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master-sass-blast · 4 years ago

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Gifted.

*tosses escapism fic into the void* yeet.

Summary: You and Piotr go Christmas shopping and enjoy the holiday season.

That's it. That's all that's happening. You're welcome.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader and mentioned Illyana Rasputin x Kitty Pryde.

Rating: G.

Word Count: 2k precisely.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

A/N: On the off-chance someone asks or is worried, yes, there are no mentions of masks or social distancing in this fic. That's because, in this fic, there is no COVID (ergo, no need for masks and such). I'm just not dealing with it in my fanfic as well. I won't. You can't make me.

Wear your fucking masks irl pls and thank u.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

“What a bright time, it's the right time/ To rock the night away/ Jingle bell time is a swell time/ To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh…”

You inhale deeply, then smile. The smells of fresh pretzels and pine –the latter is likely a fake scent that the stores use, but it’s still good—tantalize your nose. You tuck your hat and gloves in your purse, then look over at your husband. “Where all are we going?”

“Ah…” Piotr scans his list –which has notes on which stores to check and what order the stores are laid out in the mall, so as to streamline things. “Kitty said she did not want gifts because she does not celebrate Christmas, so we are just shopping for… my family and Russell. You said you already bought gifts for your dad and Wade?”

“Yup,” you say with a grin. Nate’s easy to shop for –ammo, clothes, and the odd book or two are usually all he want—and for Wade you just find the weirdest stuff listed on Amazon. “And I already sent my uncle a gift from us, so we don’t have to worry about him.”

Piotr nods, ‘hmm-ing’ as he makes a note on his list. “Okay.” He mumbles in Russian under his breath, then says, “Mama had no list this year; I think we start with her first since figuring out gift will take longer.”

“That’s fine. Where should we start?”

“I think bookstore is best bet. From there, we can stop by Hot Topic and candle shop for snezhinka, then Game Stop for Mikhail.”

“Sounds good.” You link your arm through his and smile up at him. “Lead the way, babe.”

***

You glance between the piles of books on the table, then at your husband, who looks like he’s about to pull his hair out. “Do you think that, just maybe, you’re overthinking this? Just a little?”

“This is important,” Piotr insists as he skims through books from various areas of Barnes and Noble –cooking, history, fiction; he’d grabbed at least one book from nearly every section. “She has specific tastes. Cannot be just any old book.”

You purse your lips together. You don’t doubt that Alexandra has particular tastes in reading material –as a woman from her walk in life is bound to have—but you’re also certain that she wouldn’t want her son driving himself insane just to pick a present for her. You sit down next to Piotr and gently put your hand on his arm. “Sweetheart. She’s going to like whatever you get her.”

“Not necessarily. I have seen her toss many books aside with scoff and never pick them up again.”

“Okay, why?”

He shrugs. “Realism. She thinks some authors are ‘too indulgent’ or ‘too unrealistic.’”

“Alright, so maybe we leave out the crime and romance stuff,” you suggest, setting the few books he’d grabbed from those areas aside. “What does she like to do?”

Piotr goes quiet. His expression grows ashen as he contemplates the question. “I… don’t know.”

“Does she like to cook? Or draw? Or watch certain types of shows or movies?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats, more insistent. “She…” He sighs. “She never sits still. I don’t think any shows or movies interest her. When I was child, she always worked. On farm, taking care of animals, helping workers, making food, balancing accounts, translating letters and schoolwork… I never saw her rest. Do something for herself.”

You let out a soft snort. “Maybe a book on meditation.”

Piotr rolls his eyes, grinning. “Perhaps not.”

“Who does she like to be around, then?”

“Otets.” Piotr smiles when the answer comes easily. “She and my father” –he holds up two crossed fingers—“are like this. Aside from siblings and me, I think he is only person she is really close to.”

“Alright, maybe a cookbook, then. That’d give them something to do together.”

Piotr nods, then starts looking through the cookbooks he’d picked. “Question is, which one?”

“Well, we know she likes to stay busy and keep moving. Maybe something that’d challenge their skills? Something they haven’t tried?” You hold up a book boasting ‘rich and authentic Middle Eastern recipes.’ “This could be good. I think they’d have access to most of the ingredients, here in New York.”

He nods again, then sets the aforementioned book aside before checking over the other ones. “I think…” He lifts a hardcover thriller novel off the table. “She likes mysteries. This one has good reviews… maybe…”

You gently take the book from his hands and set it atop the Middle Eastern cookbook. “I think it’s a great choice.”

He smiles, then kisses your cheek. “Spasibo, myshka.”

***

“Bozhe moi.”

You giggle as the two of you step over the threshold of the Yankee Candle store, only for Piotr to recoil and take a step back. “You good there, baby?”

He presses his fingers against the sides of his nose. “Is like… assault of smells.”

“I know.” You inhale deeply, them flash him an impish smile. “Isn’t it great?”

Piotr groans, still rubbing his sinuses. “Do you mind—”

“I��ll find a candle for Illyana. Wanna meet up in Gamestop?”

“Spasibo, dorogoy.”

You blow him a kiss, then head into the candle store. You take a couple minutes to peruse the holiday display at the front of the store –and grab a couple votives for you and Piotr to enjoy—before heading towards the back of the store, where all the shelves of their regular candles are. You pause to smell your favorites –seriously, the McIntosh apple one never fails to make your mouth water—before taking a step back to survey your options. Alright, what to get for a mildly angsty, queer Russian goth?

It’s not as straightforward as it sounds (har har). Illyana’s an enigma, much like her mother. She’s quiet, keeps to herself, and doesn’t usually bother with convention.

Do I go for aesthetic? You pick up a pitch black candle labeled “Midnight Forest” and give it a cursory sniff. Ugh, smells like ass. No, thank you.

You also have to consider that whatever you get is likely going to be smelled by Kitty, too. As much as Illyana marches to the beat of her own drum, she’s surprisingly conscientious of her bubbly, energetic girlfriend.

Maybe something natural? Like the farm? You try a few options, wrinkling your nose after each sniff. God, what is it with the fresh scents and smelling heinous? You debate texting Piotr and dragging him back in here, if only so you’re certain you’ll get something Illyana would like—

And then it hits you over the head like a brick.

She’s gonna use these for meditation. You head down the rows of shelves, grab a jar labeled “Vanilla,” and give it a smell. Perfect. Not too strong, not too bland. You grab a lavender scented tumbler (for relaxation), then snag a pink one that smells like the perfume Kitty favors on a hunch it’ll be a hit.

By the time you pay for yours and Illyana’s candles, Piotr’s already waiting outside the Gamestop for you, bag in hand.

He eyes your bulging bags, eyebrow raising in trepidation. “Why…”

“Look, it’s your fault for abandoning me,” you say before he can point out your lack of self-control. “You know I’m weak for candles.”

Piotr snorts, then sighs. “Fair enough.” He nods and makes approving noises when you show him the picks you made for Illyana, then shows you what he grabbed for Mikhail.

“‘Mister Mosquito?’” You nearly double over laughing. “What even is this?”

“He wanted ‘weird video game,’” Piotr says, shrugging one shoulder. “I figure this should do.”

“He’s gonna love it,” you reassure your husband. “That’s weird as shit.” You start strolling along the main hall of the mall –and then your stomach rumbles. “Can we get pretzels?”

“Da, myshka,” Piotr chuckles, “we can get pretzels.”

