#grinch stealing christmas tree

[johnthestitcher]

Whoever came up with this design deserves a reward prize!

[blondebrainpowered]

How The Grinch Stole Christmas!, 1966

[boomstab-papa]

"Yeah, we took away this feature that was simple, effective, intuitive, and widely used. Maybe we'll make something new that does the same thing later. Or maybe not, we don't know! Anyway, for the meantime, have fun without this important function" Do you hear how stupid this sounds. Replace it, or don't take it away in the first place.

are there plans to add some way to get to the reblogged-from post? (not the last one that added text, but the direct previous post)

it doesn't have to be the old way, even just a button in the meatball menu would be enough. right now, it is completely impossible to get to a previous reblog, which causes issues for a lot of how tumblr interactions work

yes / no / maybe / i don't know.

there's a team working on a lot of fixes and tweaks and redesigns of how reblogs are displayed right now, and there are bigger, broader changes being planned. a lot of them are things people who use tumblr every day have been asking for forever, so i'm excited about that. these are important changes, and they'll take time to figure out and finesse. i hope we get a chance to preview them publicly.

with that in mind, i trust that we'll make some affordance to move "along the reblog chain" like you could before, if we find that it's truly a needed element of the design.

my entire time working at tumblr, i've wanted a way to make Reblog Graphs work more intuitively as a part of the reblog interface on the dashboard, so you can move "up" and "down" and "back" and "forward" along the reblog tree. i've seen a couple of proposed designs, but they never felt right. maybe we'll get there and you'll have an even better method of "going back to the previous reblog" than we did before.

[zylev-blog]

Danny wasn’t sure how things got this far.

It started small, with him stealing the ornaments off a tree, a strand of lights, etc. then it spiraled into full blown theft of all Christmas decorations if he saw them. He was running out of space to hide things, so he opened a portal to the Ghost Zone and started filling his lair with the stolen goods. Before he knew it, that was full, too. So he expanded. Eventually, he ran out of space. Now he sits in a room so full of Christmas cheer. But he has none, because he hates Christmas with every fiber of his being.

Meanwhile in Gotham, Bruce doesn’t know what to think when Gordon hands him a file one night about the mysterious Grinch. The one that nobody sees or hears, a literal ghost. But somehow, nobody can find their Christmas decorations.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part One - A twisted fate

I'm gonna be honest: this came to me in a tired, period induced haze and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing but the bunnies would not let me stop until I finished it. Was supposed to be a oneshot... until it wasn't XD Hoping this is just gonna be a short little pet project on the side. Lemme know if I missed any triggers!

Trigger warnings: SA (not by the 141), biting, claiming, angst, depression, self harm

[Edit 7/16/24: updated relationship tags]

The parking lot was a certified mess to navigate, a veritable winter hellscape with the continual snowfall keeping the pavement slick and churning around spinning wheels to create a thick dirty slush. Packed cars fought for spaces towards the front of the store, wanting to avoid the headache of trudging through sloppy sleet, heavy carts overflowing with expensive gifts and last minute groceries.

Parents loaded up their trunks for their upcoming banquets. Little ones chattered in youthful exuberance about brightly wrapped packages and a jolly fat man. Festively dressed bell ringers exhausted their muscles for the cause of charity, offering joyous smiles to those passing by gracious enough to offer a token. Even six inches of heavy wet snowfall were not enough to deter shoppers from their mood. Coupled with the obnoxiously boisterous music that met you at the door it was almost impossible not to get swept up in the infectious holiday spirit.

Almost.

You hadn’t bothered joining the chaotic dominance for prime parking, opting to choose the very last row towards the street instead of wasting precious minutes yelling profanities out the window to an uppity pack trying to steal your spot. The harsh wind burned your face and nipped at your skin, pulling the woolen scarf tighter around your neck and up over your bitten nose. You avoided eye contact with the chipper lady at the front, not wanting to feel guilty for not donating when you barely had enough to scrape by as it is.

Normally you avoided venturing out this close to Christmas unless absolutely necessary. Holidays haven't meant much to you in recent years since your parent’s untimely passing and you hated the constant reminder of ‘the most wonderful time of the year’. Sure, there were still your other two alpha fathers, but they’d opted for someplace warmer in their age and visitation was difficult with your busy work schedule. Your younger brother wasn’t almost worth mentioning with his new prissy family somewhere up north. That bridge was burned the day he called you a harlot.

Needless to say, you’d become something of a grinch.

You’d been miserably sick the week prior and ate through most of your stockpile of hoarded food, not enough remaining to keep blowing off shopping with the bustling crowds. If you wanted to last past New Years then a trip into town was unavoidable.

The intense blast of hot air from the overhead heaters thawed your aching bones upon entering the store, shaking the accumulated dampness from your head and shoulders but leaving the thick cloth covering the lower half of your face. It would help you in your endeavors to get through the aisles expediently without irritating your delicate omega olfactory senses. 

It got harder to distinguish the source of fragrances this time of year, when folk spent their days burrowed away from the bitter cold surrounded by the comforts of the season. A chilled glass of rich subtly spiced eggnog, smokey cedar logs crackling in the hearth, sweet woodsy pine wreaths and garlands wrapped around thick oak banisters, trees decorated with peppermint candy canes and dried strings of popcorn. 

Gingerbread, mulled wine, cinnamon, orange, clove; a bountiful buffet of complementary aromas. Your own father had smelled of cranberry sauce once upon a time (it made the holidays that much harder when he was gone). And with so many people filling the space - even with the heating fans working overtime trying to filter out most of it - it could get difficult trying to figure out whether a boozy scent originated from a lovely beta or the soaked rum cake she was placing in her cart.

Honestly if it weren't for the outrageous delivery fees you would've had the groceries dropped off instead of enduring the aggressive pheromones floating through the air. Alas this was one of your few exceptions to your hermit lifestyle.

Truthfully, it wasn’t just December that had you hesitant to leave the sanctuary of your meager apartment. 

For the past few years, you’d been battling a severe case of agoraphobia, something you’d been working on wholeheartedly with a therapist since the accident that made you so. It had crippled you to the point that even daring to have the blinds open on your windows sent you spiraling into that dark abyss of cackling distress, panic consuming every last ounce of breath until you found yourself minutes later curled up on the bathroom floor, lightheaded and queasy.

Nausea was a constant in your life, along with the cold sweat that had you sleeping on a towel just to keep from ruining your bedsheets. Lethargy was embedded in your muscle fibers. A searing ache in your throat. The painful deep tugging in your chest an ever present reminder of the uphill battle you fought each time you opened your crusty sleep filled eyes. Depression was your best friend, curled around you in a false sense of comfort where it was easier to slip into a maladaptive headspace than face the truth of your harsh reality.

