of your Holiday ideas

☆ DB will eventually poke at Jesse in that coy way she does that makes him melt and she knows it, "Honey, stop being so mean. If our lil dove wants to celebrate with us, then why not?"

☆ Expect to be wrapped up in a blanket with both of them when it gets a bit more chilled even for your cool skin. Jesse has a habit of caressing DB's hair or running his boney calloused thumb gently over your brows till you fall asleep about an hour before sunrise

☆ Jesse takes you both for a drive not just for victims for the night but to look at lights.

☆ If you wrap yourself as a 'gift' in a motel room? You're in for a damn good night with them ♡

[adelarsims]

SPELLS CHALLENGE FINAL RESULTS

posts: group 1, group 2, group 3, group 4

i'm very sorry, as you can already see, i won't be able to finish the tournament in october, so it'll take probably about a week of november, too. between health complications and relatives invasion, my october is absolutely hectic, i constantly want to sleep and don't have the time for anything. please don't hate me, i already feel like a pumpkin grinch that is stealing halloween.

under cut you can find the full list by points gained, and also the full list by alphabet with spells learned, in case anyone is curious :)

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @aliengirl @hashimasims @witchywhims @partheniasimblr @smilingmoon @adoringsentiment @syntacticerrortxt @bloomingkyras @llamatail @royal-teabag @nova-kim @applesaucesims @invisiblequeen @riverofjazzsims @lupinkforreal @rainmustfallts4 @lessathxhi @honeysylvan @vampirictrait @piupiowa @eldritch-simmer @merofthefae @mokoszkokosz @simsinfinitylt @jaigny @igotsnothing @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants @knightofwounds @agena87 @thebramblewood @kari-sims

[alwaysaslutforfic]

Kyoutani Headcanons ❤️ - NSFW

Guess who’s back with some more headcanons 😏 Apparently I have a thing for mean, blond boys

Warnings: again nothing super explicit, mentions of costumes, oral, recording videos

Minors DNI! There is nothing for you under the cut! I MEAN IT!

Unbeta’d cos 🤷🏾

Despite his aesthetic, he’s actually pretty smart. (I mean he did transfer into an academy so) and is also a pretty gentle tutor. He knows what it’s like to be discouraged from doing something you enjoy so he would never make you feel bad for trying even though your answers are just so very wrong

Very high-key low-key scared of heights. You once got trapped on the 20th floor in an elevator with him and seriously considered knocking him out. If you go to a theme park, he will gladly Watch you ride the rollercoasters. (He loves the teacups though)

Actually has a really charming, boyish smile but it only ever comes out around you

Summer freckles. There aren’t a lot of them, but they are prominent. And a gorgeous tan. If it weren’t for the RBF you’d be more worried with how handsome he is in summertime

Loves to push your buttons but would also never want to disrespect you, so you have a lot of random consent talks; “Can I smack your ass?” “…Like right now?” “Just whenever.” “Sure?” “Cool, lemme know if you want me to stop.” — Proceeds to smack your ass literally every time you walk past him, no matter where you are. You nearly slapped him once when he happened to see you in public cos you thought it was a stranger

Says the sweetest shit with the most deadpan of expressions. Has zero shame or reservations about how much he loves you. He’s a straightforward person through and through. Just wanders into the room you’re in and hits you with “You know your my reason for breathing, right?” 😠

Posts gym thirst traps, but without the intent of them being thirst traps. He just likes to track and share his progress but dude is so buff that it just works out that way (he sends all his actual thirst traps to you directly)

Sweaty, sweaty boy but he doesn’t really smell. Probably sweats so much cos he’s always warm and for that reason winter is his favourite season. He doesn’t sweat as much and you’re always cuddling up to him for warmth

Loves anime. Will watch it for hours with you. And not just Shounen too, this man is an anime connoisseur and has the best recommendations no matter the genre. But beware, cos he waits for no one. If you miss an episode that’s on you

Oh shit and his grime selection! Elite!! He heard one song and he was hooked. Started calling Oikawa a wasteman and is endlessly amused by it

Outside of that though, he will listen to any and everything. Music is music and as such his Spotify is a trash heap. Like shit is jarring, and is predominately yelling. Boy doesn’t know the meaning of the word playlist

Be his jetpack 😭 he loves being the little spoon. He nuzzles when he’s sleepy

An early riser but not a morning person. And even worse, he hates the taste of coffee so he’ll just glare blearily for at least an hour whenever he wakes up

But he really enjoys herbal tea. Him showing you his collection is what prompted your biweekly selfcare nights. He doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he’s content to spend time with you and let you do whatever. (He also never knew skin could feel that fucking soft)

Oh and good luck waking him up. There’s a video in the OG Seijoh group chat of him sleeping through 4 different foghorn alarms. He was banned from naps after he slept through lunch and missed his next class and was 15 minutes late to practise cos he just wouldn’t wake up. Just dead to the world once his head hits a pillow

He likes when you wear trashy, slutty outfits. Naughty firewoman/man, naughty nurse, naughty cheerleader, naughty grinch. He likes it even more when you play it up. The naughty teacher fulfilled fantasies he didn’t even know he had

He calls you puppy during sex when he’s feeling particulary dominant and you surprised him with a costume on his birthday compete with ears and a tail. He went three rounds that night and you lost count of how many times you came

He gets worked up being ignored by you, likes having to work for your attention. He could spend hours kissing up and down your neck as you read, ignoring the hard on he’s grinding into your ass. It’s only when he’s manhandling you that you break the ruse

Goes gooey eyed for some head. I’m talking knees shaking, toes curled. Man turns to straight mush. The first blowjob you gave him lasted mere minutes, but it was so hot listening to him whimper as he came in your mouth that you weren’t that upset

(Speaking of whimpers) Deep, growling moans, and pretty little whimpers when he cums. He just sounds so good during sex that you actually get a little excited when he has to go to away games cos that means hearing it directly in your ear through the phone

Loves taking videos of the two of you. He just loves having the view of you and him together on hand. And if he plays them in the background while you fuck once or twice, well your embarrassment only makes it hotter

Will eat you out after the gym. He actually gets upset if you shower first cos you washed off the ✨sparkle✨. He just loves the way you taste in general. He mouths wet kisses into your skin when you fuck just so he can taste you

I have one more of these in the works atm 😜 can you guess who it is?

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch. 50 - Red Dawn

Summary: A tense car ride is full of twists and turns. Josie gets an upsetting message. Craig softens and he and Jo seem to bond as they share another long talk. A phone call leaves Jo with more questions than answers.

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, anxiety, drinking,

Chapter characters: Luke, Josie, Craig, Lee

Chapter word count: 7,953

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist:

Salem, Massachusetts

March 22, 2022

The tedious drive back to Salem seemed like an eternity and it was deafly quiet, except for the cat-like purr of Luke's Charger. As soothing as the subtle sound was, it still couldn't calm the seething tension between you and the law abiding bad boy that consistently chewed on his thumb nail, for it was much too close for comfort in the compacted side by side space.

But as the cruising car entered Essex county, your focus then went to the mile long monster that lied up ahead. The Salem Harbor Bay bridge that you had recently drove over with Orlando with no choice, for time had been of the essence to get to Dave and this time, your reaction was not much different as your anxiety began to rise, but at least that time, you were in the driver seat. You had control and had someone with you that you trusted and felt safe with and that got you through it. Now, you were literally bound by your wrists and at the mercy of a man who's personality was all over the place. Hot, cold, gentle, savage. It was mood swing madness and you had been stupid enough to wake the lion.

The no speaking agreement was now over for you as you became desperate. "Can you please go another way?"

Luke's tone was cold and his words were straight to the point. "Nope. Freeway. Nowhere to turn around. This way is faster. The sooner I get you out of my car and my sight, the better."

You supposed you couldn't blame his anger after shoving him like you did. You were angry with yourself too, for look where it had landed you. In cuffs and facing prison time for assaulting a cop. Jesus, how were you going to get out of this one? You hated to admit it but Luke was probably right. Gerry couldn't do anything for you. Not without jeopardizing his job and his morals, but...it didn't mean he wouldn't try and you had to hold out hope for that, for if anyone could find some loophole to free you, it was your ex-fiance. You also knew that his guilt over his drunken one-nighter with your sister would give him the extra incentive, not to mention, he still loved you and now you were the one who felt guilty for even thinking of using that against him. BUT, you had the same issue you recently had with Dave. Gerry was M.I.A. and now with that added onto the Brobdingnagian bridge rapidly approaching, your nerves might just send you into a code blue.

Seconds before the wheels thumped over the divide from stable ground to an abyss of lung filling liquid, Luke couldn't help but notice your fear through his random side eyed glances at you as your body stiffened up, your breathing ceased and your eyes clenched shut. He pretended not to notice as he stared straight ahead and tried not to care but deep below the hardened shell of a man, the Grinch's small heart grew 3 sizes that day.

"What's going on Jo?"

"Just shut up and drive. Faster would be great." you muttered, eyes still closed.

"Can't. There's a truck in front of me and I can't pass. Double lines."

Your left eye peeked at Luke. "Oh my god mister holier than thou. Trying to make up for the shitty things you've done by being a model citizen now? What happened to the skillful driver who perfectly whipped my Monte Carlo around every turn in town like he was Luke Duke in the General Lee trying to outrun Rosco P. Coltrane?'

"But Bo always drove the majority of the time."

"Yeah I know that! I just thought it was more fitting to say Luke since that's your name and your hair is dark like his."