***

“There'll be parties for hosting/ marshmallows for toasting/ and caroling out in the snow/ there'll be scary ghost stories/ and tales of the glories of/ Christmases long, long ago…”

“It’s the most! Wonderful time! Of the year!” you sing along as you rip another chunk off your pretzel. You smile to yourself as you admire the glittering, twinkling decorations decking the food court. “How’s your pretzel?”

“Very tasty.” Piotr dips a bite of his pretzel in some mustard, pops it in his mouth, then swallows before wiping his fingers on a napkin. “I think we only have handful of stops left.”

“Couple of sweaters for your dad… weird socks and-or scarves for Mikhail…” You lean over, reading off the list in his hand (which is written in a mixture of Russian and English). You take another bite of pretzel, then tap on a portion of blended “Russi-nglish” that you can’t decipher. “What’s that?” you ask once your mouth is clear.

“Random gift options,” he translates. “For filling out presents, stockings, that sort of thing.” He touches the tip of his index finger to the page, moving down the list in order. “Chocolate, books, gift cards. Guaranteed hits, essentially.”

“Ooh, I could go for some chocolate.”

Piotr snorts. “You just had pretzel. And this is for others, myshka.”

“If it’s in the car with me, I make no promises.”

He laughs, then makes an extra note on his list. “Safety chocolate… for myshka. Got it.”

***

“Here, dorogoy.”

“Oh, thank you!” You smile as Piotr takes some of the excess bags from your hands, shifting them so he can carry them (which, with his strength and the size of his hands, is no problem at all). You amble along next to him, admiring the various pop-up stands boasting games, calendars, and Christmas-themed treats. “Is there anywhere else we need to stop?”

“I believe we have everything.”

“And I’m guessing we need to head home so we can make dinner?”

“That would be best, da.” Piotr looks down at you, expression curious. “Why? There is somewhere you wish to stop?”

“Eh, not really,” you say with a shrug. “I just like coming to the mall during this time of year. The decorations, the music, the extra stands and seasonal gifts… It just makes me happy.”

“Aah, khorosho. I understand. We can come back later for date, if you like. Take time to walk around and admire stores.”

You grin up at him. “I’d like that.”

The two of you make to head out of the mall, back to the parking lot—

And then Piotr veers towards the right.

“Where are we going?” you ask, giggling as he leads you towards the bookstore. “I thought we already got everything we needed from here?”

He winks at you. “Trip is not complete yet. Not with hot chocolate, anyway.”

You grin and let him guide you over to the café in the bookstore.

Piotr gets you situated at a table near the expanse of windows at the front of the shop. He leaves your bags with you, then leads up at the counter to order your drinks.

You smile, lovestruck as you gaze over at him. How did I get so lucky? You lean back in your seat, taking a moment to admire the snow falling outside before checking out the decorations throughout the store…

Which is when you realize that there’s mistletoe hanging over your table.

You chuckle to yourself. Perfect.

“You are in good mood,” Piotr comments as he returns with two cups of hot chocolate.

“Of course, I am,” you admit with a broad grin. “I’ve got you. And tradition’s on our side.”

Piotr’s smile turns quizzical. He cocks his head to the side, staring at you for a moment, then looks up when you point towards the ceiling. “Ah,” he chuckles, “yes. That is good reason to be happy.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You hook your finger under the collar of his shirt and gently tug him towards you. “Come here, handsome.”

He lets out a soft, happy giggle and bends down to kiss you.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #holiday fluff #i miss going outside #which never happens so like #fml #don't mind the sounds of despair coming from my general direction #just use the fluff to drown it out #just like how i am #also kitty is jewish and thus doesn't observe christmas #i will die on this fucking hill :)#x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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tolstoys-nemesis · 5 years ago

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Funsize list of literary classics :)

Hey so this is just going to be a very brief list of classics I've read and really enjoyed. Please do bear in mind that I've only read a handful of all the books out there so don't get upset if you don't find your favourite classic or whatever, this is intended to be a very short rec list for people who don't really like classics/want to get into classic literature but don't know where to start. This is probably going to be very basic, but uh, sue me!

1. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen Premise: The novel follows Elizabeth Bennet, a young woman, second-born of a family of five daughters. Her older sister, Jane, meets a man named Mr Bingley and the two of them fall in love. Bingley has a friend, Mr Darcy, who is remarkably haughty and inconsiderate. One day Bingley leaves town for no apparent reason. Cool stuff: Austen is peak feminist literature. Lots of female characters, amazing friendships, huge diversity in their personalities. Very nice and cosy, the book does have a plot and some conflict, but the stakes are quite low which allows for a peaceful read. Not-so-cool stuff: Ok so this might just be me, but I read the book and listened to the audiobook at the same time, and I found that a lot of the spelling was archaic, causing me to be quite reliant on the audio to fully grasp what was being said. But don't get me wrong, P&P is easier to understand than #3 on the list.

2. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens Premise: We meet the main character, Ebenezer Scrooge, on Christmas Eve. He's a greedy man who thinks socialism is a plague and is generally terrible. Later that evening, the ghost of his long-dead business partner comes to him and tells him that he must get his act together, lest he should be condemned to eternal damnation. That night, he is visited by three spirits, the first one takes him back to his youth, the second one shows him the horrors that he is passively contributing to, and the third one shows him what will become of him if he doesn't change his ways. Cool stuff: A Christmas Carol is essentially baby Dickens. The tone is ludicrously light for Dickens, and the book is very short (my copy is like 130 pages), so you can absolutely sit down one afternoon in December and read it in one sitting!!). The story is super famous so you already know what you're getting into, so the prose won't get in the way of your understanding of the text. Speaking of which. . . Not-so-cool stuff: ACC may be Dickens' most accessible book, but the style is still very, well, Dickens.

3. Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens Premise: Oliver Twist is an orphan brought up in a workhouse in the first half of the 19th century (read, under inhumane conditions). One day, he is drafted by his friends to ask the quartermaster for more food. This goes over quite poorly indeed and Oliver is sent away to learn a trade away from the workhouse. Things go from bad to worse, and we follow Oliver on his journey from the English countryside to the slums of London to his long-lost family. Cool stuff: While Oliver Twist is a famous story, a lot of people don't know the specifics of the plot, and trust me, they're iconic. You catch feelings (both good and bad) for the characters, and honestly it's just so aesthetic I'm- Not-so-cool stuff: Right so there's the obvious factor of Dickens' notoriously pompous prose, but that's still very superficial. On a more serious note, anti-semitism. It's there. Dickens toned it down himself after it was pointed out to him, but it's still uncomfortable. There's also a lot of abuse, both physical and emotional, and uh,,, femicide happens, so if those are things which are sensitive issues for you, you might want to skip on that one? idk, I'm not the boss of you.

4. The World's Wife, Carol Ann Duffy Premise: Is it too early to regard Duffy as a Classic author? What's that I can't hear you over the sound of my love for her! Right so uh this is a collection of poems published in 1999, which focuses on the women behind great men (kinda? that's the most general summary I can give of it?) or bends great men's gender and gives their point of view on the events their Great Man are famous for. Cool stuff: Women loving woman writes about women. It's amazing. Not-so-cool stuff: it's very sexually explicit? yeah that's it.

