#holiday special 2021

[thewomanwhowatchedchristmas]

Dimension 20 Misfits and Magic: Holiday Special (2021)

In case you aren’t familiar with Dimension 20, it’s an actual play tabletop role playing game show available on Dropout. Misfits and Magic specifically uses Kids On Brooms for its gameplay, which is similar to Dungeons and Dragons with some different mechanics.

This holiday special follows the events of season 1 of the show, and I think for character reasons it make a lot more sense if you’ve seen the season, but it would still be fun if you like weird wizard holidays. Our game master (GM) is Aabriya Iyengar, and the magical misfits are Whitney Jammer (Lou Wilson), Evan Kelmp (Brennan Lee Mulligan), Sam Black (Danielle Radford), and K (Erika Ishii). Any character mentioned that is not one of the four magical misfits is played by the GM. This special takes place at Gowpenny Academy of Arcane Arts somewhere in Britain. Our magical misfits are American teenagers referred to as the “pilot program” for testing how previously non-magical people adapt to being magical.

Headmistress Philtrum tells our misfits that they can’t go home for the holiday break because their families are NAMPs (Not Activated Magical Person), and also because it is the time of year when their magic wanes the most, so it would be more dangerous for them to leave the school. Everyone is very upset, but they look forward to spending the weird wizard holiday called The Lulling together, especially since it’s Evan’s first holiday celebration ever. But when they learn what The Lulling signifies, survivalist Evan goes a little hard in preparing to fight the seemingly mythical wizard eating tadeshacourt, or tad for short, a large bear shaped monster with a deer skull for a head with antlers.

The minister of education McJonjon leads the ritual to lull the monster back to sleep for the year, and then everyone goes back to the castle, at least until Jammer finds something weird on his shoe that Evan identifies as deer velvet. I have no knowledge of when deer shed their velvet in Britain (or anywhere else for that matter), but Evan seems to insinuate that it’s out of season for normal deer this close to Christmas (December 21st). There’s also fun relationship drama between Jammer and Cleo, and Sam and Fergus, which prompts K to soothe their friends and further give Evan another panic attack.

Partly to keep their spirits up since nobody can go home for Christmas and partly to give Evan the best first holiday ever (and for a secret third reason), the misfits decide to throw a rager in the Great Hall. Being in Chimeron (Goat House!) gives them a great relationship with the kitchen. They call this party the lolling and invite everyone because none of these kids go home for breaks, which is weird.

This is a pretty niche pick as far as my holiday movies have been historically, and I do think it is hard to follow if you haven’t seen the preceding season. However, I believe that if you want to watch this, you would also like the preceding season, so you might as well just devote about 12 hours to watching all of it. Anything created by Dropout holds a very special place in my heart, so I’m going to give this 4 stars. I might not watch it again, but I definitely want to play Kids On Brooms and now I have to reread Harry Potter so… wins all around.

[sinful-karateka]

Here's a visual for you, OP!

So, I know the America mohawk is because they’re representing America at the Sekai Taikai and not for 4th of July, but hear me out when I say it brings up some holiday options.

Like, all I want is a Christmas episode where Eli’s mohawk is all green spikes and the karate students all get together to decorate the ‘trees’. Like, imagine each member got to make a tiny ornament, and the members who went to the Sekai Taikai get to make a star. And Hawk just sits there while they decorate his Christmas tree hair.

Demetri would inevitably make a joke like, “So, does this make you our Christmas gift?”

Hawk would reply, “Why? Am I what you asked Santa to leave you under the tree?”

And before he could answer, Moon would show up for the first and only time in season 6 to remind the audience of Hawk’s alleged heterosexuality, and say, “You’re what I asked him for. I can’t wait to unwrap you.”

Then Demetri would stand there awkwardly watching them make out before saying something like, “I actually wanted legos.”

And then Eli would pull away from Moon long enough to hand him a Lego set with a bow on it. “Merry Christmas, Dem.”

“Merry Christmas, Eli.”

And then Demetri and Hawk would grin at each other in a way that undoes all of the heterosexual cred the previous making out earned. And Moon’s cool with it because at least she gets to be in an episode.

And that’s just my Christmas episode pitch based on Eli’s mohawk. I think each holiday should get an episode with a different mohawk. You should see what I’d plan for Earth Day. We’ll call them Binary Brothers’ Mohawk Holiday Specials.

[meazalykov]

the season to (not) be jolly

barcelona femeni x esmee brugts x reader

summary: you hated christmas, and your teammates figure out why

warnings: childhood neglect, trauma, angst, financial poverty, etc

the excitement rings through the barca locker room like electricity, bouncing off the walls and between your teammates. 

the holiday break is just around the corner, only one training session and ninety minutes of football separating everyone from flights to faraway places like back home, home-cooked meals, and quality time with loved ones that only get to see them from the stands at important games. 

it is a cheerful chaos—laughter echoing, jokes being thrown back and forth, and plans being laid out like promises.

"we’ll be in norway,” mapi grins, slinging her arm around ingrid as she sits beside her. 

“ingrid’s parents already have the cabin ready. a real winter wonderland, i shall say.”

“it’ll be nice to be home,” ingrid adds softly, her smile as calm and steady as always. 

you sit at your locker, head tilted down as you lace your boots, pretending to be engrossed in the task as their words float around you. 

it feels safer to keep your eyes on your hands, watching how your fingers move—pull, tighten, tie. over and over again. anything to distract yourself from the sting in your chest.

you feel it every december. that heaviness. that punching ache in your ribs when people start talking about their families, their holiday traditions, and their childhood memories. 

you can’t relate. you never could.

to your left, keira and lucy are chatting animatedly about spending christmas in england, lucy teasing ona about the inevitable cold since ona will be going with her. to your right, patri and claudia are arguing over who will get more gifts from their loved ones, both wearing matching grins as they playfully push on each other.

but you? you just exist in the in-between, silent, invisible.  

the noise grows louder. the locker room feels smaller. your throat tightens, that familiar burn rising behind your eyes. you push it away. this is not the time to fall apart.

alexia’s voice cuts through the chatter again, light and teasing as she looks ahead at you. 

“nina, you’ve been quiet. what about you? where are you headed this christmas?”

you freeze for half a second. it’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, but the question lingers in the air like a heavy fog. you glance up, forcing your expression into something neutral—something safe.  

“nowhere special,” you say with a small shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“just staying here at home. might catch up on needed sleep without needing to wake up for training.”

“no plans with family?” mapi asks, brows furrowing slightly.

you hate that. you hate when people ask about your family. after leaving your home to live in paris, where you played for a season and a half with psg (before leaving when the barcelona offer came up in 2021), you stopped talking to your mother who wanted nothing to do with you. 

your answer has never changed, and yet, every time it feels like a fresh wound being prodded.  

“yeah,” you mutter, looking back down at your laces. 

“just after christmas though.”

thankfully, mapi doesn’t press further. her attention shifts back to ingrid as she brings up the norwegian christmas markets, and you’re left to sink back into your silence, drowning in it. 

you look over at the corner of the locker room to see esmee, your girlfriend, looking right at you. jana sits beside her, laughing about a joke sydney made while esmee notices the sadness in your eyes. 

the look in your eyes can be hidden from the team, but you can’t hide it from esmee.  

she notices—of course she does—because she knows you better than anyone, even after just eight months of being together. normally, you’re her sunshine, a steady source of warmth no matter what the day brings. 

you’re the first to crack a joke after a tough training session, the one to steal food off her plate at team dinners just to see her roll her eyes, the one who sneaks kisses when no one’s looking and holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. 

but now? now you’re quieter, smaller. you smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and your laughter sounds hollow when it finally comes.  

“i don’t have to go, you know,” she told you last week as you sit together on the couch, her thumb tracing gentle circles over the back of your hand. 

“i can stay here with you.”  

you shake your head almost immediately, forcing a smile as you press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“no, es, you should go. your family wants to see you. they miss you.” 

you don’t tell her the rest—that you don’t want her anywhere near the dark place that december always drags you into. she’s too bright, too good, to get caught up in the emptiness you feel during this time of year. so you push her away gently, telling her you’ll be fine, that you’ll call her every day and send pictures of maple– your cat— curled up at the foot of the bed. 

esmee doesn’t look convinced. she squeezes your hand tighter, leaning her forehead against yours.  

“you’re not fine,” she whispers, eyes searching yours. 

“i am, esmee.” you say. 

you’re just tired, you convince yourself. however, the words stick in your throat because you know she won’t believe them. this is the first december you’ve spent together, the first time she’s seen you like this, and it terrifies you—being vulnerable in front of someone you care about so much. 

you’ve always hated christmas. as a kid, it was just another reminder of everything you didn’t have. no presents waiting under a tree. no stockings hung by the fire. no warm meals shared at a crowded table.  

instead, you had an empty house, cold and quiet.  

your mom always worked. always. christmas, birthdays, weekends—it didn’t matter. “we need the money,” she’d say coldly, pulling her coat on as she hurried out the door, leaving you behind. 

sometimes, she’d forget it was even christmas until days later.  

“we’ll celebrate next year,” she’d promise. but next year never came.

you can still remember what it felt like to see the other kids at your academy, showing off their shiny new boots, their expensive kits, their gear from nike or adidas. their parents would stand proudly by the sidelines, bundled up in warm coats, smiling as they cheered.  

then there was you, wearing a pair of cleats one size too big—scuffed, worn, bought secondhand with the crumpled euro bills you’d earned from mowing lawns or shoveling snow after training each afternoon. you’d tuck your hands into the pockets of your thrift-store jacket to hide the holes in the seams.  

your academy teammates didn’t know how lucky they were.  

you hated them for it, sometimes. hated their laughter, their joy, their easy lives. mostly, you hated yourself for feeling like you didn’t belong. for being the girl who showed up every day with nothing to show for it but grit, raw talent, and determination.  

now, years later, that feeling lingers.  

you’ve worked hard—harder than anyone—to get here. to wear the barcelona crest on your chest. to play alongside some of the best players in the world. to prove to yourself, and to everyone else, that you deserve this.  

no matter how much success you achieve, no matter how many goals you score or games you win, you can’t outrun the past.  

christmas will always be a reminder of what you never had.  

you pull your boots off, methodical and slow, as the locker room continues to cheer around you. your teammates don’t notice the way your shoulders slump or how you turn away slightly, shielding your face.  

“hey,” a voice says quietly beside you. it’s aitana, sitting beside you since her locker is beside yours. her tone is softer than usual, like she’s noticed something. 

“you okay?”

you nod quickly, too quickly.

“yeah. just tired.”

she doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. aitana never does. she just nods and goes back to her boots, letting the moment pass without making it heavier than it already is.  

you’re grateful for that.

you finish changing, moving through the motions on autopilot, your mind elsewhere. the noise in the room feels muffled, like you’re underwater, and when you finally leave the locker room, stepping out into the cold december air in your new training gear, you inhale sharply—like you’ve been holding your breath all along.  

the sun is already setting as you leave training hours later, streaks of orange and pink blending with the darkening sky. your breath comes out in clouds as you walk toward your car, hands stuffed deep into your coat pockets.  

you stare at the horizon for a moment, watching the city lights flicker to life in the distance. it’s beautiful, you think absently. and yet, it makes you feel so small.

tomorrow, the break begins. your teammates along with your girlfriend will board flights, heading off to homes filled with warmth, love, and laughter.  

and you? you’ll stay here. alone.  

you’ve grown used to loneliness over the years. it’s familiar. like an old coat you can’t bring yourself to throw away.  

that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.  

you sit in your car for a long time before starting the engine, the radio playing faintly in the background. a christmas song—cheerful and bright—fills the silence, and you quickly shut it off, gripping the steering wheel tightly.  

you hate christmas. you hate the way it makes you feel. like you’re still that little girl, watching the world through a window, longing for something you’ll never have.  

turning on the radio, you hear, “walking around the christmas tr–” before slamming your fingers on the mute button. there was no christmas tree in your apartment, nothing in your space shows that it is even december. 

not like alexia’s apartment that clearly shows that is is the holiday season. the scent of cinnamon candles and fresh pine greet esmee like a warm hug as she visits alexia. 

soft music plays from a speaker in the corner, and the living room is an organized mess of wrapping paper, ribbon spools, and tape dispensers scattered across the coffee table.  