"True I suppose. I didn't care for Bo anyways. I don't like blonde hair."

There was silence as both of your eyes were now open and glaring at him as he stared straight ahead with that curled smug smirk of his.

You then raised a smart ass brow. "So that's why you cuffed and stuffed me."

Luke's eyes swung right over to yours and now you were giving the smug smirk.

"I cuffed you because that blonde hair of yours caused you to do something extremely stupid. Now, I thought we weren't talking?"

Your lips pursed and your eyes slitted. "We're NOT! So just hurry up and get us over this bridge already."

"We've been over it for the past 30 seconds."

"What?"

You straightened up in your seat and looked around to see that you were now on a rural road surrounded by forestry.

"Hmmph." you marveled as you burrowed back into your heated leather seat. "Guess I was distracted."

Luke grinned as he glanced at you. "Exactly. It usually does the trick."

"Wait, so...you only engaged in conversation with me to distract me from my fear??"

"Yep and it worked like a charm. Guess I' m not such a bad guy after all."

"Says you."

His eyes snapped to you as he grimaced. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question??? Can you please just STOP talking now??"

"Whatever." he mumbled and sped up.

Not even a minute passed and Luke was speaking again. "So...you're afraid of bridges huh? Why's that?"

Rolling your eyes, you sighed and continued to gaze out the window as you reluctantly replied.

"I'm not afraid of bridges. I'm afraid of heights. There's a difference."

"So, more so, you're afraid of falling really."

"Well duhhhh...and falling into what lies beneath it. All the weight of that water, just pulling me down further and further into it's ice cold depths where there's nothing but darkness and it fills my lungs as my panic forces me to suck it in, trying to breathe."

"Or...you could always swim."

Your eyes lowered as you became quiet and began fidgeting with your fingers.

As Luke looked at you, awaiting your usual mordant riposte, he quickly realized why you hadn't.

"You...you can't swim?"

"Does this even matter? Why can't you just leave me alone and quietly revel in my misery? I got my just deserves. But hey, if you do happen to find a heartbeat under that cold and austere armor, could you not mention this to my mother for the time being? This is the last thing she needs right now."

You wriggled your hips in the skintight seatbelt so you could turn towards the window to hide the oncoming tears of shame and once Luke couldn't see you, they poured out of your eyes like a waterfall. What you didn't consider was that he could see your emotional reflection in the glass as you silently sobbed.

5 minutes of faint intermittent whimpers and sniffles were unwillingly heard loud and clear by Luke. As he came to a stop at a red light, he looked over at you and that's when his own anxiety got the better of him.

Seeing you all vulnerable and huddled against the door like a child sent a stinging twinge of empathy through his heart and made him question if what he was doing was right, even if you did break the law, for he had goaded you and not only that, your anger was justified about Lee. He wasn't going to tell you that though or the fact that he spent many nights weeping and beating himself up over what happened between him and his once upon a time good friend. It was extremely hard for him to speak about just as it was for Lee, for Luke knew it was all of his own fault by intentionally knocking over the first domino, he just never knew the chain of events would lead up to what it did. What he did know is that someday, you would know the ugly truth.

As Luke neared the road that led straight into downtown Salem, the guilt trip he was on forced him to abruptly stop and turn around.

As he pulled to the side of the road and parked, you were already sitting straight up with wet and wildly confused eyes.

"What are you doing? The police station is the other way?"

"I'm not going there. Give me your hands."

"What??"

"Jo, just give me your hands before I change my mind."

As you slowly and unsurely swayed your hands in his direction, he grabbed them, startling you as he vigorously unlocked the cuffs, then yanked your seatbelt off.

"There. Go on. Get out of here."

You sat speechless for a moment, staring at him as he stared out of his window, chewing his thumb nail once again.

"You...you're letting me go...just like that??"

"Did I not just take the cuffs off and tell you to go?"

"Ok but...here? You want me to walk? It's at least another mile to get back to my apartment."

"Can't you just thank me and get out?"

"Why won't you look at me and WHY are you doing this?"

"God damn it." he grumbled and side eyed you. "Why are you such a pain in the ass??!! Just fucking go!"

"Not until you tell me why you changed your mind and are freeing me into the wild like some caged bird??!!"

His palms slapped over his face and then he roughly dragged them down as he groaned in frustration.

"If I tell you, will you fly away???"

"Depends on what the answer is."

"Holy fucking hel..." he began as his fuming eyes met yours, but abruptly paused when he saw the remnants of your tears, then popped the glove box open, ripped a tissue out and held it in front of you as he continued, refusing to look at you once again.

"It's what you said about your mum. You're right. She don't need this. I spoke with her briefly last night and she was quite distraught about Megan so, I just feel with all her grief over one daughter, she don't need the added stress from another."

"So you're telling me you're doing this for my mom??"

"You sound like that's incredibly hard to believe."

"I don't know what to believe from you anymore Luke. One minute, you're this sweet and caring man that seems to have a heart, like the one who once came to my mom's house and comforted me through an anxiety attack and even defended me against my sister and stopped me from strangling her, WHICH ironically I was doing for you with Landy only 24 hours prior when you morphed into robot Arnie the freaking terminator...and the next minute, you're back to being human again, helping me back there on the bridge and now you're claiming to let me go out of sympathy for my mom."

You sat back in a huff, realizing that Lee was behaving the exact same way and you were at a crossroads, literally, on what to do anymore about either of these messed up men.

Luke sighed and softened up a bit. "Look Jo. I don't know what else to say. I pushed you over the edge, waving a red flag at you. If I hadn't done that, I don't think we would be sitting here right now."

And so you softened up a bit too. "Yeah well, I pretty much came at you sideways and got you all riled up."

Luke chuckled and shook his head, then looked right at you with a disbelieving smile.

"What?" you asked, returning a half smile as your eyes curiously tried to figure him out.

"You. You're so afraid of all these things that are bigger than you and here I am, at least 3 times your size, yet you weren't afraid to shove me on my ass. I'm not sure what shocks me more. The fact that you did it or the fact that you were even able to do it. I admire that fire in you Jo. Don't ever let anyone try to put it out. With that said though, use that fire on those other than authority. If it were anyone other than myself or Gerry, you'd be at the station right now being booked as we speak."

You gasped. "Oh god, speaking of, I better call Dave and tell him because I guarantee he's already on his way to bail me out and you'll be busted. I mean, it's the least I can do so you don't lose your job over me."

Luke sat quietly stunned as you made the call, telling Dave to turn around and asking him to keep what he knew under wraps.

"There. He won't say anything. I really hope you are going to lay off of him now."

"As long as these ferry tickets he gave me and the ferryman's words all coincide, he should be good. Thank you Jo and... for the record, I wouldn't have just left you out here. I would have let you sweat for about 5 minutes and then came back." Luke teased with the usual curled grin, then put the car in drive.

Your riposte came out of left field and definitely struck a nerve. "Thanks for sparing me from being another victim of love em and leave em Luke."

Luke gritted his teeth, appalled by knowing that either Orlando or Lee had told you about his notorious moniker of his younger days that he had long forgotten about and wanted to keep it that way.

"This joy ride is over. It's time for you to go home and...about Lee. Just stop asking me. It's his story to tell. Put your seatbelt on."

"It's not just his story when you're involved."

"Wasting...your...breath." he firmly certified and slid a cd in, hoping to shut you up.

You buckled your belt then crossed your arms and scoffed as you sank back into the seat. When a song came on, Luke cranked it up and began mumbling the words as he tapped his fingers upon the wheel and both the singing and the choice of music had your eyes gaping at him with an severely raised brow.

"There'll be no strings to bind your hands..." he began and then snickered as he glanced at you. "How fitting eh?"

"Seriously? You have a Juice Newton cd? Why am I not all that surprised."

"You're mocking me when you clearly know who she is?"

"Nope. Not at all. It's just that the night you drove my car, your choice of music was quite different and frankly much better."

"Oh, you mean Radar Love. Yeah well it was fitting for the occasion just like this one because now here we are with you, a cheery oh angel of the morning." he razzed and then beamed a snarky smile full of teeth.

Shaking your head, you heavily sighed and looked away, trying to ignore the overgrown infant beside you, but that quickly became impossible when he began crooning out the chorus, which you knew was solely just to annoy you.

"JUST CALL ME ANGEL OF THE MORNING BABY! JUST TOUCH MY CHEEK BEFORE YOU LEAVE ME BABY! Then slowly turn away...from meeeee."

"Whad'ya think? Next American Idol winner?" he gloated and howled on with his karaoke session, which if you were to be honest, Luke had a damn good set of pipes but you wouldn't dare tell him that because then he would certainly never shut up.

"Goblin king, take this baby away from me!" you irrationally jeered, then flung your head back against the seat and closed your eyes to try and zone him out, hoping he would take the hint to leave you alone, but you should have known better than that.

Luke's speedy riposte was a breath stealing punch to the gut and you had pretty much had set yourself up for it.

"Oooo ouch. That's rich coming from you. You know Jo, you should really be careful what you wish for since children seem to go missing when you're around."

Just as your eyes snapped open from the sting of his tongue, Luke was pulling up in front of your apartment and low and behold, Craig was outside speaking with what appeared to be a gardener.

"What a coinkydink. Daddy dearest in the flesh. So, does he know that Blaise was right within his reach that night and you knew and didn't...."

"He knows alright! I..I told him yesterday and now, I guess I'll be moving back in with my mom."

"Oh? Why not move in with Lee? You're basically at his place and up his arse all the time anyways aren't you?"