5. The Last Day of a Condemned Man (Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamné), Victor Hugo Premise: Ok so most of the book is actually in the preface, an essay attacking the death penalty. (there's also a play in there for some reason?? I don't think all editions have the play but mine did and it was very confusing? I think the play is a satire of the society Hugo lived in, but yeah, quite odd). The actual narrative is more of an emotional complement to the very rational preface than anything and omg it's brilliant. Anyhow, the story follows an unnamed man, sentenced to death for an unknown crime (note: this is a far more solid way to advocate against the death penalty than your average "sOmEtiMeS iNnOcEnT pEoPLe aRe WrOnGLy aCcUsEd aNd eXeCuTeD", because that doesn't actually address what's really wrong about the death penalty) from about 6 weeks before his set execution date to moments before he meets the guillotine. Cool stuff: ok so if you're into activism, this is really an amazing book. It's short, can easily be read in one afternoon. Not-so-cool stuff: it's a bummer. You don't want to read that if you're going through some shit, you will make your existential crisis worse.

6. Animal Farm, George Orwell Premise: Do you know about communism and the USSR? Congratulations, you know about Animal Farm! Soviet leaders are pigs, soldiers are dogs, all the other animals are regular citizens. Men are aristocrats. If you like thinly veiled metaphors for autocratic regimes, but 1984 was too icky for you, this is the one! Cool stuff: Short and sweet, can be read in one afternoon. Gets you thinking but doesn't entirely rob you of your will to live. Not-so-cool stuff: Allegories can get very annoying in very little time.

7. Froth on the Daydream/Mood Indigo (L'Ecume des Jours), Boris Vian Premise: It's surrealism time sillies! Right so the main character's name is Colin, he's wealthy, he has a poorer best friend, and he wants a girlfriend. He meets this girl, Chloe, they fall in love they get married and everything is great for about 47 seconds! During their honeymoon, Chloe falls ill, and she is eventually diagnosed with *checks notes* a water lily in the lung! Everything goes to shits in record time! Cool stuff: It's very aesthetically pleasing. There have been a bunch of film adaptations and I don't want to watch any of them because I don't want images that are any different from those I pictured while reading the book. Best enjoyed with some ominous music playing in the background. Quite short, can be read in one afternoon but not necessarily advised. Can absolutely be read over one week-end though! Not-so-cool stuff: Remember what I said about the aesthetic? A lot of people I know read the book and disliked it because of the aesthetic. You just have to figure out whether that's your jam or not. Oh And, I've never been high, but finishing this book made me feel things that I'd never experienced before, and idk whether that's a good or a bad thing.

#classic lit #classic literature #classic lit memes #jane austen #pride and prejudice #charles dickens #a christmas carol #oliver twist #victor hugo #the last day of a condemned man #carol ann duffy #the world's wife #george orwell #animal farm #boris vian #froth on the daydream #mood indigo #book recommendations

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thejokersenigma · 7 years ago

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Advent Calendar 2017 Day 1 - Joker x Reader - A Christmas Carol Part 1

So here it is! The first of a series of 25 fanfictions, some connected, some not!

They will be of varying length (and quality haha) and I will do my upmost to get them all out on time!

In return could I ask a favor? No payment. No presents. Well maybe one. Could you leave a comment? I understand if you don’t have the time or inclination, but I miss the little comments I use to get and the little inbox messages.

My inbox has been empty too long so I’d appreciate it if you made my Christmas!

Thank you and I hope you enjoy then next 25 days!

MASTERLIST

The heat from the building’s entrance way engulfed J as he stepped back into his building. The air was almost suffocating, but he barely noticed as he pushed on through the lobby and into his private elevator that stood out of way through a private staff corridor. He elbowed past anyone who dared to get in his way, snarling at anyone who then turned to reprimand him before they realised who it was and quickly backed away. People knew he owned the building, but the chances of ever actually seeing him were so slim, most were still brave enough to use it.

J threw the door to the private corridor open with one hand, the other holding a piece of card, now crumpled in his fist. He stormed into the elevator, ramming the up button. He needn’t be more specific than that, the elevator only went to one floor. His floor.

J’s jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached, though he didn’t feel that either, his eyes bore holes into the doors in front of him as he listened to the sound of air rushing past either side of him. He didn’t look at the card again, just kept his eyes straight ahead.

The building wasn’t the tallest in Gotham – that award would always go to the Wayne Enterprises building that sat smugly in the middle of the grimy city – but it was definitely a strong competitor for second place, most office blocks falling away beneath the penthouse windows. J couldn’t enjoy the view now; didn’t get the powerful feeling he often did staring out at the sprawling landscape before him through the floor to ceiling windows that lined the north facing wall. Instead, his mind was seeing the words that were scrawled neat on the card which was now a creased mess in his palm.

He wished she didn’t this every year. He hoped that this would be the year she forgot. That she gave up. Who was she to continue to contact him? Anyone else wouldn’t dare to be this annoying to the ‘Clown Prince of Crime’ as they nicknamed him. But she could. She always had. Yet the rest of the year he heard no word from her.

But this?! His grip tightened even more, compressing the screwed-up paper even smaller.

He never had mail delivered to his penthouse. Ever.

Few knew his address and he never had any deliveries made to the building, J ensured that any packages were sent to a secret off grid location, and never the same place twice. There could be no way to track anything to one location. No way to find him.

So, when Frost had informed him of mail waiting for him down at the front desk, J was ready to shoot whoever messed up.

Then he’d seen the handwritten address.

He had stepped outside at that point – after retrieving the envelope from the front desk – he hadn’t felt the bitter cold against his exposed arms from where his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He hadn’t cared that people were gasping at him, or abruptly turning and hurrying away, the screams of terror didn’t even make him blink. He had eyes only for the envelope in his palm.

Frost had heard the commotion however, and had followed him out, abruptly steering his Boss – surprisingly without complaint - out of the way of eyes and into a back alley where deliveries were unloaded to supply the building and those neighbouring.

J had opened the letter then, to be greeted with a polished, expensive piece of card, the edges frilled and bordered with a golden piece of string tied in a bow at one corner. Inside this gold frame was a picturesque Christmas scene of an old Victorian village, snow coating the pavements and roads, street lamps spotted along it with candles glowing dully behind the frosted glass, children running down the pavements, leaving footprints behind them as they dashed past a butcher shop with meat hung in the window, and made for a glowing shop full of old fashion jars of traditional sweets. In the centre of the card was a couple, both in typical Victorian era dress, wrapped in thick coats and scarves, with fluffy hats perched on their heads, wandering down the middle of the street, their backs to J, arms entwined in a classic couple’s walk.

He has stared at the card, absorbing the details and then flicking it open.

Dear J,

Hope you’ve had a good year, and aren’t alone this time of year – you know what you’re like.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year.

All the best.

Y/N x

J was brought back to himself in the penthouse, staring down at the same piece of writing - now slightly less legible, thanks to the abuse the card had suffered by his crushing hand. Reading it again, only refreshed the anger and pain. He crumpled the note once more, less resistance this time, and tried to fling the paper across the room behind him. It, however, caught on the air created by his arm and fell limply to the floor only a few feet from him. He growled out loud in frustration, crushing his teeth together as he snarled at the offending card.

“Boss?”

J shot his gaze up to face Frost, the man have seemed to have apparated in the doorway, dressed in his usual simple black suit and tie with a trimmed beard and hair combed neatly back. Frost’s face was an emotionless mask, deciding it best to show no reaction to J’s behaviour or the fact that his chest was heaving with a strong emotion. “A message from the front desk has just been sent up. Someone is asking to come up.”

“Who?” J demanded moodily. He had no important meetings planned with anyone.

“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”

J scowled, not in the mood for any surprise drop in’s from Cobblepot or Eddie. But, maybe that was what he needed, to let his frustration out on someone else. “Send them up.” J muttered, already heading towards his office, fiddling with his pistol in its holster. Frost was slightly surprised by this request, expecting to have to turn them away, but he said nothing, heading off to fulfil his order.