But despite the physical manifestations of your trauma, you’d made good strides so far with your weekly sessions. It had been a difficult road getting to this point and your therapist praised you for your dedication to not letting it hinder the life you had ahead. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you tried all the same.

Like a hound that heard you calling, that ominous presence that filled you with dread came crawling into the back of your skull, mittened hand discreetly itching at the wool around your neck and scratching the irritated skin beneath. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths until it settled, you grabbed one of the many baskets available and began the trek weaving down the rows of food.

Christmas was about a week away and the mobs were out in full force. Thankfully the items you were on the hunt for were not the same ingredients needed by everyone else. There was the occasional overlap of things like milk, eggs, bread, etc. But there was no call for a full sized turkey or spiraled ham; no sweet potato casserole or chocolate yule log to bake. Just some bologna, shredded cheese, a couple packs of ramen, and a few other household things here you were running low on. 

Maybe for the hell of it you’d stop in the frozen section and find yourself a mini cheesecake to splurge on for when you inevitably opened that bottle of fireball sitting on the shelf come next Tuesday, forced to listen to your upstairs neighbors' horrendous attempts at Christmas caroling.

Halfway through the store, your browsing was interrupted by an alluring scent swirling somewhere nearby.

Citrusy. Acidic. Sweet. Airy. 

Your scarf had slipped off your face when you bent down to grab something off the lower racks, exposing you to the freshly baked goods across the way. Someone nearby was carrying a batch of lemon cupcakes, your mouth watering as the scent invaded your tastebuds and forced a pleasant hum from the back of your throat. 

Something curled in your chest like a finger beckoning forward, begging for an acknowledgement that had you standing at rapt attention. Your body seemed to move on its own, head swiveling like a rickety chair, scanning the nearby vicinity - for what, you couldn’t say. The inner omega that prowled just underneath the surface vibrated restlessly, choking back a needy whine while your eyes swept over the closest individuals. Something primal had called out to you, throwing your hormones out of whack, piecing together invisible clues so obviously standing right in front of you. 

The summery concoction felt so out of place in the harsh winter months, swirling and nagging at the base of your spine, urgent and loud and taking up too much space until you felt like you could drown in its tang–

Your muscles locked in place, gaze affixed to something - someone - at the end of the aisle. 

A big someone. An alpha.

And he was massive.

There was a natural musculature that came with the inherited alpha genetics. Beta’s could grow to a similar size if they worked at it, but there was a casual arrogance that was impossible to mistake with the former designation. Even still, this man towered over most others in the vicinity, lesser alphas giving a wide berth to the intimidating figure currently staring down at his phone screen. Thick grey hoodie pulled up over his head, a black military jacket layered over top. Dark wash jeans led down to warm boots hefty enough to stomp a man’s skull in. Messy dark blonde hair peeked out from up top, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face from view.

He couldn’t have given off any more ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes if he had it tattooed across his forehead. There was nothing sinister about his bearing per se - one hand casually shoved into a coat pocket as he leaned back against one of the dessert displays - but there was a coiled alertness that gave you the distinct impression he was more aware of his surroundings than he led you to believe.

One thing was for certain: you were never more sure of anything in your less than perfect life that that man was your scent match.

Your lungs expanded in your chest to drink in more of his scent. Palms turned sweaty, hair on the back of your neck prickled, the weight of the basket on your arm all but forgotten. Your throat parched at the prospect of getting to shove your face against his scent gland and taste the delectable lemony goodness right off his skin. 

People went lifetimes never meeting their perfect scent matches. The odds of you ever encountering one wasn’t even worth holding out hope for. Over seven billion people on the planet and you had to win an epic fucking lottery to get as lucky as you just did. Bonding ceremonies like that made the news for how rare it was. You’d never even dreamed of this happening, making peace with the idea that mates only existed in fairytale romance.

You just about dropped your groceries when he was joined shortly thereafter by another gorgeous male, slightly shorter by a few inches and not as broadly built. Rich dark skin, effortlessly cool street style, short black curls, and a dazzling pearly white smile.

This new alpha didn’t seem to flinch in the presence of the other, lemon cupcake glancing up only briefly to acknowledge the newcomer whose toasted coconut aroma barrelled right into you, colliding like a runaway freight at an unguarded intersection. Gulping down mouthfuls of air like a fish heaving on dry land, your head spun wildly at the nutty intrusion; smokey yet sweet, conjuring images of a warm evening bonfire on a lush sandy beach. 

Hope bloomed in your chest something fierce and bright. Your omega preened in unbridled delight, pawing at the surface, eager to get her hands on the two beautiful specimens whose every atom screamed ‘mine’. Tears stung behind your eyes, a mixture of relief and elation, vibrant like bursting fireworks and twinkling Christmas lights. 

What would you say to them? Do you approach them first? Should you wait for them to scent you back or try to pretend you didn’t smell them yet? What did their voices sound like? You could see their lips moving, even if the ones’ were hidden behind a surgical mask. Tenor, baritone, rumbly bass? What were their names? Where did they live? Was this really happening right now?! 

Something twisted and gnarled sunk its claws into your subconscious, rearing its ugly head in protest at the newfound revelation, but for the first time in years you didn’t fucking care. 

They were here. Your alphas. Your pack. Your salvation.

“Babes!” 

Decadent chocolate floated past you, a small apology from her lips as the omega brushed by, bumping her arm against yours on the way to her intended destination. You’d hardly noticed, too caught up in your own inner monologue and girlish fantasies to barely manage a quiet ‘no worries’.

For a split second, your eyes met coconut’s beautiful luscious brown, breath catching in your throat as the object of your desire finally seemed to take note of your existence. It was like gazing into the threads of the universe, pulling taut between you in a cosmic symphony that brought your stardust back together from whence it scattered at the dawn of time. 

A perfect part of an incomplete whole.

…until those shimmering umber pools shifted left, aimed at the bubbly figure headed right towards them. 

Huh?

Confusion as both alphas turned their full undivided attention to the dark haired omega, holding out a box of something for them to inspect and smiling when it met their approval, an affectionate pat on the head from lemon for her success that left her beaming with pride. 

That’s when you noticed it - peeking out underneath the collar of her elegant peacoat. A faint white crescent moon shaped scar, standing out against her lightly tanned skin, a matching one a little farther down. 

Mating bites. A bonded omega. 