"Now you're the one wasting their breath. We're done here Luke. And if I were you, I'd get out of here before Craig sees you. Besides me, you're not exactly his favorite person."

"Not worried in the least."

As you opened the door, Luke touched your shoulder. "Hey Jo."

"What now??"

"Just be careful around him ok? You're probably better off to get away from him."

"And that's rich coming from YOU." you argued and got out.

Before you could close the door, Luke had more to say.

"Oh and Jo."

"Oh my god, what Luke??"

"Don't let the door hit you in that cute ass."

You shot a death glare at the derogative detective, then slammed the door and heard the blacked out window roll down.

With an arrogant wink, Luke put on a pair of mirrored sunglasses and attempted his best terminator voice. "I'll be bock."

Your eyes rolled so hard, it made you dizzy. "Ughhhh!"

As you stormed off, he revved the engine and sped off which then alerted Craig to your arrival. The last thing you wanted was another confrontation, especially with your rightfully pissed and soon to be ex-landlord, so you kept your head down and moved quickly, feeling his eyes upon you the entire time as you trekked up the sidewalk and into the building, but he never said a word.

You were now safe inside your apartment, all alone to finally gather and process all of your scattered thoughts, but first, you needed to call your mom and see how Megan was.

Slipping off your coat, you let it fall to the floor and went straight to the fridge for some wine, not caring that it was only 10 in the morning, the same time Craig had been drinking yesterday that you hypocritically gave him a lecture about. As you sat down on your bed with your full glass and turned your phone screen on, there was a text from Lee.

When you opened it and read his woeful words, your heart dropped down to your stomach as if you were falling.

Lee always expressed himself with such endearing words from his heart, but sometimes, he let poetry and music speak for him and this time, it was lyrics from a song you knew.

"I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met. I don't know what I'm supposed to do haunted by the ghost of you. Take me back to the night we met when the night was full of terrors and your eyes were filled with tears. When you had not touched me yet. Take me back to the night we met and then I can tell myself what the hell I'm supposed to do. And then I can tell myself not to ride along with you."

Your heart began to pound, for Lee was basically telling you he wished he could go back to that day in the hospital and never visit your room and that meant you never would have found his bracelet under your bed and took it to his house where your love story all began. You knew he wasn't trying to hurt you. He was just being honest about how he was feeling, but it still hurt. It hurt immensely.

You didn't reply. You didn't even know what to say to that, so you just picked up your wine and let the entire contents of the glass roll down your throat as you fought back the burning tears.

Desperately trying to distract yourself, you called your mom. She told you Megan was doing well but was still too groggy to speak. She also told you that she saw Lee that morning when she came down for coffee. He was on the phone with someone, seemingly upset, so she respectfully kept her distance but she couldn't help overhearing his scolding tone to the unlucky recipient. He spoke about his father's one month of passing and that he was going to his grave to pay his respects after attending the evening mass and told the other person that they should be going too, then Lee abruptly hung up and stormed out. You knew instantly it had to be Gordon and had something to do with the farm dispute between the two bitter brothers.

You told your mom you would be there later to sit with Megan so she could go home, eat and shower. When you hung up, you then nervously wondered if you should still go to the cemetery too, like you and Lee had planned, for if you saw him, you might not be able to walk away again.

Undecided, you got up to begin packing up some things since Craig had given you till the end of the month to move out and that was now only 7 days away. Luke's words haunted you about moving in with Lee as you sorted through your clothes. Yes, you were there all the time and everything was perfect in that area. You were so happy there with him. You would have been happy anywhere with him because Lee was home to you.

Your distraction tactic of keeping busy was failing miserably and it was quickly blown to bits when you were going through clothes you hadn't laundered yet and found a shirt of Lee's that you wore home a few mornings ago. And if that wasn't gut wrenching enough, it was still saturated in his Drakkar cologne and all you could do was scrunch it up against your nose and inhale his intoxicating essence as you laid down and cried your exhausted eyes to sleep.

Meanwhile, Craig was on his way up to your apartment to give you back your deposit and as he approached your door, he raised his hand to knock, but humbly lowered it when he could hear your muffled laments from within. Whatever you were going through, he felt that he should not add to it and it aggravated him that he even cared. Was any of it due to how he had treated you?, for he just witnessed you had rushed to avoid him at all costs or was it because of the depraved detective he had come to despise?, solely because he was Ethan's brother. Craig's street smarts told him Luke was still a red flag, no matter what surname he took on to disassociate himself with the flyblown Bloom blood and if Luke became a threat to you as Ethan had, he would handle him too. Regardless of what was ailing you, Craig decided to leave you alone for the time being and slipped the check under the door, then left, feeling rather disheartened over making you leave.

3 hours later.

You awoke in the same position that you fell asleep in, still tightly clutching Lee's shirt against you and now, not only did his sweet succulent scent seep from your pores, it was also imbedded in your purple satin sheets. You had to get rid of it. ASAP.

The bed was torn apart as you ripped the sheets from it and threw them in the basket along with the perpetrator, Lee's guilty shirt and then headed to the door to take them all down to the laundry room which is when you discovered the check laying on the floor.

Upon picking it up, the amount floored you, for it was hundreds more than what you had given Craig and attached on the back was a sticky note, scribbled in red ink with incredibly perfect penmanship for a man.

Craig certainly seemed to be on the wealthy side but this was too much and was clearly not about your clothes. It was his guilt over kicking you out and you weren't about to accept a payoff apology, especially when he didn't even have anything to be sorry about. You were the reason his 4 year old daughter was missing, even when you weren't the one who snatched her.

Exasperated over that and everything else, you hurried downstairs and packed the washer full of clothes along with an undetermined amount of soap while sobbing the entire time, then went back up to cry some more in the shower, a shower that was cut short by a burst of water as cold as the Atlantic and rust as red as blood....just like what happened to Dave. AND...you had the same reaction as he did.

Gasping and frantically rubbing your eyes, you huddled in the corner waiting for your sight and the water to clear. What was happening?? You did not believe that to be a coincidence all in a matter of 8 hours at two far away different locations, especially when that had never happened in your shower before. Was it some kind of sign, more so an omen or was it merely a plumbing issue like Dave believed his was?

Now that you were all primed and primped for the day, you resumed your packing while debating on calling Craig about his demonic shower needing an exorcist and to come get his money, or...you could just simply shove it back under his door with your own note attached so you didn't have to interact with him. Option 2 seemed best.

You scrawled out a note on the back of his and reattached it to the check, then quietly creeped down the hall to his studio where all was silent inside. Hoping he wasn't in there, you bent down and slipped it under the door, cringing at loud the sound was. Just as you stood up to tiptoe off undetected, footsteps swiftly approached the door.

Spinning around with a gasp, you rushed off only to freeze solid at his shout from directly within the door.

"Just Josie. Come on in!"

With a gulp, you hesitated then slowly made your way back to the door and walked in. There he stood, dressed in all black attire as usual and wickedly grinning while holding your check.

He then turned it over and began reading your note out loud in a trenchant, yet amused tone.

"Thank you but no thank you. My outfit only cost twenty bucks at a thrift shop."

"Well, if that's so." he continued, "then you obviously like deals and that's what this is. A hell of a bargain actually."

"Craig, the added amount is almost as much as one months rent. All you needed to give me was my deposit."

"I was trying to apologize for my wine induced behavior and the harsh things I said to you and a simple "I'm sorry" just didn't seem to cut it."

"You don't owe me an apology Craig. I deserved all of it and the paint bath too."

"You were only trying to help my drunk ass up and even after the first failed attempt that ruined your clothing, you still tried again. And no, you didn't deserve my spontaneous misguided anger. You didn't kidnap my child and you certainly couldn't have known that it was going to happen."

"How could I have not?? I witnesses Elizabeth drop her off at Angel's in a panic over Ethan harassing her about paternity. I should have tried a hell of a lot harder to reach you, end of story... and for that, I will forever be so damn sorry, but as you said, those words just don't seem to cut it. I..I pray that you find Blaise safe, sound and soon. I really do and I will do whatever I can to help make that happen and make things right for you and her. Now, I have to go finish packing. Your apology is accepted and please just keep the money."

"Alright." Craig agreed with astonished disappointment all over his face as he watched you walk out.

His agreement was short lived though and he chased after you, squeezing in your door just before you turned to close it.

"Craig, what the..."

"Just hear me out. Please?"

"Do I even have a choice since you barged right in?"

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Ok fine, but whatever you have to say, you'll have to say it while watching me pack. I have a lot to do today."

"Fair enough. I guess I'll start with Jason. Are we even now?"

"Even?? Craig, I swear I didn't use Blaise to get back at you for..."

"No no no. Jo, I know you didn't and I'm sorry I ever said that. What I meant was, well...if I forgive you, can you forgive me for not telling you your brother was alive? I mean, you were pretty rabid mad that day. Just a little bit scary." he teased with a smile.

You chuckled as you thought of what you just did to Luke. "Yeah umm...I guess I too had spontaneous misguided anger. It was meant for Jason, not you. I know you were just trying to keep him safe and you did. You saved his life, so how can I not forgive you?"

"Sweet. So we're square now. Well, except for one thing."

Craig walked over to your suitcase and began tearing your clothes out of it.

"What are you doing??"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm unpacking your clothes."

"What...wait...why?? Put those back!"

"I will not. I don't want you to leave. I kinda like you a little bit if I'm honest AND I think you kinda like it here and maybe even me too and..."

