#happy holidays and happy new year fellas :)

[miiukkaa]

mokey's subway room

yippee, the artistic and sensitive kiddo of the family, mikey! ended up keeping the room veeeery much similar to the one he had in the sewers.

i split the space into two separate areas: a bedroom and an "art studio". these two spaces are separated by a simple cloth that mikey can pull to the side fully when he wants to. i imagine he'd pull the cloth to cover the other more roomy area of the subway car when he goes to sleep. it is after all very easy to mistake your own large paintings and random clothing for a scary figure in the night (at least that's my personal experience lol). so to avoid seeing scary, ominous shapes, mikey would limit his field of vision for sleepy times.

the art studio side has most of mikey's art supplies. there's a huge paint spill from when he was dragging all his stuff into the car during the move. i believe he would find the spill cool and artsy. for when mikey would want to spray paint, he could easily grab any and all supplies he needs and go outside the subway car (for ventilation's sake). so he would have another specified art corner somewhere in the subway tunnels - further away from the actual space in which everyone hangs out at.

mikey, instead of hanging up a lot of posters, prettied up the subway car's walls by doing his own graffiti. though he would have the same "mad dogs" flag that everyone else has, too.

mikey doesn't strike to me as the kinda person who stays in their own room a lot but instead prefers to hang out in the common areas where other family members are more likely to pop out, too. for this reason, i imagine he has a lot of his own belongings scattered about the entire lair! so, a really messy art kid who keeps forgetting where he put his things.

leo's room

raph's room

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

[313i]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

here are some drawings i did for christmas this year :3 edling of Course. ft a fella from svss . teehee. HAVE A HAPPY HOLIDAY N NEW YEAR !!!

[backseatsoldier]

Santa, Honey

Pairing: Phillip Graves x Original Character (Holly) CW: I've decided that "Graves" and "Phil" are two different personalities - not that Phillip Graves has DID, but that he has a facade for Shadow Company and it's very different compared to him back home... think of it as his version/his job field's version of a "customer service persona"; Santa found his Mrs. Claus?; suggestive content (we get a bit feral here, my b-) Author's Note: Happy holidays to my boyfriend! Graves was his special request when I told him I was doing these lol You say you're straight, bb, but the way you talk about some actors and fictional men makes me question that (affectionate). I love you and thank you for pretending to be Graves for me for a few minutes so I could get the beginning of this in my head lol <3 Also, this is apparently the debut for my new OC x'D

Today is the day! Shadow Company's mandatory participation Christmas Charity Event. Each year, Commander Graves handpicks a Santa and multiple elves to pass out gifts to the less fortunate children of San Antonio, Texas. It's always hosted at Rolling Oaks Mall, too.

"Commander Graves, sir...?" a hesitant voice calls from behind him.

"Yes?" Phil draws out the word with a charming smile. "How can I help you?" he asks as he turns.

Which Shadow is this? Toni? Tammi? Eh, oh well. She's shaking like a leaf-

"Um... Donny can't... be Santa... sir."

Oh. Oh.

Rage boils in Graves's blood and he takes a few long and deep breaths. He rolls his shoulders and runs his hand down his face.

"I'm going to do something. No one, not a single Shadow, will speak about this. Ever. If I catch even a whisper of it, I'll do you all worse than I did Vasqueros."

The Shadow nods quickly, clearly terrified.

"Now, quietly, go get me the Santa suit," Graves instructs.

Without another word, the Shadow is darting off to retrieve the Santa suit. Once they're out of sight and Graves is alone again, a smirk grows on his face.

"About time I got to wear the suit," he chuckles quietly.

Besides Donny being so hungover he can't open his eyes without rushing to the nearest toilet or garbage can, the charity event is going well! Lots of presents "delivered" to children and-

"Santa, baby, slip a sable under the tree... for me."

Phil immediately whips around to look for the source of that gorgeous voice. It doesn't take him long to find her. He knew there would be people performing on the small stage nearby all day. What he didn't expect was to hear and see the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

Her voice is smooth and a bit sultry, eyes a clear blue like ice, hair down and the deepest true-black Phil has ever seen as a hair color. Don't even get him started on her dress, my God-

She must have felt his eyes on her because suddenly, as she sang the line about "all the fellas she hasn't kissed", her eyes were locked on his. He's more than willing to check off her Christmas list. He would most difinitely trim her Christmas tree, too, just-

"Santa?" on of the Shadows elves whispers to him. "Santa, there's more kids waiting."

Phil clears his throat and turns back to the children with a Santa laugh.

"Well, I'm sorry, kiddos! Santa got a bit distracted," he says in his Santa voice.

"Is the Christmas Angel actually Mrs. Claus?" one of the younger children demands.

"Santa, baby, forgot to mention one little thing - a ring," the Christmas Angel - genuinely, according to the banners around her - continues singing.

Hell, she just may be Phil's new Mrs. Claus. And Phil gets what Phil wants.

"Can you keep a secret, kiddo?" Phil asks as he leans down to the child. The child, of course, nods enthusiastically. "She's the furture Mrs. Claus," he explains to the child.

The child beams up at Phil, excited to be in on the secret, before rushing off to their parents.

Not long after, Phil takes a break from being Santa. What's the first thing he does? Darts off to the nearest jewelry store in the mall. He finds a bracelet with cut gems that look similar to her eye color - Aquamarine, aoccriding to the store clerk - and immediately pays for it. He'll worry about the price much later. After the bracelet is gift-wrapped, he makes his way back towards the stage. There's only instrumental music playing over the speakers now so she must be on a break.

Perfect timing.

She's perched on the edge of the stage, legs crossed and hanging over the ledge, with her back to him as he approaches. Her head tips back as she sips from a bottle of water. Phil rounds the stage quickly and steps up next to her.

"Merry Christmas, Christmas Angel," he says to her with a smirk under the beard and gently hands her the wrapped jewelry box.

Her eyes land on the box then flash to his eyes. She looks ready to tell him off so he removes the beard - it's a downtime in the mall so there's no children running around that he'll ruin the magic for.

"Well, Kris Kringle," she smirks at him, "to what do I owe the honor of a hand-delivered gift?" Her hand delicately reaches out so her fingers slide over the box. She doesn't bother to make sure her fingers don't touch his.

"I've just come to ask Mrs. Claus why she's not at the North Pole." Phil's eyes rake over her dress, and he doesn't bother hiding that he is.

"Last I checked, Kringle," she counters with a seductive look in her eyes, "I'm your wife, not your property."