“es!” mapi’s voice is the first to cut through the scene, grinning up from where she’s sitting on the floor, tape stuck to her sleeve. 

“about time you showed up. come help me wrap ingrid’s gift before she figures out what it is.”  

“you’re impossible,” ingrid mutters beside her, laughing as she ties a bow on someone else’s gift. maybe vicky’s since esmee saw the ipad that the younger girl asked for. 

esmee smiles at the couple teasing eachother, kicking her shoes off and settling onto the floor, careful not to disrupt the organized chaos. across the room, olga – alexia’s girlfriend – sits on the couch beside alexia, scissors in hand as she trims the edges of wrapping paper, while salma sprawls nearby, half her attention on the gift she’s wrapping and half on her phone.  

“is mine here?” esmee teases after a moment, eyes narrowing playfully at the pile of brightly wrapped boxes beside alexia.  

“it’s already done,” alexia replies without looking up, focused on folding the paper perfectly around a large box. 

“you’re not getting any sneak peeks until new year’s eve like everyone else.”  

“como no,” esmee groans dramatically, earning a laugh from salma and mapi. she leans back on her hands, soaking in the cheerful atmosphere for a moment, but the weight in her chest pulls her down before she can fully enjoy it. 

the smile fades from her face, and her gaze drops to her lap.  

“what’s wrong?” alexia asks, finally noticing the shift in her demeanor.  

esmee hesitates, chewing her bottom lip. “it’s... about y/n.”  

the room quiets slightly, everyone’s attention turning toward her. mapi raises an eyebrow, already halfway to smirking as she leans into ingrid. 

“trouble in paradise?”  

“no, no,” esmee says quickly, shaking her head. 

“it’s nothing like that.”  

olga sets down her scissors, studying esmee carefully. 

“then what’s wrong?”  

esmee swallows hard, fiddling with the corner of a ribbon. 

“i feel like... i need to stay in barcelona for the holidays. with y/n. she’s—she’s going to be alone.”  

alexia frowns slightly, confused. 

“no, she’s not. she told me she’s going to see her mom and family eventually.” 

esmee’s heart sinks, her brows furrowing as she glances up at alexia. “that’s not true,” she says softly, shaking her head. “she hasn’t spoken to her family in nearly five years.”  

silence falls over the room like a heavy blanket. alexia looks stunned, her brow creasing deeply as she processes esmee’s words. salma sets her phone down, staring in disbelief, while mapi and ingrid exchange quiet glances.  

“she told you that?” alexia asks carefully, her voice softer now.  

“yeah,” esmee nods, her voice steady but heavy with concern. 

“she doesn’t want anyone to know. i think—i think she told you that lie so you wouldn’t feel bad for her. she hates christmas. she’s always hated it. i don’t know why, but i can assume that it has to do with her family.”  

“joder,” mapi mutters under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“y/n’s gonna be alone? she didn’t tell anyone?”  

“she wouldn’t,” esmee says, guilt rising in her chest as she looks around at them. 

“she acts like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”  

ingrid exhales slowly, her face softening with quiet understanding. “we can’t just leave her like this,” she says firmly. 

“esmee’s right—she shouldn’t be alone.”  

“what do you suggest?” alexia asks, her voice sharper now, edged with determination.  

“we go to her,” mapi says immediately, pushing herself to her feet as if the decision is already made. 

“right now. if she won’t talk to us, we’ll make her.”  

“she’s going to hate me,” esmee says quietly, worry flickering across her face as she stands, too. 

“she doesn’t want anyone to know. she’s going to be so upset that i brought you all into this.”  

alexia crosses the room in a few strides, stopping in front of esmee and placing a hand on her shoulder. her expression is calm but resolute, a quiet authority in the way she looks at her.  

“she won’t be upset at you,” alexia says firmly. “i won’t let her be.”  

esmee lets out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as the others begin to gather their things. the cheerful hum of the evening is gone now, replaced by a silent determination that hangs thick in the air. alexia is the first to head for the door, already pulling on her coat, and one by one, the others follow—mapi, ingrid, olga, salma.  

as esmee pulls her own coat on, she sends up a silent hope that you will understand. she knows how fiercely you guard your heart, how much you hates people seeing the parts of yourself that are broken. 

esmee also knows that you deserve more than an empty apartment and silence on christmas day.  

back to you– the steam still lingers faintly in your bathroom, curling around the doorframe as you pad out into your apartment, feeling the lingering warmth of your everything shower settle into your skin. your matching red plaid pajamas feel soft and clean, clinging to you in that perfect way that only comes after freshly washed laundry. 

you won’t admit to anyone that the red plaid feels a little festive—that maybe, on some level, you allowed yourself to indulge in something resembling the season.  

your hair is pulled back in a loose, low braid, wisps escaping around your face, and your apartment is spotless. floors vacuumed, counters wiped down, blankets folded neatly on the couch. if you couldn’t have christmas, the least you could do was make sure the space felt fresh and ready for the new year. clean, organized, empty. just like you wanted it.  

you hum quietly as you step into the kitchen, reaching for the bowl of fruit on the counter. you’d planned to snack a little while watching a movie tonight, something non-festive—maybe a thriller like friday the 13th– anything that didn’t mention families or magic or joy.  

before your hands can reach the fruit bowl, there’s a knock at your door.  

you frown slightly, the sound cutting through the quiet apartment like an unexpected jolt. you assume it’s esmee—she’d mentioned she might come by to say goodbye before she left for the netherlands in the morning.  

“coming,” you call softly, feet shuffling toward the door.  

when you swing it open, your breath catches in your chest.  

standing in the hallway, crammed into the small space outside your apartment, are esmee, mapi, ingrid, alexia, salma, and olga. esmee stands closest to the door, just beside mapi, her expression tinged with worry that makes your stomach turn. 

everyone else has the same look—soft, cautious, and far too knowing.  

“what’s—” you start, forcing a smile to smooth over your features. 

“what are you all doing here?”  

“surprise?” mapi tries, her voice lighter than the rest, but even she falters when your eyes narrow slightly in confusion.  

“can we come in?” alexia asks softly, her tone careful.  

you nod slowly, stepping aside to let them file in one by one. salma gives you a small smile as she passes, and olga pulls you into a quick hug—her familiar warmth a brief comfort.  

“it’s good to see you,” she says, and you force another smile, nodding.  

“you too. it’s been a while.”  

as the door clicks shut and you turn back to face them, the knot in your chest tightens. their expressions don’t match their usual energy—not the teasing, playful banter you’re used to. instead, they’re quiet, gentle. worried.  

“is everything okay?” you ask, scanning the room as they settle awkwardly around your small living space. you go on sit on your grey colored sectional couch as everyone follows you. 

alexia is the first to speak.

“y/n... are you really going to see your family this year?”  

the question hits you like a punch to the gut. your heart drops, and your eyes immediately dart to esmee, who looks at you apologetically. you don’t even need to say it—your expression screams “did you tell them?” 

esmee shifts slightly, opening her mouth to speak, but mapi cuts in before she can.  

“she can’t save you from this conversation,” mapi says gently, though there’s no humor in her voice. 

“we know you lied.”  

you take a small step back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “i’m fine,” you say quickly, the words rushing out before you can think. 

“i don’t have christmas plans, and that’s okay.”  

“it’s not okay,” ingrid says firmly, her voice soft but resolute. 

“y/n, it’s clearly not fine.”  

you feel the walls closing in, your heart pounding in your chest. the room feels too small, the air too thick. flight or fight mode kicks in—you want to run, to get away from their prying eyes and gentle words that feel like they’re picking you apart piece by piece.  

“there’s nothing wrong,” you stammer, shaking your head as you back toward the couch. 

“i don’t know what you’re all talking about. i’m fine—”  

“hey,” esmee’s voice cuts through the panic, soft but steady, and when you look at her, the tension eases ever so slightly. 

“it’s okay. nobody here is judging you, okay? you’re safe. you’re not in trouble for lying to ale.”  

her words ground you enough to sit down, curling into the corner of your couch. you hug your knees to your chest, wishing you could shrink into yourself, disappear completely. 

you don’t want to be here, in this moment, with all their eyes on you.  

“i just hate how everyone gets to have a good holiday except me,” you mumble, the words spilling out before you can stop them. your voice wavers, cracking slightly as the truth seeps through the cracks in your armor.  

ingrid is the first to move, crossing the room to sit beside you. she doesn’t say anything—just wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you gently. olga comes next, kneeling on the floor beside the couch and resting a hand on your arm.  

“what do you mean by that?” olga asks softly, her voice a careful whisper.  

alexia moves to sit in front of you, dropping to her knees so she can look up into your face. her expression is open and kind, patient in the way only alexia can be.  

“what happened, y/n?”  

you close your eyes tightly, your fingers digging into your knees as you try to fight back the sting of tears. you don’t want to tell them. you don’t want anyone to know. but the words are already there, clawing their way out, demanding to be heard.  

“i never had christmas, my birthday afterwards did not seem important either..” you whisper finally, your voice so small it’s almost lost to the room. 

“i don’t even know what the happy feeling is supposed to feel like.”  

alexia’s brow furrows, and mapi leans forward, her voice quiet but gentle. 

“can you explain?”  

you take a shaky breath, the air trembling as it leaves your lungs. 

“growing up... it was just me and my mom. we didn’t have money for christmas. no tree, no presents, nothing. she worked all the time—she had to. bills came first. even with that, she was never nice to me. she made it seem like i was asking for too much.”  

your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep going, to let it out.  

“when i was in the academy, all the other kids would come back after christmas with new cleats, new gear, new jerseys. i’d still be in hand-me-downs from thrift stores. i’d use money i got from doing yard work to buy boots that were a size too big to make sure i could fit in them for a few seasons– because it was all i could afford.”  

the room is silent as you speak, the weight of your words settling over everyone like a blanket. ingrid’s arm tightens around you, and olga gently rubs your arm as tears sting the corners of your eyes.  

“i hated it,” you admit, your voice breaking. 

“i hated watching everyone else have families, have traditions, have... love. i hated feeling like i did something wrong, like i wasn’t good enough to deserve it.”  

you bury your face in your knees, unable to look at them. your shoulders shake slightly as you try to keep yourself together, but the truth is out now, raw and ugly, and you feel exposed in a way that terrifies you.  

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” esmee says softly, sitting on the floor beside alexia now. 

“none of that was your fault, y/n.”  

you don’t respond, but the tears slip free, hot and silent against your skin. you feel alexia’s hand settle on your knee, grounding you, and ingrid presses a kiss to the side of your head.  

“it’s not fair,” you whisper. 

“it’s not fair that everyone else gets to be happy except me.”  

“but you deserve to be happy, too,” alexia says gently, her voice firm with conviction. 

“you deserve love, and joy, and traditions, just like everyone else.”  

“we can’t change your childhood,” salma adds softly. 

“but we can change this year and every year after this one.” 

you lift your head slightly, looking at her through blurry eyes.

“what do you mean?”  

“you’re not spending christmas alone,” ingrid says simply, brushing a tear from your cheek. 

“none of us are going to let that happen.”  

“you’ll come with me and olga,” alexia says. 

“we’re having dinner with her family on christmas eve, and you’re coming. no arguments.”  

“and before you say no,” olga adds quickly, smirking slightly, “it’s not a pity invite. it’s a ‘we want you there because we care about you’ invite.”  

you look around the room, at all of them—esmee, alexia, mapi, ingrid, olga, salma. their faces are open, kind, and so full of love that it makes your chest ache.  

“you don’t have to do this,” you say quietly, but esmee shakes her head.  

“we want to,” she says softly. 

“you’re not alone anymore, y/n. you have us now, you have me.”  

something shifts in your chest at her words, the weight you’ve been carrying for years lifting

you don’t know what christmas will feel like this year, but maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.  

esmee shifts beside you, reaching for your hand, threading her fingers through yours as you lay your head on her chest. her touch is soft, steady, and when you glance at her, you see something unwavering in her eyes—love, determination, all of it laid bare.  