He held up a long blue dress and placed it against his brawny body. "And oooh wow. Smokin hot."

"Give me that!" you barked and grabbed it, but Craig laughed and wouldn't let go.

"Nope. Not until you agree to stay." he demanded as you both were now playing tug of war...until the dress split right down the middle.

"Oh, well THAT'S great. It's all yours!" you huffed and plopped down on the edge of the bed.

Craig sat down too and slowly handed you the ripped remnants.

"Sorry." he whispered.

You couldn't even be mad, especially when he had the shameful expression of dog who got busted for chewing up a pair of shoes. Instead, you did what you were becoming a pro at lately. Broke down crying with your face buried in your hands.

"Whoaaa, hey now sweetheart. What's this??"

"Everything!" you squeaked and then rambled on. "My sister was hurt really bad and is in the hospital. She could have, would have died if she hadn't been found and I know Ethan did it, and I was almost arrested today for what you described as my rabid madness and Jason took off with Britt because of your creepy ass father and Lee, he is...I don't even know anymore with that and then everyone's showers are spraying blood and..."

"Alright slowwww down and breathe love. Let's start with the psycho scene. Showers are spraying blood??"

"Yes, mine and Dave's. Well, he said it was rust but with all this ghost shit, I don't know what to think."

"Ghosts??"

"Long story. Is your shower doing that?"

"No...and what did you do to almost land yourself behind bars?"

You mumbled your answer in shame. "I...assaulted a cop."

Craig's eyes popped wide open as he released a titter out of is grinning lips. "Oh how I would have loved to have had a front row seat to that event. What a little baddy you are. Remind me to never piss you off."

"Not funny." you sniffled.

"Ok, maybe not then, but you're obviously not in jail. So, how'd you get out of that mess? Oh wait, was it your ex-fiance cop?"

"Let's just skip this part ok? I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Considering Craig saw Luke drop you off and how fired up you both seemed, he knew it was him you spoke of, but per your request, he would drop it and the overwhelming desire to take the little piggy to market...for now.

"Yeah cops aren't exactly my favorite subject either. Ok so...what's going on with your sister? Ethan attacked her?"

"It certainly appears that way but she hasn't been alert enough to finger him. I'm going to the hospital later to see if she's talking, but I just know it was him. I think he did it because she told Luke that she thinks Ethan took Blaise because he thinks he is her father or maybe he did it to scare me because he hates me and wants Lee all to himself."

"That measly inbred maggot. I should have just taken care of that problem when..."

Craig stopped himself but, it was too late.

"When? Does that have something to do with what you said yesterday? About something you did for me involving him??"

Craig seemed stunned and he was. "I...said that??"

"Yes..I...I just forgot with all that was going on. Craig, what did you mean?"

"Jo, I was quite sauced yesterday remember? I tend to say a lot of things when I drink. What...exactly...did I say?" he probed with an curious brow so he could figure out if he had to tell you what he knew about Ethan and Lee.

"You said you protected me from him but never said why or how."

Craig made sure that his explanation wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the entire truth because he felt you didn't need to know Lee was still Ethan's husband during a meltdown.

"Ohhh...that. Yes, well...I...I saw him once and I basically told him to stay away from you or he'd be fish food." he paraphrased as his heart began to beat again.

"You did that for me?"

Craig suddenly felt awkward. Not in a bad way, but more in a "too close for comfort" kind of way, so he gave a logical answer instead of admitting he had taken a sweet fancy to you, which was the last thing he wanted. He had vowed to himself after Elizabeth's destruction that he would never allow himself to become close to another woman ever again.

"Well...you're my best friend's little sister, so, you know. What's important to Jason is important to me."

"Well thank you and well... I wish you HAD fed Ethan to a mosh pit of sharks, still ALIVE and baited in a pool of his own blood and then let me watch so I could hear his screeching screams and the satisfying crunch of his bones as the angry aquatic vampires with a thousand razor sharp teeth chomped him to death in a splashing feeding frenzy of pure diabolical rage."

"Yeeesh. Easy there Annie Wilkes. Tell me how you really feel, minus the Stephen King synopsis. Horrifying image."

"Arrrgh. Jason was supposed to have taken care of him by now and for saying that, I feel like such a fucking hypocrite for giving him and Lee such a hard time about Liz when she was no better than Ethan."

"And I married the black widow. Even had a kid with her, or so I thought. Creator of life, destroyer of mine. "

'"So did Lee basically. She fooled everyone, EVEN Ethan. God Craig, how could she do that to her own son??? That little boy was my nephew and now Ethan has your daughter and I know he's not just going to forget about Lee. So much keeps happening. No wonder I ended up in the hospital."

"I...I heard about that and...I wanted to maybe send you some flowers or come visit but...I..I didn't think my presence would have been appropriate, you know, just being your landlord and all and well...there's the little tidbit of my primary profession as well that I'm sure Lee isn't too fond of. Anywhoooo...I'm really glad you're ok. You're...ok..right?"

"For the most part yeah. Just gotta keep my iron intake up and stress levels down, which you can see is damn near impossible with the life I'm stuck in."

"You're only stuck if you choose to be."

"It doesn't feel like a choice anymore, even when I try to...ugh, it doesn't even matter."

Craig's ocean-like eyes were consoling as his hand went to your cheek. "Hey, it does matter. What else is bothering you? I have really good listening ears like that of a faithful family dog, only much less hair and a strong but soft shoulder to lean on and even comforting arms if you recall."

"I don't know. Like, for one thing, I'm supposed to hate my sister after all the horrible shit she's done to me and yet, I'm having a hard time hating her after what happened. Like, why...why do I care about people that don't deserve it???"

"Because you have a good heart which can sometimes be a curse really. You're supposed to be able to trust the people closest to you and when they go and give you a reason not to, it's a total mind fuck. It's hard to let them go even when you know it's what's best for you. I get it Jo."

"What I don't get is why I'm not good enough for the truth. I'm always being lied to. It's become nothing but a pattern and how am I supposed to trust someone when I don't know what they're holding back?"

"Ok first of all, you are good enough and if someone doesn't see that, then they are the ones not good enough and second of all, why do I feel this is not about your sister?"

"I appreciate what you're trying to do Craig, but...it doesn't matter."

"It does matter because you're clearly not happy. Tears don't lie. Are...you happy?"

Your eyes fell. "No. No I'm not. I'm miserable."

"Me too. Why don't you stay. We can be miserable neighbors together and drink wine every day and night to the point of inebriation, creating terrible art as a hobby while being covered in a rainbow of paint. You know, kind of like I already do? It's actually kinda fun and therapeutic. A little bit of good trouble..per se. I could use some inspiration as you well know."

You giggled. "Right...because we would actually be the artwork. How inspiring."

"Exactly! Except you'd be a firework. Oh, and you still owe me a viewing of your own masterpieces. So...whad'ya say?"

Craig got down on one knee and took your hand as he gave you a pathetic puppy face.

"Will you be my neighbor?"

"Oh my god you're such a nerd. Get up." you chortled and stood up.

"Well, I've been called much worse. Things I cannot even pronounce. You don't want to know, trust me. Sooooo, is that a yes?"

"I'll think about it."

"YES!" he jeered like an old lady at a bingo game winning the jackpot.

"So now, I'm really sorry but I need to get going. Thank you Craig...for listening and for the advice. It was nice. I want you to know I'm thinking of Blaise everyday and if I can help, I will. You'll never convince me that it wasn't my fault."

In the blink of an eye, Craig became all serious as he placed his hands on your arms. "Alright but, before I go, I need you to listen to me. Don't be letting your guilt cause you to do something dangerous. You let me handle this ok?? I don't want anything happening to you. Let me know what you decide on the apartment and...I'm really glad you're ok Jo and I...I hope you will stay. I like having you around."

He softly smiled and headed to the door, then turned back around.

"Oh and...I'm also glad you don't hate me."

"Ditto." you smiled. "Talk soon."

Craig left and you felt terrible for him. The formidable mafia man, always full of quirky humor wasn't so tough on the inside and was clearly lonely, but even so, you had to do what was best for you and if you stayed, would it really be a good idea? Had you known when you first moved in that Craig was one of Sonny's men and Jason's bff, you most likely would have ran away as fast and as far as you could. On the other hand, he could protect you and he wanted to and you felt safe around him. BUT, that didn't mean you would be. Things could always go wrong, especially in his world, which was now your world. Although, hadn't it always been your world because of Jason? And things always went wrong then, no matter where you were. Even your own brother couldn't keep you safe.

In your confliction, you knew you may still need to leave on a temporary basis because of your sister. No one knew yet what happened to her or where Ethan was, so she could still be in danger and that put your mom in danger as well with Megan living with her.

As you carried on with packing the rest of the one suitcase for the time being, once again you were interrupted. This time by the cordless phone ringing that Lee had talked you into getting for extra ways of communication. You decided to let the answering machine get it because you were in a hurry to get to the hospital, but when Lee's hypnotizing voice was heard, you stood frozen in time.

"Hey sweet girl. I tried your cell but...I don't know, it must be on silent or maybe you just don't want to talk to me. I wish you would. I'm sorry about my text. I didn't mean it in the way you must think. If you're there, could you please pick up? I'd really love to hear your voice."

He paused and waited a few moments, then continued.