Fuuuuucking hell- think of something, Phil, or you're gonna to makes things awkward. Donny. That dumbass nearly fucked up the entire charity event and-

Had he been here, Phil wouldn't have met his new, future wife. Had Donny been in Phil's place...

Well, now he's just irritated.

"True," he chuckles. "But we could head back to the North Pole together pretty soon."

She scans his face for a moment then hums.

"Hand me your phone, Santa," she almost purrs.

He does as she asks, though, handing over his phone. As if at the speed of light, she enters her information into the phone and saves it under "Holly, the Christmas Angel". Then she hands his phone back.

"Merry Christmas, Santa," Holly winks at him then slides back so she can stand back up on the stage. Phil is left with a wink and a smirk before they're both pulled back to their stations.

A very merry Christmas indeed, Mrs. Claus.

CoD Christmas (Meet) Cuties Masterlist

[darrenshanisabitch]

Cdf characters at chrimus, grinch or absolutely wet for merry chrystler?

Darren: Completely and utterly obsessed with christmas, decorations are going up november 1st!!

Larten: Likes that it makes Darren happy but generally doesn’t understand the point of dedicating so much time to preparing for one day.

Harkat: Doesn’t care for the christmas hype until the actual day, in which he stands at attention with his black trash bag, ready and waiting for the wrapping paper to leave the present.

Paris: Does not gaf in his rock

Seba: Gives a fuck in his rock but won’t admit to liking a human holiday

Kurda: ‘christmas!!!! is an excuse for capitalist ideals!! to infiltrate the lives of everyday people by using overly joyous adverts as propaganda to subject them to a western style, over-consumptionist and unnecessary month of buying crap for their ungrateful children!!!’

Mika: ‘yeah what he said’

Arrow: Loves christmas, used to celebrate with his wife. Still loves it after her death, but uses the day to quietly mourn.

Arra: Hated it as a human, hates it as a vampire 🤷‍♀️

Vancha: ‘What’s christmas?’

Gavner: He defo too broke for christmas

‼️ Merry crimus and a happy new year fellas ‼️

[spectra473]

@hermitcrabcross

@pinktrashgoblin

Here's my submission for the JSAB community's 2024 Secret Santa event! I was surprisingly gifted with this lovely little fella, an oc that has the same name as my persona! What a coincidence! ^^"

Gah- this one was HARD- so many small details! Gotta love that design though. SCRUMPTIOUS!

I really hope you like it! I spent several days working on this. I was gonna do a second image to go with it, but I ran out of time with all the holiday madness-

I'm so sorry if it looks so small. The pic file wouldn't size right. Ignore the white- Idk how to get transparent backgrounds to work yet.

Thank you so much PinkTrashGoblin for letting me join this event and giving me this wonderful character! I had so much fun- I'M SO EXCITED!!! You did a wonderful job organizing this event. I hope to see it again next year!

HermitCrabCross, I hope you have an amazing holiday and a great new years! Your characters are so CUUUTE and I'm absolutely loving the positivity I see on your page. Maybe we could be friends? I'm down if you are!

Merry Christmas everyone! Happy holidays!

Reference image:

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part VII

Auld Lang Syne

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: We’ve finally made it to 1943! Can you believe it will soon be a whole year since the night Bobby and Peach met?

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story.

To ring in the new year in the story, the title of this chapter is based on the holiday classic, Auld Lang Syne. To get in the spirit, check out this 1939 instrumental version by Guy Lombardo!

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to my dear friend, @luminousnotmatter​. Clara, thank you, thank you, thank you for your support of this story!

Warnings: Alternating POV, talk of the holidays, brief allusions to the trauma of war, references to rationing, and a ton of fluff.

January 12, 1943

Dear Peach,

Happy New Year! I know we’re only 12 days in at this point, but I hope that 1943 is already shaping up to be a good year for you. Hopefully it will be a good year for all of us. And I look forward to hearing all about your Christmas back home in Georgia!

Now to address that “elephant in the room” as you called it—well, Peach, I see no elephants, but I do see what has to be the most beautiful and elegant photograph I’ve ever had the good fortune to lay these sorry eyes on. Are you sure you really meant to send it to me and not to MGM? You could be a movie star! I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it was announced that their next big picture was starring The Sweet Peach from Georgia. Hey, maybe that could even be the name of the movie. What do you think?

Peach, I hope you know that I’m not teasing and I’m not kidding. And I hope my saying so doesn’t come across as forward, but you really are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, whether in the movies or in real life. Part of me was starting to wonder if maybe I’d dreamed it all up, that night we had together in Charleston. Could any girl really be that beautiful and kind and funny and smart, all wrapped up in one splendid person? But then I opened your last letter and your photograph fell out of the envelope, and I realized that sometimes real life can be even better than our dreams. Because you, Peach, are even more stunning than you were in my memories. And you know what makes it even better? That your beauty shines from the inside. Looking at your photograph, I can see all the kindness and gentleness and goodness that I’ve come to know so well, shining in your eyes and brightening your smile.

Gosh, am I rambling? I’m sure I am. But I don’t want you to feel embarrassed, not for a moment. And to think that you would even suggest I take a photograph this beautiful and shove it in a drawer or throw it off the carrier! That would be an absolute crime! It deserves to be framed and hung for everyone to admire. I admit that I’ve never seen the Mona Lisa, but I can already guarantee that you’re a thousand times prettier. But can I tell you the truth, Peach? As much as you deserve to be universally praised, I’ve been very selfish. The fellas are all quite jealous, you see, that the prettiest girl in the world has chosen to write to me, of all people. So I keep your photograph tucked close to my heart, away from all the guys. Don’t want to rub salt in the wound, you know?

Benny and Tommy Boy wanted me to respectfully let you know that you looked quite lovely in your photo, and that they’d be more than willing to serve as pen pals to any of your friends back home who may be in need of some correspondence.

Will you do me a favor and thank Dottie for this little scheme of hers? I knew that I liked your sister already, but this has truly solidified it for me. She’s a smart woman, that Dottie Sheridan. And I hope Frankie’s birthday pictures turned out just as nice as yours!

Can I tell you something else, Peach? We’ve been doing a lot of flying over here, me and Paul and the rest of our squadron, as I’m sure you can imagine. Paul keeps a photograph of Natasha and the kids in our aircraft when we’re flying. He says it brings him good luck and helps him remember what he’s fighting for. I like to keep a photograph of my family with me while we’re flying so that I can remember the same. But now I carry your photograph with me, too. And I think I understand now what Paul meant about his photo bringing him luck. Every time we’ve flown since I started carrying you with me, I feel this extra sense of protection. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. You’re my good luck charm, Peach, and I thank you for that. Thanks for helping me remember what I’m fighting for, every day that I’m here. And, hey—it’s sort of like we’re flying together already, right?