And your scent matched alphas were gazing lovingly at her as if she’d hung the stars. 

She was theirs. They’d already found their mate. 

And it wasn’t you.

Something died in your chest, a broken scream torn silent from your soul as it condensed into a burning black hole. Agony unlike anything you’ve ever known, piercing your fragile heart and burrowing like a plague into your veins until the sickness had spread to every corner of your being. Your omega clawed at her eyes, willing the visions in front of you to vanish like a twisted mirage, begging for a bullet to erase the image of coconut planting a soft forehead kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist and turning to leave. 

A dejected whine ripped from your throat as you took an unconscious step forward, hand vaguely outreached, instincts screaming to chase after them and make them choose you instead of her. But you did no such thing. You watched helplessly as the alphas who were supposedly destined for you by the stars turned their backs on your pathetic existence.

This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening?! Please turn around!!!

With the same circulating air that had guided their scents to you, the wind in the store shifted.

Lemon cupcake went ramrod straight, whipping his head around so fast you were worried it’d go flying off his shoulders. It was uncanny the way he immediately zeroed in on your poor trembling figure, standing in the middle of a crowded aisle, uncaring to the concerned glances of the other shoppers as he unknowingly ruined your life. 

Recognition sparked deep behind voided irises before going completely neutral, steeling his expression but remaining unmoving as stone. It’s like the two of you were locked into place, orbiting each other by an invisible tether, watery eyes begging the ones staring back to please… please not leave you behind.

Coconut halted in his own step at the end of the aisle, sniffing the air for a moment with a furrowed brow, glancing over his shoulder at lemon, asking him something too far away to overhear. You can only assume the contents of his reply, the slightest shift of his mask the only tell he’d responded before coconut turned to face you as well.

This time garnered more of a physical reaction than the last, jaw dropping while staring just as unabashedly as his alpha companion. Eyes swept from head to toe, cataloging every minute detail the same as you’d done to them. Pupils dilated exponentially, nostrils flaring taking in the crisp pear scent you exuded, memorizing every facet and swallowing it down like a ravenous predator.

What a sight you must’ve made; eyes red and puffy from the tears that now flowed freely from suffering instead of the earlier jubilation, meek and sheepish and falling apart at the seams. What a piss poor impression to give the men fated to be your mates.

There was a brief moment where coconut seemed to match your initial energy, a flash of something saccharine and longing, only for it to collapse under the grueling weight of our fatalistic reality. There was an internal struggle in the crease of his brow, the downturned expression souring behind clenched teeth and tight fists. But more than that there was pity - pity at how you couldn’t have met sooner. Pity that you’d had to discover them like this, a woman on their arm and bite marks on her neck. Pity that they hadn’t had faith that they would be the lucky ones in a packed society.

You can make out a question on the chocolate omega’s perfectly pouty lips, trying to put the jigsaw together as to why her alphas were suddenly acting this way while glancing between the three of you.

Ignoring her, coconut takes a half step forward; you take two steps back. There’s an apology in your watery eyes, a hushed ‘merry christmas’ too strained for their ears. Your heart’s beating too loudly, your breath comes too shallow. You don’t even realize you’re sucking in heaving sobs until a gentle hand of a passerby lands on your shoulder, snapping you out of the chaos of your psyche. 

You can’t take it any more; the shame, the embarrassment, the gut wrenching defeat. 

The basket falls to the floor with a loud clatter, startling the people nearby who let out shrieks and gasps of surprise as the spilled contents inside break open and shatter. Eggs crack, milk pours onto the mud trekked tile, a fragile jar of strawberry jam splatters across someones pristine boots with an indignant shout.

A smooth tenor voice calls out ‘WAIT’, but you’ve already rounded the corner, barreling through the crowds of happy smiles and ecstatic giggles, too torn up inside to feel anything but desolation at the future so cruelly ripped from your fingers.

The crisp frigid air smacks the breath from your lungs, winter boots slapping on the slushy frozen ground. The squeal of brakes accompanies you as you sprint uncaringly through the bustling traffic, horns honking and voices shouting, muffled and far away as you drown in the whirlwind of your mind. It’s a miracle you’re not hit by a car, an even bigger one that you make it back to your own unscathed.

Slamming the car door shut, you smack your padded palms repeatedly against the steering wheel, banshee wailing your vocal cords raw in despair. The dark presence creeps in once more, a mocking chill down your spine as it caresses your fractured soul. The nausea comes back full force, the tugging on your chest, the burning in your throat. There’s a desperation as you tear your fitted mittens off, reaching under the woolen scarf and incessantly scratching at the irritated skin until it shreds under your nails. The pain doesn't register through your emotional torment, blocking out the inner voice until it inevitably slinks back into the shadows after its bitter lick of victory.

Panting hard, your head slumps back against the cloth headrest, stewing in the silence of misery and defeat, the distant joyful bells of Christmas the only company you have on this cold winter’s night.

It takes a few tries to fit the key in your deadbolt, blinking through tears now frozen to your eyelashes. There’s no recollection of how you even made it home in your brittle mental state. For all you knew were twelve civilians flattened like pancakes on the side of the road and a warrant out for your arrest. 

Wouldn’t that be nice? A break from having to pay bills and function like an adult.

Stumbling through the door, the sparse furnishings of your minimal studio glare at you, flipping them off as you shuck the damp outer layers from your frail form. A mess to be cleaned up another day.  

It wasn't just the rejection of your fated mates you were facing. It was the knowledge that your entire future had been ripped away and no amount of hot glue could piece it back together. Today’s revelation was the final nail in the coffin for the rest of your life.

The bathroom lights flickered with dying bulbs, something that had been on your shopping list tonight and was now being swept off the floor along with everything else you’d left behind. It didn’t stop you from locating the first aid kit under your sink, setting it on the ceramic counter and pulling out the well loved supplies inside.

You avoided staring at your gaunt reflection, not wanting to see the person looking back as you tugged at the thick scarf looped around your neck. The constricting material tore away with ease, falling into a discarded heap on the floor, revealing the torn mottled flesh hidden underneath. 

Your own set of crescent shaped scars - where the line of your neck connected to the meat of your shoulder, long since healed over and faded with time. The area surrounding it was now swollen and inflamed, raised angry red lines dotted with scrapes like a bad case of road rash, bloody from where you'd furiously clawed at your neck on the car ride home. The only time the fucker in your head shuts up - the connection tethering you emotionally gone silent once he got tired of feeling physical pain across the bond.