“i’m staying in barcelona,” she says quietly, her voice gentle but firm.  

your brows furrow immediately, and you sit up slightly. 

“esmee, you don’t have to—”  

“no,” she cuts you off, shaking her head with a small smile. 

“i’ve already decided. my family is coming here instead on the day after christmas. we’ll celebrate together, and you’ll be with us.”  

you open your mouth to protest again, the instinct to push her away rising, but before you can say anything, alexia’s voice chimes in, calm and final.  

“again, that’s not up for debate,” she says softly, kneeling back onto the floor to look at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“you’re family to us, y/n. esmee’s family loves you just as much as we do. and that’s final.”  

you glance back at esmee, your heart tightening, your walls cracking just a little more as her thumb rubs soothing circles over your knuckles.  

“you’re not alone anymore,” she says again, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“this year, you’ll have a real christmas. with me. with my family. with our family.”  

you stare at her for a moment, overwhelmed by the weight of her words, by the love in her gaze that feels so foreign yet so familiar all at once.  

"okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as the beginnings of a smile tug at your lips. 

“okay.”  

esmee leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as alexia gives your knee one last reassuring squeeze. the rest of the room seems to exhale in relief, the energy softening into something warm and safe, like a blanket wrapping around you.  

for the first time in years, you let yourself believe it.  

you’re not alone.  

and this year, christmas will be different.

masterlist

[100vern]

the great british fake-off | xmh

you thought the guy in the hawaiian-print shirt who seems physically incapable of being quiet would be the most annoying person here, so imagine your shock when it's xu minghao, who has seemingly decided you're the enemy and keeps sabotaging you. a baking competition for charity might have others on their best behavior, but what's a little sugar without some spice?

❆ pairing: minghao x reader ❆ genre: great british bake-off, holiday au; crack, fluff ❆ wordcount: 5.5k ❆ rating: e for everyone ❆ warnings: some swearing, minghao is a saboteur, idiots abound. ❆ credits: this netflix psd template for the banner. this recipe for the yule log; this recipe for the gingerbread house; and this recipe for the entremet. divider from here. this post for the divider. this was roughly edited by me, so any and all mistakes are my own. ❆ written for: the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories as they're posted. ♡ ❆ author's note: i had this rotting away in my wips since literally 2021, so even though it started as a completely different story, i'm so glad it's finally seeing the light of day even if it's not what i originally intended. (also, i know the banner says 12 contestants but the holiday specials only had a couple, okay. i forgot when i made it and i wasn't going back to fix it.)

The obnoxious one is wearing an aloha-print shirt.

He’s also extremely loud, his raucous, fake laughter filling every corner of the large warehouse you’ve been assigned to for filming. Makes a show of batting his eyelashes, throwing his head back every time someone cracks a joke that’s not even funny, comes up with nonsensical nicknames for the entire crew just to suck up to them.

“John Davies? Mind if I call you Joe?”

Joe doesn’t even make sense as a nickname for John, but John fucking loves it, apparently. Looks at the annoying guy like he just watched him string the stars in the sky.

But it’s the shirt—god, the shirt drives you absolutely crazy. He’s about to go on national television, be a household name, and some ill-fitting, charity shop Hawaiian print shirt is what he woke up and chose to wear. What’s his angle here? Appeal to the public with some sob story about only being able to afford second-hand clothes so that’s why he’s competing? Needs the money to care for a sick relative?

(The expensive watch on his wrist and his limited-drop sneakers tell an entirely different story, but you’re keeping that to yourself for now. No reason to play your hand so early.)

As much as you hate the shirt, you have to admit it suits him. The colors are garish and unsightly, just as obnoxious as he is, and you can’t stare at it too long because you start going cross-eyed. Looking at him feels about the same as stuffing your mouth with a bunch of sour candies: you get that same burn in the back of your jaw, same scrunched-up, grossed-out look on your face; have to squeeze your eyes shut to blink back tears.

You don’t even know his name, but you hate him immediately.

Your eyes scan the other contestants. None of them inspire the same level of animosity within you as the annoying one does; all of them nearly unremarkable. A variety of ages, appearances, backgrounds. You hear one say they’re a retired investment banker. There’s an accountant, a teacher, a fucking aerospace engineer.

And then it’s his turn to introduce himself. He clears his throat, speaks with an easy, practiced confidence. Completely void of nerves. Makes eye contact with everyone in your conversation circle. Gesticulates wildly as he speaks, immediately endears everyone to him.

“I’m Tim,” he says, and you nearly recoil at how honeyed his voice is. “But you can call me Tim. I’m thirty-eight, originally from a small town. Work as a…”

You can barely stand to listen to it anymore, each “Nice to meet you, Tim!” like another punch to the gut. How can’t these people see right through him? How are they falling for his bullshit? You should’ve known. Producers always throw in at least one bomb to up the ratings—a secret millionaire, someone rude and confrontational, a flat-earther. Even if you’re competing in a charity baking competition, of all things, it’s still reality television at the end of the day.

Just because the bunch of you are going to spend the next few days creating confections out of sugar, spice, and everything nice, doesn’t mean you have to be part of that ‘everything.’

Tim thinks he’s got this in the bag. Thinks he’s going to show up and win easily, the rest of you be damned, and even if you are typically a very nice person, you’re also highly competitive. There’ll be no rolling over done by you, and if Tim wants to play dirty—

Game on.

As you introduce yourself, you feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. Probably because you don’t bother with the faux-humility the rest of the contestants have. Polite and charming but firm, just the way your mother had taught you. You’re not boisterous, don’t crack silly jokes to play up to the cameras the way Tim loves to do, and you know he’s scrutinizing you the way you’d done to him, trying to figure out your angle.

Well, joke’s on him—you don’t need one.

And you really, really hope it drives him crazy.

Except maybe the joke is on you, too, because you don’t account for Xu Minghao.

In true reality television fashion, the tent is boiling hot.

As if the universe itself had looked down on all of you and decided what you all needed was a heatwave uncharacteristic of this time of year, just to up the ante. Not even ten minutes in the tent and you’re all fanning yourselves and wafting air up your shirts. Which is great, really, because it isn’t like you need to use ovens or stand over hot burners. It’s not like you aren’t going to be soaking through your clothes with anxiety sweats, either! Sweat dripping off your brow into your eyes won’t matter because you don’t need to use them.

Everything’s going to be fine!

But everything is not fine. Not only has the universe gifted you with sweltering heat, it’s given you the work station directly next to Tim’s. You’ll have to feel his annoying, off-putting aura near you for the entire competition. There’s always the possibility of him bungling it and making an early exit, but you know that’s unlikely. Obnoxious he may be, you also know a strong opponent when you see one, and something tells you you’re going to be stuck with him for the long haul.

Think of the cats, you tell yourself. All of this is for the cats.

It’s not like you never would’ve returned here of your own volition. No, your first go-round with feel-good, competition-based reality television had gone fine. You hadn’t won, of course, because you wouldn’t be here again if you had, but you placed respectably in the top three. Became a fan favorite, too, which was arguably more lucrative than winning. People make a living on social media these days.

So, it’s not the competition itself that has you white-knuckled gripping onto the edge of your station. It’s the man at the one beside you, cracking all these stupid jokes about the weather and how it’s a horrible day for tempering chocolate, so he bets that’s going to be the first challenge!

You suck in a deep breath. Try to remember the breathing exercises from that one yoga class your sister had dragged you to. It had been about the same temperature then, too—well duh, it’s hot yoga, your sister had said, which was news to you, because you never would’ve signed up for something called hot yoga willingly. Still, you endured it, just like you’ll endure this, and a little sweat is not going to get in the way of you delivering a check to all those poor, sad cats without families.

“Psst, hey,” you hear from behind you. When you turn, a man is smirking at you as he finishes tying his apron around his waist—has to wrap the strings around twice, you notice, because only someone hand-picked by the gods themselves would have that shoulder-to-waist ratio.

You don’t really recognize him. Can’t recall his name or where he’s from; can’t remember what he mentioned doing for a living. Probably something artsy, if you had to guess—he definitely has the style and demeanor of a creative, with his trendy shag-mullet and the multicolored, glitter-y snowflakes decorating his nails.

You aren’t sure he introduced himself at all, but the confidence with which he holds himself—easy, like it’d take a national emergency to rattle him even a little—implies he doesn’t really have to. Most of the people here already know him, if you had to guess, and he gives the impression that he’s not fussed with impressing any of them.

If only Tim was so inclined.

You clear your throat, vaguely aware you need to respond. “Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

“Ah, I don’t think so? We’ve done this before, after all. We should be seasoned veterans by now.”

He smirks. “Should be,” he emphasizes. “Feels different when it’s for charity. Extra serious, you know?”

“Right,” you agree, taking a look around the tent. “Anything for the cats.”

There’s an immediate shift in the atmosphere. What was friendly and carefree is now tense; where a smile and a floral giggle sat on the man’s lips has been replaced with a crooked scowl. And it doesn’t make sense, all you’d done was agree with what he said, but then the producers are yelling something at the front of the tent, cameramen are rushing to their equipment, and a woman appears at your side and starts clipping equipment to your clothes, and there’s no time to question it. On your right, Tim’s laughing and joking around with some crew members like they’re old drinking buddies. It drives you nuts, has annoyance pricking at your skin, flushing your cheeks—

So much so that the woman at your side leans in and asks, “Should I get hair and makeup over here?”

“I—no, it’s fine.”

The unnecessary members of the production team scatter away after a loud countdown. Hair and makeup don’t come to wipe the sweat tracks from your skin. You already know Man Behind You is standing there looking perfect because he’s equally as attractive as he is mysterious. God truly has favorites, and this guy somehow made the top five.

You stare down at the instructions in front of you, confident in your ability to read but not so confident in your ability to make sense of any of it. And it’s your own recipe, which is the worst part. You’d typed this recipe yourself. These are your hand-written notes in the margins. You’ve conceptualized, tweaked, baked, and eaten this recipe more times than you can count, and now all you can do is thousand-yard-stare into the ether.

In the time since you were on the show, you’d somehow forgotten about the chaos. Not unlike that hormone women have that makes them forget about the pain and agony of childbirth, you reckon.

In addition to being one of the most bothersome people in history, Tim apparently doubles as a prophet.

Because it is a terrible day to temper chocolate, and you’ve got a bûche de Noël on the horizon that requires you to do so. You can pivot, maybe make some kind of buttercream, but a basic chocolate buttercream is not going to win you a world-renowned baking competition even if it is Swiss meringue. A child could make that.

You sigh. Push that wave of panic to the back of your mind. In a setting like this, you have approximately ten seconds to come up with a back-up plan and execute it and you wasted your time thinking, so you’re just going to have to temper the stupid chocolate and stick to your original plan. God, you have a headache.

But the show must go on, so you do too.

Step 1: Preheat the oven.

Easy enough. If nothing else, you can preheat an oven.

Step 2: Make the sponge.

Not as easy, but you’ve made so many sponge cakes throughout your life you could probably do it in your sleep. Whisk attachment on the stand mixer. Four eggs. Sugar meticulously weighed and added to the bowl. Sugar and eggs whisked together until the mixture is the color and consistency you’re looking for. Flour, cocoa powder, and salt sifted in. Metal spoon to fold it all together as delicately as possible. You won’t have a sponge cake if you beat all the air out of it, now will you?

“Good enough,” you mutter to yourself, staring down at the bowl.

At least you’d had the foresight to grease and line your baking tray, because the entire entourage arrives at your station just as you’re meant to be pouring the batter into it and sticking it in the oven.

“Ah, we meet again,” the group choruses, genuine smiles peeking through as if you’re old friends separated only by time and distance.

That’s the weird thing about being on television. For as long as you’re able, you exist within a microcosm of daily life. A world exists outside of your bubble, you know, but you don’t see much proof of it. All of your meals are eaten together; all of your conversations are had with one another. You share temporary living quarters and oftentimes too much of yourselves, and you’re thankful the show encourages teamwork and kindness because that’s the kind of thing that can grow sour if you leave it unchecked too long.

And then it just—ends.