I was glad to hear that you enjoyed the pumpkin pie story, and that my utter humiliation could at least bring you some laughter. It’s funny that you should mention my mama setting aside some pumpkin pie for me because I did, in fact, receive a letter from her not long after Thanksgiving, and she told me she had done just that. She said that she’s hoping and praying I’ll be home for pumpkin pie this year. I hope she’s right.

I’m so happy to hear that you got to spend time with your folks and be together for the holidays. And happy belated birthday to little Frankie! They grow up fast, don’t they? Natasha sent Paul some photographs from Paul, Jr.’s first birthday, and neither of us can believe how big he’s gotten. Natasha says she’s writing down all his milestones in a little book for when Paul returns, so that he doesn’t miss a thing. I know it makes Paul feel good to hear that. He misses them so much.

I hope you don’t mind me doing so, but I shared with some of the guys on the carrier how you offered up your Thanksgiving gratitude and prayers for us. It lifted a lot of fellas’ spirits, I’ll tell you that. We were all missing home a little extra around the holidays, but to be reminded of why we’re doing this, and of the good people back home who are thinking of us, really makes all the difference.

Now to hear that you were an excellent pupil back in your grade school days does not surprise me one bit, Miss Peach. It’s funny that you say that you’re hopeless when it comes to arithmetic because I was always rather hopeless when it came to my writing—as I’m sure you can tell from the woeful state of my handwriting. My teachers at school—and yes, even my professors at Annapolis—always scolded me over it. Everyone has their strengths, huh? But if you don’t mind handling the writing, I’m more than happy to take care of the numbers and figures. We’d make quite a team.

Peach, I can promise you that the thought of getting to share another dance with you is one of the few things that keeps me going on the days when this war just really takes all the stuffing out of me. I just hope it’s something that YOU still want when all is said and done. I’m sure all the boys are lining up to sign your dance card.

Speaking of, have you been to any more dances at the USO lately?

You’re right when you say that Paul, Tommy Boy, Benny, and I couldn’t be any more different if we tried, but we do have a special bond and I’ll always be thankful for that. I’m glad to know you have that, too, with Dottie and Paddy and the rest of your family.

That glass of lemonade in Charleston sounds real nice right about now. It’s cold and rainy where we are, but I’ll be dreaming about that South Carolina sunshine.

My family was telling me about the coffee rations in one of their last letters. I am sorry to hear about that. I can only imagine how hard that’s hitting people, especially Paddy. I used to see him down at least three or four cups in the morning, back when I was stationed stateside. I’m sending all my best wishes that you and Dottie can survive his grumbling.

Peach, I just want to close by letting you know, once again, how much your support means to me. Truly. I hate to dwell on the negative, but there are days when this war is really hard. In fact, there are days when it feels downright impossible. But then I reread one of your letters, or take out your photograph and gaze at that pretty smile, and my hope is bolstered. You’ve given me so much, through your words alone, and I want you to know that.

I miss you, too. Who knows? Maybe 1943 will be the year we finally get that dance?

I hope so.

Very Truly Yours,

Bobby

February 3, 1943

Dear Bobby,

Happy New Year! 1943 has been treating me kindly so far, but it would be even better if it was the year that you and the rest of our boys came home. Just like your mother, that’s what I’m hoping and praying for.

My goodness, Robert Floyd, you certainly know how to make a girl feel special! I have to confess, I must have read your letter through a good two or three times when it first arrived in the mail, and I couldn’t stop blushing or beaming the whole time. Dottie said that I looked like a giddy school girl, which taught me that I really ought to read your letters in the comfort of my own room instead of in front of my nosy big sister.

Just so you know, Dottie gladly accepts your praise and thanks, and has not let me live it down for a moment. She has not failed to remind me that big sisters know best, and that I shouldn’t be so afraid to trust her, because look how well her plans always turn out? Well, knowing her my entire life, I can quite confidently say that Dottie’s plans don’t ALWAYS turn out well, but I am glad that this one did.

I’m certainly no movie star, but Dottie did work her magic on me that morning, and I’m touched beyond words at your kind reception of such a silly little thing. My cheeks still feel warm, even as I write to you now. Do you really carry my photo with you, even when you’re flying? I can hardly believe it, but I know you’re an honest man, Bobby, so it must be true. And if it brings you any sort of luck while you’re up in the air, then I’m glad for it and I’d send you a hundred more photographs if I could. I want you to come home safely, Bobby, more than anything. I need you to make it home safely so that we really can go flying together one day.

Please send my thanks and my best wishes to Benny and Tommy Boy, who are both clearly gentlemen of the highest caliber. But I’m sorry to tell them that I don’t have any girlfriends I can match them up with. Truth be told, I don’t have many girlfriends to begin with, and most of the women I do know are spoken for.

Speaking of which, do you remember my friend, Emily? She was the blonde volunteer working at the punch table with me the night we met. That was so long ago now, it’s okay if you don’t remember. Anyway, she just got engaged! She and her fiance actually met that night at the dance. His name is Eddie and he’s a corporal in the Army. He was stationed in Charleston for about a month or so after you were deployed, and he and Emily got to spending a lot of time with each other. They wrote to each other after he left, and Eddie proposed while he was back in Charleston on a short leave last month. Isn’t that something? It’s funny how things work out sometimes. I had thought Eddie was going to ask me to dance that night, but it was Emily he wanted to dance with. And look how well it turned out for them! I’m really happy for her. She’s so excited. They’re hoping that the war will be over soon and Eddie will come home permanently so that they can plan a big wedding. Emily even asked me to be one of her bridesmaids! I was Dottie’s Maid of Honor when she got married, but I’ve never been anyone else’s bridesmaid, so it’s all very exciting. A little bit of good news and hope in the midst of so much ugliness.

Christmas in Georgia was lovely, even if it was a little quieter than Christmases we’ve enjoyed in the past. I did get to see my grandparents, and some of my aunts and uncles and cousins, and that was a joy. If there’s one thing this war has taught us, it’s that spending time with the ones you love is really what matters most. My aunt actually made a pumpkin pie for dessert on Christmas Eve and I couldn’t stop giggling, thinking about your pumpkin pie fiasco as a little boy.

I hope that Paul, Jr. had a wonderful first birthday, same as Frankie! I think it’s an absolutely marvelous thing Natasha is doing, writing down all the special moments that are happening now so that Paul can relive them when he gets home. What a special gift that will be! Would you do me a favor, Bobby, and send Paul my best? I’ll never forget his kindness at the dance that night, and I really do hope he’s doing well.