Memories came unbidden. Flashes of that fateful encounter coming home late from work, dragged into a sequestered shadowy overhang a few meters down the darkened alleyway. A feral alpha hopped up on something illegal, tearing into your clothes and violating the virginal space between your thighs. The muffled cries as he overpowered you, panting through a rut with his greasy fingers shoved down your throat to silence you, gagging on the musky taste. The scream as his teeth pierced your flesh, the bond snapping taut and stealing your future from you without a thought to your own wishes.

He’d fucked you ragged that night, waking up with your cheek pressed into the damp pavement and his arm slung around your waist from hours earlier. There’d been no one to turn to, no one who would care. By law now you were his - no matter the means it had been done. 

A mating bite was binding. 

You’d crawled away from him, your outfit in tatters hanging loosely over your bruised form, dried blood stuck to your neck and a stabbing pain at your apex. You felt dirty and used and wanted nothing more than to strip the skin from your bones. The unconscious form of the– your alpha flopped prone on his back, crimson stains around his mouth and his flaccid cock still half out of his trousers. The pinpricks on his arm told the tale of a junkie. It’s possible he hadn’t even been fully aware of the crime he’d committed. 

You didn’t stick around to find out.

But you paid for that decision harshly, opting for a life not attached to your abuser, at a steep tormented cost. Bonds weren’t meant to be strained for so long. It starts to cause negative impacts on the pair, the omega bearing the worst of the brunt. Nausea, sweating, pain, dizziness, fatigue. The chronic illnesses you endured day in and day out would stay with you for the rest of your life. So long as he was up and walking free - alive somewhere on the other side of the country - his greasy claws strumming your senses through the connection tethering you eternally.

Only a perfect scent match could override the original bite and free you from the oppressive bonds that shackled you to an invisible alpha - the last remaining hope you had at any semblance of happiness.

And you just lost it.

>> ✿ Next ✿ >>

[steviewashere]

Steve and Eddie should split a chocolate orang e while drinking hot chocolate and opening their stockings and the Christmas tree should be all pretty and decked out and they should steal one of the wrapped candy canes off the tree to stir in their mugs even though Wayne said no and then Wayne should come home from work tired but happy to see his boys and they should all have a very lovely ham Christmas dinner on dinner trays in front of the television watching the grinch steal ornaments one by one and at some point Steve curls into Eddie's side and Eddie curls into Steve's because they're like two cats and they should fall asleep nestled into each other and Wayne looks over at them and smiles something sleepy and satisfied and wraps a blanket over them

they should go outside in the cold for a little bit until Steve's nose is runny and Eddie's cheeks are flushed and they should warm up inside by taking a nap together under three big blankets with the space heater on

I want them to be in love and be so sappy and sweet and maybe they're tipsy by the end of the night and Steve kisses Eddie on the lips and feeds him a chocolate kiss for each one

they should be happy!!!

[incorrectbatfam]

It's Bruce's turn to host the annual rich people Christmas party, what does everyone do to ruin it

Dick: swings from the chandelier as Jack Frost

Jason: de-baptizes people

Tim: swaps the tree for a Hanukkah bush

Damian: unties the reindeer from the sleigh

Duke: changes the Christmas light color scheme

Cullen: cosplays as the Grinch and steals party favors

Stephanie: pretends to be a nutcracker statue to scare people

Cassandra: locks the bathrooms

Barbara: changes the address on the RSVP

Harper: brings a fake snow machine inside

Carrie: goes table to table trick-or-treating

Kate: follows old straight men with mistletoe on a fishing pole

Helena: stages a festive Rogues battle

Luke: replaces the stairs with a ski lift

Bette: rents out the Manor as luxury winter lodge

Alfred: hires a bagpipe player

Selina: commissions an ice sculpture of herself

Bruce: dips out to watch Home Alone with his family

[holylulusworld]

Christmas with a demon

Summary: Dean won’t let you go. Never.

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of kidnapping, a hint of fluff, kidnapping

“Dean, can we not go home? I bet Sammy is missing us,” you tug at Dean’s wrist. “Christmas is soon, and I don’t want to spend it on the road.”

“Why not?” He cocks his head to watch you walk toward him. You’re wearing only his red shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks. Dean smirks as you limp a little – the aftermath of his insatiable desire for you. “We got us.”

You sigh deeply. “Dean, you are a demon and I’m still your hostage or something.” You wrinkle your nose when he tells you that this is a relationship, not a hostage situation. “This is not how I imagined our relationship would turn out. I wanted love, not being a demon’s toy.”

“You’re not a toy to me,” he argues. Dean rubs his scruffy chin, wondering how he can convince you to not leave him. He won’t keep you around using force. “Fine, I’ll get you a tree and all. Wait here.”

“Wait, what are you—" you sigh as he’s halfway toward his car before you can stop him. He’s still the man you love, but so different at the same time. ��I don’t want a tree, only my Dean back, and for Sam to not be alone on Christmas.”

“Don’t open your eyes,” Dean whispers as he guides you away from the Impala. “I mean it, baby. No cheating.”

“Where are we going?” You can’t see because Dean put a bandana over your eyes. “Dean, I don’t like this. I hope you didn’t find another spot you want to christen.”

“No, sweetheart,” he chuckles and presses a kiss to your neck. “It’s a surprise, a Christmas surprise. You’ll love it, Y/N.”

You let Dean guide you toward a house. He tells you to wait as he unlocks the door and opens it for you. “Dean, where are we? I don’t like this.”

“Just relax, sweetheart. I swear you’ll love it,” he tuts and shoves you inside the house. He slams the door shut with his boot, chuckling as something sounding like a picture frame drops to the ground. “Alright, here it is.”

He takes the bandana off, allowing you to see. You gasp as you are standing in a living room decorated for Christmas. A huge Christmas tree stands in the corner, and there are at least twenty beautifully wrapped gifts under the tree.

“Dean, how did you?” You frown as your eyes land on the picture frames on a shelf above the fireplace. “Where are we? What did you do?”

“Uh-Crowley sent me to collect a few souls,” he shrugs. “Guy was due in three days. I sent him to hell a little faster.”

“What?” You turn around to look at Dean. “You killed the man on Christmas Eve? How could you? How?”

“Relax,” he cups your cheek. “I was joking. I only hijacked their Christmas. They are at a motel, believing there is a gas leak at their home. We have all night, Y/N:”

“No,” you sniffle and sidestep Dean. “We will leave their home and you will call them and tell them everything is alright. You can’t just steal their Christmas. This is not what I wanted.”

He groans. “What did you want? A tree? Gifts?”

“I wanted the man I love back, and for my family to not worry about me and you. I wanted to drive home for Christmas and make sure Sammy was not alone. You will never understand what I want because you’re not my Dean.”