J fell into the large, leather chair, laying his pistol out on the large wooden desk in front of him. Knowing his luck, it was probably Harley coming back to beg for him again, J rolled his eyes at this thought. The girl was annoying, but at least she wanted to be around him, unlike – it seemed – someone else.

J didn’t have to wait too long until there was an impatient knock on the office door. He grunted an acknowledgement, not bothering to look up from some papers he’d been flicking through, until Frost cleared his throat. J glanced up then, watching as he stepped aside to reveal a woman stood straight and proper behind him.

[Y/N].

J’s expression didn’t change, the emotionless mask still perfectly in place, but in his head the voices were screaming at him.

“Merry Christmas, J.” [Y/N] smiled warmly from the doorway, as though this was just a lovely social visit. J’s facial expression still didn’t change, a permeant frown of indifference.

“Bah, humbug.” He muttered quietly, turning his eyes back to his work.

“J!” She reprimanded, crossing the room as Frost quickly made an exit from the office, closing the door behind him. “You don’t mean that.” She told him crossly.

“I do.” He sulked, refusing to raise his eyes like a petulant child. [Y/N] stopped directly in front of his desk, crossing her arms, annoyed. He lifted his gaze then, almost having to smirk. He used to love annoying her until she folded her arms at him.

He swallowed everything down though, “And what right do you have, doll, to stroll in here,” He said, waving a hand at the path she had made across his office, “and demand me to have a merry Christmas?” He asked with a raised invisible brow. “Why are you so merry, hmm…?” He pressed What do you have to be merry about...?” He said with a malicious sneer before returning his gaze back to the papers on the top of his desk.

“What right do you have to be so grumpy?!” [Y/N] demanded angrily, “I know you’ve had a successful run of heists - none of which the bat has managed to foil! I also know that you’re about to be declared the most powerful crime boss in the city!”

“Keeping tabs on me, are you kitten?” J teased cruelly. “Humbug.” He repeated simply again, knowing it would only dig into her more. She treated that word like it was a profanity, like a personal insult to herself as a person.

“Stop it J!” She demanded moodily.

“Why, doll?” Drawled J, acting truly intrigued, and leaning lazily back in his chair. “Why should I act any differently when every idiot in the city is acting like the world is suddenly the most wonderful? When apparently every low life and piece of scum is now supposedly fill with good peace and joy? Hmm?” He asked, politely, gesturing, his palms open, in comedic confusion. “Last time I checked it was the same world as last month…” He looked to be thinking about this statement very hard, “Nothing has changed…” He continued to muse, “… And yet people suddenly seem to care about how you are and what you’re doing, even if they haven’t spoken to you all year…” J kept his eyes away from Y/N in an exaggerated thinking posture, but he knew he’d hit home with that mark and almost felt her flinch.

“Personally, princess,” J concluded, shifting his gaze back to her, steepling his hands together, “I believe everyone running around and crying Merry Christmas to every soul ought to be shot in the head before they infect others with their fake, pointless cheer.”

“J!” [Y/N] cried, and he thought he noticed her eyes were wet. But in that moment, he saw her bristle, toughening herself up for what was to come next. “I would have thought you of all people would embrace this time of year.” She pointed, only the faint trace of emotion left in her voice. “Forming your fun little pranks, wrapping the bat in miles of enforced tinsel or trapping robin in a giant bauble!” [Y/N] suggested wildly, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation. “I’d almost encourage all of that over this!” She exclaimed, gesturing around at the dark office, J not bothering to open the curtains and the only light coming from the dimmed lamps scattered around the room.

“If you don’t like it, doll, I suggest you leave.” J grumbled, grabbing for his papers again.

“J.” [Y/N] said, trying to get his attention back, “I came here to ask if you would like to spend Christmas with me.” [Y/N] said, refusing to be dismissed so easily. Her voice was calm again, almost slowed, like she was trying to spell out reason to a sulking child.

The voices got louder in his mind, but J didn’t bother to look up, ignoring her. She had left 4 years ago and now she suddenly wanted to spend Christmas with him?

[Y/N] lost her temper then. “I’m am asking anything from but your company, J! And not even for my sake – but for yours!”

“Good evening, doll.” Was all J said in return, his eyes still on the desk.

[Y/N] was silent for a moment. “J…” Her voice cracked slightly.

“Good. Evening. Doll.” He said through a clenched jaw, still refusing to look up. He heard [Y/N] let out a loud sigh.

“Merry Christmas, J.” She whispered down at him one last time before she then left the office, leaving the door open. J heard her bid Frost a merry Christmas, which Frost returned enthusiastically to her, whilst J scowled in the dark. Even Frost was infected with the seasonal ‘good cheer’.

J heard the main door to the penthouse close behind [Y/N] and growled and muttered at himself.

“Boss?” J rolled his eyes down at the desk before he lifted his head to Frost once more. “Jacobs and Kens are here.” Frost informed him. J inhaled sharply. “They say they have an idea.”

“They do, do they…” J grinned nastily. Maybe he had finally found something to take his mind off [Y/N]. Frost knew that look and so let the men through - he wasn’t one to stand in the way of his boss’s entertainment.

The men stepped awkwardly into the doorway, one of them rapping nervously at the open door. J raised his gaze to them in answer. “Uh, hey boss – uh –“ One man led the way, the other followed silently behind. “Me and - uh – Ken ‘er,” the first man began, gesturing behind at his companion, “we ‘ere ‘oping to speak with Miss [L/N] – “

“Miss [L/N] has not worked with me for 4 years now…” Drawled J, watching them coldly, and the men stopped dead in the centre of the room.

“Oh.” The first man said in surprise, “Uh – well – well- ma’be we can speak with you then, boss?” He floundered, Ken behind him staying silent. “Ya, see we’re ‘ere to propose a li’l scheme that we thin’ would relly work over this ol�� seas’n!” the man said excitedly.

“Is Eddy boy busy?” Inquired J politely. The two men looked at him confused, then realised who he was referring to.

“Uh – no, sir, not that I know of.”

“And what about ol’ Harvey boy?” He asked as though genuinely intrigued.

“No, sir.” They answered simply, though confusion was evident in their voice.

J nodded along to these answers politely. Suddenly he stopped, now staring at the men and they noticeably flinched. “Then why, my fine gentleman, have you chosen to muddy my carpet to bring me nothing but words?”

“Well – boss – we know that you’re the – the most powerful man in Gotham at the moment – “

“At the moment, hmm?” J snapped, pushing to himself suddenly to his feet once more, “Do you mean to say your loyalty lies in power alone, hmm?” J growled, “The minute someone makes a move to rob me, you change sides is that it, boys?”

“N-N-No, sir.” The first man stuttered, and Ken was violently shaking his head.

“Then I suggest you stick to your jobs description…” J drawled, “And your rank… And do not try to interfere with my business...” J growled, lowering himself back to his seat. “You’re not paid to think above your station and are you not paid enough?” J asked, daring them to answer wrongly.

“No – of course not, sir, the money – the money is good.”

“Just good, hmm?”

“It’s great, brilliant.”

“Well in that case maybe I should reduce it!” J suggested brightly, toying with the men. Their faces were priceless - such looks of alarm and fear he had to cackle at them. “Oooo I tease!” He chuckled and they weakly laughed along with him.

And then he stopped, suddenly dead serious. “But, boys… Let us get this straight… There will be no more ‘work’ until I say so. That does not mean, though,” He added as a look of joy crossed their faces at the prospect of time off – “that there are not other jobs that need doing – like shifting some rather valuable items out of the city.” He hinted. They nodded along obediently, trying to hide their disappointment from him.