Of course I don’t mind you passing along my best wishes to the rest of the men! I feel like I have so little to offer, and so little to contribute to this war, so if my thoughts and prayers can help lift even one person’s spirits, then I’m happy to hear it.

I’m also happy to hear that you’re good with numbers and figures because I simply never have been. I’d suggest that you could tutor me when you return home, but I’d be embarrassed for you to see just how truly hopeless I am when it comes to my mathematics. Instead, I’ll gladly take you up on your offer to handle all the writing if you handle all the numbers. An excellent team we’d make, indeed! And believe me when I say that your handwriting is far from the most dreadful I’ve seen. You should see my father’s and Paddy’s—completely illegible! Paddy once left me and Dottie a note letting us know he’d be home late that night, and we sat up for hours worrying because we couldn’t even read what it said! So trust me, Bobby, your writing is not as woeful as all that.

You can also trust me when I tell you that there are certainly no boys lining up to sign my dance card. I’ve volunteered at several other USO events, but truth be told, I haven’t gone to many dances since that one back in May. Emily’s always trying to get me to go with her, and I have gone to a couple, but it just doesn’t feel the same, Is that silly? I know we only got to attend one dance together, but it just doesn’t feel right, being there without you, Bobby. Every time I did force myself to go, I’d hear a song that played that night and then I’d miss you too much. The next time I go to a dance, I want you to be there, too, and I want us to be dancing together. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of lemonade for us afterwards.

I think Paddy is finally recovering from his caffeine withdrawals, thank goodness! Dottie and I have been cutting back on our coffee consumption so that he can have some more in the morning. I have a feeling more rations will be coming soon, which is why Dottie and I are already making plans to revive our Victory Garden this spring. We didn’t pay as much mind to it last year, when everything still seemed so readily available, but this year we’re determined to grow as much as we can. We’re not exactly farmgirls, my sister and I, so maybe you could send us some tips?

Bobby, if my words bolster your spirits, then I want you to know that your words do that a hundredfold for me. Receiving your letters in the mail brings me such joy. I have every single one saved, and I read them whenever I’m feeling sad or scared about the war. Have I told you lately how glad I am that we met and that we’re still exchanging letters all these many months later?

Here’s to hoping that 1943 is our year, Bobby. I hope that I’ll be seeing you real soon.

Most Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. I almost can’t believe I’m asking this—and I hope you don’t think it too forward—but is there any possibility that you might have a photograph you could send? I can still see your face so clearly in my memories, Bobby, but it would be so special to have a photo to remember you by. If not, it’s okay. I just thought I would ask. Stay safe, Bobby.

[3m-001]

MERRY HOLIDAYS FELLAS!!!!

MERRY CHRISTMAS

HAPPY KWANZAA

HAPPY HANUKKAH

JOYUS EVERY HOLIDAY THIS WINTER SEASON!!! AND TO ALL A GREAT NEW YEAR!!!!!!!

[therehistoricfoundation]

Friendly reminder this Christmas that prehistoric animals brought back from extinction through as of yet unknown means do not make good pets!

This handsome fella is Doug the Dodo Bird (Raphus cucullatus). When Doug was just a chick, he was smuggled off of the island of Mauritius by wildlife traffickers and was sold to a black market exotic pet dealer. Doug’s new owners proceeded to keep him in a tiny cage and feet him an inadequate diet of bird seed, and as a result his growth was severely stunted. Luckily, Doug was rescued by the Rehistoric Foundation and now acts as our mascot/ambassador animal. Thanks to the round the clock specialty care he receives from our staff and volunteers, Doug has made an amazing comeback, though he can never be released back into the wild. Sadly, hundreds of other previously extinct animals are sold as pets every year and kept by people who don’t know how to properly care for them. This has resulted in a massive increase of attacks of Lazarus Taxa on humans as well as cases of people releasing their pets into the wild once they become too big or too dangerous to take care of. So, for this holiday season do the right thing and don’t get your kids a previously extinct animal for Christmas!

Merry Christmas and happy holidays from everyone here at the Rehistoric Foundation!!!

[deiscension]

With the holidays right around the corner and prepping to start grad school, I likely won't be around much for the next 2-3 weeks (although knowing me I'll probably pop in to post a stray draft or send surprise asks). But!! I did want to say that it's also nearly been a year since I picked up Shi Qingxuan as an rp muse, and y'all have given me the best time I've had in years with tumblr rp!

I'm so grateful to all my lovely mutuals who welcomed me with open arms, especially my very first mutuals from when I revamped and revived this blog-- quite a few of you had no association with t.gcf or any knowledge of it at all and yet y'all still helped me find my footing here! I'll always be so very fond of all my crossover/AU interactions and relationships. And to my t.gcf mutuals, y'all have been an absolute blast to write with! It's been such a delight to meet y'all and have fun with our favorite fellas.

Anyway, all this to say I'm very lucky to have found this little corner of the rpc and I'm looking forward to what comes with the new year. Happy holidays everyone!! 💚

[jules-has-notes]

2016 VoicePlay fall roundup — projects galore, frequent travels, and holiday cheer

As summer rolled into autumn, VoicePlay just kept rolling on their various creative fronts.

While the other guys were cruising in the northeast, Tony and Layne were hard at work back home, prepping and filming PattyCake's first Halloween video.

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California schemin'

Once the sailors were rested up, most of the guys headed for the west coast. They spent two days in Los Angeles filming collaboration videos, first with Kurt Hugo Schneider and then with AJ Rafael.

On the upside, their absence from Florida meant that they didn't have to take shelter from Hurricane Matthew. Unfortunately, Tony wasn't involved in the videos (for reasons that would soon become clear) and was supposed to be on a later flight than the others. He didn't make it out of Orlando before the airport was shut down.

From L.A., the guys hopped up the coast to San Francisco to perform at a benefit concert for the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation hosted by the Alpha Epsilon Phi fraternity at Stanford University. With Tony stuck at home, the fellas called in their old buddy Paul Sperrazza from Vox Audio to pinch hit as their baritone for the night.

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Squeeze me in

After a few days at home, the guys hit the road again. They started with three days of student workshops in eastern Ohio.

During the week, they set their social media followers the challenge of finding them among the crowds of students and faculty at some of the schools. (Can you spot them all? The kids make surprisingly good camouflage.)

New Philadelphia, OH — East Elementary // West Elementary

Zoarville, OH — Tuscarawas Valley Elementary School

On the final day, they worked with the choirs from two local high schools, who then joined them for a show at Kent State Tuscarawas the following night.