Bubble burst, you all go back to your regular lives. You look back on that time fondly, but the friendships are thinned out by time and distance. Eventually it all starts to feel like a dream, except every now and then something breaks through the haze to remind you it actually happened: a stranger recognizing you at the store, a message on social media, the casting team contacting you to ask if you’d be interested in competing in a holiday special for charity.

“We certainly do,” you retort, smile matching everyone else’s.

All things considered, you are happy to be back. Even if the tent is crowded and far too warm, the atmosphere is unmatched, especially when it’s decorated for the holidays.

“What are you working on?”

You explain the general workings of your yule log: chocolate sponge, hazelnut liqueur cream filling, and chocolate icing to top it off. You aren’t sure how you’re going to decorate it yet—you’ll figure it out once you get there, depending on how much time you have—but you guarantee them it’ll look festive and professional.

Satisfied with your plan, they wish you luck and move on to the man behind you. It’s so great to see you again, Minghao, someone says, and you’re grateful they’ve spared you the embarrassment of having to ask for his name. It still doesn’t ring a bell, and you can’t recall what season he’d been on for the life of you, but he speaks with a patience and a gentleness that is so unlike Tim that you nearly drop to the floor in thanks.

But as the commotion of the tent reminds you, you don’t have time to waste thinking about Minghao. You’ve only been given an hour for your signature, and you’re going to need all sixty of those minutes if you have any hopes of presenting a finished product.

It doesn’t register at first.

It doesn’t register at second or third, either.

In fact, you’re sure you’re hallucinating when you open the oven door to pop the sponge inside and you aren’t hit with a blast of hot air. Room temperature. Perhaps a bit on the cooler side, if you’re being honest.

And that can’t be, because you know you preheat your oven. It was the first thing you did, because it’s always the first thing you do. It’s just… automatic, like opening your mouth to eat or washing between your toes in the shower. Instinctual. Not something that needs to even be considered, because it’s always the first thing you do.

No, this cannot be. Forgetting to preheat the oven is a rookie mistake and you’re not a rookie.

…Could it be?

Perhaps you were so caught up in the lights and buzz, the thrill of returning to the tent, that it had slipped your mind? Perhaps you’d pressed the wrong buttons and turned the wrong dials? While it’s not likely you’d somehow bumped into the oven and turned it off, nothing is impossible, so… maybe?

“Shit,” you hiss through your teeth. The producers are not going to be happy about your swearing. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Everything okay up there?” Minghao asks from behind you. When you turn, he’s got a flour-dusted towel thrown over his shoulder as he nurses a cup of tea, and his composure in the face of your hysteria has your head spinning.

Your mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. Minghao is drinking tea without a care in the world and your oven isn’t even halfway to the temperature you need. “I—yes? No? I don’t know. I could’ve sworn I preheated the oven, but—”

“Don’t panic,” he offers, his top lip catching on the rim of his mug. “You got this. Work on something else while you wait.”

Something else. Right, you can work on something else. Both the filling and the frosting still have to be made, and quick mental math tells you there should just be enough time to get everything done if you’re efficient. Of course, that’s a big if, but that’s why you’d chosen a yule log, after all: sponge cake doesn’t need that long to bake, and anything can happen (and go wrong) in this tent.

So, you get to work on something else. Measure out a sheet of parchment paper, dust it with cocoa powder, and set it to the side. Decide to get to work on the frosting, because if one thing has already gone wrong, you don’t trust the universe to let you temper chocolate correctly.

The chocolate is halfway melted when the oven dings. A small harrumph of victory and you’re finally good to go, setting a timer for twelve minutes. Minghao offers you a discreet thumbs-up, fingers covered in something sticky you assume is marzipan.

Time flies after that. You get both the frosting and your filling made, and it’s only through divine intervention that your sponge cake comes out perfectly and with enough time to score and cool. When you dare a look around the room, everyone seems to be in a similar position as you: frazzled and covered in powdered sugar, making frantic trips to and from the refrigerators, chucking seized-up caramel into the trash and starting over for the third time with a pained expression.

A holiday special—it was supposed to be more laid-back, more for the vibes and festivity than actual competition, but it looks to you like everyone’s taking it just as seriously as your first go-rounds.

“Fifteen minutes!” someone calls, and your competitors fade out of focus. You’ve got a yule log to ice and fondant to roll out.

You make it by the skin of your teeth.

It isn’t perfect, of course, as few things on this show ever are, but it’s more than acceptable. It looks great and tastes even better which is all you can hope for. Much to your dismay, Tim also gets top marks, but it’s Minghao that shocks you all. His stollen wreath earns him a handshake and a lot of clandestine, private glares, but he’d been kind to you earlier, helped untangle that knot of pandemonium, so you return the thumbs-up he’d given you earlier with a smile that feels akin to getting away with murder.

Something is wrong.

On its own, this is not necessarily surprising. Gingerbread, tasked with bearing the weight of an entire house, can be fickle. On any other day you wouldn’t blame it if it wanted to rebel and go sideways, but the thing is—you’ve made gingerbread before. Tons of times. Another thing you could probably make in your sleep if you absolutely had to. So it doesn’t make sense when you look down in your mixing bowl and it just… doesn’t look right.

You tell yourself it’ll get better when you knead it. Maybe the color just looks off because it’s underworked, and a few good punches will set it straight.

But it doesn’t. The dough sits at your station like a sad, formless lump, giving you no indication it intends to become anything at all. Which is, admittedly, a problem. Your technical challenge is to build a gingerbread house—one complete with little windows and golden-toned nightlights, a scalloped roof dusted with powdered sugar to look like fresh snow, a working door!—and you’re far from an engineer, but you don’t think you can have a gingerbread house without gingerbread.

You sneak a peek at Tim’s station, where he’s well into measuring an immaculate-looking dough with a ruler. The contestant in front of you is in a similar place, too, so it’s with an oh fuck I’m doomed sigh that you turn around and hope to find a comrade in Minghao again.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying not to draw attention to yourself. “Does this look right to you?” You jerk a thumb in the direction of your dough-lump. Minghao, bless him, looks around you and tries his best to hide his grimace.

He does not succeed.

“Um. Well, no.”

You sigh. Place one flour-dusted hand on your waist and pinch the bridge of your nose with the other. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it. I’ve made gingerbread a million times.”

“Looks pale,” he offers. Of course, this is the exact moment he dumps his own dough—his beautiful dough, flawless chestnut brown—onto his station to knead it. “Was the sugar right?”

A strangled, disbelieving laugh escapes you. Was the sugar right—of course the sugar was right! Dark muscovado sugar. Everyone knows that's what you use for gingerbread, so of course the sugar was right because no one, both in their right mind and at this stage of competition, would use anything else.

Before you can respond, Minghao’s pointing at your jar of sugar. Your jar of pale, producer-supplied sugar, which even a blind person could tell does not resemble dark muscovado sugar.

A million thoughts race through your head at once, but it boils down to instinct, you think. Your brain had seen flour, butter, and sugar and went into baking mode, not stopping to take in the color of anything. Maybe a smarter, more perceptive person would put two and two together and get sabotage, but you don’t have enough time to play detective.

“Here, here,” Minghao says, hurriedly handing over his (correct) sugar. “It’ll be close, but you should have just enough time to redo the dough.”

You’re going to throw up.

In the end, a chunk of chocolate buttons is missing from the roof and the piping around the edges is far from your neatest work, but it’s passable. You already lamented your loss during the signature bake, because anything less than perfection was not going to win you much of anything, and you’re now 0-for-2 on showstopping, unbelievable, awe-inspiring confections.

Just like the devil, your fall from grace will be studied.

Overthinking isn’t going to get you anywhere, but you can’t help it.

You collapse sideways into a chair, immediately face-planting into the catering table. Everyone else buzzes around you—animated conversations that have your head spinning, words that jumble together and start to sound like nothing at all—but you’re a million miles away. One mistake is out of character for you, but two? It’s unheard of. Something you would’ve said was impossible if it didn’t happen to you just a few hours ago.

This is something you need to file away for later so you can think about it just as you’re about to fall asleep, horror and embarrassment there to keep you company when it keeps you awake until the wee hours of the morning.

A chill runs down your spine.

“Hi. Do you mind?” You startle. Bang your knee on the underside of the table. “Sorry,” Minghao apologizes, but he doesn’t look sorry at all. You shake your head. Gesture to the empty seat across from you as if to say it’s all yours. “I brought you some tea,” he continues, setting it in front of you. “I find it’s easier than coffee when you don’t know how someone takes theirs. Less chance of getting it wrong.”

You smile. Wrap your hands around the Styrofoam cup and delight in the warmth. “Thank you. This was very kind of you.”

“Seemed like you had a rough day.”

Groaning, you try to wave away his words. “Please don’t speak of it.” Minghao jokingly salutes you before miming his lips sealed. “Anyway. Let’s talk about something that is not reality television or baking or a reality baking competition.”

So, you do. Most of the talking comes from you, to be fair, but Minghao is a good listener: nods along, chimes in when appropriate, keeps the spit in his mouth where it belongs. You talk about your hometown and what made you apply for the show the first time. He tells you about growing up in Haicheng and all the things he grew up baking with his mother. You swap stories from your respective seasons; Minghao shares anecdotes with a straight face that have you clutching at your stomach.

Hours pass this way, and you end the night feeling like you’ve made an honest-to-god friend.

Xu Minghao ends the night feeling the guilt weigh him down like an albatross.

In retrospect, it is probably a bad idea to make another sponge, but no one can accuse you of learning from your mistakes.

“It’ll be a patterned joconde sponge with two mousse layers—chocolate and raspberry—and a raspberry jelly. Then I’m going to attempt to top it with chocolate and raspberry decorations.” The judges blink. Are you sure that’s a good idea? you know they want to ask, but this is a holiday competition for charity, so they’re trying not to be pessimists. “Anything is possible through holiday cheer,” you tack on, hoping your smile doesn’t look crazed.

They nod. “Right, right,” they say in unison. “Well, good luck!”

And then they’re off.

Determined to nail this, you triple-check your oven, which is preheating to a crisp 400 degrees; you double-check all your ingredients and confirm they’re correct; when you can spare the time, you watch your refrigerator like a hawk, making sure no one tries to sneak their own work in there and displace yours when you aren’t looking, but everyone’s engrossed in their respective showstoppers.

Tim’s planning a shadow box of sorts, with blown-sugar baubles and isomalt fire. Someone else is stressing over their three-tiered cake, asking the presenter if they think they’ve taken on too much. From what you can piece together, Minghao is making a three-dimensional house, also made from cake that he imported special pistachios for.

“Special pistachios?”

“Mm, from Iran. They have a better color.”

“Iranian pistachios! Can you believe it!”

But you don’t have time to worry about Minghao and his special Iranian pistachios. You have so much to do and not enough time to complete it. Your paste is in the freezer and the sponge is in the oven, but you’ve still got two mousses to make, a jelly to infuse, and little chocolate trees to create—and all of this wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t pointless, but you don’t want to disappoint the cats by half-assing it. They deserve your whole ass, and your whole ass is what they’re going to get.

The result is stunning—not necessarily in stature, but rather craftsmanship and effort. This is what you’re capable of. This is why you came back to the tent. For all your complaining and wanting to put your head through a concrete wall, there’s nothing like seeing the judges ooh and ahh when you present your work to them. There’s nothing like the ego boost of someone taking a bite and watching their eyes light up. There’s nothing like carrying your cake back to your station feeling proud of yourself.

“Great job,” Minghao says, a genuine smile stretched across his face. He also exceeds expectations, of course. Must be those special pistachios, you think, but your congratulations are also sincere.

Production makes a spectacle of judging, much like they always do.

The set is decorated to look like a winter wonderland, even though you’re still in the midst of autumn: a giant Christmas tree in the center decked to the nines with garland and baubles; warm, golden bulbs strung from every awning they could find; all the participants bundled up tight in festive sweaters and scarves all the way to your chins, cheeks and tips of noses dusted with red-pink blush to mimic the cold that’s nowhere to be found. Fake snow falls from the sky, and it doesn’t feel real, but it does feel magical.

One of the hosts catches you by the elbow, asks who you think is going to win. “Oh, I’d have to say Minghao,” you answer, because you’d rather die than give Tim the satisfaction. “His showstopper was incredible, but he was really great the whole competition.”