Dean chases after you when you storm off. You shake his hand off and glare at him. “Leave me alone. If you want to play happy couple, do it. But I’m out of this!”

“Wake, wake,” Dean purrs in your ear. He pecks your cheek, trying to wake you. “Sweetheart, I know you are awake.”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble. “Just leave me alone. You’re worse than the Grinch. How could you steal their Christmas and house.”

“I gave it back,” he grumbles, looking offended at your reaction. “Stop moping and get up. I don’t want you to spend Christmas in bed. I mean, we could spend it in bed, but I got a surprise for you.”

“I pass,” you grunt. “If it’s as awful as the last one, please keep it to yourself.”

“Nah, you will love that one. Promised.”

“Fine. If it’s a ribbon around your dick I must disappoint you. Dean pulled that prank three years ago.”

“I remember,” he purrs. “You loved to unwrap your gift.”

“Dean,” you sigh as he hopefully looks at you. His eyes barely turn black these days and you hope, if you play along he will agree to let Sam heal him. “Okay. What’s the surprise?”

“Just wait for it…”

“What did you do?” You look around the poorly decorated motel room.

The tree looks like he stole it from another home.

There are half-wrapped gifts and annoying Christmas songs are blaring from his phone. But the worst is that Sam is sitting on a chair, wrapped in a red ribbon.

“I got you a tree, gifts, and Sammy!” Dean proudly states. He points at his brother, restrained to a chair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart!”

Tags in reblog.

[yoshi17here]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆The film⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Day 8

YOSHI⋆⭒: Guys I'm so so so sorry for not posting these days but I'll catch up I promise

wc:574

paring: idoljungwon x nonidol y/n

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It was the most anticipated time of the year — Christmas break. After months of intense schedules and performances, Jungwon was finally getting a chance to relax. The cold winter air felt refreshing as he stepped into his cozy apartment, the soft hum of the heater filling the space.

You had planned this day together for weeks, knowing how rare it was for Jungwon to have a break where he could truly unwind. He greeted you with a soft smile as he opened the door, his eyes lighting up as they met yours. "Hey, you're here!" he said, his voice warm and gentle, sending a wave of comfort over you.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss this," you replied, grinning as you kicked off your boots, stepping inside. The room smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, the Christmas tree sparkling in the corner with twinkling lights. Jungwon had already set up the living room for the perfect movie night, his favorite blanket draped over the couch.

"Got everything ready," he said, motioning to the pile of snacks on the coffee table: popcorn, chocolate, cookies, and hot cocoa. "I know we agreed on The Grinch. I hope you're ready to laugh."

You chuckled and nodded, sinking into the soft couch next to him. "I’ve been waiting for this all week. I can’t believe you’re watching it with me!"

"Anything for you," Jungwon replied with a teasing smile, before grabbing the remote and starting the movie. The iconic opening credits filled the screen, and you immediately snuggled closer, wrapping yourself in the warmth of the blanket.

The Grinch’s grumpy antics made you laugh harder than you expected. Jungwon joined in with his contagious laugh, his eyes sparkling every time the Grinch got up to some mischief. The two of you sat there, totally immersed in the movie, sharing jokes and laughter over every silly moment.

"Look at him stealing Christmas presents again," you giggled, pointing at the screen. "How does he even think that's going to work?"

Jungwon smirked, nudging your shoulder with his. "Just like you, stealing all my snacks."

You playfully swatted his arm. "Hey! I'm just here for the candy," you teased.

As the movie went on, the warmth of the moment, mixed with the cozy atmosphere and the peaceful joy of being with Jungwon, made everything feel perfect. The two of you shared stories and inside jokes between scenes, the connection growing even deeper as the night went on.

But as the movie neared its end, you found yourself getting sleepier. The comfort of being with him, the laughter, and the quiet joy of the evening were all slowly lulling you into a drowsy state. You rested your head against his shoulder, not even realizing it at first.

Jungwon glanced down at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he felt the gentle weight of your head on his shoulder. His fingers lightly brushed through your hair, a quiet gesture that sent warmth spreading through you. "Are you falling asleep on me?" he asked, his voice filled with affection.

You nodded, your eyes half-lidded. "Mm-hmm... too cozy," you mumbled, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

Jungwon chuckled, gently shifting so you could get even more comfortable. He wasn’t in any rush to move, savoring the calm moment. "I’m glad you’re here with me. It’s perfect... just the two of us."

His words made your heart swell, and you snuggled closer, your breathing slowing as you relaxed fully against him. Jungwon kept watching the movie, but his focus wasn’t on the screen anymore; it was on you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

The world outside may have been cold, but in this moment, wrapped in his warmth, everything felt just right. Jungwon smiled softly to himself, knowing that this was one of those memories he’d cherish forever.

As you fell asleep in his arms, the movie’s credits rolled quietly in the background, and Jungwon stayed right there, content and happy to have the time to share this simple, beautiful Christmas moment with you.

And so, the night ended: with laughter, warmth, and the quiet joy of being together

[ugotcooneycrossed]

a christmas education • kyra cooney-cross

a/n: little something based off this since its christmas tmr

you're determined to educate your girlfriend on all things christmas

------------------------------------------------------------the build up to an appropriate time to blast christmas music has you buzzing. having been on the team for two years now- everyone has promptly banned you from anything christmas related until december first. a rule in place after your first year with the team, when you rocked up to training donning a santa hat, singing jingle bells at the top of your lungs, two days after halloween.

so, the moment your alarm sounds on the first of december- you shoot up in bed, in your excitement, you momentarily forget your girlfriend spent the night, and you send her tumbling out of bed.

leaning over the other side you smile at her sheepishly- she's sprawled out on the floor, face hidden in the mass of blankets she brought down with her.

"oops- sorry ky."

she sends you a thumbs up- sitting up fully now. her hair still messy and yawning.

"come on kyra- it's christmas time!"

"it's only the first baby."

"umm yeah- the first of december! now come on-there is so much christmas music we can listen to from now until training."

-

"tell me baby- do you recognise me?! its been a year, it doesnt surprise me!"

"oh god- here she comes."

you dance into the change rooms- invisible microphone in hand. your christmas sweater-complete with flashing lights, bells, and a protruding, squeaky, red nose- jingles as you shimmy your way to your locker.

"merry christmas everyone!"

kyra comes in after you- dragging her feet, she stops at lia, whispering in the older woman's ear.

"why didnt you tell me she's crazy?"

