#i did it; and compared to how i was faring this time last week...

[dawnthefluffyduck]

One minute til' midnight (more design-accurate sketches below)

Yeah y'all know the drill by now, this fine specimen from this wonderful story by @patchwork-crow-writes

[chocochococoffee]

thinking about louie, his superb survival abilities and how olimar would feel about them

outside of the whole problem of how many time his astronat suit would last, louie survives surprisingly well to PNF-404. in fact, if we count the whole suit troubles, his own situation would have to be more or less like olimar in the very first game, which means more or less a month before his breathable air wastes away and he ends up dying, and yet he manages to even fucking eat (how and where does he removes his suit to eat???). and not only that he also is able to get a hold of a titan dweevil and acts as his crown (p2), survive for *weeks* in a very inhospit area to then be eaten by a monster, be saved AND eat the food of the koppaites (p3) and manage to survive without being pikminified for longer?? than olimar, steal his dog, then get a hold of the most dangerous dog which is also a fucking horrible final boss moment (p4)

and all of this? probably hed even die at his own will.

olimar now? how would the most normalest man (hocotatean?) on earth PNF-404 would react to all of that information? in terms of luck, he always draws the short stick. compared to louie, who got a rescue team in the forms of hocotate freight and the rescue team on his tail the very same moment where they noticed he was in "trouble" in one way or another, olimar got 1. nothing, 3. late help and by chance and 2. he died before help happened to get a chance to exist. he fucking died

(if i were him id kill shachou)

i believe in pikmin 4 he would be fucking impressed on how well louie fared. wrangling pikmin, doing dandori, escaping even. he did it way better than olimar. compared to p2, where he was probably impressed in the same way but kinda more on a "sure thing louie king of bugs now lets get you to your nana" way.

now, if he was able to see all those timelines????

id be pissed at whatever god who wants him so much he doesnt even let him have the luck louie has

he would go and fight the plasma wraith mano a mano, right? to then lose horribly again

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Erin Reed at Erin In The Morning:

While elections have certainly been heating up in the United States over transgender issues, candidates desiring an early look into how such issues might fare may look no further than Progressive Conservative Premier Blaine Higgs of New Brunswick. The candidate, who has served as premier of New Brunswick for the last six years, saw his party lose in a crushing defeat to the Liberals. The premier lost his own race as well. The candidate made waves as the first premier to implement anti-trans policies in schools, stating at the time that he would not back down, reportedly calling the idea “an election winner”. Blaine Higgs, in an interview with the Canadian Press, defended his record as the first Canadian premier to unilaterally implement anti-trans policies in schools, stating that he “would not change anything” and calling the idea an election winner. His revisions to what is collectively known as Policy 713 required that transgender youth under the age of 16 be forcibly outed to their parents. The policy also mandated that teachers misgender and deadname trans students if they did not have parental consent or were not out to their parents.

At the time, Helen Kennedy, executive director of the LGBTQ+ organization Egale Canada, said, "I think other provinces are obviously watching very closely to see what the potential fallout will be." On Tuesday, it became clear that the Progressive Conservative party, the right-leaning party in the province, faced a decisive defeat. In 2020, the party won 27 seats compared to the Liberals' 17, but this year, the Liberals secured 31 seats to the PCs' 16. Not only did Blaine Higgs' party lose power, but the premier also lost his own “safe” seat in Quispamsis, the most conservative district in 2020.

Higgs will be replaced as premier by Susan Holt, who will become the first woman to lead New Brunswick. Holt has indicated she will reverse Higgs' anti-trans forced outing policies in schools. Earlier this year, she participated in protests supporting transgender students, posting on her Twitter account, "Great to join the crowd today at the rally in support of trans youth. I was honoured to share our support for the protection of trans people in our province & country." Advocates for transgender people celebrated in New Brunswick and across Canada following Higgs's loss. Fae Johnstone, Canadian organizer and spokesperson for Queer Momentum, blamed his loss on his anti-trans policies, stating, “That single decision marked the beginning of the end. It sparked a revolt in his own caucus divided his party and mobilized parents, queer people, teachers and workers across the province against him.”

New Brunswick Premier Blaine Higgs (PC) found out the hard way that attacking trans people is an election loser, as his party lost in this week’s provincial parliamentary elections.