In the end, however, neither of them wins—it’s Jeon Wonwoo, three-tiered cake guy, who comes out of nowhere to claim first place. He’s bashful as he accepts his prize and says he’s going to donate the prize money to an organization that provides underprivileged kids with video game equipment. No one has a whole lot to say about that.

Once most of the hubbub dies down (and you give Tim a half-assed you did great, so sorry you didn’t win), you find Minghao near the refreshments table. He’s frowning around another mug of tea. “Alright?” you ask, helping yourself to some cider.

“For some reason, I’m no longer feeling very festive,” he replies, which is a very funny thing to say while wearing a hat with a little pom-pom on the top.

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. Sidle in a little closer and knock his shoulder with your own. “Ah, I know how you feel, but you really did do great. You were my pick to win, for what it’s worth.”

“Please don’t tell me that. It only makes me feel worse for losing.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Would’ve been nice to donate some money to the cats, but shit, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn some dark force was sabotaging me. Like, come on—forgetting to preheat the oven? Using the wrong sugar? Not even a kid would’ve made those mistakes.”

Two things happen in rapid succession: beside you, Minghao goes very, very stiff, and you realize you had been sabotaged. And not by some dark, evil force, either. You were sabotaged by the very man standing beside you—the man you shared thumbs-up with and thought was your friend. The man whose cake you complimented and picked to win. The man who is now standing ramrod straight, as tense as a corpse, and the thought of sabotaging someone in a charity baking competition is so ridiculous and unbelievable that you just—

You just laugh.

At first, it’s a bark of stunned laughter. Then, the more it sinks in how absurd, how nonsensical all of this is, you can’t stop. Tears are rolling down your cheeks. You gasp for breath as your stomach begins to ache. People are staring, including Minghao, who sort of can’t believe what he’s seeing, but none of it does anything to deter you.

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, “I can’t believe it was you—”

Minghao groans. “In my defense, it was for the cats!”

This was not the answer you were expecting. It makes you laugh harder. “What do you mean it was for the cats?”

He swallows. Removes the mitten from one hand to run it through his hair as if that one tic was enough to distract you from everything that’s happened in the last sixty seconds. (It is.) “Listen, you told me you were going to donate the money to a cat charity if you won and I just—so was I, was the thing. I was also going to donate the money to a cat charity if I won—”

“Okay, but which one, though?”

“The Cat’s Paw-jamas.” Much to Minghao’s horror, this sets you off again. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Minghao,” you try to choke out, but you can barely breathe around the cramp in your stomach. “Minghao, that’s the charity I was going to donate to. Oh my god, you sabotaged me and I was going to donate to—to the same fucking place. Jesus Christ, this is some Gift of the Magi shit.”

Your saboteur, who has gone deathly pale, is quiet for a very long time. Every now and then he’ll open his mouth like he’s going to say something before it snaps shut again. When he does manage to speak, what comes out are mangled apologies that sound like gibberish, and you wave all of them away. “It’s water under the bridge.”

“I—I really don’t think it should be?”

“Minghao, it’s fine, trust me, this was just for fun—”

“No, I really insist.”

You sigh, good-natured and exasperated. Something about the fake snow has you feeling romantic and a little bold, so you turn, grab him by the lapels of his coat. “Please tell me if I’m misreading this, but if you insist, maybe you can start by taking me to dinner…?”

This was clearly not what MInghao was expecting you to say. Dazed, he recovers quickly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a half-smirk. “Dinner, hm?” You nod. “I think I can manage that.”

You smile. “Great. How do you feel about cat cafes?”

[oscconfessions]

its been like forever since i watched like any official piece of inanimate insanity media (like the last thing i recall watching was the 2022 ii3 episode with bowbot and the body swapping) but i just felt the need to share this super ridiculous thing from late 2021 before i watch the last 3 eps

so back then i recall hating fantube for a pretty normal run-of-the-mill reason (i just WAS NOT able to enjoy them as romantic and preferred them more as platonic and personally thought their dynamic together was bland up until ii13) but for whatever reason my hatred got so intense and passionate i began having these obsessive recurring fantube NIGHTMARES

like in one of them i was literally just relaxing on my couch watching this holiday special and BOOM a fantube kiss scene suddenly plays on my TV for like 19 seconds straight

in another i was literally at a stadium watching this baseball game on a blimp and then theres this sudden zoom-in with test tube and fan competing as players and longingly looking into each others eyes until they just disappeared in thin air

then the most absurd one i had was one where i was at my aunts wedding and we all headed there only to find out that FANTUBE beat us to it and the entire place was on fire

i still do not like fantube and i do not remember WHY my hatred for it was so strong but i find it so ridiculous and hilarious that my mind fixated so hard on hating them 3 years ago that i would literally get ship fantasies in MY SLEEP of them... like i hated it with such a passion its like it looped back to some weird reverse shipping

- 👾🐾

this is my new favorite ask-📻

[adventuresofalgy]

Hogmanay is THE major festival in Scotland, and for that reason the Scots are granted an exceptional two days holiday at the New Year, when most of the world is only allowed to rest on New Year's Day, if at all…

That is because the Scots need it…But of course, as a consequence, the residents of Scotland tend to feel a wee bit the worse for wear by January 2nd, and Algy and his party guests were no exception… Only the watchful snowy owl, and Algy's wee friend Twicklewick the rat, were able to stay awake…

Algy had enjoyed a truly fabulous Hogmanay Hootenanny in the great Scottish tradition, thanks to all his wonderful tumblr friends around the world. And to top it all, his very special friend the little green dragon had flown all the way from Patadragonia to attend the party, courtesy of the magic of the wee sprig of cherry blossom, and had brought some of his South American friends to join in the fun (and perform the tango…).

(You can find more of Algy's adventures with the little green dragon in Patadragonia in Algy's archive for late April through June 2021 )

But Algy knew that the little green dragon would vanish again as soon as the party was over, and as he dozed fitfully, in a state of exhaustion, half asleep and half awake, an old, old song, in the rhythm of a waltz, kept drifting through his fluffy brain:

After the ball is over, After the break of morn— After the dancers' leaving; After the stars are gone; Many a heart is aching, If you could read them all; Many the hopes that have vanished, After the ball…

And for any of Algy's friends who may not happen to know this song, which was made especially famous by that turn of the (20th) century sensation Lillian Russell, here is a version performed by the beautiful Alice Faye at the height of her career, in the (not very accurate!) biopic Lillian Russell:

[devine-fem]

i am BEGGING you to make that jondami ship guide. not because i need anything to make me ship them more than i already do but because they deserve to have their good moments highlighted

Jondami/Damijon shipping guide.

A collective guide to any cute moment between Jon and Damian in DC comics or motion pictures. Any moment that could make a reader like them more as a ship will be put all here in one Tumblr post.

• Superman (2016) Issues #10-#11

This is the first time they meet each other and they immediately knock heads. Jon’s lighter than life personality clashes with Damian’s cold personality and they don’t seem to get along but you can tell there’s something growing behind the eye rolling and tongue clicking… a friendship?

• Superman (2016) Issue #20, #21, #25, #26 (mentioned), and #43.

• Super Sons (2017)

This is the first of the Super Sons series, the series is really short but gold nonetheless. No Super Sons comic that I don’t like but this one is my favorite. They still are knocking heads and refuse to call each other partners but they grow and learn to be heroes together.

• Adventures of the Super Sons (2018)

They slowly start to get used to each other and this comic shows that Damian isn’t just straight up mean but is starting to somewhat ‘like’ Jon.

• Challenge of the Super Sons (2020)

The last main Super Sons comics. This one is fine but I love the others so much. These comics are essential to know Jon and Damian period, it’s the main comics of each others story and in a way they are important to each others development.

• Batman and Superman: Battle of the Super Sons (2022)

Now after all that reading treat yourself to a movie because Jon and Damian got their own movie. This is what started Jon and Damian for a lot of people and this is probably where a lot of you are from. This movie is great and fun. They made Damian wayyy nicer than in the comics and their friendship easier.

• DC Rebirth Holiday Special (2016)

Please find and read this. It’s so cute. I love it so much.

• Dark Nights: Metal issue #3 (2017 -2018)

They make a rock band in the beginning, its so cute.

• DCeased (2019)

• DCeased: The Unkillables (2020)

• DCeased: Hope at World’s End (2020)

• DCeased: Dead Planet (2020)

• DCeased: War of the Undead Gods (2022)

This is such a good series, and story in general please read it. DC peaked with this one and its so angsty. I don’t care what comphet was happening, Jon was there for Damian like no one else. I think Damian ends up with Cassie which is weird to me because Damian has never shown interest in anyone before but I excuse it since it’s not really gonna happen again since they were in a relationship just for the story to be more high stakes and sad. Jon and Damian’s relationship was at the forefront and for comic book readers DCeased made people see the potential in Jondami.

• DC’s Terror Through Time (2022)

This is so cute, please read this. It’s a halloween special and they switch uniforms <3!!

• DC Saved by the Belle Reve (2022)

They help a nonbinary person navigate school and it’s so damn cute.

• The age up incident.

(Disclaimer: You can pretend this never happens and I wouldn’t blame you for doing that.) A writer named Brain Micheal Bendis comes into the writers room for DC and ages up Jon in short. The story is that Superman goes missing (He travels to War World and gets stuck there) and Jor-El comes back to meet Jon and he takes him on a trip to explore space, then they get trapped in a wormhole, Jon gets stuck on Earth-3 and has to fight Ultraman. He’s stuck in a volcano for five or six years and becomes seventeen (we think) when he comes back. This was sad to me because it took away all the potential interactions for Jon and our ability to see him grow up, it was rushed and purposely so. Jon takes up the title of Superman somehow and starts to date some guy named “Jay Nakamura.”

• Superman: Son of Kal-El (2021) Issues: #1, #6, #14, and #15.

He does get a boyfriend here and I think it’s amazing the fact he simply gets a boyfriend but no one really likes his bf so… and the are real reasons why Jay as a character is problematic BUT if you just don't want to see him with someone else than every time you see a pink haired twink, quickly skip.

• Adventures of Superman: Jon Kent

• Super Sons (2017) Special

This is them reuniting after the age up and it shows how Damian reacts to it. I can’t actually find this and if anyone can please let me know where it is. I can only find bits and pieces of it scattered across the internet. All you need to know is that he doesn’t like the age up anymore than us since he says “I miss my friend.” which is really sad to me because the age up ultimately really hurts what people like about their dynamic as well as tarnish Jon’s character almost completely.

UPDATE: found it, it got attached to

• Dark Crisis (2022) till Issue #5

This is fine, after issue four Jon and Damian are not there anymore and if you read half the story just for jon and damian you might as well finish it.

• Green Lantern: Blackstars (2019) issue #2

They hug here. You’re welcome.

• Action Comics (2016) issue #1030

This is the best thing to come from the age up. This is so cute of them.

• Teen Titans (2016) Issue #43, #45, and #46

i didnt really like this, im not gonna lie but it has some damian and jon interaction worth noting with jon being protective over damian.

• Flash (2016) Issue #797

jon defending damian. this is such a cute moment for them. jon talks damian up and says how hes the strongest person he knows and how hes misunderstood.

• Legion of Super Heroes (2019) Issue #2 & #3

dont read this. its rlly bad but this is full of jon being the number one damian apologist, quality jondsmi moments over quantity. worth mentioning • Trinity Special: World’s Finest literally them raising a child together but their ages are a bit wonkey, i still dont personally know what age either of them are supposed to be there...

DC MEETS HANNA-BARBERA - Super Sons x Dynomutt

I’d say they aren’t exactly written right, well over all they are but their personalities are more relaxed and they care about each other a lot and will go out of their way to make sure the other is okay and protect them from danger, make them laugh etc, theres nothing wrong with this, its really cute but you can tell its not the typical jon and damian writers is all. I like it.