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From there, the guys headed south to West Memphis, AR for another concert and a workshop at the local high school the day after that. One crafty fan brought them homemade VP logo cookies.

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students at West Memphis High School

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Next they flew up to NYC to perform at a fundraiser for the Lupus Foundation of America.

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Then they scooted upstate to Rochester for a show at Nazareth College before finally heading home.

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Happy holiday-ween

Once they returned to Orlando, it was time to buckle down on rehearsals for their second year at Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party, so that they'd all be able to hit the stage running in November. (Layne did take the time in the middle of the week to have dinner with their old friend Jeff Thatcher and introduce him to Doris, though.)

The extra twist this year was that, on top of getting themselves and their backup guys ready to perform their holiday setlists, these performances would also be their next step toward formally acknowledging Tony's departure. He wouldn't be joining the other guys on stage in Tomorrowland this season. Instead, they would alternate between two replacement baritones, Erik Winger and J.None, who would continue performing with them into the new year, until the group could decide on a new permanent member.

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No trick, all treats

At the end of the month, Geoff & Kathy announced that baby Castellucci was on the way at long last. They shared a short video documenting some of their challenging road to parenthood on Geoff's personal YouTube channel.

and baby makes three… er, five?

WARNING: This video contains footage of Kathy receiving many injections in her belly and buttocks. As a result, she engages in some pain-induced swearing. Understandable, but probably NSFW.

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One of the pumpkins from the baby reveal was then repurposed to create VoicePlay's social media posts for the day of Halloween.

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North to South (Carolina)

After a week and a half at home, the guys moseyed up to South Carolina for a pair of shows in Aiken, this time with Erik Winger as their substitute baritone.

A group of fans, perturbed by some negativity they'd been seeing directed toward the guys in YouTube comments and on social media, had been conspiring amongst themselves to counteract that energy. They'd created a book of positive messages and images. The two friends who had volunteered to collect and deliver everyone's submissions also documented the presentation during the post-show meet and greet on the first night so that all the contributors could see the guys' initial reactions.

Ashley and Nancy present the book of fan love

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The second day also held a few surprises.

It can be nice to have fans in the service industry.

Aiken, SC show — pre-show chatting // post-show group hug with fan Ashley // prezzies!

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Sing, laugh, and be merry

And then it was off to the races. VoicePlay began their second annual residency in Tomorrowland for Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party at Disney World in early November. For nearly 100 performances over the course of six weeks, they once again entertained thousands upon thousands of visitors to the Magic Kingdom.

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Hardcore mode

In between MVMCP shows, the guys continued doing their other jobs. Among other things, that meant Earl was lucky enough to be playing Crush in the Nemo live show when iconic professional wrestler Mick Foley was in the audience.

Earl meeting Mick Foley // the VP MVMCP B-team — Tony F., Antonio, Deejay, Joey, & J.None

Having a full cast of replacement singers came in handy during the second week of Disney World shows. VoicePlay had also booked a holiday concert down in Delray Beach for the Friday before Thanksgiving. So, while Winger filled in for Tony on the road, J.None and the rest of Echo took to the Tomorrowland stage in full force.

Eli and Ashley even left a day early and took a detour to attend a Carrie Underwood show in Tampa on the way.

.

VoicePlaying for Gamecocks

At the beginning of December, VoicePlay headed up to South Carolina with Winger once more for their last non-Disney holiday concert of the year at USC.

.

Bubblicious

In early December, some of the guys finally got to meet the British music blogger who had been singing their praises for several years when his vacation itinerary brought him to the Magic Kingdom.

.

Caroling we roll along

Their final video shoot of the year was also the final entry in their first set of PartWork videos, a gentle rendition of "O Little Town of Bethlehem". With the announcement of Tony's departure drawing closer, the other four guys were all featured in this video in their usual roles, and Geoff did double duty to cover the baritone part.

.

VoicePlates

As a fun little end-of-year treat, their pal (and former 4:2:Five tenor) Danny Alan stumbled upon some holiday paper goods that bore a surprisingly familiar looking design.

.

The guys finally took the last few days of the year to relax and rest in preparation for their hectic start to the new year, but those are stories for another time.

[op15-moonwaltz]

even MORE Jack Frost headcanons because I have a lot of thoughts and none of them are cohesive. (some of these feel more AU-ish and I dunno what to do about that, if I feel tempted I might actually write out a before movie events story with jack and saint nick because he deserves some happiness and I love my little oinglydoobles)

The Santa he was close with he called 'Saint Nick.' He was already fairly old when he became Santa (around 60 years-old to early 70s), but Jack Adored him. He was very open to Jack having some presence in the holiday season besides making things cold.

Saint Nick was actually a grandfather when he became Santa! His kids and grandkids were very frequent visitors of the North Pole. Jack was ecstatic when one of Nick's grandkids said their favorite holiday movie was Rankin Bass' 'Jack Frost.'

The Council of Legendary Figures wasn't particularly. . overjoyed that Jack had taken part of the holiday décor from the traditional Christmas decorations, but Saint Nick shut that talk down FAST.

"Just because he isn't a holiday doesn't mean he can't have some say in the decorations around this time! Without him, there'd be no holiday spirit at all! He needs some credit here, fellas. A 'Thank you' maybe, too."

Jack never told anyone he had been outside the meeting room door during that. He had previously been there to crash the meeting, as he usually did, but after hearing that he'd tossed that plan out entirely and popped over to his condo and had a 4-hour long existential crisis.

time to get SAD (tw for a LOT of grieving)

When Jack popped over for the meeting after Scott became Santa, he could already feel something incredibly off as soon as he touched the handle to the door and his rising anxiety was confirmed when he went to sit in his usual seat next to Claus' chair and tried to keep a smile up despite feeling absolutely sick to his stomach.

He finally cracked when Scott had made a passing comment on how Saint Nick had slid off his roof and Jack Lost It. An hour long shouting match between him and the other Legendary Figures, with comments from Scott, before they actually noticed the tears that sat in Jack's eyes. (Frustration? Grief?)

"So NO ONE thought to tell me he died? No one at all? After we'd both been planning the holidays together for the last 40 years?!"

"It's not personal, Jack- T-Things are just different now-" Scott's first mistake upon meeting Jack.

EVERYTHING Saint Nick had helped Jack work toward had been undone within the span of a few weeks, and a lot of the days of December were icy and bitterly cold.

He fucking missed Saint Nick so bad. He felt both pissed that Scott had replaced him so fast, and absolutely shattered that Nick's grandkids had lost their grandfather.