[jokertrap-ran]

[Gakuen K] SCEPTER 4 Route: As a Member of the Blue Club (Scepter 4 END) Translation

*Translator’s note : MC’s name shall remain as my normal (水嶋ラン) *Gakuen K Masterlist / Gakuen K Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler FREE : Translations under cut! *T/N: You will get this scene if you've raised neither Fushimi nor Munakata's affection by the end of the Scepter 4 common route! And this marks the end of Scepter 4's route!! We've come... a long way... but we're not even halfway done with the game... (´･ω･`) Thanks for sticking with me! I'll be taking a short break off Gakuen K for a bit of a palette cleanser and then I'll be back with Munakata's route~

Munakata: Your punishment will come to an end today. You did well during this time, Fushimi-kun.

Fushimi: Okay. I’ll be taking my leave then.

Munakata: Now then, carrying on with the topic of the Student Council…

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Akiyama: You’re now a member of the Student Council? That’s… a pretty big promotion right off the bat.

Ran: You missed out on the part where I’m just an apprentice.

Akiyama: Even so, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re now a part of the Student Council. You must be talented.

Ran: You think so? I didn’t particularly do anything to stand out though…

Akiyama: You have the potential, and that’s why Captain Munakata has acknowledged your skills.

Akiyama: Personally, I think you’re an admirable person.

Ran: No way, I’m really not all that you make me out to be.

Akiyama: I’m guessing you’ll be pretty busy juggling both Student Council work and the Blue Club’s activities, but remember to take care of your health.

Ran: Of course. You too.

Akiyama: Thank you, but I’ll be fine.

Ran: You’re a third-year, right? Doesn’t that mean you’re going to be taking entrance exams this year?

Akiyama: Yes, but I’m planning on entering the university our school’s affiliated with, so the entrance exams I’m taking are going to be relatively easier compared to others.

Ran: Wait, really?

Akiyama: Yes. I just have to get a grade that is enough to meet the cut-off point, so I don’t particularly need to study much.

Akiyama: What about you? How are your grades?

Ran: I was pretty average back in my old school…

Ran: But I still don’t know how I’ll fare academically in this school since I entered on a recommendation.

Akiyama: I see. Well, the mid-term exams start in two weeks. How confident are you?

Ran: Not at all…

Akiyama: *Chuckles* I see. I could teach you if you’d like.

Ran: Are you sure?

Akiyama: Yes. Although, I can only teach you things that I already know…

Ran: Thank you, regardless!

Akiyama: Oh, and there goes the bell.

Ran: Sorry for taking up so much of your precious lunchtime.

Akiyama: Don’t be, it was an enjoyable chat. See you after school.

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Ran: Oh, Akiyama-senpai! Sorry for bothering you, but I have something to ask.

Akiyama: Yes, what is it?

Ran: You don’t have to be so polite with me. You’re older than me, after all.

Akiyama: Ah, right. Sorry about that. That’s ri- Ah, no. Yeah.

Akiyama: Like this, yeah?

Ran: Yup. Sounds perfect.

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Ran: Akiyama-senpai? What’s with that mountain of books you have there?

Akiyama: The Captain asked me to help return these books to the library.

Ran: Looks like you’re going to have a hard time carrying that many books alone. Let me help.

Akiyama: Don’t worry about it. I’m going to use a trolley cart to move them.

Ran: I see…

Akiyama: Ah, why don’t we go together? You can help load them back onto the shelves.

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ««

Ran: (He said that we should arrange them in order of the authors’ names…)

Ran: (I think Munakata-senpai’s amazing to be able to read books that are this hard… and so many of them, at that.)

Ran: (I mean, look at this one… It’s written in a foreign language. Just looking at it makes my head spin.)

Ran: Alright, this one’s the last one! But where does this belong to…?

Akiyama: On the shelf behind you, third from the top.

Ran: Oh, you’re right. Done and dusted!

Akiyama: I’m also done on my end. How about stopping by the store before we head back to the club room?

Ran: Sure thing.

Akiyama: Let me buy you something as thanks for your help.

Ran: Oh, you don’t have to.

Akiyama: But I want to. Plus, all this shelving has made me thirsty so it’ll be just as well.

Ran: Thank you. You even went and bought me a snack…

Akiyama: Don’t worry about it. You were of really great help back there. So this is just my way of thanking you.

Ran: (He’s so kind… I should also take a page out of his book.)

Ran: Come to think of it… you’re going to be graduating around the same time as now next year, right?

Akiyama: Yeah. I’ll be graduating if all goes well.

Ran: …Feels kinda sad that you’re going to be gone.

Akiyama: It’s way too early for that. I still have a year to go.

Ran: T-That’s true.

Ran: Let’s make lots of memories together so that we won’t feel as lonely when you graduate next year!

Akiyama: Yeah. Let’s make memorable memories with everyone.