-

you steal the gym speaker before anyone else can-connecting your phone and ignoring the groans that ring out.

"babe! what's your favourite christmas song?"

"uhh- i don't know."

"what do you mean, you dont know?!"

"if im being honest (y/n), i dont know much about christmas stuff."

kyra shrugs-brushing off it off, smiling at you. but when she see's your mouth hanging open- eyes bewildered and unresponsive, her smile faulters.

"babe?"

"what do you mean, 'you dont know much' about christmas kyra!"

"dunno- just never really thought much about it."

"we- i need to fix this."

-

"so, first we decorate the tree- yes i did take everything off, so we can do it all over again together and listen to all the christmas music possible, then we're going to decorate gingerbread houses and watch all the christmas movies."

you smile proudly- standing in front of your now bare christmas tree.

-

"rudolph the red nose reindeer- something, something, some-something."

kyra sings softy under her breath- moving around the tree- hanging the ornaments on gently.

finally, you reach down- handing her the star, and nodding to the top of the tree.

"you want me to put this on?"

"yeah!"

-

"okay- so we'll start with the grinch- and then see where we get from there!"

you watch kyra decorate and watch the movie with a grin- something about kyra loving the grinch just makes so much sense.

-

"done!"

you look up from yours- the final touches perfecting your house, you look at her's, then yours, then back to hers.

she's brandishing it to you proudly- grinning at you with frosting around her lips.

the roof of her house has collapsed in- some of her gummy lollies half bitten and stuck to random parts of the house. most of the frosting probably eaten instead of holding together the walls of her house.

"its beautiful?"

"thanks! i know right!"

-

"now this is my favourite part of christmas."

you take her hand- leading her to your bedroom, the door open.

"your bed?"

"no you idiot- look up!"

"why do you have a random bush-"

"its mistletoe ky."

"ohhh- oh- oh."

you put your hands around her neck- her own wrapping around your waist- and you share a sweet kiss.

"mmh- you taste like frosting."

[auspicioustidings]

You ask Johnny to be santa for your nieces, that's it, you just need him to put on the suit and the wig and beard and do the jolly laugh. Literally just a small favour because he happened to be in the room when you were on the phone to your boyfriend trying to convince him to do it and he said no.

Johnny does not dress up as Santa. Johnny shows up with Santa Price and elf Gaz and dog Riley with reindeer antlers and a little red nose on. Then he disappears when Grinch Ghost shows up trying to steal the tree so he can reappear as conquering hero Johnny and chase him off. Your neices are screaming and laughing and having the time of their little lives and it's complete and utter chaos as Gaz encourages the younger one to try and bite Ghost's ankles while the older has launched themselves into Price's arms so he can cuddle her and tell her there's nothing to be afraid of because Santa won't let anything happen to her.

Honestly you absolutely win at being the best aunt/uncle/pibling this Christmas and when your phone rings and you see it's your boyfriend you just hang up and run over to help Johnny, Gaz and your savage little niece beat up Ghost :)

Santa Price and your older niece def fist bump after witnessing you hanging up on that jerk <3

[confietti]

EMO!CHOSO Headcanons (Christmas edition)

EMO!CHOSO who you argue with over which christmas tree to get. He suggested the black one to decorate it really edgy and you wanted a normal one because your parents were coming over.

EMO!CHOSO who somehow convinced you to let him cook the ham and he ended up burning it to a crisp. he claims you ‘distracted’ him and that’s why he had to fuck you on the couch 🙄.

EMO!CHOSO who you told countless times that he didn’t need to get you anything this year and that you were fine, gave a slight smile when he saw your reaction to you opening your brand new demonias.

EMO!CHOSO who walks around with a mistletoe just for the sole purpose of cornering you and hanging it over your heads to say, “Oh! I wonder where this came from.” before pulling you into a heated makeout session

EMO!CHOSO who came outside with you because you wanted to record a cute video of the snow. it was going great until you felt the familiar feeling of a snowball hitting the back of your head. let's just say you guys never went back inside that day.

EMO!CHOSO who you argued with back and forth about which movie you guys should watch this Christmas. you wanted to watch The Grinch and he wanted to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas. Because He insisted that ‘it worked for both Christmas and Halloween’.

EMO!CHOSO who you can’t say the word ‘nutcracker’ around or he’ll burst into a fit of giggles.

EMO!CHOSO who got chewed out by his boss for wearing a mirror on his ‘ugly christmas sweater’ to his work party.

EMO!CHOSO who threatened to rip his ears off if he heard anymore christmas music.

EMO!CHOSO who you were baking christmas cookies with. you were lecturing him on what to do until he threw a piece of batter on your face.

“Choso.” “Hmm?” you turned to look at him slowly. “Why did you do that?” you crossed your arms over your chest and you looked up at him, expression unreadable. “ ‘..cause you were being a little bitch.” “Oh, was I?” “Yeah you were.” you replied with a small ‘Oh okay.’ before wiping the batter off your face, you two continued what you were doing. He was suspicious of your calmness but didn't say anything as he turned his back on you. He dropped the situation before he felt you dumping flour on him. This resulted in the two of you throwing the cookie ingredients at each other until you both were out of breath. You were trying to catch your breath until he picked you up and threw you on the couch to tickle and cuddle you after. Christmas was always the best with him.

a/n: happy holidays to you all who don’t celebrate Christmas <33 i wrote this especially for those who maybe don’t have anyone to celebrate with.

© confietti, 2023. do not copy, steal, or repost my content without permission.

[moodyvoid]

Tomura: “I’ve called you all here today, because I’ve come up with the most devious plot to get back at society.”

Twice: “Ooh! What is it?!”

Tomura: “The holiday season is upon us. We sneak into houses and steal everything! The Christmas decorations, the Christmas trees, the Christmas presents— everything! They’ll all wake up on Christmas Day to their precious holiday ruined!”

Mr. Compress: “…”

Toga: “…”

Spinner: “…”

Tomura: “What?”

Dabi: “Are you gonna paint yourself green before you go?”

Tomura: “What do you mean?”

Dabi: “That’s literally the plot of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.”

Tomura: “What???!??! No, I came up with the idea last night all by myself—“

Dabi: “Well congratulations, Dr. Seuss. Have fun in whoville. Let us all know when you want to play Cat in the Hat next.”

Tomura: “God dammit.”

[magics-neptunes-things]

Christmas Cooking

Hi guys!

Here is one with this sweet cutie pie that is Lia :)

This one is shorter but please enjoy it!