Jack had become a constant in Nick's family's lives, so he'd pop over a lot more frequently to check up on them. He never told anyone he did that, the Legendary Figures were very keen on keeping holiday secrets just that. Secrets. But he couldn't just leave the family in the dark like that, they couldn't even have a proper funeral for him.

For Christmas that year, Jack practically Begged Bernard to do one thing for him. Find something of Nick's that he could give to his family for closure. Bernard and Jack never got along well most of the time, but the genuine broken look in his eyes was enough to make Bernard comply.

Jack turned up at Nick's Family's home Christmas Day, little giftbox in tow. He stayed for awhile, watching the grandkids play with their new toys, then he snuck away with the parents and presented the box.

Bernard had gotten Nick's snow globe for Jack to give the family.

Jack stuck around to watch them place it on the center of the fireplace mantel. He felt a bit more at peace knowing the family had something.

When Jack returned to his condo that night, there was a single gift wrapped in blue and silver paper on his coffee table. Bernard had gotten one more thing for him.

It was a framed photo of Jack and Saint Nick's first collaborative Christmas, Jack had wrapped Nick in silver and blue tinsel before the photo was taken and Nick had gotten a pair of antlers onto Jack's head. They were both ecstatic and covered in glitter.

Jack passed out the rest of the night on his couch with the picture on his chest.

[revolvius]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Happy New Year everybody!

Sorry for the lack of art, been enjoying the new year holiday with my family. Not gonna be active for a bit I think, but we'll see.

I don't know if this is also meant for SagaVerse, but we'll see.

Still, hope you all have a good new year and I wish we all have a great 2023.

Cheers, fellas!

[sl-newsie]

Chapter Twenty Five: Christmas: Part 1 (Spot Colon x Female Newsie)

I groan as I stare blankly out tha frosted window. “It ain’t snowed yet!”

“Careful what ya wish for, Becs.” Blink warns.

“Yeah! You’s wish for snow and we’s all get ta sell papes in a blizzard!” Race complains.

“Ah, c’mon fellas! Just ‘cause you’s don’t like tha cold don’t mean ya can deny tha magic a snowfall brings dur’n Christmas!”

I’d celebrated Christmas with tha newsies for five years, and every year we’d had snow for Christmas. But it’s December 22nd, and still no snow.

“She’s right, guys.” Crutchy backs me up. “It’s Christmas- show a little happiness!”

“Yeah, perk up!” Mush joins in. “David and Less’re comm’n over to celebrate tomorrow.”

I grin. “That’s right. But right now, I godda head out.” I turn to leave-

“Where?” Race asks suspiciously.

“Ta see Spot. And to get a few things.” I say softly.

“Aw Becca, not this again,” Jack sighs.

“Ya don’t need to get us noth’n,” Crutchy says sadly.

“I never said I was. Now I really godda go,” I say again before I grab my jacket and rush out into tha cold. It ain’t snow’n, but it sure is cold! As I carefully avoid patches of ice, I notice tha wadda is frozen under tha Brooklyn bridge. When I get to tha lodg’n house, Mink opens tha door to let me in. A warm, welcom’n air brushes my face, and I’m immediately crowded by all tha young newsies.

“Hiya Becs!” Tommy says gleefully.

“Hey, it’s Becca!” Danny comes ova, along with anodda guy who looks almost just like him. “This here’s Vinny, my twin brodda.”

Vinny holds out his hand, and we spit-shake. “Nice to meet ya!”

“You as well,” I say.

“Well if it ain’t tha sing’n angel herself.”

At this, I turn around and come face-to-face with-

“Hi Spot,” I respond nicely. 

He smirks. “Come to sing carols for us?”

“Haha. I actually came here to ask if ya wanted me, um…” I trail off, uncomfortable. I’d wanted to ask if Spot wanted me to come visit for Christmas, but I don’t wanna intrude.

“If we’s wanted ya here for tha holidays?” Bucky finishes fer me.

“Um… yes?”

“‘Course we do, Beauty!” Spot lifts me up by my waist. “You’s part of tha family! When were ya plan’n on com’n?”

My eyes widen. “Oh! Uh, I dunno. Whevever’s good for you? I mean, David’s come’n tomorrow, and I’s gonna be with tha fellas on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I was plan’n on come’n over Christmas Eve night, and back here again Christmas even’n. Is that okay?”

“That’s poifect!”

“Um, ok. Do I need to bring anyth’n?”

“Only yourself. That’s enough,” Bucky says sincerely.

“Yeah, yourself! But… If it ain’t too much to ask, could ya make more of that stew again?” Danny asks, and tha kids look up at me hopefully.

I smile wide. “Yes, I most certainly will!”

I head back to tha lodg’n house with the assurance that Spot will be by later for a visit. On my way back, I stop by and pick up some candy canes and oranges for tha guys, wooden blocks for tha kids, a red hair ribbon for Sarah, and a harmonica for Jack. I also come across a small tree abandoned in an alley- most likely too small for the owner’s taste. I’d never gotten a tree for tha lodg’n house, but I think this year’s special.

I hide tha gifts behind Kloppman’s desk, but not before hand’n him my gift to him- a new ink pen. He gives his thanks and promises to keep my hide’n spot safe.

Upstairs, tha fellas are play’n cards.

“You’s ain’t tired yet?” I ask.

“It’s almost Christmas, Becca! We’s can’t enjoy it sleep’n, can we?” Boots comments.

“We still godda sell papes, though.” I respond.

“Forget it!” Snipeshooter says. “Folks ain’t been out much ‘cause of tha cold, so it’s been a slow business week. We’s already paid our dues for tha lodg’n, so it ain’t so bad.” 

“Now quit your worry’n and come over here!” Race beckons for me. 

“You’s gamle’n again?” I ask suspiciously.

“Yeah. And?” Race appears unfazed.

I sigh. “Never mind. I’ll pitch in a few cents.”

“Atta goil!”

Tha next day I tidy up tha bunkroom while we wait for David and Les. When they get here, all tha younger newsies go off to play with Les while I see David whisper someth’n to Jack. Jack’s eyes suddenly light up, and he sprints oudda tha room.

I walk over to David. “What’s that all about?”

David shrugs. “Sarah said to send Jack over. I didn’t ask why- I’d rather not know.”

“I hear ya. Ever since Jack’s been see’n her, Sarah’s all he ever talks about! But it’s good to see him so happy.”

David nods. “I can relate. Sarah’s been extremely happy too. Oh! I almost forgot! I brought you my copy of ‘A Christmas Carol’ you asked for.” David reaches into his bag and produces a worn book with a red cover. “It’s a little fragile, but readable.”