• Dark Crisis: The Dark Academy (2023)

• Wonder Woman (2016) Issue #800

- Fandom

Artist that draw Jon and Damian:

(I don’t know any of these accounts intimately so if they’re problematic in any way than I am sorry in advance)

Sheiya Vlad

Pechaghtlecha

Corinthianrm0

Hobiiiebrown

spider-jaysart

arunneronthird

Twitter

Hokke

Gozer

@_1209E

YouTube

Justice Lords Animation

Japanese Animation

Super Sons Meme Animation

- Fanfics

Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once

Those Who Wait by InsaneTrollLogic

moving in stereo by TheResurrectionist

Reasons to Not Fall in Love by nanami

Growing Pains

These are fics I read and liked, I don’t have much. I don’t read a lot of Jondami fan fiction so I insist that you recommend your own fanfiction in the comments. (Don’t hate me for the self promo)

- Music (A silly lil playlist I made for them)

END

[seoul-bros]

Jikook Week 51 Complete (26/11-03/12/2024)

Their 51st week in the military is now complete. Today we are looking back at this week in 2021. They were on an extended visit to the USA for an intense schedule of interviews, award shows and four nights of PTD concerts in LA.

It was Autumn 2021 when I discovered BTS so I'm getting nostalgic looking back on those days and especially on this Jimin who holds a special place in my heart.

They left South Korea together on 17/11 and came back separately each with their own Christmas holiday plans. Jin, Jimin & Jungkook were the first to return on 06/12/2021 (SK time). Jikook left the airport together but were separated for COVID quarantine.

On 26/11 Jimin posted himself on the beach at sunset in California. We later found out that jikook made the trip together with Tae.

BTS held four concerts in LA on 27-28/11 and on 01-02/12. It was the first time in two years they had been able to hold a concert with a live audience and as Jimin says that first night was a reminder of how much both they and ARMY had been waiting for the opportunity to meet again face to face. He was left with a profound sense of gratitude. They were back where they belonged and were ready to enjoy every moment to the full.

Day 1 & Day 2 - Anderson Paak came to the concert on Day 1 and Megan thee Stallion performed with them on Day 2.

Day 3 & Day 4 - Halsey came to the concert on Day 3.

On Day 4 Chris Martin performed Our Universe

Throughout Jikook were together - on stage and off stage, at rehearsal and after rehearsal, exercising together late at night and relaxing at the hotel.

The dark days of the COVID pandemic were finally behind them and they were determined to do as much as they could before they would finally enlist. The LA concerts were just the start and were followed concerts in Seoul and Las Vegas in 2022. I was around for all of that but it was these concerts in LA that made me ARMY.

Cr. to OPs

Post Date: 03/12/2024

[dreamsofbroflovski]

yo…hear me out..

what the main four or others (as long as kyles in it..) are like for new years celebrations!

happy 2025 yall. let’s cook.

oh look its kyle bufflobster on that gif. my personal enemy.

Happy 2025!!! Hope everyone's having a great time already! As for me, I managed to drink cider that's been expired since 2021. It's going swell.

My first request for headcanons! I don't even know if I did these right, but I really did rack my brain. I also added some words about how they'd be with the reader because why not.

MAIN FOUR HEADCANONS - NEW YEAR'S CELEBRATIONS

𓆩♡𓆪 STAN MARSH

First thing that needs to be said: this man is pissed off days in advance over fireworks - if he has any pets, he has to make absolutely sure they’re safe and secure before anything else. He’s that guy who’s very vocal about how bad they are for animals (doesn’t really mention their effects on people), has probably tried to get them banned completely at some point.

Now that that’s out of the way. I think he’s the type to stay holed up in his home, order takeout and treat it as just another evening. 

With the exception that he’ll have an excuse to drink a whole lot of cheap champagne without anyone being up his ass about it.

Avoids his family altogether, mostly due to his father wanting to go absolutely wild on the holiday, he needs to be far away from all that.

He’s not opposed to attending a party and being around his friends, but will not actively seek that out.

And if he’s partying, he’s gonna go blackout drunk and probably miss the actual turn of the year - only to try and drunkenly state his well wishes (or personal grievances) to everyone half an hour later when the whole thing has pretty much died down.

Thumbs up reacts to everyone’s texts on the afternoon of Jan 1st; no real response.

No resolutions at all. There’s no point - at the end of the day, the new year is just a continuation of everything that has been going on in his life. If he has to achieve anything, he’ll do so of his own accord, making a promise is just putting unnecessary weight on his own shoulders.

If he’s with you, however… He can be a little better and put more effort into it, because he sees how excited you are and doesn’t wanna burst your bubble.

Will do whatever you wanna do, but has a high preference for it just being the two of you somewhere isolated, with some food and music and the aforementioned champagne (which he drinks a lot less of if you’re present)

Will pull you into a kiss right as the fireworks start and try to keep you distracted for the duration, both because he wants to be as close to you as possible in that moment and also so that he can ignore the things entirely.

Will tell you all about how he loves you and how you’re the best thing that’s happened to him. Even if he sounds drunk, you know he means all of it entirely.

𓆩♡𓆪 KYLE BROFLOVSKI

He’s probably nothing special on NYE. Probably also stays at home, but not isolated.

Jewish New Year isn’t on Dec 31st, but I still think his parents do a little something, like some nice dinner or a reunion with extended family members or friends.

If he finds himself at some party, he’s pretty well-behaved even there. I don’t see him raising hell - however, if anyone stresses him out, he’ll fight like it’s any other old day.

Is the one fucker who brought the expensive champagne that no one can recognize the name of - which got the same treatment as the other cheap ones from the supermarket.

I do unfortunately see him in the position of designated driver. Someone has to make sure his dumbass friends don’t kill themselves on the road. That doesn’t mean he’s ever happy about it, though.

Watches people partake in superstitions, but doesn’t do any of them himself.

Sends ‘Happy New Year’ texts to almost everyone he knows as soon as midnight rolls over.

Makes resolutions and sticks to them - writes them, pins them to the wall, the whole nine yards. Morning of Jan 1st he’s already making detailed plans about how he’s going to achieve everything he said he would that year (whether those plans actually succeed is a whole different animal)

If he’s with you… He absolutely tries to make it a special night, despite it meaning little to him in a superstitious sense.

He’s also in the position where your plans are his plans, he’ll follow you. However, if you do accept to spend NYE with his family and him the whole time, it sends his heart soaring because he knows that you’re choosing him above all the other stuff you could be doing, and he’ll make sure you have a great time even if his family is… difficult.

Brings you into a soft and tender kiss as the new year rolls over, holding you close as you both share a toast of champagne and sort of ignore the first fireworks in favor of being with each other.

At the top of his resolution list is the mission to make your year the best it can possibly be, and to love you through all of it. He hasn’t really written that down on his list, though - because it’s on his mind 24/7 anyway.

𓆩♡𓆪 ERIC CARTMAN

Leaves his mother alone - he’s at a party somewhere, for sure. Even if he was invited to none, he’ll sneak his way in. Since no one really has it in them to argue with him on NYE, he gets to stay.

Which shouldn’t even be a bad thing, because he actually brings the heat; he shows up with several beverages and food every time. The part of it that sucks is the fact that everything he brings is for his consumption, so he’s still an expense to the host.

He can, however, legitimately be trusted with the aux. Actual decent taste when it comes to party music.

That one guy making jokes about how he ‘hasn’t showered since last year’ or shit. Except he says them at 10pm still on Dec 31st and no one’s sure if he’s just stupid or if it’s really true.

Wears party accessories ironically; possibly brought them.

Buys whole boxes of fireworks. He’ll try to find some poor soul to do the work of lighting them up for him, but normally can’t, so he does it himself and probably needs to be taken to the hospital from the burns or sets fire to something else entirely.

Makes posts and stories on social media wishing a half-assed Happy New Year to ‘everyone’ - when in reality he got maybe like, two texts at most. (Butters and his mom, most likely)

Strangely superstitious? People will see him go through all the possible traditions that anyone said would bring him good fortune. If anyone asks him about it, he’ll deny deny deny - actually, he’s wearing full white ‘because it’s drip’ and eating those grapes under the table ‘because he doesn’t want to share them’, it’s definitely not that he fears for his own luck if he doesn’t do so.

Since he is a little ‘stitious, that does mean he makes resolutions. And they’re usually grandiose, full of bullshit, and don’t really signify any relevant positive change for his life - it’s mostly just material and physical gratification. Needless to say, they’ve never come to fruition.

If he’s with you, barely anything changes, really.

Talks to you about his plans for the evening as if they’re a done deal. Basically drags you to whatever it is he wants to do. (You might even be the reason he’s able to get into a party to begin with)

Doesn’t kiss you straight away because he’s busy with his fireworks, but if he manages to not hurt himself, you get a heavy makeout session afterwards.

He talks mad shit about how you’re lucky to have him and how you should thank him for spending this time with you, but in reality, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Immensely grateful for your presence in his life and willing to do anything to keep it that way. However, you won’t hear a single word about it.

𓆩♡𓆪 KENNY MCCORMICK

Out of his house by sundown - the addicts around him don’t really need a special occasion for doing their shit and stirring trouble, but it still seems to worsen on the holidays, so he wants to avoid that.

The protection Stan feels towards animals, he feels towards his siblings. Before he goes do anything else, he has to make sure they’re accounted for, with their friends somewhere safe where they can enjoy the night.

When that’s dealt with, it’s party time. He does get invited to stuff, and tries his best to not show up empty-handed, even if it’s just a bottle of cheap alcohol. He might still fail in that regard, though, but it’s okay, we still love him.

Wears all the ridiculous party accessories unironically.

Has died, more than once, due to firework-related accidents. Still enjoys watching them, albeit from a very safe distance now.

Watches the ball drop livestream on the television with great interest, even if just because it’s in HD this time. Celebrates heavily when it finally happens.

His ‘Happy New Year’ texts come in the afternoon, because he’s always too wasted in the morning to tell anyone anything. People might receive a drunken nonsensical jumble of letters at midnight, though.

Says surface-level words about a resolution or two, but it’s mostly really simple stuff. Also doesn’t really hold any of that to heart, because he knows of his own bad luck.

Doing the absolute most for a new year’s kiss (or several), practically on his knees begging for it.

However, if he’s with you… You’re getting way more than a kiss. It doesn’t even matter where y’all are, he’s starting the year by doing his favorite thing with his favorite person.

He kinda drags you into his plans, but it’s not in a selfish way like Cartman does. He just wants to make sure the both of you have a great time.

If you turn out to invite him personally to spend time with your family or just yourself, words cannot describe how happy he’s gonna be. It’ll basically make his whole year. He’ll ditch any party for that.

Partying all night with his baby, watching the fireworks, making love and not having to worry about anything else? Count this dude in.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[helloliriels]

HELLOLIRIELS WRAPPED 2024

🎁 36 VIEWS OF LONDON :: a FTH gift for @thegildedbee

A patchwork image of John & Sherlock’s London, as seen through their eyes. This is Plot Without Plot (which I'm told is 'the good stuff'). 😎😋📸 Meant to be taken in bite-size chunks. It is a fully finished fic. I hope you enjoy!

💝 PRETTY in (a Frankly Alarming Shade of) PINK &

🎁 NEVER TRUST TO GENERAL IMPRESSIONS [COVER ART] :: two FTH gifts for @thetimemoves

a.k.a. Never Judge A Book By Its Cover (unless its cover is smexy) 😉 my second FTH gift for their gorgeous fic of the same title!!

💌 THE REMEMBER ME MAN by helloliriels - (WIP) a continuation of Remember Me {Though Poppies Grow series} ongoing series

🎄 CHOOSE YOUR OWN JUMPER :: (WIP) Experiment at Baskerville. A new fanfic adventure awaits in this holiday special!

🐝 God Save the Queen :: Sussex & bees never looked so dangerous

🐝 Protect the Hive :: A beekeeper has two rules ...

🐝 You've Disturbed a Beekeeper ... :: There’s nothing that I or anyone else can do to stop it now …

💎 Liri's Treasure Chest :: Hoarding treasure from WoW like a dragon, and decided to start making art of my favourite pieces.

✍️ Better Luck Next Time :: (WIP) Mike had meant it in a kindly way ... but John was in no mood for platitudes.

🏆 New Achievement Unlocked! :: a series of bloggable cheevos.

🎭 MAY IS FOR LIMERICKS :: 20+ limericks full of johnlocked angst. Welcome to limerick hell. Inspired by Calaisreno's may prompts!