They remained standing there, as though waiting for more instructions until J raised an invisible eyebrow at them and they realised they were being dismissed. They then quickly took their leave, walking quickly out of the office.

Just when J thought he had peace, another shadow appeared in the still open doorway. J growled at his paperwork again.

Frost didn’t even flinch at the noise, but he knew to tread carefully.

“Boss?” Frost began warily - you didn’t want to show J weakness, but you needed to show respect towards his temper. J snapped his head up to the slightly taller man. “Sir, it’s Christmas day tomorrow. I was hoping I could have the day off.”

“And what could you possibly want that for?” J demanded. “It’s not like you have a family.”

“Actually, sir. It’s my sister. She’s visiting with her children.” Frost explained, knowing J didn’t care and already knowing the answer.

But J didn’t answer, instead he eyed Frost carefully, searching his face as though daring him to show an inch to the fact he was lying.

“It’s just the one day, boss.” Frost insisted. He had, of course, hoped for more – having no seen his sister in 3 years, and her being not so well off and with 3 kids to handle – but that would be pushing his already thin luck.

“Fine.” J snorted. It wasn’t like he was planning anything any time soon, and Frost was loyal, J needed him to stay that way. He wanted respect and fear, not hatred. Hatred sparked betrayal.

“With pay?” Asked Frost. It wasn’t for him. Most of his pay went to his sister, and this time of year he wanted to save up as much as possible to give her a good Christmas and let her forget her troubles for a few days.

“Fine.” J growled. And Frost knew that was all he would get and quickly vanished from sight before J could change his mind.

J returned his gaze to the paperwork, but his head was pounding heavily, and he rubbed at his pale temple before he clenched his jaw and shoved himself up and away from the desk, heading towards the whisky decanter on a small table in the corner of the room. He poured a large glass of amber liquid into an ornate crystal glass and headed out of the room, heading to his large bedroom, passing windows that framed the icy streets and snow that had begun to flutter past the window panes. The image of the Victorian scene in the card flashed in his mind, but he pushed it down. He hated what [Y/N] could do to him.

She’d always loved this time of year. When they’d been together she had made him promise every year to not pull any crime within the 2 weeks around Christmas – she had wanted the whole month, but he’d managed to talk her down – it was his job after all he had pointed out. There had been strict rules for this – he would be allowed to spend the 2 weeks doing general admin and moving supplies around, and she had to keep him distracted, which she happily obliged with, spending all her time around the penthouse filling it with her Christmas spirit.

But that had started 9 years ago. She had been gone 4 years now.

Yet he still stuck to his promise - though there was nothing to entertain him any longer. In a spout of bitter hatred, he had specifically not stuck to it the year she had left, but he had been reckless and careless, and after only a short time he had landed himself in Arkham for 6 months, too depressed to do much about escaping.

Harley had busted him out eventually - hoping to gain some favours back - but he had ignored her and it didn’t take too long for her to give up and run back to Pamela.

Now he stuck to his promise – he couldn’t find a reason not to in his confused head. [Y/N] confused him. And Christmas was [Y/N] to J. So Christmas confused him. He was normal the rest of the year, but once December hit he practically hibernated away till after New Year.

He had tried to get [Y/N] back of course. Tired the minute she left. He’d sent Frost and his men out every day for a year trying to find her, yet they always came back with nothing. J had taught her well. She had vanished off the grid from him.

Eventually J had stopped asking for updates on the search and the men had got the gist and stopped bothering to look, things returning to normal like she had never existed.

But J always got a Christmas card from her. He would always forget until the day it arrived. It was like she was wiped from his memory until the day the envelope turned up, then, for a brief moment, she was back in the form of a basic wish of a Merry Christmas before she vanished again. Out of reach.

By now J had downed the glass of strong alcohol and reached his room. He paused at the door and stared blindly at it, the voices loud and all too real in his mind. He could hear Y/N’s voice loud and clear, all the others nameless voices except for one - old Marlo’s voice.

He shook his head. He never heard Marlo. Not since he died 5 years ago.

He angrily shoved the door trying to make as much noise in the real word to drown out the incessant noise in his ears. J headed straight to the decanter he knew was on his bedside table, once again pouring himself another large drink which he quickly downed like a parched man, and refilling it once more.

He could feel the alcohol warming its way through his body and slowly numbing the ache in his head. He walked to the window and stared out into the dark, the street lights showing late night shoppers and couples heading back from the centre of town. Prime meat for petty criminals. Not for J. He sipped now at the amber liquid, his eyes falling on his reflection rather than the city behind the glass.

He didn’t jump, or abruptly turn when the other face appeared behind him in his reflection. There was no way there was anyone else in the room with him, but it wasn’t the first time he had hallucinated, and the strong alcohol surely wasn’t helping.

“Evening, Marlo.” He greeted pleasantly to the ghostly figure in the glass, not surprised to see the old gangster after hearing his voice. The figment gave him a forced smile in greeting, clearly not pleased about something. “How’s life – sorry” J smirked, clearly not sorry for his ‘accidental’ slip up, “- how’s death?”

“We need to talk, lad.” Came the familiar rough voice. But this time it wasn’t in J’s head, it came from directly behind him. His hallucinations never talked back. He’d rather they didn’t. He let his gaze drop from the window, before looking back to the glass and finding Marlo still in the glass. That wouldn’t do, this figment was persistent.

J turned now, back to the room, and away from the haunting glass. Except he stopped almost instantly when he came face to face with Marlo - exactly where he should have been if he was real. Joker kept the shock from his face, his expression the well-practised mask of blankness.

His hallucinations must be getting worse. All the more fun for him. He took another large gulp of alcohol, hoping that oblivion would overpower his constantly buzzing mind and he would be able to rid himself of this ghost and fall into an abyss of exhaustion that was calling for him.

He attempted to ignore the hallucination of the dead man and pushed forward, walking straight through him. A cold wave of something travelled through him as he did it and it made J stiffen, but he continued to the wingback chair on the other side of the room, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the bedside table on the way and refilling his now empty glass.

“Look, lad.” Came the voice and he reluctantly looked up at the figure that had moved closer, now standing at the foot of his bed. “I don’t ‘ave much time.”

“I don’t believe you have any time.” Growled J back, not in the mood for his own mind’s games. “I believe your time was up when that bullet hit you in the chest 5 years ago.”

The figment smirked reluctantly, “Always so funny.” He muttered as J dropped down into the chair in front of him still holding the whiskey bottle. “Still chuggin’ on the good stuff as well I see.” He pointed out.

“Clearly I have no imagination if all you’re here to do it observe everything I’m doing...” J drawled.

The man frowned, stepping – thought it looked more like floating - forward a few more foot. “You think I’m one of ya hallucinations, don’t ya boy?” He inquired. J ignored the ‘lad’s and ‘boy’s, knowing that was Marlo in his mind, and nothing was going to stop him treating J like the young man he had been when Marlo originally met him. J stoppering the decanter in his hand and placed it on the small table next to him - only one glass left in the bottle now. “I guess that’s the problem with visiting a man who’s already ravin’ mad.” The phantom pointed out.

The Joker continued to be silent, but he sipped the drink, watching the hallucination carefully. He was trying to decide if he was glad to see Marlo or not. He couldn’t help the fact that he missed his character, he was, after all, his old mentor from when he was a petty criminal.

“Think of me wha’ ya want, boy” The figment of Marlo, told him, mistaking his far-off expression, “but I hav a message and ya need to lis’en.”