I smile as I gingerly hold tha book. “It’s poifect! Tha little ones are gonna luv hear’n this!”

“Luv hear’n what?” Snipeshooter asks.

“‘A Christmas Carol,’ by Charles Dickens.”

“What’s that?” Crutchy asks.

“A song book?” Skittery guesses.

I gape. “You’s never read ‘A Christmas Carol?’”

“I have!” Specs says proudly. “It’s been a while, but I remember I really liked tha story.”

“Will ya read it to us, Becca?” Crutchy asks shyly.

“Didn’t ya hear, Crutch? It’s a kids book!” Race says in a disgusted tone.

“Oh no, Race. It’s not just a children’s book,” David assures.

“Yeah! It’s a book that explains tha true mean’n of Christmas,” Specs inputs.

“Like what? Be’n nice and all that?” Race says, unimpressed.

I frown. “I think you especially need to hear this, so sit tight and pay attention. I’ll go get the oddas-”

“More prove’n my point that it’s a kid’s book!” Race calls as I head downstairs.

I just shake my head and put on a big smile when I see tha young newsies.

Joey, Dusty, Kenny, and Skippy are all sit’n near tha window, while Henry and Matthew whisper and giggle at each odda. I also see… a goil? Must be a newcomer.

“Hey fellas, who’s this?” I smile at tha little blonde goil, who’s wear’n a torn flannel dress, woolen stockings, and a gray hat. She smiles a little but I can tell she’s scared.

“That’s Mittens. She don’t talk much.” Dusty seems to be tha only one interested.

“‘Mittens?’ Why’s her name Mittens?”

“‘Cause she had a good pair of mittens,” Kenny says smugly.

I frown. “Then where are they?”

“In my pocket.”

Immediately, I stride over and snatch a pair of blue, woolen mittens oudda tha crook’s jacket.

“Hey-!”

“Dusty, ya don’t go around swipe’n odda people’s stuff! What were ya think’n? She’s a newcomer- so I want all-a you’s to make her feel welcome!” I lower my angry voice and switch to a gentle tone as I kneel in front of tha goil. “Hi. My name’s Becca. What’s yours?”

She shrugs.

“When did she get here?” I ask Matthew.

He blinks. “A few days ago.”

“And no one told me? How do ya know she don’t have a family look’n for her? She could be a runaway!” I look back at ‘Mittens’. “Do you know where your modda is?”

She nods.

“Where is she?”

Mittens slowly point up at tha sky, and it takes me a bit to realize what she’s say’n.

“Oh. Um- what about your fadda?”

She points up again.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. My modda’s dead too. Lots of us here don’t got any folks. Do you have any odda family?”

She shakes her head.

“I see. I’m so sorry Mittens- ugh. We needs ta find you a proper name. Do ya like be’n called Mittens?”

She shrugs.

“Hm. Well, how ‘bout that be your nickname, and you’s real name can be…” I think real hard. “Oh! How ‘bout ‘Angel’? Like a Christmas angel?”

Immediately, tha goil’s eyes light up and she nods eagerly.

I chuckle. “Well, all right then! Angel… uh, can ya talk at all?”

Her face scrunches up, and it looks as if it takes all her effort ta say: “So-some-t-times.”

“So… ya can talk a little, but not well?”

Angel nods.

“Did ya ever learn how?”

She shrugs. I guess that means a little?

“Ok then. Um- We’ll work on that, I promise. Angel-” I cautiously wrap my arms around her as ta not scare her. “This is yer home now. It ain’t fancy, but it’s still a home. You’s always welcome here, no madda what. Now for a proper introduction-” I point around tha room. “That’s Joey, Dusty, Kenny, Skippy, Matthew, and Henry. Tha olda guys are upstairs. Actually, we’s just about to start read’n ‘A Christmas Carol’- ya wanna join us?”

Her face paints a confused expression.

“It’s a book.”

She’s still confused.

I bring my hands togedda and open them like a book. “Book. Paper, ink, woids. You’s neva learned to read?”

She shakes her head.

“We’s can work on that too. C’mon-” I pick her up and walk to tha doorway. “You’s come’n or what?”

All tha boys leap up and rush over and follow me up tha stairs. When we walk in tha bunkroom, all tha fellas stop talk’n and look at tha scrawny, shake’n little goil burry’n her head into my chest- but peek’n her eyes out once in a while in curiosity at tha olda newsies. I also see Jack's back, talk’n to Race with a big grin on his face.

“Angel, this is my family. That’s David and Les, Racetrack, Crutchy, Boots, Kid Blink, Mush, Skittery, Specs, and Snipeshooter. And this-,” I sling my arm around Jack. “-is my older brodda, Jack Kelly.”

Angel lifts her head up and points at him. “St-str-str-ike!”

“Yeah, he lead tha strike! We’s all were part of it!”

Jack’s brows furrow. “Becca, who’s tha kid?”

“This is Angel, or Mittens as some call her. She’s a newcomer.” I lean in a whisper in Jack’s ear. “Her folks is dead.”

He looks at me, then nods. “Fellas, make Angel feel welcome. Ya hear?”

“How old is she?” David asks.

“How old are you?” I ask Angel. She thinks for a second, then holds up 6 fingers.

“Six?”

She nods.

“She’s close to your age, Les! Say hello.” David urges Les forward, who seems just as shy as Angel.

“Hi,” he says in a small voice.

“H-Hi,” Angel whispas back.

“She don’t bite, Les. She just-” I begin. Angel then wraps Les up in a hug. “-wants a little friendship.”

Les, however, don’t want any part of it. “She’s a girl,” he whispas at David.

“She’s not a disease, Les. She’s a human being. Now be nice.”

Les still struggles, but eventually accepts Angel’s hug.

“Now go on- have fun, make play!” I say, close’n tha subject.

“Hiya, Angel!” 

I thank the stars a million times for Crutchy’s positive energy.

“I’m Crutchy, ‘cause of tha crutch. Can ya talk?”

I shake my head. “She don’t know how. Only a few woids. Can’t read either.”

Crutchy’s face falls. “That’s too bad. But hey! Ya can still learn!”

“Yes, yes she can.” I leave Angel with Crutchy and pull Jack aside. “I just found out she got here, after how many days of her live’n here?! We’s gonna be have’n a conversation about this, got it?” I say sternly with intense eyes. Jack nods again.

“So, who wants to hear ‘A Christmas Carol’?” Specs asks around.

“Yeah!” All tha kids yell.