"Ok, well, I...I'll just say what I need to say and leave you alone. Jo, I know I've said this so many times and it just sounds so meaningless, but I mean it, with every ounce of my being. I'm so sorry baby. For all of this. For all I have put you through. It's only been a single day and I miss you in ways that there are no words for. You are a mental and physical ache. A longing woven deep into my DNA and I...I don't know how to live like this. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm nothing without you. I'm inside out. I merely exist in this soulless shell and because I know you exist, there's no going back for me. There will never be anyone else for me but you. No one else could ever do. The heart wants what it wants and mine wants you and I knew it. I knew you were the right one from the get go and I still know it because the word "forever" does not sound like enough time."

As your heart was being torn in two and devoured by his agony, you walked over to the phone and picked it up, letting your finger hover over the call button, but you couldn't bring yourself to answer, so you just kept listening to his unintentional torture.

"I know I have no one else to blame but myself. I know I'm broken. We were both broken. By life. By others. By our own serious dysfunctions, but we finally found each other after a decade of near misses. We were so close to each other all that time, yet so far apart and when destiny finally stepped in and we finally came together like the sun and moon during a total eclipse, all of the jagged edges of our broken pieces fit together like a puzzle, as if all that time, we were being broken for that purpose, to be a perfect fit for each other. But now I feel like I don't fit anywhere at all. Not anymore. Life goes on around me as i sit here and watch the boats sail by on the bay and I feel like I'm just a spectator, watching from the sidelines. You were...are my life. You are where I belong. You are my purpose, my reason. God Jo. Without you, all I want to do is drown my sorrows away and Lord knows I've tried, but even then, a sea full of whiskey couldn't intoxicate me as much as a drop of you. Because of you, I believe in love and fairytales and soulmates and everything that is magic. I followed the signs because you showed them to me. Just tell me it's not too late. Don't give up on me. I want to tell you everything and if I can bring myself to do that, maybe then you'll understand. I guess I've wrote a novel here and I should go. I still wish you would come today...to the cemetery. I'll be there around 4. If you don't come, it's ok. I will understand. Ok well..."

There was a pause and then he finished as his voice became very shaky. "I...I love you Miss Massachusetts. God I love you."

Lee quickly hung up and sat down. He had too. The 3 Red Bulls he downed earlier paired with the threat of an oncoming panic attack had him jittery, weak and breathless.

"Lee wait!" you shouted as you punched the red button, but there was nothing but a dial tone.

Should you call him back? It would be so much easier than speaking to him in person because he had this wicked way of breaking you down and getting what he wanted from you that no one else had ever possessed, but of course he could say the same thing about you. Now the real question was, should you go? Lee clearly needed you and you were worried about him. You could hear it in his voice, the fear, the destitution and desperation...the love. And just because you and he were having problems didn't mean you would abandon him, but were you strong enough to uphold your boundaries in his presence? The mere sight of him was like some invisible magic in itself. You felt so guilty because he was fighting like hell for you and you were keeping him at arms length and just running away. Fight or flight? That was the all out question now and you knew exactly who to go to for the answers. Someone who had been through it all. Your mother.

@redeemer46

[cruesuffix]

Now....what would nikkimick Christmas be like?

well…you’ve just seen me in real time fight for an hour to come up with something. hella disappointed with how this turned out so i apologize in advance for this slop!

here we are, a nikkimick christmas headcanon special!

spoiler alert: this sucks…sorry :/

- now…mick hates christmas so bad. like very much. but he knows nikkis never had a proper one as a kid so he tries his best to just give him that and not be his usual grinch self. he would even try to make a proper breakfast on the special day too…won’t say whether or not he burns it, that’s up to you!

- nikki himself has kind of sworn off christmas since he’s always spent it alone for most of his adult life so far, so he’s kind of surprised by micks impromptu breakfast. maybe if micks extra jolly that day, he’d make it a breakfast in bed…kinda just depends on his mood.

- also, i think both of them would know the other has certain negative feelings about the holiday (like i said, nikki has never really had a good one yet, and mick tends to harp on that one christmas where his ex wife took their kids and left him so…he’s always sort of had an almost resentment towards it). still, they both would try to make the day as enjoyable as possible for each other.

- they’d probably fight about the tree decorations. mick brings up an all black christmas tree as a joke but nikkis like “no way, don’t even think about it, you’ll make it look ugly!” and then cue a very passionate discussion about whether an all black christmas tree would be ugly or not. then it would be back to decorating the tree.

- they wouldn’t bake cookies…because the last time they did, they both managed to burn them and had to throw away like $30 worth of ingredients and wasted way too much time (most of which was spent arguing over how exactly you make gingerbread cookies)…so they’d probably just buy store bought ones and sit down to watch a movie or something. though, if they did decide to bake cookies again, let’s just say there’d be a whole ton more of chaos and arguing to be had.

- also…idk why but timeline wise i can see 80’s nikkimick going to a christmas party like…on a whim and the night would probably end with mick having to drag nikki back home.

- ok back to regular headcanons! both of them aren’t the “going outside and playing in the snow type” (ok wait i forgot there’s no snow in la…fucked up the last headcanon thing with that too omg)…either way, they’d probably just lay around inside and like…watch movies or something.

- maybe they’d open presents in the morning just to get it out of the way. They both get each other the most extravagant presents, both end up feeling so spoiled.

- I feel like mick is the type to just constantly ask very vague questions pertaining to gift giving to nikki like weeks in advance just to get a sort of feel for the type of present he’d want. meanwhile nikki would notice every little thing, he’d notice if micks eyes lingered on a certain guitar hanging up on display…then, when he’s not there he’d buy it.

- the night would end with mick smoking outside and nikki inside feeling weirdly warm and cozy. this would be the first Christmas he had where he was around someone he loved and felt loved back. like he’s truly safe and happy and he can’t believe how lucky he got.

and uhhh…that’s all i’ve got…this was so baddddd. for some reason i just can’t write nikkimick in a situation like this. like when i first saw the notification and went into my notes app i was really thinking about it. i could only see these two just in absolute chaos. like, being passive aggressive about decorations, fighting over cookies, and like…that just doesn’t feel as good and cute, them just constantly butting heads over things like that…but now when i really think about it, i can’t see them celebrating christmas altogether! like i can only really see them acknowledge it by saying “merry christmas,” but nothing else! like maybe they’d give little gifts and all that…

but…i have nothing else. i feel so bad cause i wanted this to be good. like, my tommymick christmas headcanons were ok ig but this is…can you guys tell how much i hate this damn holiday?

(btw pls tell me what ppl in low maintenance families/relationships do on christmas cus like…if it was up to me i’d just sleep all day)

im literally debating so hard on if i should even post this…if i do, just ignore this whole thing. i feel a sort of obligation to anon to fulfill their desire so i will…and then i will immediately apologize for this being so clustered and halfassed, i don’t know why i can’t think of anything. you deserve better than this and maybe I’ll think of something better along the way and post a pt.2 (or just a complete do over)

[mxviko]

To cope with somethings and to stay in reality

Welcome to

Foreign kids Christmas themed headcanons

Damien is favored for his body heat. It’s too cold? Stand near him and you’ll already start to get warmer. He doesn’t like being touched for too long or sometimes at all depending who it is, but feed his ego and he’ll be like “very well, have the warmth you are deprived of, but do not think I shall spare you.”

Pip hasn’t ever had a proper Christmas, maybe one year with Estella but I can’t imagine he’d ever have the full experience even when in South Park. If he spends the holidays with the other foreign kids, it’ll be something he’s so excited about and feels more festive then ever and can feel magic for the very first time. Totally gets told to chill with how excited he is but doesn’t.

Speaking of Pip, him and Gregory are on decorations no matter where they may celebrate. Pip doesn’t know how to pair colors well, so it’ll look like a hallmark movie but someone tripped with the box and it just fell. Gregory on the other hand doesn’t care much for quality or looks, it just needs to feel cozy and warm. So those two together are quite good for the decoration and both enjoy it, despite Gregory just annoyed by Pips presence but it’s the holidays they’re fine.

Christophe is your typical grump, he’ll put on the damn sweater but he’s not jolly. But that’s only on the outside. If he really didn’t like it he would be there or say anything when someone asked about the holiday…but expect a dramatic monologue about how horrible and stupid the holiday is and how bad god is. Has a fucking great hot coco recipe though.

Estella if she’s involved will not just be grumpy, we all know her. But goodness, this seasons colors were made for her. She won’t mind dressing the part. Estella will also tell Christmas stories, but her favorite and one she actually cares to tell is Krampus. She hates the grinch because Krampus is just so much better and more children should know him. Pip is traumatized.

If you’d want some shippy stuff Christophe is on a mission and paranoid of mistletoe. He’d rather hit someone with a shovel, but it’s not kissing a random person that scares him it’s possibly getting under with Gregory (who may or may not be around it a little to long a little to often..). The idea makes him die from embarrassment, he can only keep his composure for so long in certain situations..

Damien’s father usually held Christmas parties or events in hell he wasn’t invited to and doesn’t have the biggest opinion on Christmas. He claims to hate it, and uses the reason because it’s Jesus’ birthday, he’s the Antichrist why would he like such a thing. But when he began to spend more time in South Park or be around Pip during this time, the snow and whole process of experiencing it, it felt different then ever before. And his father has since improved since then, so now he enjoys the holiday but will always deny.

Gregory is a good gift giver and the worst to give to, he’ll give you what you need or something he knows you want, both of these things are the same in his head since he knows. He can see what you need or you’ve said so, so he’ll get it. You say you want something or he sees you want it, he’ll get it. He’s not someone who tries and guesses the perfect gift or worries over it. He’s never struggled with the “what do you get the one who has everything?” Issue, but unbeknownst to him, he’s caused that issue for many others to give him anything. I imagine his family is wealthy or high-class so it always seems he has everything. But he’s more of a giver then a receiver and appreciates anything given to him.