TW : None

Your girlfriend is, in your humble opinion, the most lovely and cute person in the world. Before you even found the courage to propose her a date, you always had this soft spot for her. The way her eyes shine when you accept one of her demands or the falsehoods digging in her cheeks make you simply unable to refuse her anything.

And God knows how much your teammates tease you about it. But over time you’ve made a point and accepted your destiny. You're so wiped about your girlfriend.

So, when Lia asks you with a baby pout if you can make Christmas cookies this afternoon, she doesn’t need to use all her persuasion to make you agree. You both live in London a few hundred meters from each other, but Lia took you in her suitcase when she returned to Switzerland to her family.

After a visit to the Swiss supermarkets, Chocolat's paradise, you gathered the necessary ingredients and found yourself wearing an apron and a dispenser to prepare the dough.

The kitchen is quite a mess to be honest. There is floor everywhere, an impressive number of plates and utensils in the shrink. You somehow lose the scissors and you can't remember why your shirt is wet.

"Baby stop eating the dough" Lia laughs, clapping your hand away.

"Wasn’t me" you answer, mouth full of said dough.

Lia laughs again before focusing again on the recipe book. She must still be one of the only people to follow a recipe on a book, but it is also for this kind of singularity that you fell in love with her.

"Sugar" she asks you, reaching out without leaving the book with her eyes.

You hesitate to tease her once again, before deciding to be wise and to give her the bowl of sugar that you weighed carefully earlier. Lia saw things big, wanting to prepare three different kinds of dough. But she seems to be having a good time and you’re having a lot of fun too, to be fair.

"Milk, Pretty, please"

Once again, Lia reaches out and this time you don't resist. With a big smile, you press your face on her hand.

"You’re unbearable" Lia laughs, putting a tender kiss on your lips.

"You love me" you answer maliciously, holding out the milk.

"That I do"

A few dozen minutes later, several cookie are in front of you and have cooled enough for you to decorate them. You spend a long time preparing your trees, adding green dye and Smarties as Christmas balls. Lia is more adventurous and you are amazed by her talents as a cookie decorator.

When you are done, you clean the worktop before washing your hands and try to get rid of the green dye that has invaded your hands. You’ll soon be able to play the Grinch. When you are done, your eyes are once again drawn to your girlfriend who is always focused on her cookies.

She has red dye on her cheek and hair that escapes from the ponytail that she made so as not to be disturbed while cooking. She is focused on her work, tongue pulled to the side. You don't resist the urge to put yourself behind her, passing your arms around her waist to put a tender kiss on her cheek.

"You’re so cute" you whisper in her ear, smiling as she shivers.

You just have to put a kiss behind her ear to distract her and make her look at you.

"You are a real inconvenience"

Her harsh fake tone doesn't work and you laugh maliciously and squeeze her against you. Lia soon smiles in turn, turning entirely in your arms to steal a kiss before returning to work. You remove the red stain from her cheek with your fingers, staying still to let her finish. You’re actually almost mesmerized by the way she decorated her cookies.

If one of you gets hurt too badly to continue football, you can always switch back to it.

********

YourInstagram and Liawaelti

Liked by leah.williamsonn, alessiarusso99, ana_crnogorcevic and 20 882 others people.

YourInstagram Preparing my (hopefully distant) future profesionnal conversion

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jbeattie91 Save me some! ↳ YourInstagram Sure! ↳ liawaelti She already eat all of them ↳ YourInstagram Traitor

[anika-ann]

Underneath the Christmas Tree (A.B.)

Type: one-shot, drabble-ish, floof

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader WC: 1100

Summary: Your Christmas might not be perfect, but the person you celebrate with is.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw for allusions to smut, clichés and huge amount of fluff, mentions of insecurity in reader, celebrating Christmas

A/N: a little something to raise the holiday spirits, in the honour of @stargazingfangirl18 who slipped into many inboxes to spread the hoeliday cheer 💕I hope she and all of you can profit from a sweet moment with one mister B🎄// divider by @firefly-graphics

“You’re being a grinch,” he teased you lightly, thick arm wrapping around your waist from behind to keep you flush to his front.

You only frowned harder as you placed the single box under your Christmas tree. It looked absurd among the five boxes from your lovely devoted irritating fiancé – of course you’d be a little grinchy about it.

This Christmas was supposed to be perfect – because Andy Barber was and he deserved nothing less than that in return. You had prepared three presents for Andy in total – or you had tried so. Until the most important one, one you ordered and had custom-made took longer than expected. You ordered two months in advance, so proud of yourself for figuring out the gift for the man who stole your heart without intention of ever giving it back… and then came December, than half of it went, and then the day before Christmas Day arrived, ten a.m., three p.m., eight p.m. and since the clock was about to struck midnight, something told you your package wasn’t about to arrive in time. All your insecurities about deserving the wonderful man momentarily soothing you in his generous embrace resurfaced, making you feel inadequate and just… not enough.

So yeah, you were scowling a little. Especially since Andy was maybe not laughing at your misery, but was definitely at least slightly amused by the way you were expressing it.

“It was supposed to be perfect,” you echoed your thoughts wearily, feeling the stupid tears gather in your eyes. Dammit.

It was just… Andy truly was your Prince Charming. Your one. A kind, caring man with the biggest heart you had ever encountered, a bit dorky, but with maturity most men at any age couldn’t even dream of, and with sweet, almost gentlemanly ways that went out of the window once the door of your bedroom closed behind you. Assuming you’d make it as far as the bedroom. Or even into your house.

He deserved everything that was good in this world and more and there were times when you doubted you were the one able to give it to him.

You felt him smile against your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss there, pulling you back from your thoughts – and to fall on your ass – to sit between his legs on the floor with a tiny yelp on your part.

“It is. ‘cause you are, sweetheart,” he whispered to your ear, causing you to side-glance him at his sappy ways.

A soft smile was playing on his lips indeed, serene face illuminated by the warm lights on your Christmas tree, eyes shining with contentment.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, suddenly at peace. Damn, he was gorgeous. Ruffled hair, pretty lips framed by his perfectly trimmed beard, white tee and simple grey sweats, like a god of domesticity and happiness in the most ordinary moments. How could you protest, how could you doubt anything at all when he was like that?

“I love you,” you said instead, earning a soft peck to your lips, a whispered declaration in return. “I just… I was really excited to give you the present you deserve.”

Andy’s plush lips stayed but a breath away, closing the distance again at your admission, last remnants of your gloomy mood evaporating as he kissed you again, this time slowly, deeply, loving.

Then, he inched away, your eyes fluttering open only to meet the mischievous sparkle in his eye.

Your heart skipped a beat. Ah-oh.