Found Fandom (Found Family)

Cardiac Arrest

Pining Idiots

Fitting In

Buried Deep

Open Carefully

Awkward

Operation Wedding

Lurid Ringtone

I (May) Have Miscalculated

Made You Look

Weather Together

Smooth Move

(That's Why He Stays)

Five Minutes

Dammit Sherlock

One Last Dance (Inamorato)

Idiot (Affectionate)

Red Pants (I Imagine They Sparkle)

Examine Me

The Dying Detective

C A L A I S R E N O

Forgiven?

✍️ One More Time (With Feeling) for @totallysilvergirl :: Sherlock gets help from another Doctor. A chance to change his answer and maybe even change his future?

✍️ Warm Open :: Siri ... play 'The Game is On' ...

✍️ Open Your Eyes :: FFF#249

🏆 HELLO AWARD SEASON 2024 :: Hey, if Oscar can do it ... we're gonna have a Wilde time!!!

🏆And the award goes to ... Arwamachine

🏆And the award goes to ... Salambo06

🏆And the award goes to ... Ceruleanmindpalace

Where do🏆awards come from?

🏆And the award goes to ... Silvergirl

🏆And the award goes to ... Barachiki

Where do 💧 awards come from?

🏆And the award goes to ... Chrys

🏆And the award goes to ... Floccinaucinihilipilificationa

When You're In 🌍 Fandom Spaces

📜 One Thousand and One (Words on the Tip of My Tongue) :: a poem. John is processing his grief.

✍️ A Johnlocker Walks into Heaven :: insane wish fulfillment

🎭 S4 Goes Wrong! :: The Goes Wrong Show takes over BBC's Sherlock for the 4th season with disastrous results!

Celebrating 167 Works & 375,000 words on AO3! 🎉

2023 | 2022 | 2021 | 2020 | HELLO POETRY | HELLO PODFICS

@johnlocky @chinike @rhasima @fluffbyday-smutbynight @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @ghostofnuggetspast @calaisreno @sarahthecoat @khorazir @iwlyanmw @raina-at @chriscalledmesweetie @7-percent @safedistancefrombeingsmart @kettykika78 @aquilea-of-the-lonely-mountain @whatnext2020 @londonlock @lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @a-victorian-girl @naefelldaurk @impalaparkedat221b @dragonnan @loki-lock @gaylilsherlock @inevitably-johnlocked @elwinglyre @jobooksncoffee @amyreadsandstresses @jawnn-watson @holmesianlove @sgam76 @janetm74 @ninasnakie @peanitbear @safedistancefrombeingsmart @discordantwords @bluebellofbakerstreet @john-smiths-jawline @topsyturvy-turtely @gregorovitch-adler @lololollywrites @solarmama-plantsareneat @blogstandbygo @justanobsessedpan

[devildom-drabbles]

Short Story - Under the Mistletoe with MC (Unused Intro)

Characters: MC, the demon brothers, and the side characters Word Count: ~1.1k Warnings: None, just the usual brothers and co. silliness Notes: This was the original intro for the "Under the Mistletoe with MC" snippet I wrote back in 2021. Initially, I planned to make that snippet into a series of stories during December leading up to Christmas, with each story being one character (minus Luke) that MC chose to kiss under the mistletoe. Unfortunately, I bit off more than I could chew, haha. Not having enough time to write so many stories, I had to settle with a snippet format, albeit longer than my usual ones, and write a different intro that I felt flowed better for it. I really like how the original intro turned out, though, and in my wave of nostalgia for the series, I decided to polish it a little and share it with everyone as my gift for this year. I hope you all enjoy it and have a wonderful holiday season! 😊💕

Mammon spit out his drink.  “Ya did what?!”

All eyes were on the small demon familiar, his pointed teeth visible as he snickered at everyone’s reactions from him interrupting their holiday festivities.  “You heard me,” Little D. No. 2 declared, his yellow irises twinkling brightly with glee under the candlelight from the living room’s chandeliers.  “I hung mistletoe somewhere in the House of Lamentation.”

“I heard what ya said,” Mammon remarked angrily, grabbing the round familiar to prevent him from fleeing, “but what I wanna know is why ya did it!”

“Well, you didn’t ask that, now did you?” Little D. No. 2 retorted.

“Keep talkin’ like that, pipsqueak, and you’ll be the new Fangol ball!”

“What’s the big deal?” Luke wondered aloud.  “Mistletoe is just a plant, right?”

“And both a parasitic and poisonous one from the human world at that,” Satan added.  “I’m surprised we don’t have any growing naturally in the Devildom.”

“What?!  Isn’t it dangerous to have it here then?!”

“Not to worry, Luke,” Solomon assured the angel.  “It’s only a parasite to trees and other plants, and it can only hurt someone if they ingest it.  Aside from that, it’s a nice decoration, especially during this time of year.”

“Ah, I remember seeing pictures of it before,” Simeon remarked.  “Even though it can grow in cooler weather, it still has vibrant green leaves and white berries.”

“Berries?” Beelzebub questioned, his mouth already watering.

“Beel, you did hear the part about it hurting you if you eat it, right?” Belphegor reminded his twin, suppressing a yawn while leaning onto him for support.

“I’ve got a strong stomach.  I can handle it.  So, where is it?”

“I hid it, big guy,” Little D. No. 2 told him.  “You gotta find it yourself!”

“What fun!” Diavolo exclaimed with a wide grin.  “It’s like a treasure hunt!”

“Hehehe, it’s a little more than that, Your Majesty!”

“Hm?  What do you mean?”

“There’s a tradition in the human world revolving around mistletoe, My Lord,” Barbatos explained.  “If you intend to find it, you’ll want to be with someone very special to you when you do.”

“That’s right!” Asmodeus chimed in cheerfully.  “Solomon taught me all about it last time he summoned me during the holidays, so I got to experience this fantastic tradition first-hand.”

“Yes, and so did everyone you came across at the party that day,” the sorcerer commented, recalling the event in his mind.

“Oh, so something exciting happens when you find a mistletoe with someone special?” Diavolo inquired.  “In that case, Lucifer, you should join Barbatos and me in searching for it.”

Lucifer shook his head, already appearing exhausted from the whole situation.  “I’ll pass.  I want nothing to do with this nonsense.”

The eldest brother’s demeanor gave Mammon an idea.  “You’re right, Lucifer!  This is all just nonsense!  Tell ya what,—”  He secured the demon familiar under his arm.  “—I’ll have this troublemaker tell me where the mistletoe is, and I’ll get rid of it right away.  Consider it an extra gift from the Great Mammon!”

Mammon glanced over at the human who’d been silently observing the conversation this whole time.  “Hey, MC, instead of starin’ off into space, ya oughta come help me out.  B-But only because this pipsqueak is more likely to tell you where the mistletoe is than if I asked him.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Leviathan spoke up, “I see what you’re doing here, Mammon.  You’re planning to get MC under the mistletoe with you alone!  That’s not fair!”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!  Ya really think I wanna bring MC along with me just to follow some human tradition about k-kissin’ under the mistletoe?”

“Kissing?!” Diavolo and Luke shouted in unison, completely taken aback.  Their matching bewildered expressions made Barbatos quietly chuckle.

“Obviously you do, Mammon,” Satan remarked.  “You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”

“Yeah, and there’s no way we’re letting you get away with being under the mistletoe with MC!” Asmodeus declared.  “Besides, I’m sure they’d much rather find the mistletoe with me, wouldn’t you, MC?”

“What?!  No way!” Mammon argued, too distracted to notice Little D. No. 2 slipping out of his hold.  “They’re coming with me!”

“You’re all so noisy,” Belphegor noted.  “I’m sure MC would much rather go with someone calmer, like me.”

“MC, my nose is really good, so I can sniff out the mistletoe’s berries quickly,” Beelzebub explained.  “You want to try them, too, right?”

“You might be okay, Beel, but those berries are definitely poisonous to humans,” Satan pointed out.  “MC, why don’t you stick with me instead?”

“H-Hey, don’t leave me out of this!” Leviathan butted in.  “I mean, then again, maybe you wouldn’t want to be under the mistletoe with a yucky shut-in otaku like me, MC, but...please choose me anyway!”

“Why am I not surprised it’s turned out this way?” Lucifer muttered with a sigh.

“Perhaps because Mammon and the others always tend to act like this whenever MC is involved?” Simeon answered with a gentle laugh.

Everyone had certainly become rowdy, most of them bickering amongst themselves about who would end up under the mistletoe with MC.  As for the human in question?  They continued watching from the sidelines, unsure of how to remedy the situation.

“Hoo boy, it sure gets crazy with those guys, huh?” Little D. No. 2 said, floating over to MC’s side.  The human shot them an annoyed glance.  “H-Hey, don’t look at me like that!  I just wanted to add a little extra excitement to the day, that’s all.  And I thought I’d help you find an excuse to have a special moment with your special someone...”

The demon familiar snickered at MC’s shocked expression.  “What, you think I haven’t figured it out by now?  You should be thanking me for such a thoughtful Christmas gift!”  He glanced at the commotion nearby.  “Though, I guess it’s gotten a bit out of control, huh?  Ah, well, this is practically normal for these guys at this point.  More importantly...”

They moved in closer to the human to whisper, “I wanna know if my hunch was right:  Who do you want to be under the mistletoe with, MC?”

MC mulled over the question while gazing at the chaotic group in front of them.  They had someone in mind, but...where was he?  He was with everyone a few moments ago, but now he was nowhere in sight.  Suddenly, someone grabbed their hand and pulled them out of the room, leaving the startled demon familiar and the preoccupied group of boys behind.  This warmth...  They’d recognize it anywhere.

Who is it, MC?

From there, I would've had links to each character (minus Luke) for you/MC to choose and then read their story. Although that didn't work out, the snippet version does exist, which you can read here.

[qraceiuv]

adore you. jude bellingham.

summary — jude bellingham x fem!reader | jude posts his best friend on her birthday every year... even the years they distanced... and especially the one they admit their love

note — second post! wanted to say thank u for the love on my first <3 also i love gracie

warnings — none! just fluff

_________________________________________

judebellingham (2019)

judebellingham: happy birthday i guess... you may be 17 but i'm still taller @y/nsusername

—

username: happy bday y/n!!

y/nsusername: i just want my gift

y/nsusername: youve got a good 2 inches on me mate

— judebellingham: a whopping 7 but alright

— y/nsusername: the gift.

yourfriend: bsf looks so good

judebellingham (2020)

judebellingham: wishing my best friend and chauffeur a happy birthday. i love spending time with you, especially when you buy me dinner even on your birthday @y/nsusername

—

username: shes so pretty

username: happy bday!

y/nsusername: lmao ily

y/nsusername: ur the opposite of a gentleman i feel bad for ur future gf

— yourfriend: HEKEKANAHA

yourmom: ❤️❤️

judebellingham (2021)

judebellingham: couldn't miss my favorite day of the year, even miles apart. happy birthday to the one i miss the most who answered every facetime call while i was travelling. always looking back on everything she did for me, she deserves the best day @y/nsusername

—

username: aww

username: WHY IS THIS SO

y/nsusername: 💗💗💗💗💗💗

judebellingham (2022)

judebellingham: finally got an invitation to the one and only y/n's birthday party, she never fails to make me feel special. happy birthday love

—

username: kms

username: the way he puts her on a pedestal

username: cuties reunited

username: "love" can yall just share feelings already omg

yourfriend: life of the party

y/nsusername: so happy to see u❤️‍🩹😕

y/nsusername: fave rsvp

judebelllingham (2023)

judebellingham: my favorite international holiday where i celebrate my girl. finally getting to call you mine while spoiling you as usual. i appreciate you more than you know and you're the best trophy i could win. i love you, happy birthday darling

—

username: this hit like a TRUCK

username: judes version of hard launch

username: fave day of the year!

username: DARLING OH IM GONE

username: FINALLY.

username: turn it up

yourfriend: pov he grew balls and admitted

— y/nsusername: LEAVE

— judebellingham: i give up

y/nsusername: i lobve u

— judebellingham: i lobve u more

— y/nsusername: oh wait i meant loce

— y/nsusername: what omg love

_________________________________________

[jokeroutsubs]

SLOVENIAN CUISINE: EXPLAINED

Extremely confused by Joker Out’s recent post? Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered!