Akiyama: …We should head to the club room soon. We still have other things to do after this.

Ran: Yeah, let’s go!

»» ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♔𝔉𝔦𝔫 ♔ .◦∘ ━━━━━━━ «« 

[tanenigiri]

We got a spin-off episode! And "spin-off" is very apt as it's all brand new scenes not found in the manga. As much as I wanted to see the manga's epilogue adapted, the show's had a pretty good track record in terms of adding new scenes and elevating the manga's plot. I'd even say it's one of its greatest strengths, so how does this attempt fare?

Here are some thoughts and ramblings on Our Dining Table's spin-off episode:

I'll start with my favorite part: A new bento box is 500% the best gift Yutaka could've ever thought of to celebrate the anniversary of them meeting up. Sorry to the matching Christmas scarves but this takes the cake. There've been a lot of posts made about how deliberate the choice of items are in this show and I look forward to reading about all of that with this bento box. I also have to mention the utter sweetness of Yutaka wanting to commemorate the date where he first ran into the Ueda brothers - that's definitely the mark of a year of character growth.

Ueda-san continues to be the best dad. Sure, he isn't as prominent here as in the finale, but he continues to read the room so well and know what to do before Yutaka and Minoru even realize it. Love the Minoru teasing at the beginning too - it reminds me of how he was when he was witnessing Minoru's blatant pining. (That tidbit about how Minoru being antsy reminding him of his wife was both really funny and really sweet.)

Glad to know that they've recognized that Tane is the one keeping this whole thing together. (Half-joking but really, how they've made this child not only relevant to the main dynamic but also his very own character is one of my favorite things about this series.)

Ok, I have to be honest: I wasn't feeling the conflict. It's not helped by the fact that the misunderstanding trope is a bit tired for me - one of my favorite things about the manga, actually, was how it generally avoided this and actually made it a point that being open about their issues was a prerequisite to them getting together - but I think my biggest issue with it was how it seemed inconsistent with the characters? Minoru especially, and I haven't been shy with my overall praise for how the show had not only expanded his character but elevated it from the manga because of how well they executed his plot. But him getting jealous over a text he doesn't know the full context of seems a bit much, even if you anchor it to his fear of Yutaka leaving him just like Nao and the rest of his friends did. And even then, that anchor wasn't really brought up, as how he acted over it seemed quite possessive instead of insecure. If anything, the insecurity came from Yutaka, which I do think is consistent with his character, but it's the sentiment I expected from Minoru instead?

I think the closest thing I can compare this to is the bonus Valentine episode of Cherry Magic (spoiler warning if you haven't watched it), where Kurosawa finds a Valentine's gift in Adachi's desk drawer and panics over who could've given it to him. He's seen to be pretty jealous of the mystery admirer and laments over how he's no longer the only one who's noticed Adachi's charm, only to find out that the gift he found was actually Adachi's gift to him. It's a similar misunderstanding situation, but I think what made this one work better for me (aside from how Cherry Magic is a comedy while Our Dining Table's tone is a lot more serious) was how it was very consistent with Kurosawa's character, as he's shown to be quite possessive and easily jealous over Adachi several times throughout the show.

I can't say the same thing for Minoru at all, as while as a boyfriend he definitely has the right to feel jealous over a potential threat to their relationship, this is the same person who, in last week's episode, told Yutaka that if there's anything bothering him, they should talk to each other, especially if it's about their relationship. Why wasn't he following his own advice until the very end of the episode? (The actual answer is to prolong the episode but still.)

I don't know, I feel like they could've executed it a lot better if they wanted to stick with this conflict. The misunderstanding could've come from how they communicated, as I think that would not only be consistent with the takeaway from the previous episode, but it would also be quite realistic as Yutaka has shown to not be the best with words. I'm not saying that how Minoru acted was invalid - he absolutely has the right to feel jealous about a misunderstanding, especially with how rocky his experience with relationships had been - but I think they could've showed this insecurity in a way that didn't make it seem like he was moping over Yutaka having friends who weren't him. (If anything, shouldn't he be happy that Yutaka now has other people he regularly talks to? He was quite literally traumatized from eating with other people.)

(And yes, I absolutely think that if Ohata just showed up and explained everything herself, the episode would've been much better lmao I'm gonna miss her character so much.)

Bit random but the balloons showing "bad day" tripped me up a bit because I was genuinely confused since there's only one 'D' in "Happy Birthday" until I realized that they used the same 'D' balloon for both shots lol.