“What-“ He reached for the single gift you had placed under the three, pulling at the bow and stealing it for himself. “Andy!”

He laughed at your scandalized expression, taking your left hand – the one adorned by a charming ring he had placed there barely a month ago – and swiftly wrapped the ribbon around your wrist, tying another perfect bow.

Your shoulders sagged, your face probably revealing as much of your exasperation as adoration.

“Here. My perfect gift, in all its glory.”

“You, mister, are an old sap.”

He grinned. “And yet, you agreed to marry me.”

Your gaze flicked between the bow and the gorgeous diamond on your finger, the widest of smiles tugging at your lips. “Yeah, what was I even thinking-“

“Hey!” he protested, deft fingers sneaking under your silky bathrobe in a vicious attack at your most ticklish spots, having you try to squirm from his hold – only accomplishing changing your positions until he trapped you under him lied flat on the fluffy carpet, his weight on you as warm as his gaze.

“See? My perfect gift, now even lying under the Christmas tree, all mine to unwrap. I’m a lucky man, aren’t I?”

His fingers sneaked lower, brushing over your hips and to your thigh, his hand freezing. The sweet warm gaze turned heated, drawn to your lips as your tongue peeked out to wet them. You felt your face flush with heat, even as your chest puffed with pride.

Cat got his tongue now, did it?

“Sweetheart?”

“There’s… I thought we might cheat a little. I didn’t wrap this one,” you admitted, a little disappointed when his weight disappeared and he only straddled your thighs – but the feeling was quickly replaced by satisfaction when Andy tugged, peeling your robe off, eyes feasting on your body adorned with the new lingerie you had bought, your nipples instantly hardening under the see-though material under his appreciative gaze.

“So…” you hummed innocently, fully aware of the way his sweats barely hid his growing arousal, just like your excuse of panties couldn’t hope to hide the growing wetness of your core, “what do you think?”

Andy’s lip curled in a smirk that had you stomach somersault, his eyes dark as coal, soft fingertips trailing over the soft curve of your breast, brushing your nipple with clear intent.

“Well, sweetheart, I think you just almost made it to the naughty list,” he mused, his other hand toying with the little ribbons on the side of your panties, lightly puling on it until fell apart smoothly.

Your breath caught in your throat, heat pooling in your belly as his fingertips followed the pattern of lace above your mound.

“Almost?”

Andy’s smirk was positively devious as he leaned down to press a kiss to your cleavage, dextrous fingers undoing the bow on your other hip as well, baring you to his greedy touch.

“But when I’m done with all the things I want to do you, sweetheart, when you let me do every filthy thing I have on my mind now… I promise you that’s you’ll be right on the top it.”

And Andy Barber was a true gentleman; when he made a promise, he always always delivered on it.

Misc characters masterlist

Full masterlist

Again, many thanks to Siri - and happy peaceful holidays to us all 💕

Thank you for reading 🥰

[writingfromabox]

Alone on Thanksgiving? (adamsapple)

Working on a fic using this ad as a prompt because all I can think of is Adam making this post:

Not done yet but I think if I manage to finish it, I’ll put it on AO3. What I have written under the cut:

Adam had placed the ad out of sheer perverse humor, absolutely certain that no one would bother to call him on it. For a short while, he achieved some internet fame as people passed it around on social media, obviously getting a kick out of the idea. He’d joked around with the girls at the bar and tattoo parlor he worked at, saying his Thanksgiving plans were all wrapped up and this was the way he’d be swimming in pussy by the end of the month.

Obviously, the whole thing was meant as a fucking joke. So, when he got the email from a Charlotte Morningstar, he’d been tempted to send her back something rude about her reading comprehension. Like, was it not clear that this was comedy? The fuck. 

He showed it to Lute, who was in the middle of sketching out something for a client: a lion, holding a dagger in its mouth. Her skilled fingers easily traced out the minute details of the animal’s mane, her mouth set into a frown in concentration. The frown slipped into a wicked smirk as she read the email, her eyes lighting up slightly. 

“What’s the problem?” she asked, setting her pencil down and giving him an expression that attempted innocent curiosity. Lute’s face wasn’t made for that, and her sharp amusement made her look like a cat waiting on a mouse to walk into a trap. “I thought this was your big holiday plan. I thought you were looking forward to all the ladies with daddy issues and the ‘fuck you dad’ sex.”

Going to Lute for sympathy for his bad decisions never turned out right, but for some reason he kept trying it. He just grumbled and put the phone back in his pocket.

“Anyway, why not do it?” Lute asked, turning back to her sketch. “It’s free dinner. Your ass doesn’t have family to go to on Thanksgiving. I’m too busy this year to do our usual ‘neither of us can cook’ dinner. You’re extremely good at being an annoying asshole, why not turn it into a fun way to get free turkey?”

Adam folded his arms and tried to be more insulted about that accusation, but the wheels in his head were already turning. Unfortunately. It wasn’t even as though this would be the worst decision he’d made on a holiday, really. That would have been the time one of his biker friends convinced him to dress like the grinch and steal their ex-girlfriend’s Christmas tree. 

The night had ended in mayhem, with the tree sparking a minor electrical fire and Adam ending up tossing it into the outdoor pool. And then ripping off chunks of flaming grinch suit, screaming, as his accomplice hosed him down. 

Apparently, the ex-girlfriend’s kid still had nightmares from watching it out his bedroom window. 

Compared to that shitshow, this would only be a minor sort of shenanigan. Probably something he wouldn’t walk away with a property damage felony with. It wasn’t technically illegal to pick fights by antagonizing someone’s probably elderly, decrepit dad. Unless he, like, actually punched him. And Adam had some amount of self control as long as he didn’t dip into the recreational beverages. 

“Well? Figured out what you’re doing yet?” Lute asked, looking up at him from her spread out stack of sketches. Someone seemed to have ordered one of a goth bear holding a chainsaw. The holidays always brought out the weird shit.

He shrugged, mulling it over. The girl had a whole screed laid out, with a father who was being a dick about her attempts to house and reform former criminals. She’d gone on some rant about the program itself and he zoned out every time he tried to read it, the whole thing seemed like she was some kind of charity ball debutante getting pissy about her dad giving her some hard truths.

Not like it mattered either way to him, in the end, as long as he got a dinner. Adam would be lying if he said it didn’t sound like fun to fuck with someone and get rewarded for it. 

And so it came to pass that Adam decided to agree to be the fake dinner date of this do-gooder princess for Thanksgiving, with about the same amount of logical thought that went into his usual decision making. Which was to say, absolutely none.