“When have I ever listened to you?” Joker grinned over at his old friend, hallucination or not.

“Never.” Marlo admitted with a small smirk, “And it some’ow worked out for ya. But I’m beggin’ ya to listen jus’ this once.”

Joker rolled his eyes, waving his hand impatiently, the sooner he ‘listened’ the sooner the figment would vanish.

The figment moved even closer, taking a seat in the identical chair next to him. Just like J knew him, he didn’t beat around the bush. “When I died I tol’ ya to rule it all, didn’t I lad? Aye, I remember the words. I knew ya’d be able ta. Easily.” Marlo said, his eyes looking at J, but not seeing him, lost in memories. “I told ya ta do it because I ha’ tried, and I ha’ failed.” J cold eyes watched him calculating. “And though ya say ya never listen, lad,” he teased, like he did when J was younger, “I know ya did.” J didn’t say anything, too focused on the ‘ghost’. Marlo sighed heavily now and he suddenly seemed to be weighed down strongly by something. “But I’m now askin’ ya to forget it. It’s not you, lad. It never has been. My goal was riches and power. Yas never was. Ya the Joker!” He exclaimed gesturing at the criminal across from him as if that explained everything.

J continued to stare at the man and the man watched him back. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost husky, like it was after he had yelled at J when he caught him disobeying orders.

“Ya losin’ yaself in the need to fulfil what I asked of ya.”

“You might have asked me, but that doesn’t mean I had to do it.” J growled, “I’m not doing anything because of you.” Marlo had a look of pity that J remembered all to well from years ago when J had been half the man he was now – when he’d been lost and ignorant.

J could say what he wanted to Marlo, but the man knew him too well to buy his bullshit. “You’ve looked better, old man.” J pointed out with a grin, changing the subject to get rid of that look of pity. It was true though, the figment before him wasn’t like the man J had once known, his clothes were torn and dirtied, and J now noticed the large hole in Marlo’s chest which was surrounded by a particularly large stain. Where the bullet had hit.

J wished he’d been there. He would have tortured the man that did it. It had been during a gang fight for power - a cause that Marlo had dedicated his life to - and J, having at this time moved on from Marlo’s teachings, had been on the other side of the city. By the time he got wind of the new and had arrived on the scene, reinforcements had already arrived and dealt with the killer with a simple shot to the head. Too easy. Too nice. J had found Marlo left to bleed out and barely alive, no hope of survival.

“Ya don’t look much better, yaself.” Marlo gently ribbed, gesturing to the messy hair where J had ruffled it by repeatedly running his fingers through the green strands, and the dark shadows that lay under his eyes. He didn’t even begin to comment on the sheer number of drinks he knew the clown had downed that evening.

J grunted something unintelligible sounding like ‘careful’.

Marlo chuckled quietly. “I’d like ta say ya’re the same lad I knew, but ya aren’t.” J watched him, waiting for him to explain himself. “Ya more like me now.”

“Yeah, well you were always good at your job.” J pointed out lazily, reclining back in his chair.

Marlo nodded sadly, “My job, but nothing else, lad” He said. “Money and power was all I had. Nothing else to my life…” He trailed off and seemed to be lost in his own mind, a vacant, far off look in his eyes. “An’ now I’m dead. An’ I’m alone. Always alone.” J said nothing, but Marlo could sense the scepticism. “Yeah, it sounds sappy,” he brushed off, “ – an’ I didn’t believe it at firs’ – but I’ve been there, hell I’m there righ’ now!” Marlo explained, his face looking older and more haggard. “But I’ve learn’ the ‘ard way tha’ – when ya’re dead – ya’re only companions are those that loved ya in yar life, and who ya in turn loved - they ‘re who ya’ll spend eternity with, lad.”

J let out a long, cold, emotionless laugh. “That’s rich! Tell me another sob story, bring some tissues this time.” He cackled.

“I would have laughed too if I wan’t stuck in it.” The look on Marlo’s face made J stop mid laugh. He may be a phantom, but J could still read the truth in his eyes, just like the man had taught him.

“Aww, come on Marl!” J joked, leaning forward, but the cold seriousness on Marl’s face made him relent, “Ok, say it’s true…” He sneered, “What about your own mother?”

“Does ya mother love ya?” Marlo asked in return, but he didn’t wait for the answer, instead he shrugged, “I showed ‘er no love, she showed me none in return.” He said simply.

“No wives? Girls that took an untimely end?”

“Never marrie’. Never kept a girl more than a week.” He admitted. “’ope they’re all alive anyway. I didn’t know them, though, lad. Didn’t care enough.”

“Surely Finn and Hugh have some weird… man crush on you.” The Joker pointed out with a smirk.

“Even if they did, they aren’t dead yet – seen Finn out by the Harbour, an’ Hugh’s left town.” Marlo informed him, “But can’t say by the en’ that I loved ‘em in return, lad. He admitted sadly, “Power does that ta ya - makes you anxious, nervy. Ya push people away. Even those loyal ta ya.” He looked at the man across from him, but J couldn’t understand the expression in his eyes.

“That’s why I’m ‘ere lad. Ya don’t have ta do tha’, or end up like this.” He said, gesturing to himself. “Ya ‘ad that sweet girl – Y/N.”

“She’s gone.” J growled sullenly.

“No, lad, she ain’t.” Marlo stated. “Ya’ve pushed ‘er away, but she never left ya’. Make it righ’, boy.”

“You’re a love expert now, hmm?” J questioned with a raised cocky eyebrow.

“I don’t claim to be, but forever is a long time alone - even if ya think you like ta be alone.” The figment said with a knowing look in his eye, easily able to read J. “There’s no distractions once ya’re dead, lad. Nothin’ to take your mind off the emp’iness ya’re hiding from righ’ now.”

“Right….” Dragged J, rolling his eyes, “Thanks for the therapy session…” He smirked lazily falling back into the cushions behind him, about done with this conversation now.

“Look, lad. I’m not a hallucination - contrary to what you migh’ like to kid ya’self, and I don’t know why you can see me now when the truth is I’ve been watchin’ you for over a year. Why I can suddenly speak ta you, I can’t be sure, lad, but I can make the most of it and warn ya – because – lad – as much as I never said it, and as much as you’d ‘ate for me ta say it – I actually care abou’ ya lad.” Marlo suddenly got to his feet. “Ya ‘ave a chance to avoid wha’ I’m going through and I strongly sugges’ ya take it.” He said, beginning to walk towards the window, though the way he was speaking it was clear he wanted to stay longer, but something was propelling him to the window. “For some reason ya’ve been given a change, lad. Take it. Get Y/N back. If no one else – get ‘er.” He almost begged, “The firs’ one ‘lll be ‘ere at 12 an’ –“

With that the voice was lost from the phantom, though his lips continued to move, and his feet walked him right into and through the penthouse wall, his body merging into the glass. J watched, cursing his over active imagination, as what appeared to a silvery gas seemed to rise off the window into the black night outside and drifted up into the air, like smoke from a chimney, blending amongst the snowflakes that continued to fall.

J remained in his armchair for a few moments, sat in thought, before he glanced sharply at the last mouthful of drink in his glass and ignored it, placing the crystal on the table and heading for the bed. Clearly his mind was past the point of any small glimpse of sanity for this evening and he didn’t want to encourage it further with more alcohol.

He fell asleep to the numbing heat of the alcohol in his system, and the sound of the sharp cold wind outside the window that reminded him of Marlo.

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shannonallaround · 7 years ago

Note

Wow, I totally forgot to ask you: What other AU's do you have?