Sorry if those bullet points were a doozy, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on if you agree or disagree. But like I said in my previous post, I'm glad that the show has things that I don't necessarily think highly of, as a 100% perfect show would be quite boring. I may have some gripes with it, but I still enjoyed the spin-off for what it was - and more Our Dining Table content is always welcome.

And honestly, despite these gripes, I'm still gonna rewatch this show so many times and never get sick of it because I think it's such a fantastic adaptation. They absolutely knocked it out of the park with it and I hope that the team gets their hands on other titles. (I would love a Koimonogatari adaptation but I would very much prefer new chapters instead lol.)

[white-eyed-girl]

Thoughts of the day after  the week after - Sanremo 2023 So The level of the line-up was a tad disappointing (and I know Sanremo songs always grow, but the ungrateful comparison with 2022 and 2021, two years which turned out to be incredible, can't be helped) and for me so was the way whole thing ended The top 5 should have been more diverse, and absolutely NOT just for the sake of it, but because imo it's simply unrealistic for those 5 to all have deserved to be there Ultimo's song was subpar even compared to other songs of his and while the song was cute I don't think I would have seen Mr. Rain in the top 3 Madame, Lazza, Elodie, Tananai and one between Anna, Marco and Coma_Cose would have been my ideal top 5, but once again the biases in this country don't fail to show up (Of course Anna would never have got that high anyway, as someone said, it's like she was playing the same match as everyone else but in a different field where she was the only one present lol) Mind you, I'm happy for Marco, he's a good guy, he's so talented (I have actually enjoyed his music since he came out of XFactor) and I'm sure he'll fare well in ESC (apparently he really wants to go this time and I even heard him speak some quite good English) I just would have preferred for something different to win, since it was there and it was good Now, to my absolute favourite things of the week! - Elodie and her fashion choices I really liked her song as well, but I especially love how hard she purposefully decided to go in looking as good as she did while singing it

Look at these and tell me they weren't THE BOMB

- "Il bene nel male" and Madame in general I've been vibing to this gem nonstop since last tuesday and the disappointment of not only not seeing it win but it not even being in the final 5 is unquantifiable I think one of my favourite aspects about this is how unique and non-generic the story it tells is I love the grace in her ungracefulness, her gestures and face movements, how her performance steadily grew a little bit in intensity every day of the week, I love her strange fashion sense as well

(By the way, the studio version doesn't hold a candle to her live interpretations, so I'm resorting to every kind of 🏴‍☠️ to pry them from RAI's cold hands before they erase them from existence :"" )

I love the way she smirks here!

A Sanremese icon in the making - Giorgia and Elisa's duet Hands down the highest moment of the week was elf and fairy queen joining their kingdoms here lol

The duet itself was not just a gem, it was the whole treasure chest, and also well, you know winner and runner up being supportive to each other keeps me alive and thriving :" I had never seen Giorgia on stage enough to notice this, but despite her history as a singer with one of the greatest voices it's like every time she's as nervous as the first Elisa was so cute being there for her, there's this backstage video where Giorgia clings to her like she's her safety anchor or something and that's the sweet wholesome shit I like to see on my national television , 11/10 made Sanremo worth it

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

12.17.24 Tuesday---Prayer for nana until her full recovery...

12:45 am

Still,have windblow...

I'm thinking of my own money and job and a bit spice like having a bf again.... I feel self-pity...

I'm not putting down anyone, I have the maturity but there are faces that I want and I think I'm in a way comfortable to be with...

I'm liking my cousin-white and I want Daniel Marsh but I don't know how to get him... I don't know I wanna tell something on my cousin....It is as well the sad part of my life. Aside from I want to gain friends and have an active life, a bit active life like I wanna travel and work to have my own money... I know it will be a long journey to have my own "Pet Store"...

I hope nana is ohkay at this very moment,it seems I feel her throat is having phlegm, soul connection,in a way....

6:51 am

Still,have windblow...

Drinking coffee, waiting for 7am for our prayer vow for nana...

Guess what? I got this last night at Pitxx ( terminal bus here,going to Cavite or terminal of bus going north bound as well )..

I got this shock-proof like my old pink case! It is a yehey! I'm so happy!

7:08 am

Still,have windblow...

Done,praying....The phone cases in Pitxx ( pronounced as Pitex ) are beautiful and shock-proof, fair pricing! I got mine for 150 pesoses, coz I got allowance fare of 300 from Uncle DD yesterday. The rest of my money is still my "final pay" and charity from friends and biological father, I hope I can still ask for assistance...

The powerbank as well are genuine in Pitxx....I want a powerbank but I'm still on a "thrift"... Waiting for a good timing....