Estella doesn’t like mistletoe, she’ll probably kick you if you get near her with it. But, if she’s feeling nice, she won’t mind giving a peck on the cheek…she probably wore staining lipstick that will not get off your cheek without a fight.

Pip is sensitive to spice so all the cinnamon and gingerbread kinda drives him crazy, he likes it but gosh a bite from one cookie and he needs a break. I think he’ll love fruity candy canes the most and marshmallows.

Throwing pocket in there, I imagine he’d enjoy doing stockings for others, he’s very thoughtful and probably has been mistaken for an elf before outside of Christmas so it’s perfect. He’s spent many holidays with Estella and he’s aware technically she’s probably on the bad list but will give her nice treats anyway including those chocolate lumps of coal. Also will put his bunnies in cute bows and take pictures..will make them as Christmas cards.

Christophe enjoys the tree. He didn’t help with it unless it was lifting Pip to put the star on the tree or whatever topper they have, but finds peace in looking at it. Has fallen asleep under it. Many pictures taken of it.

I enjoy headcanons so may do more, and request of headcanons are also welcome

[icarus-suraki]

Asks: 3, 24, 28 :D

Questions I Think Would Be Fun To Be Asked ask game!

3) 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

You probably want me to say The Crow but I'm not gonna because that one's more of a seasonal thing, like How the Grinch Stole Christmas but for Halloween.

There are a lot of good movies out there and I'm kind of listing them off in my mind to answer this. The irony is that I don't think of myself as much of a movie-watcher. The adhd makes it hard and it took me years to figure that out. I'll watch 15, 20 minutes, then get bored, stop it, walk away, maybe come back, maybe not. I couldn't figure out why I kind of hated "movie night" with my family for ages. Turns out it was the adhd--who'da thought??? Okay, anyway:

I could probably watch The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly for the rest of my life. I love that movie for so many different reasons.

Kiki's Delivery Service is "my" Studio Ghibli movie. I saw Princess Mononoke first but Kiki is the one that really sings to me.

I should probably throw something random in here, like the uncut version of some MST3k movie or maybe Amelie. I could also watch episodes 4, 5, and/or 6 of Star Wars endlessly too.

Well, that's two and some thoughts on a third.

24) what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

I hate this question. I have no idea how to answer it. We'd have half-assed "mental health" lessons in school and it was all about "setting goals" and stuff and I'm like, damn, I don't have anything that requires a "goal" to be "set." Everything I'm doing is what's necessary, not something that's above and beyond, not something that's like a big achievement. Gotta do this, gotta do that. Yeah, I've got no answer here.

28) do you collect anything?

I've kind of had a Thing for tiny gashapon toys lately. I mean, you understand a love of miniatures. If it's a small version of a real thing, I love it. If it's a small and cute version of a real thing, I love it. If it's a small cute thing real or imaginary, I love it. I just don't need to clutter up my life with tiny trinkets, you know?

Even more recently, since I've started collaging and scrapping, I've been collecting little pieces of paper and images--both physical and digital. These, fortunately, are flat and easy to store, unlike tiny lemonade stands run by the Sanrio character Cinnamoroll.

Even so: look at it. Loooooooooook.

Rement has gotten so much of my money oh my gawd...

[cloveroctobers]

starting to get to you — 9. Paul Cho (beef) [Winter Prompts]

A/N: Y’all have been asking for more Paul since forever and here’s me delivering it year(s)later. My concept of time has been trash since 2020 don’t mind me. I know this won’t probably do much in the notes department but I don’t really have anybody else to write about tbh. Also haven’t heard anything else on season 2 and if that’s still a go but they’re changing the storylines to anthology anyway which is unfortunate for Danny & Paul’s story and ironic since that’s pretty much all I write. At least we get to see YM in the last of us? Anyways! Happy new year to you all 🩵

~ @cigarettesandcoffeex I thought you might like a tag 😊

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: DIALOGUE PROMPTS — "Someone spiked the eggnog!" + “Yeah, yeah i know, you hate Christmas.”

WARNINGS: language + innuendos, grumpy reader! & minor use of possible incorrect German.

<- read my previous winter anthology prompt here.

⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･

At the holiday market was honestly the last place you wanted to be but having a best friend—who was broke mind you—who also adored Christmas was basically a set up to begin with. The both of you arrived to the festivities right before the sun set, since you had to go to work and Paul was gracious enough to give you an hour to decompress before bringing you out to interact with more humans.

You were content staying in, hate watching crappy Christmas rom coms, having some snacks, catching a few naps that you knew would hit perfectly since you had the day off tomorrow but you should have known Paul would make you his number one target to hang out with him. It’s not like you hated Paul’s presence by any means, he wouldn’t be your friend if you did, it’s just that Christmas wasn’t your thing.

And this year in particular felt heavier for some reason. Like you weren’t meant to enjoy the gift that is Christmas but you put on a happy face, caught an uber together down where the holiday market was held, and braced yourself against the chill in the California air.

It felt like the both of you had been here for hours, walking down the large street of vendors filled with too many people. Paul ended up pulling you off to a less crowded area so you could try the beverage he brought without anyone bumping your elbow in the process. Placing your lips against the rim, Paul watched you as if you were his favorite tv show, anticipating your reaction as you tasted the contents.

You’re coughing as soon as you do, “Someone spiked the eggnog!"

Paul furrows his brows first, plucking the cup from your hand and sips himself, before a grin appears on his face, “Whoa, you’re right! Guess that’s why this was called: Esther’s spunky Nog.”

Giving him a blank expression, Paul just laughs further before shoving a hand into the pocket of his hoodie and nudging his head for the both of you to continue, “C‘Mon, I heard there’s a mini tree decoration competition. Maybe that’s more your vibe.”

“Maybe if I get to stomp them out after everyone puts up the decorations?” You countered as you fall into step with Paul.

He rolls his eyes at you, taking another sip of the disgusting beverage, “I forgot how much of a grinch you are…you’re worse than Danny and that says a lot.”

Scoffing you say, “Am I supposed to be offended?”

“…I would be.” Paul mutters just for you to jam your elbow into his hip, “Ow! Hey! I’m just being honest.”

“And I’m being honest about Christmas being too much that it actually makes me want to gag.”

“I thought you didn’t have a gag reflex?” The twenty something year old man jokes, which immediately makes you walk off ahead of him.

Yet he didn’t want to lose you in the sea of people, however due to his height, he had the advantage if he did. Paul gives you your space for a little, enjoying the soft bells of music that plays from overhead speakers tucked somewhere above your heads, embracing the chilly air that Californians would often label as cold but wouldn’t last a day in areas that actually were in the winter, and he did find himself smiling at a family in particular that felt familiar until his senses pull him back to you.

You’re being led off to one of the stalls, disappearing beneath the tent and Paul has no problem pushing through people to get to you. Once inside the surprisingly warm tent, he sees you sitting in a chair chatting with a woman who has a heavy German accent, holding up a gingerbread heart.

“You good?” Paul questions, making your attention shift from the woman to him.

The heavy set woman who is dressed traditionally beams at the sight of Paul as she winks at you, “Liebling.”

Is all Paul catches and you’re shaking your head, which lets Paul know that you understand what’s being said and he’s out of the loop. The German woman pulls Paul by the wrist and shoves him into the space beside you.

“Nice to meet you too.” Paul snorts as the woman yells for the young man with the camera, while Paul slouched down beside you and leans towards you, “Guess you really have no choice but to get in the Christmas spirit now, huh?”

Crossing your arms you side eyed the man in the rolled beanie, “Little do you know, I already asked Mrs. Adelheid if she has any Krampus masks.”

It was Paul’s turn to give you a blank stare while you smiled sweetly at him, “What the fuck? That’s not very Christmas of you.”

“It is in Germany.” You bump his shoulder, smiling to yourself while Paul rolls his eyes.

Mrs. Adelheid comes back questioning and motioning what you two wanted on the gingerbread heart. Paul got the gist, pressing his elbows into his knees and letting a smirk grace his lips, “What about…y/n loves Paul? X-Mas ‘22.”

The annoyance on your face is evident while Mrs. Adelheid smiles at you two, before letting out a yell for the young teen to step forward and take their picture. Paul tosses an arm across your shoulder, leaning back against the chair and grinning while roughly pulling you into his side that you have to hold onto his chest so you don’t double over as you quickly look up at him. The camera flashes before you know it, making you call out to the anxious teen.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready!”

Before you translate it into the bit of German that you know. Studying photo journalism abroad in Germany was a tale within itself but it was definitely a learning experience.

“1 hour.” Mrs. Adelheid informs the two after shooing her son off, “You’re welcome to stay and browse.”

Paul dips his head at the woman while you pull yourself away from under his arm. He lets his hand rest against his thigh, taking another sip of the warm spiked drink, smiling in secret amusement.

“How many likes do you think our gingerbread heart is going to get?” He asks.

Shaking your head you immediately reply, “You’re not posting that. We don’t even know how the picture came out.”

You understand getting raw footage but you can only wonder how this footage appeared.

“Quit your worrying, we’re hot and there’s no such thing as bad photos if you know your angles. And I would hope the kid would.”

“Seems like he’s forced to be here…something I can relate to so who knows?!” You throw your hands up in the air, “And I don’t need a repeat of your little fangirls threatening me on every social media account they stalk me on.”