Well, since you asked… *cracks knuckles*

(Ok first before I start I am SO SORRY this response took me like, a month. Thanks so much for waiting!)

This person is asking specifically about au’s I have for Mickey and Minnie. My Sonic au’s are a different post entirely! :D

I have three main mice au’s that I regularly visit. My sister Marian, or @marian-ette , is my brainstorming partner in crime.

The oldest of the mice au’s is my Nutcracker Verse. This au started out in 2012 as basically a recasting of the “Barbie in The Nutcracker” movie (I honestly love that movie and still watch it every holiday season for nostalgia). Then over several years it became ‘losely inspired’ by that movie and took on a life of its own. I still revisit it just for fun every December. Several REALLY old drawings based on this AU are in my DeviantArt gallery. Here’s the link to one of them plus a few others I haven’t shared before (these are really really old fyi. There are lots more but these are some of the best)

https://shannonallaround.deviantart.com/art/Sweep-you-off-your-feet-425877421

The second au is what I call the Candyland Verse. As you can probably guess, this au is inspired by the Candyland board game.

In the 1950s, Mickey works as a storekeeper and apprentice to Ludwig Van Drake, an incredibly gifted/famous candy-maker (and Mickey’s basically-adopted-uncle). One day, Ludwig is missing from his candy lab, which has been trashed. Mickey goes in to investigate… and through some crazy magic ends up in Candyland. He meets many friends in this new world, but as he searches for Ludwig, things may be less sweet and far more sticky than they seem… trouble is brewing in the Molasses Bog.

I haven’t shared ANY pictures from this au anywhere yet so here are the first glimpses of the Candyland Verse! It’s a much newer verse so even though it’s extremely developed in my head I don’t have very much art for it yet.

The third au is called the Sandman Verse.

Goofy is the Sandman and Mickey is one of his many many assistants. Each person has a sandman which is assigned to them during their lifetime whom crafts dreams for them. Mickey has been assigned to Minnie since she was born. One particular night, Minnie’s dream malfunctions, becoming a nightmare (something that, strangely, has been happening to more and more people’s dreams recently…) When the usual protocol fails, Mickey is forced to follow emergency procedure and enter the dream himself in order to shut it down. He defeats the nightmare and is about to leave Minnie’s mind when suddenly, Minnie talks to him. This is normally not possible as dreams operate in a person’s subconscious, and it is then that Mickey realizes Minnie is a lucid dreamer.

I haven’t shared any drawings for this au before either, so here is the first peek! It is also very new and so is sadly lacking in the art department too.

Mickey and Minnie are the two main protagonists of all these au’s. All of the sensational six are there two plus other friends from their world (i.e. Panchito & Jose) as well as Oswald and Ortensia.

In addition to these three main au’s, my sister and I regularly indulge in an incredibly fun activity we call “casting”. Basically, we take our favorite old movies (mostly live action) and re-cast them with the characters of Mickey’s world. Sometimes we add extra roles or alter characters slightly to make everyone fit nicely. The only au that has characters that aren’t in Mickey’s world is The Apple Dumpling Gang— we use the three main rabbit children from Disney’s animated Robin Hood for the orphans in that one. We figured it worked with the same logic as Mickey’s Christmas Carol.

Casting is SO. FUN. Here’s a list of some of the movies we’ve cast so far!

Summer Stock

Singing in the Rain

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938, starring Errol Flynn)

The Mark of Zorro (1940, starring Tyrone Power)

The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (1966, starring Don Knotts)

That Darn Cat (1965, starring Hayley Mills)

The Apple Dumpling Gang

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas (Dreamworks)

Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper

National Treasure

Next on the list: The Seahawk (w/ Errol Flynn) and Disney’s animated Atlantis

The asker of this question also prompted the creation of a new au called the Boxing Verse not too long ago. I’m gonna share a lot more detail about what happens in this one:

Minnie Mouse is training beside her best friend Daisy as a boxer under veteran boxer Donald Duck. Mickey is a janitor at the venue who doesn’t box but is OBSESSED with the sport. He, of course, is totally fascinated by Minnie who has the opposite of a typical boxer’s personality and body type and yet is also a complete boss in the ring. Donald used to be a boxer, but one fateful day against his biggest rival Gladstone Gander, he lost his temper while attempting to defend Daisy’s honor and beat Gladstone to a pulp. Gladstone then used this to slander Donald’s reputation. Donald felt so dang bad about the whole thing (especially the fact that he thinks he embarrassed Daisy) that he retreated from the competitor’s ring and now only teaches. Pete was Gladstone’s sponsor and has it out for Donald. He plans to make full use of the opportunity Minnie presents having been trained by him…

Anyway, there’s the very-long rundown of my mice au’s!

#shannon's art #nutcracker au #sandman au #candyland au #mice au #disney fanfiction #minnie mouse #mickey and minnie #mickey mouse #mickey and friends #casting

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seniorbrief · 6 years ago

Text

18 Funny Christmas Jokes for the Merriest Holiday

Nishant Choksi for Reader’s Digest

The holiday season officially starts on the last Friday of November, when the first shopper is trampled at Walmart. But the holidays really begin on December 26, the day after last year’s Christmas, when your child formulated a gift demands wish list in preparation for the next haul.

For example, one seven-year-old girl wrote this list, to which her dad added his thoughts.

• “Black, light blue, green, purple, and pink North Faces.” Five North Face jackets at 100 bucks each? Dream smaller. That is apparel meant for serious outdoorsmen who dangle from belayed ropes on the south face of K2. The outdoorsiest we get is when we roll down the window at the Wendy’s drive-through.

• “A new radio.” Done. I’ll throw in my old Betamax collection as a stocking stuffer.

• “$1,000.” You want cash? Clear the spiders out of the attic. I’ll give you three bucks for it.

• “A light-up Razor scooter that is the color blue.” “Dad, for Christmas, can I get hit by a car?”

• “A new canape that glows up.” So, like, a glowing miniature crab cake with a toothpick in it? I could maybe do that.

• “A pet puppy border collie with a peace sign coller and a leash.” Do you see any borders in this house that need patrolling, apart from the bathroom door when Daddy is having his alone time? No.

• “A black rist bange.” I don’t know what this is, but done. —Drew Magary, from deadspin.com

Of course, gift giving may not be everyone’s strong suit.

One year, my father gave Mom a DVD. In and of itself it wasn’t a bad gift, except a) it was a rental, and b) we didn’t own a DVD player. —Amy Marshall Hodges, Canton, Michigan

Santa’s a pro, which is why kids bypass parents and appeal to him:

• “Dear Santa, Please text my dad. He has my whole list.”

• “Dear Santa, Sorry for what I did in the past, and thank you for the Christmas letter—I love it. But what I want for Christmas is $53 billion dollars.”

• “Dear Santa, How are you? I’m good. Here is what I want for Christmas: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0032HF60M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1410271945&sr=8-1” —Sources: wgna.com and someecards.com

Nishant Choksi for Reader’s Digest

What happens when kids’ letters arrive at the North Pole? Does Kringle and Co. sell the data to online marketers? We read the fine print on Santa’s website:

• Santa’s Privacy Policy: At Santa’s Workshop, your privacy is important to us. What follows is an explanation of how we collect and safeguard your personal information.

• Why Do We Need This Information? Santa Claus requires your information in order to compile his annual list of who is Naughty and who is Nice and to ensure accuracy when he checks it twice.