“Just get it over with,” Race grumbles.

“Wow. Ba-humbug to you too,” I smirk as I sit down on my bunk, with Angel still lying on my back with her arms wrapped around my neck.

Race does a double-take. “What?”

“Just listen- you’ll get it.”

“Could I read some of it, Becca?” Specs asks softly.

I nod. “‘Course ya can! We’ll take turns.”

I pick up David’s book and open it ta page 1.

“Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ’Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Race interrupts from across tha room. “How tha Hell is this a Christmas story? Dead people? Undertakers? This sounds like a funeral!”

“Race, it is a funeral! I neva said it’d be a sappy joyfest! Just keep your shoit on and listen!”

And so it went, Specs and I reading ‘A Christmas Carol’. When Specs got to tha part about Marley, tha kids hid behind tha olda fellas, but didn’t stop listen’n. When I animated tha part about the Ghost of Christmas Present, they all laughed. When Specs read tha part when Scrooge sees his grave, they all gasped.

“And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!” Specs finishes with a big smile on his face. Our audience has been silent up ‘till this point, but I can tell they enjoyed it- including Race!

“Whoa! That was great!” Skippy and Snipeshooter say in unison.

“We’s got our own Tiny Tim, right Crutchy?” Mush teases.

“He’s bedda than Tiny Tim- he’s tha real deal!” Blink says proudly.

“Yeah! You’s tha most grateful, nicest guy I know!” I add as I punch him playfully on tha shoulder. “Well, Race? Good story, huh?”

Race don’t say anyth’n at foist, but then a big smile spreads over his face. “Not bad, Becs. Not bad.”

“Glad you’s enjoyed it! Here David-” I hand tha book back.

“We’s should do this every year!” Boots exclaims.

“Yeah! Like a Christmas tradition!” Specs agrees.

A few hours later of talk’n, laugh’n, and yawn’n, and we’s almost all passed out on our bunks, with tha kids sleep’n next to tha fellas. David went home a while ago, but Les is fast asleep. Angel’s sleep’n next to Les, who’s taken a big like’n to her.

Now’s my chance.

I quietly sit up and tip-toe over to Jack.

“Jack- you awake?”

He grunts. “I am now.”

“Good. We need to talk.” I grab his arm and yank him outside into tha hallway.

“Sure thing, sis.”

“Jack, I can’t do everyth’n. I’s just one person. I just found out, today, about Angel. She was all by herself, left with tha boys with nobody to help her. You remember how scared I was when you brought me here! How come nobody told me? Or bedda yet- how come nobody helped her? I ain’t gonna be here as much, ‘cause I’s gonna be with Spot. I can only play Modda Hen for so long, Jack! You’s godda step up to bat and do someth’n too!” 

Jack looks taken back. “Whaddya want us to do?”

“Include tha kids, say ‘hi’ to ‘em, teach them someth’n!”

“Teach ‘em what? You know as well as I do that we’s all don’t have any ‘real’ education! Ya want someone to teach ‘em, ask David!” 

“I don’t just mean math and English! Teach ‘em how to sell papes bedda! Teach ‘em how to soak people, teach em street smarts! Believe me, you’s taught me everyth’n I know today ‘bout be’n smart in New York- now you’s can teach them.”

By now I’m grasp’n Jack’s shoulders and shake’n him, leave’n Jack to see me in a new way.

“Rebecca, I’m so sorry-”

“You should be!”

“I know, I know. I just- we had no idea how much you do for them. We’s just… assumed they’s all could take care of themselves…”

I sigh heavily. “Jack, some of ‘em is only five. They’s might know how to do some things, but they’s still only five. Just- Just don’t forget them, okay?”

“No, I won’t. And I’ll make sure tha odda fellas know too.” He brings me in for a hug. “Thanks, Becca, for everyth’n.”

“No problem, Jack. It’s just what I do. Now c’mon- let’s get some sleep. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow! Oh- wait! By tha way, what did Sarah want you for?”

“Oh. She, um… It ain’t your business, Becs!” Jack mumbles.

“You’s my brodda- almost everyth’n you do is my business!”

“When I break an arm, yeah. But not in my luv life!”

I hold up my hands defensively. “Fine, fine. I’s just try’n o make sure you don’t get hoit.”

“Ha! That’s cute- my sista try’n to protect me when I should be protect’n her!”

I scowl. “We’ve been through this- I can handle myself. It’s you I’s worried about! So c’mon- what’s tha news?”

“Noth’n! She- she just gave me a gift, ok?”

“Well, don’t leave me hang’n, Jack! She’d she give ya?”

Jack don’t say anyth’n at foist, but then-

“A new bandanna.”

“Really? That’s poifect! Can I see it?”

“No, ya nosy Nelly! Now will ya let me sleep?”

Before I can say anyth’n, Jack slumps into his bunk and throws a pillow over his face.

“Night, Jack.”

As soon as I hear him snore’n (10 seconds), I carefully tip-toe downstairs and recover my tiny tree from it’s hide’n place. I ain’t get’n tha gifts out yet, ‘cause I want them to be surprised. Not want’n to wake anybody up, I take extra care as I bring it upstairs and set it up in a corner. Some strings of red berries, a few pinecones, and a star fashioned oudda paper- it ain’t a fancy tree, but I did my best.

I lay down in my own bunk and stare wondering out tha window.

Night, Spot.

[artisofthandy]

It’s Guy Fawkes Day/ Guy Fawkes Night/Bonfire Night 2024! A day to commemorate and celebrate the failed gunpowder assassination attempt of King James I back in the 17th century! For some context in 1605, a fella by the name of Guy Fawkes decided to plan a gunpowder assassination along with his gang by blowing up the House of Parliament with King James inside, this was all due to political and religious matters (remember back then, the church was massively Protestant and that being part of a different religion was incredibly illegal if they find out and Guy Fawkes and his gang were mostly Catholic.) They believe should they succeed in killing James, they get a new sympathetic ruler. But the plan failed spectacularly, because there was someone who notified the king ahead of time and not only was the whole gang, Guy Fawkes included was caught they were executed for treason and conspiracy. And now every year the British holiday on November 5th was now Guy Fawkes Night and the rest is history. It’s celebrated every year to commemorate the foiled attempt!

Happy Guy Fawkes Night 2024 everyone! Celebrate with bonfires, fireworks, sparklers, firecrackers and other pyrotechnics!

[theaterrush]

✫➺"Happy Toy Day, fellas! And hope y'all have just as happy of a new year!"

✫➺"In fact, I think I've got JUST the deal to make your holidays MERRY and BRIGHT-!"