Paul rubs at the back of his neck, “I did say I was sorry about that and made it clear to stream that no harassment towards you is cool…unless it’s from me of course.”

Your best friend was doing so well until he threw that last bit into it. It was during the summer time when Paul’s content creation slowly started to take off and people on the internet can definitely be more vicious since they felt like they had a screen that protects them. Even had a few “dedicated” fans pull up on you at work once, which was honestly the last straw and caused you to not want to be part of any streams Paul had going on.

He definitely understood and didn’t blame you.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, seeing the constant movement of attendees from outside the open tent. A few people would come in to browse and one ended up purchasing a wooden toy for their twins before it became quiet once more. Paul eventually got to his feet, looking around the vendor himself, knowing he couldn’t afford to purchase anything else right now but window shopping didn’t hurt.

You decided to browse your phone instead until you heard Paul’s booming voice, “Oh this turned out sick!”

That got you to your feet, moving to see the artwork. It was your photo in faded black and white placed in the shape of the gingerbread heart cookie, red frosting along the trimming, and a white string for it to be hung up. You peeked at Paul who appeared just like a kid on Christmas Day with stars in his eyes. Something so small brought him the biggest amount of joy and you were included on that.

The way your heart seemed to skip at the sight was something you’d never share.

“You like?” Mrs. Adelheid asks, “If not he will do it again.”

Paul shakes his head, “No! We love it, right?”

He glanced at you, hopeful.

A crooked smile appears on your lips, “We do. We’ll take it, you two do incredible work.”

Mrs. Adelheid smiles followed by a laugh at her own pun, “Herzlichen Dank.”

“Danke.” You still have a small smile on your lips, as Paul is holding onto the gingerbread heart by the string and the woman leaves to retrieve a padded box to protect it on your way home.

Your chin is hovering over Paul’s arm as he can’t seem to take his eyes off the cookie, “I told you we would look good as fuck. Or we ate down as you like to say. This is going to look fire hanging in the window…whoever decides to keep this and takes this home that is.”

Sighing, your lips part but Paul interrupts already having an idea of what you’re going to say,“Yeah, yeah I know, you hate Christmas.”

The longer you stare at the picture of you two together on this stiff cookie, the warmth that’s radiating from just standing beside your best friend, his soothing scent of ginger, mint, and cedar, and the way his own eyes are studying your gaze makes you appreciate the moment he’s loved all along.

Being around someone that mattered was perhaps maybe the only gift that you need.

“…I tolerate it because you love it.” Is what you come up with as your eyes meet his.

A stupid grin shines all over his features quicker than the glance he sends to your lips, “I’ve always known you were mushy underneath it all.”

“Don’t ruin it.” You shush with a finger to your lips.

Paul chuckles, “I won’t. It only lasts for a few seconds anyway.”

“Aw…you shouldn’t talk so low of yourself. It’s all about stamina.” You tease.

Paul scoffs, “Trust me, you don’t ever have to worry about that inside or outside the bedroom.”

Grimacing you lightly shove him, “Shut up, Paul.”

“You started it.”

Before you could get into a bickering match, the mother and son are back, wrapping and placing your gift into the box, collecting payment and wishing you a happy holiday before you’re blending back into the crowd. Paul’s holding onto the box underneath his arm, your arm is linked with his other now, and you’re stuck holding onto the eggnog that you’re occasionally sipping on to keep warm.

You don’t have much trouble doing that as your laughter echoes with Paul into the all and good night.

⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･:*౨ৎ ⛇･

Continue with my winter anthology prompts here.

[askaniritual]

ok here's my nobody asked spot of fy top 10 2024 list plus directors commentary

Be Nice to Me - The Front Bottoms

yeah yeah most of my top songs r from my iconic playlist tfb songs about shatterstar organized by how unwell i think you have to be to agree thats because my third eye is open and i am receiving messages directly from the heavens or something. i got to see this song performed live this year and it really hit let me tell you

Red Wine Supernova - Chappell Roan

im well aware this is a deeply basic pick but i really do think this song is the song of the summer fr. its just a perfect pop song idk what to tell you

Lipstick Covered Magnet - The Front Bottoms

im gonna get on my knees/could you kick me in the face please/it'll make whatever i say sound like poetry

a shatterstar song. obviously. but also a vash song.

Ginger - The Front Bottoms

i moved on my own this year and literally the only way i got through it was by thinking abt ginger, sleeping on the floor of a hardwood floor apartment

Tattooed Tears - The Front Bottoms

the part of this that makes it a shatterstar song is the part that goes

i'm gonna have to learn that this love will never be convenient/it's not like a movie when we kiss/there'll never be no music when we kiss

Your favorite sidekick - underscores, 8485

great fuckin song man. soooooo fun for like jumping around your apartment alone in your underwear type of thing.

Godlight - Noah Kahan

i'd never heard this song before but he played it when i saw him live earlier this year, and he said it was one of his favorite songs but that he was embarrassed that it never really took off. thats crazy to me because this song rules. to know me is to hate me is to hate what i've become. crazy fuckin line!!!! anyway sorry for liking noah kahan it is my vice

HOT TO GO! - Chappell Roan

im ngl i used to really like this song but at this point i am kind of sick of it. it's fun but red wine supernova is the far superior song imo

leaf pile - The Front Bottoms

hot take but in sickness & in flames might be my favorite full length tfb album. rose is my favorite EP tho.

Hollywood Baby - 100 gecs

probably their best song that's not bloodstains? this or sympathy 4 the grinch.

Bonus round #11

Locals (Girls like us) - underscores, gabby start

this is such a good fuckin song dude this should honestly be higher i love everything abt this song i think the production is fun the lyrics are fun it all just really works.

[writerfae]

The Knights of the Alder Christmas Romance Movie AU

Here’s this year’s Christmas special! I really wanted to write something for Christmas this year, especially after coming up with this very fun au.

“I swear, Halea, this town is like out of one of those Christmas movies,” Talon complained over the phone as he made his way through the small-town center.

The streets were busy as always, full of people running (most likely Christmas related) errands.

“Aw, that sounds adorable, I wish I would’ve been able to come with you.”

His friend sounded wistful, as if she would really want to see the town.

Knowing Halea’s love for all things Christmas-y, he assumed that she would probably actually love it here.

“It’s not adorable, it’s annoying.” That was only half true.

It was nice, in a way, an interesting contrast to the stressful city life. But it was also entirely too much.

“These people make Christmas their whole personality. As if they don’t have better things to do.”

Halea laughed. “Easy now, Mr. Grinch, your grumpiness is showing. What happened to the boy that used to love Christmas, huh?”

“He has grown up,” Talon grumbled.

That was also only half the truth, but he didn’t want to elaborate.

He didn’t have to; Halea knew very well how her friend lost his joy in the holiday.

She sighed.

“Grown up too much, it seems. You act like an old man these days. Lighten up a little, Talon. It’s Christmas! And you’re in an adorable little town miles away from your father, you should use the opportunity and let loose a little.”

Talon sidestepped a man carrying a small Christmas tree. “I am here for work, Halea.”

Halea’s voice softened. “But you always work, Tal. Try to have some fun once in a while.”

The last time Talon really had time to “have fun” was when he was still in college. Now that he worked with his father, he didn’t have time for that.

It was always just work, work, work. And they both knew it. Halea hadn’t managed to talk him into going out in months.

“You make me sound like I’m a boring workaholic.”

His friend laughed. “Aren’t you?”

“I will not dignify this with a response.”

Another laugh. “Don’t worry, I know the answer already. And I love you anyway.”

Talon snorted. “What a great best friend you are.”

“I am,” Halea responded merrily, ignoring the sarcasm clear in his statement.

“Speaking of love,” she continued, and Talon knew whatever would come next couldn’t be good.

“How are things going with your hot farmer boy?”

He was right. Annoyed, he huffed. “He’s not my farmer boy.”

Talon hated the amusement in Halea’s voice as she spoke.

“You immediately knew who I was talking about though. And you didn’t deny the hot part, either.”

Talon’s ears colored red. If anyone would’ve been around to see, he’d blame it on the freezing cold.

“So?” Halea asked.

Talon rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you want to hear. There’s nothing to tell, really.”

“Did you run into him again?”

It would’ve been impossible not to, in a small town like this. That guy was everywhere. Or maybe Talon just had a talent for bumping into him.

“He showed me around town yesterday,” he admitted.

Halea on the other end of the line gasped. “And you call that not worth telling? I want to know everything.”

A long sigh escaped Talon’s lips. Why was his best friend so invested in this, really?

She acted as if this was one of those cheesy Christmas romance movies, which it really wasn’t.

Yes, him and Aiden seemed to run into each other a lot (sometimes quite literally), but there was nothing romantic happening between him and the Christmas tree farm helper and there would never be.

Yet he told Halea everything about what happened yesterday, just to get her off his back.

“Sounds pretty romantic to me,” Halea teased as he finished.

“It really was not.”

The girl hummed. “I wonder when you’ll run into each other again.”

“I’m actually on my way to the Christmas tree farm now, so probably soon.”

“Uhhh, to see him?” Halea asked, again sounding too amused for Talon’s liking.

He rolled his eyes once again. “To investigate so I can find a way to get Mr. Hunter to sell his property, my job here can be done, and I can finally go home again.”

He could almost hear Halea’s pout. “Now you ruined it.”