• What Information Do We Collect? We obtain information from the unsolicited letters sent to Santa by children all over the world listing specific items they would like to receive for Christmas. Often these letters convey additional information, such as which of their siblings are doodyheads. The letters also provide another important piece of information—fingerprints. We run these through databases maintained by the FBI, CIA, NSA, Interpol, MI6, and the Mossad. If we find a match, it goes straight on the Naughty List.

• What Do We Do with the Information We Collect? Sharing is one of the joys of Christmas. For this reason, we share your personal information with unaffiliated third parties: the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Hanukkah Harry. —Laurence Hughes, from McSweeney’s Internet Tendency

The gift list is done, and there’s a nip in the air—time to get your gaudy on!

My daughter and I took the long route through the neighborhood to admire the Christmas decorations. One yard contained a trove of lights, ornaments, elves, carolers, trimmings … in short, it was a mess. My daughter summed it up perfectly when she announced, “It looks like Christmas threw up.” —Cecille Hansen, Seattle, Washington

Do you hear what I hear? That’s right; music is filling the air! Have you downloaded the latest holiday album? It had them boogying in the streets of Bethlehem centuries ago!

The Little Drummer Boy’s Greatest Hits: Includes the songs “Pum Pum Pum Pum,” “Rum Pum Pum,” “Ba Rum Pum Pum,” “Rum Pum Pum Ba Rum Pum Pum,” and special bonus track “Pum Pum Pum, Ba Rum Pum Pum.” —Source: someecards.com

Hope you like schmaltzy, sentimental holiday movies because that’s what will be playing on cable 24/7 for the entire month. In case you’ve forgotten these films you’ve seen only 47 times, some brief reviews:

• How the Grinch Stole Christmas: “Crimes against Who-manity”

• A Christmas Carol: “Bob, Marley”

• Elf: “A Christmas Ferrell” —Source: fwfr.com

Nishant Choksi for Reader’s Digest

Next, the tree. Note: The real trick isn’t picking the right pine. It’s getting it inside your home. But with our 15-point plan, you’ll be trimming in no time.

1) Cut the cords that bind the tree to the roof of your car. Allow them to snap back and strike you in the eye.

2) Curse.

3) Slowly pull the tree toward you.

4) Wobble under its weight for a few seconds, then fall down.

5) Curse.

6) Stand up and notice the fresh scratches in the roof of your car.

7) Curse.

8) Drag the tree to your front door. Spend 15 minutes figuring out how to open the door while simultaneously getting the tree through it.

9) Drag the tree away from the door so that you can enter with the tree facing in the right direction.

10) Once inside, fill the tree stand with water.

11) Knock all the water out of the tree stand because you forgot to wait to fill the tree stand until after putting the tree in it.

12) Curse.

13) Your tree should now be in the stand. Notice the fallen needles that have reduced your tree to half the size it was when you bought it.

14) Down seven cups of eggnog to settle your nerves.

15) Slur your curses.

You’re not home free yet. Much more can go wrong!

Securing Christmas lights to the tree can be a production. One year, when we finally stood back and flicked on the light switch, I noticed that a branch obscured our prized angel ornament. I grabbed the pruning shears, mounted a stool, and snipped once, and the lights went out. My husband quietly said, “You don’t have your glasses on, do you?”—Lynn Kitchen, Parksville, British Columbia

Nishant Choksi for Reader’s Digest

Your Christmas tree has practically become a member of the family: The needy, spoiled, flamboyant side that knows when it’s time to go:

“All that time spent selecting and decorating, and a week after [Christmas], you see the tree by the side of the road, like a mob hit. A car slows down, a door opens, and a tree rolls out.” —Jerry Seinfeld

Let’s relax and read Christmas cards! Far more than just holiday greetings, they allow you to finally see what your accountant’s family looks like.

We once received a card with a photograph of a family in costumes and masks. No name, no text, no return address. We never did figure out who sent it.—Glynis Buschmann, Yuba City, California

Would you like to learn how to write a boastful, overly intimate holiday newsletter? Our indispensable how-to guide can help, illustrated with real quotes.

• Open strong with a passive-aggressive attack on a loved one: “[This year is] barreling to a close as Deborah spends yet another Saturday at the wine shop.”

• Brag about any new job developments—especially if you don’t deserve them: “I got promoted this year to VP … shows how little they really know about my past!!!”

• Be creative! Even good news can be delivered so the reader cringes: “[My wife has] felt almost every negative feeling you can have during a pregnancy—nausea, fatigue, rashes, arthritis, sciatic nerve pain, hip pains, and strong emotional conditions.”

• If you want to cement your status as least favorite distant cousins, just write the most dreaded words in the English language: “We thought it would be cool if we shared what’s going on as a PowerPoint presentation.” —Sources: gawker.com, worstchristmasletters.blogspot.com, Brandon Specktor

There are those who live by the credo that it is better to give than to receive. These people are, of course, fools. Still, without them, we wouldn’t get as many presents. An ad spotted in a newspaper:

“Congratulations George B. for pleasing 15 women for an entire day! We were all exhausted and very satisfied.”

The next day’s ad: “Our sincere apology to George B. Our intentions were to thank him for a generous holiday shopping trip, which he arranged. Any inappropriate innuendos were unintentional.” —Source: clamorly.com

Nishant Choksi for Reader’s Digest

Wait, we all know that presents are not what Christmas is all about. (Actually, they are. But for argument’s sake, let’s pretend they’re not.) Let us pause while these children remind us about the story of Christmas:

What animals were there when baby Jesus was born?

“There was a donkey, a sheep, and a cow there as well as Mary and Joseph. It sounds quite crowded.” Hannah, age seven

What gifts did the three wise men bring?

“They brought Jesus presents of gold, frankincense, smurr, and silver. But I think he would have preferred wrestling toys.” Jay, age five —From the Daily Mail

OK, enough pretending. Give us the presents already!

Scene: Christmas morning, and I’m opening my gifts.

Dad: “Open that one next, sweetie.”

(He points to a box, which I open. Inside is one of those obnoxious singing-and-dancing robot Christmas trees. I’m a bit shocked, as I had pointed out how much I hate these things when we went shopping the week before.)

Me: “Uh, weren’t you listening when I said I thought these were the most annoying things ever?”

Dad: “I know, I know. But … open that one next.” (This time he points to a long, heavy package. I open it up to reveal a sledgehammer.)

Me: “Is this for what I think it’s for?”

Dad: “And you thought I wasn’t paying attention!”

From notalwaysrelated.com

Even the family pet takes part.

My First Toy

My first toy

Has wood for me to claw

My first toy

Has string for me to bite

My first toy

Has a hole for me to hide in

My first toy

Is called, “Oh, dear God, no!

My guitar!”

My first toy

Is the best toy of them all.

—Francesco Marciulano, from the book I Knead My Mommy, And Other Poems by Kittens (Chronicle Books)

The gifts are opened, the eggnog consumed, and your kid has begun a demands wish list for next year. If you’re feeling woozy, it may be because you’ve contracted at least one of these seasonal maladies:

• Pay Saks Disease: A mania for buying gifts and abusing credit lines, followed by a compulsive urge to carry ten shopping bags at once.

• Seasonal Affection Disorder (SAD): An exaggerated emotional response (typically shrieking and air-kissing) triggered by seeing insignificant acquaintances at annual parties.

• Gift-aphasia: Loss of memory that causes the accidental recycling of gifts back to the same people who gave them to you last year.

—Bob Morris, from New York Observer

Original Source -> 18 Funny Christmas Jokes for the Merriest Holiday

source https://www.seniorbrief.com/18-funny-christmas-jokes-for-the-merriest-holiday/

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