KRANJSKA KLOBASA:

Carniolan sausage is one of the most recognisable Slovenian culinary products. Since January 2015 it has been protected with geographical indication by the European Union. It originates from the historical region of Kranjska, once the Duchy of Carniola, a crown land of the Austrian Empire. The sausage is a reddish brown colour on the surface and bears a faint scent of smoke. Each pair is held together with a wooden skewer.

Preparation: It contains at least 75 to 80% pork (aside from bacon) and at most, 20% bacon. It may contain up to 5% water, sea salt from the Sečovlje salt pans, a little garlic, saltpetre and black pepper. No other ingredients are permitted. It has to be cooked before consumption. It is usually eaten hot, together with sour or cooked cabbage or sour turnip.

Perfect for: folk village parties called ‘veselice’, where they are a common choice alongside wine or beer. For that occasion, bread, mustard, and sliced onion are mandatory accompaniments.

IDRIJSKI ŽLIKROFI:

Žlikrofi is a traditional Slovenian dish, originating from Idrija a small town in the east of Slovenia. Idrija is mostly known for its lace and now-closed mercury mines. Žlikrofi were the first Slovenian dish registered as a Traditional speciality guaranteed (TSG).

Preparation: Žlikrofi are made using pasta, filled with a mixture of potatoes, onion, pig lard, chives and other spices. They are best served with ‘bakalca’ (a sauce made out of lamb and vegetables).

Perfect for: Žlikrofi are eaten all year round and can be served either as a starter, side dish or a main course. Alongside restaurants in Idrija, tourists can also try them at the Idrija Lace Festival or at the Idrija Žlikrofi Festival, where žlikrofi are prepared in more than 35 different ways. The žlikrofi festival is held at the end of August, this year it is taking place on the 24th of August.

POTICA:

Potica (a Slovenian nut roll) is the number one traditional holiday pastry in Slovenia. It has been registered as a Traditional speciality guaranteed (TSG) in the European Union since April 2021.

Preparation: It consists of a rolled pastry made from sweet yeast dough, most commonly filled with walnuts, but there are variations with hazelnuts, tarragon, poppy, cottage cheese and others. Its ingredients are quite basic, but achieving the right balance of filling and dough is challenging. Traditionally it is ring-shaped, baked always in the special shaped potica baking mould (ceramic, glass or tin one), called ‘potičnik’, which has a conical protrusion in the middle.

Perfect for: All holidays, especially Christmas and Easter. Slovenian housekeepers are happy to bake it even outside the holiday season to pamper their loved ones.

PREKMURKSA GIBANICA:

Prekmurje layer cake (literal translation: Over-Mura moving cake 😂) is a special cake originating in eastern region of Slovenia, Prekmurje. The name ‘gibanica’ comes from the dialect expression güba and refers to a fold. Since March 2010, prekmurska gibanica is protected in the EU as a Traditional Speciality Guaranteed.

Fun fact: If you are visiting Prekmurje, you can swing by The House of Gibanica, where you can enjoy the full gibanica experience which includes tasting handmade gibanica, made in the traditional way using a protected recipe.

Preparation: The preparation of this layered cake is quite complex and expensive, which is why it is only served on special occasions. Each layer is topped with plenty of sweet cream, eggs and butter. The dessert requires crumbly and rolled dough and four types of filling, made up of cottage cheese, poppy seeds, walnuts and apples.

Perfect for: special occasions like Christmas and Easter. As it is very filling, it’s not ideal to eat (or prepare) in hot weather.

BOGRAČ

Bograč is a hearty dish, consisting of many meats. It is typical of the Prekmurje region. It is a festive dish, as it is never cooked for just one person. It is best when cooked in a kettle over an open fire. In Hungarian this kettle is called 'bogrács' , hence the name of the dish.

Preparation: Sweat onions in lard, then add a different type of meat to the dish at the end of each hour of simmering: first the beef, then the venison, and finally the pork. Season with paprika and add a splash of white wine. Finally, add the potatoes and cook until they are done.

Perfect for: large family gatherings.

Fun fact: Every year, Lendava* organises the international 'bograč' cooking competition called ‘Bogračfest.’ The municipality of Lendava also holds the Guinness World Record for the largest bograč ever prepared (1,801 kg) since 2021.

* A Slovenian town near the Hungarian border.

Content prepared by: @kurooscoffee, @weolucbasu, drumbeat

Graphic design by: X pastellibianchi, anonymous JOS member

English proofreading by: IG GBoleyn123, @flowerlotus8, X klamstrakur

[nightmareinfloral]

Jericho- Where to Read?

Joseph William Wilson (Jericho) is the youngest son of Slade Wilson (Deathstroke) and Adeline Kane. Beneath the cut is a complete list of Joey’s major appearances updated as of January 2024. Most important issues are in bold.

The 1980s:

Tales of the Teen Titans (1984) 42-44, Annual 3, 45-48, 50-52, 56-57, 58

The New Teen Titans (1984) 1-2, 3-5

Crisis on infinite Earths (1985) 3-5, 9, 11

Who’s Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe (1985) 11

The New Teen Titans (1984) 6-10, Annual 1, 11-13, 14-15

The Omega Men (1983) 34-35

The New Teen Titans (1984) 16-17, 18, 22, 24-31

Action Comics (1938) 584

Teen Titans Spotlight (1986) 3-6

Secret Origins (1986) 13

History of the DC Universe (1986) 2

The New Teen Titans (1984) 33-34

Blue Beetle (1986) 11-14

The New Teen Titans (1984) 35-37, Annual 3, 39-49, Annual 4

The New Titans (1988) 50-55

Secret Origins (1986) Annual 3

The New Titans (1988) Annual 5, 57-59

Batman (1940) 440

The New Titans (1988) 60-61

Secret Origins (1986) 46

The New Titans (1988) 62-63

The 1990s:

The New Titans (1988) 64-67

Hawk & Dove (1989) 11-12

The New Titans (1988) 68-69

Who’s Who in the DC Universe (1990) 1

The New Titans (1988) Annual 6

Wonder Woman (1987) 47, 49

The New Titans (1988) 71, 75-79, Annual 7, 80-85. 86

Deathstroke the Terminator (1991) 1-7, 9, 11, Annual 1

Showcase ‘93 (1993) 2

Batman Shadow of the Bat (1992) 34

Deathstroke (1991) 48

JLA/Titans (1998) 1

Nightwing Secret Files and Origins (1999) 1

The Titans (1999) 10

The 2000s:

The Titans (1999) 25, 46

Teen Titans (2003) 2

Batman Gotham Knights (2000) 44

Teen Titans (2003) 3-5, 7-8

Avengers/JLA (2003) 4

Teen Titans (2003) 9, 11-12, 21

Nightwing (1995) 106

DC Special The Return of Donna Troy (2005) 1

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files and Origins (2005) 1

Teen Titans (2003) 33, 39-47, 52

Countdown to Final Crisis (2007) 36

DC Universe: Last Will and Testament (2008) 1

DC Universe Decisions (2008) 3-4

Titans (2008) 6-12

Teen Titans (2003) Annual 1, 69

Vigilante (2008) 5

Teen Titans (2003) 70

Titans (2008) 13

Vigilante (2008) 6

Teen Titans (2003) 77-78

The 2010s:

DC Universe Legacies (2010) 5

Titans (2008) 37-38, Annual 1

Deathstroke (2011) 0, 13, 19-20

New Teen Titans: Games (2011)

Deathstroke (2014) 2-6, 17-20

Convergence New Teen Titans (2015) 1-2

Deathstroke: Rebirth (2016) 1

Deathstroke (2016) 1-3, 6-10, 12-16, 18

Teen Titans (2016) 8

Deathstroke (2016) 19

Teen Titans The Lazarus Contract Special (2017) 1

Deathstroke (2016) 20-25

DC Holiday Special (2017) 1

Deathstroke (2016) 26-27, Annual 1, 28 -32, 34-50

The 2020s:

Dark Knights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe (2020) 1

Batman Black and White (2020) 5

Deathstroke Inc. (2021) 1, 5, 7

Future State Gotham (2021) 12

Tales of the Titans (2023) 2

Thank you to @jerichogender for helping me compile!

[fjorn-the-skald]

Masterpost: History Raids

Plundering the past like an 8th-century Viking: hit-and-run style. Learning is a lot, so I keep everything short, simple, and straight to the point. That’s what History Raids are about. So if you’re interested in Viking history, Norse mythology, and medieval sagas—keep reading.

For the sake of simplicity, all links below lead to my YouTube videos—but everything is also available in an audio-only format in case you find visuals too distracting. So if you want an auditory learning experience, pillage my podcast feed instead.

I’m also including future content here, as well. I recorded most of this material between 2021 and 2022, so a lot is already in the queue. I’ll put a date if it’s fully scheduled, otherwise I’ll just share the title so you know what’s to come later on. I’ll update this post as we go, so make sure to save it somewhere accessible if you see something exciting.

Fjorn’s Hoard of History:

The Vikings

Northmen, Danes, and Swedes

Wends, Balts, and Sámi/Finns

The Migration Period (~400-550 CE)

The Vendel Period (~550-750 CE)

The Viking Age (~750-1050 CE)

What Makes a Raid ‘Viking’?

How to Tame a Viking: Christianization and the End of the Viking Age

Norse Mythology: Remnants from the Void

Norse Mythology in Poetry

Norse Mythology in Snorri and Saxo’s Salty Prose

Special: ‘Viking’ Love Stories (2/14)

Norse Mythology in Saga Literature

Norse Mythology: Creating the Cosmos

Midgard and Asgard

Yggdrasil

The War of the (Norse) Gods

The Major Æsir

The Major Vanir (and Other Deities)

Giants in Norse Mythology

Dwarves in Norse Mythology

Elves in Norse Mythology

Valkyries

Norns

Spirits in Norse Mythology

Norse Spirituality: What Are Land-Spirits?

Norse Spirituality: Don’t Scare Them!

Norse Spirituality: Dealing with New Neighbors

Norse Spirituality: Whale-Wizard vs Land-Guardians

Norse Spirituality: Unleashing Their Fury in Feud

Norse Spirituality: Salty Men Preach Against Them

Days in the Old Norse-Icelandic Calendar

Weeks in the Old Norse-Icelandic Calendar

Months and Holidays in the Old Norse-Icelandic Calendar

Years and Reckoning in the Old Norse-Icelandic Calendar

Norse Farmsteads and Agriculture: the North

Norse Farmsteads and Agriculture: Homesteads

Norse Farmsteads and Agriculture: Fields and Yields

Norse Farmsteads and Agriculture: Harsh Realities and Change

Norse Healing from Gods and Magic

Norse Healing from Runes

Norse Healers at Work

Herbal Remedies and Medieval Medicine in the North

Medical Manuscripts in the North

Herbal Gardens and Monastic Medicine in the North

Medical Miracles in the Medieval North

Famous Norse Healers

Special: Álfablót: Sacrificing to the Elves

Special: Njáls saga: A Medieval Bestseller Most People Haven’t Heard of

[oldinterneticons]

For those who are new followers over the past year, and as a reminder for everyone, I schedule some special posts over the holidays! The schedule will look like this:

through December 22nd: regular posts

December 23rd-27th: All Holiday-themed icons! These are often particularly funny because there was a huge trend on Livejournal of people using “all I want for Christmas is ____” icons for the season, usually saying they wanted some pop culture thing or person, so I post a bunch of those. Plus of course, I throw in general festive icons I’ve found along the way. You can check the christmas tag for the silliness that ensues. (also if you know of any old LJ blogs with these sort of icons or have any, send me a message. I think I’ve found most of them but you never know.) That said I know not everyone loves this time of year, so feel free to unfollow during that time or block the christmas tag.

December 28th-30th: regular posts

December 31st: Year end best of posts all day! I post the most popular icons of the year in a bunch of categories - music, emo, scene, TV, quotes, etc. Here's how it went in 2022 and 2021!

Here are the top nine holiday icons I dug up last year!