“It’s not my fault that you watch too many Hallmark movies. I have to do it. You know how father is, if I don’t deliver soon, he won’t like it.”

A scoff was what he got as an answer.

“Your father needs to learn what work-life-balance means. It’s Christmas time and instead of spending the holidays with his family he barricades himself in his office and sends you off to some small town to spy on some poor man.”

Talon sighed. He didn’t approve of his father’s behavior either, but what was he to do? He was used to it by now.

“You know how he is. I don’t think he will ever change.”

Halea agreed. “You’re probably right. I just hope you won’t end up like him. Take care of yourself, Tal. And try to have some fun, yeah? Maybe hot farmer boy can help with that.”

Ignoring the last half of her sentence, he promised to try and ended the phone call with Halea, just as he almost reached the farm.

And like Talon suspected, there he was, too.

Aiden, in all his glory, wearing a dark green vest with a plaid flannel shirt underneath. He was chopping wood near the barn.

As he got closer, Talon couldn’t help but notice the strength with that he did it. He made it look so easy, as if the axe weighted nothing more than a twig.

The muscles of his arms flexed with every movement; the motion visible even through the long-sleeved shirt that snug around his arms tightly.

Talon hated how Aiden could make even something like making firewood look so attractive.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but stare. Unfortunately, that meant he didn’t see the Christmas tree by the farm’s gate that he was just headed towards.

When he finally managed to tear his eyes away from Aiden, the tree was already fast approaching and his reflexes weren’t quick enough to stop himself from walking straight into it, face colliding with the fir.

The impact caused him to stumble and in a miserable attempt of keeping himself from falling, he held on to the branches, almost taking the tree down with him as he landed in the snow.

Loudly cursing, Talon picked himself off the ground, which took him an embarrassing amount of time, especially since he had to look for his glasses first.

It must’ve looked quite pathetic, even from afar, because suddenly he felt someone stand next to him, grabbing his arm to help him get up.

“Everything okay?” The worried face of Aiden entered his field of vision and Talon’s face heated up immediately.

He just wanted to die. Too bad the Christmas tree didn’t fall and crush him.

I tried my best but tbh it’s not all that good.

I’m too embarrassed about this to actually tag my tag list so I’m only gonna tag @deadlycupid and @bunnymermaidsblog (I know you guys won’t judge 🙈)

Like I said, it’s not my best work. I hope you liked this anyway ^^ happy holidays!

[moonsheen]

fic writer meme

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 112. And thank god that doesn't include the REAL old stuff.

2. what's your total ao3 wordcount? 552,904 ...that's...both more and less than I was expecting

3. what fandoms do you write for?

...a...lot. Most recently? MDZS/SVSSS, Trigun (er, sorry for the weird stuff), and 13 Sentinels (PLAY 13 SENTINELS). Long term oldies but goodies? Kingdom Hearts, Devil May Cry, Overwatch, Supergiant games, Evangelion

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Recovery (SVSS, Qijiu --woah, that one pulled ahead in the last few months) Husband x Husband (Hunter x Hunter -- I did this as a yuletide treat to make up for defaulting one year and it's the gift that keeps giving) Minor Delays (SVSS, Qijiu -- wait really?) The Way Back Home (SVSS, Qijiu -- ....Qijiu nation represent. This one doesn't surprise me though, Chira did an amazing comic for it) Hold the Baby (MDZS -- okay this one was just where I was dumping the old twitter threads of a VERY specific Xiyao fix-it AU but you know what, thanks everyone)

5. do you respond to comments?

I try to. If I don't succeed it's often because life kicked my ass.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably On Your Six (Reaper & Soldier 76, Overwatch)

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is hard mostly because all of my fic tends to be some kind of fix-it in some way to give someone an obscenely happy ending. If you had to have me narrow it down based on what my most blatant fix-it to some miserable canon character ending was? I'd go with either Happiness Exists (As Long As You Believe in the Possibility) (Qijiu again!), and the Recovery-verse as a whole, or maybe Abstraction White Rose (Revolutionary Girl Utena), because by god I needed Utena and Anthy to kiss and I MADE THEM DO THAT, A LOT.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Xiyao troll hit me once or twice and I got a few cranky dudebros who got mad at me for my Eva fic on a message board once, but nothing all that bad if I'm honest.

9. do you write smut?

...well, I've tried but the plot gets in the way.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you have written?

The first that come to mind are the MDZS/TGCF crossovers, but those are the same authors so I don't know that that counts. I DID write a very silly How The Grinch Stole Christmas/Nightmare Before Christmas short once upon an internet. It has since been lost to the great yawning of time and collapse of several social media platforms.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Someone once scraped the awful Naruto fic I wrote when I was like 15 and changed the names to make it a Samurai Champloo fic which, um. Why? But that was pretty damn funny in hindsight.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! In Russian, Chinese, and French. And I love every time it happens.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

My dayjob these days is cowriting with people. But on the fanfic side -- well, in short, yes. With the usual suspect (that would be Chira) and with my wife, who has once or twice dictated an entire story outline to me which I write in a day.

14. what's your all time favorite ship? Internet, I am old and you cannot expect me to pick one. Utena/Anthy maybe?

15. what is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I still need to do the last story for the A Troublesome Charge series which I SWEAR will happen it's just I had a literal baby.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Character voice. I love character voice and I am told I am good at it.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Smut.

18. thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

To be honest if I don't know it I don't try. But I like bilingual writing when it's done well (see also: Everything, Everywhere, All At Once) -- but when it comes to fangirl Japanese or Chinese, I tend to leave that to the experts.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

mumblesBeastWars and thank god that was on a platform that crashed and burned. The Beast Wars fic I wrote for Yuletide was way better.

20. favorite fic you have written?

On Your Six, despite how I feel about Overwatch nowadays, I feel was probably one of the punchiest stories I've ever written. I would have absolutely used this story to audition to write for Blizzard's tie-in novellas if Blizzard hadn't...well, read the news on what happened at Blizzard.

The other one I'd probably say is Ghost Roads in my Troublesome Charge series (MDZS). I just feel like I nailed all the multiple plotlines and characters involved in that one and I'm super proud of it. I'm not tagging anyone because I have anxiety about this kind of thing, but please feel free to do this meme yourself if it crosses your dash!

[seiya-starsniper]

Shipper Tag Game

Tagged by the wonderful @4typercent 💖💖💖

What ship were you completely obsessed with as a teenager, but now you don't care about anymore?

Sasuke x Naruto lol. I absolutely LOVED this ship, wrote fic about, got into shipping wars, I was the absolutely worst kind of teenage obsessed with them ahahaha. I even met one of my longterm best friends though a Yahoo Groups ship forum for them aosidjaiod.

Now? I could care less lmaooooo. But I still hold fondness for the ship regardless.

Which ship would you consider your first one?

My first ship was definitely Mamoru x Usagi in Sailor Moon! I still love them to this day 💖

Your first fanfic was about which couple?

Yami x Yugi was the first ship I wrote for. I think. It may have also been Lena x Cloud from Zoids New Century, I am UNCLEAR on the details and my ff.net account is lost to time lmao.

The first one I ready was something Sailor Moon related I believe.

Do you remember the first couple you saw fan art of?

Usagi x Mamoru from Sailor Moon, definitely.

Have you ever gotten into ship discourse?

SO. DAMN. MUCH. AOSiasjdasidaiodasoidasdjiasdjs. I've almost never gone looking for it, it just found me. The last bout I ended up in I actually ended up actually went okay though! Way better of an experience than any other ship discourse I've gotten into by far.

Did you use to have any NOTP or have one currently?

I have plenty of NOTPs, none in my current fandom though! I just...there are some ships whose fandoms have ruined the ship for me, so I try very hard to avoid and/or block. Liberally.

Who were the last couple in the last fanfic you read?

Dreamling! My beloved pet ship that I've written over 100k words (200k+ across all my Sandman ships) for and counting! 💖

Currently, do you have any OTPs?

I mean...not really? I've always been a multi-shipper at heart, you are going to be hard pressed to find me a ship where that particular combination is the only one I'll accept. I love the idea of an OTP, I just don't have one lmao.

Is there any couple that, to this day, that you are extremely mad about not getting into?

Not really, no. There's some fandoms I WISH I could get into, but either I didn't like the source material (sorry good omens fans, I tried twice D:) or I didn't really like the quality of fic in the fandom just due to characterization differences. But nothing I'm like upset I didn't get into before lol.

Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they're kind of interesting?

Hmmmmm, can't think of one no.

Do you have any ship that, in the past, would have been considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

Oh lord, yeah probably. Cannot think of any off the top of my head, but there were some weird ships back in the day.

What is your favourite crack ship?

Ooooooo! Great question. I'm currently trying to think of the most outlandish thing and all I can think of now is that Tony the Tiger x The Grinch fanfic! 🤣

What is the couple you read the most fanfics about?

Probably Dreamling right now! That's mostly due to sheer volume compared to other Sandman ships though.

What do most of your ships have in common?

Feral 4 Feral, and/or Soft Idiots in Love. Sometimes both!

What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

In a ship dynamic? When miscommunication is treated as something romantic, instead of something that needs to be worked on. Also when crossing clearly set boundaries is considered romantic.

In a ship fandom? There's too much to list, but I think the big one is when a ship fandom considers their ship "better" than the other ships in the fandom. Even the canon ship lmao. It just takes away the fun of shipping!

tagging: @softest-punk @bazzybelle @rriavian @aisalynn @five-and-dimes @kydrogendragon @athymelyreply @tj-dragonblade