They removed the "lawson" in Pitxx...

7:34 am

Still,have windblow...

Guess what angels???

Uncle Jun ordered a box of "armpit serum"!

This bag faded, just faded coz it got stock now a house bag... This is Puma!

This is genuine Puma but I guess it needs a leather spray.... I forgot to buy a leather spray...

8:39 am

Still,have windblow...

Hmm... I will go back again on nana this week??? Still,waiting for an update....Nana can't be here without setting-up the room of RV and with ac must be...

I hope my biological mother is genuine coz nana can't be here without setting-up everything but hope not if she still having her NGT... I hope I have money to transfer her into a solo room.

It is a bit pricey to be in a solo room than in ward but the safety and privacy is well-intact compared to ward...

We are not arrogant but life itself must be salty coz it was US in a way, way back... It is my private matter to hope and pray to keep the safety of privacy of our family matter, supposed to be...

If nana will be in a solo room, the relative who is taking care of it, can take a bath without any paranoia that probably someone will check on nana coming from the other patient's... It is just safety, the privacy and the freedom of our family to move without any interaction on other patient's visitor's or any non-related people to nana supposed to be... But I want a genuiene care and a heart of reviving everything to normal.

11:52 am

Still,have windblow...

Thanks, Ivan for the tinola...

Free lunchie today me and John...Yehey!

1:49 pm

Still,have windblow...

Plastics in a way... It is weird... Uncle Jun texted me that anytime nana will go home... Plastics2x

Really, nana is still on NGT, right?

Wait,Uncle Jun... Transfer to solo room angels... Can I ask for dollars angels?

This fakers INC I wanna kill Manalo's!!!Still, I wanna kil Manalo's! Die Manalo's!

Let my nana stay until she recover without NGT! This will be the saddest part of my life angels....Let my nana live and be salty! Can I have dollars angels???

Stop it Manalo'S lead on the mystery... Can I have dollars angels???

I'm asking for dollars!!! Can I have dollars to survive my nana....

Faith, Trust,Hope & Act & Giving!

4 pm

Still,have windblow...

I will feel jealous if my cousin's group will be on Mitch! Without my knowledge... I will feel jealous! It's been 17 years...

I will feel jealous coz Mitch, did you give me this simple battery?

7:14 pm

Still,have windblow...

Preparing our dinner... But this is a good snack or appetizer.... Yummy! War food and super tight...

7:27 pm

Still,have windblow...

This can be like that go with that italian dressing but will make it cucumber potato salad, I added ham and Danes Mayo ;) in a lil while...

War Food! Thrift and healthy... I wanted to be fit... Still,thinking of money and future... Still,bitterish!!!

7:45 pm

Still,have windblow...

Waiting for 8pm... And waiting for my potatoe to be smashed... I hate being 2nd choice...

7:52 pm

Still,have windblow...

Waiting for 8pm! 8pm!

Here it is my cucumber potatoe salad...

It is yummy when it is a bit cold...

8:23 pm

Still,have windblow...

Done,doing the 8pm prayer vow mainly for nana's full recovery in a lil while...

Life with John...

9:18 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel bitterish... I'm thinking of my vanities and my future and my money and travel...

I really want to polish my teeth and my nose coz my face is sagging....I'm aging for nothing self-pity.

11:15 pm

Still,have windblow...

Again, NGT patient is best inside the hospital like on my nana's case... I hope I have the dollars to transfer her on solo room... If I'm only working until these days....

Again, this will be the saddest if the circle will back stab...

[eienoah]

May 24 - Kinkakuji

Today was an even shorter day compared to two days ago. We woke up kind of early. I think I can’t even remember all that well to be honest. I ended up taking a nap at around four till about eight thirty so I’m already forgetting some of the stuff we did today. Anyways, we visited Kinkakuji this morning on our first full bus expedition of the trip and probably our last. Taking a bus is actually a lot more convenient than trains in my opinion just because of the flat fare and how little people were actually on them. Anyways, we got to Kinkakuji relatively early but it still had plenty of people walking all around. There were so many tourists gathered to see it that the whole corridor for walking was pretty much full. The temple was cool but it felt almost more yellow than gold. I was talking to our guide who was explaining to me about how there was a different temple called Ginkakuji or the silver pavilion. I honestly would rather go see that just because I like places with less people and the sheer amount of tourists was crazy today. I stopped midway through the walk to buy a hello kitty charm and by the time I looked up everyone was gone. I had to essentially run through the place to catch up to everyone but it took a good ten minutes to find someone. Me and our guide got stuck talking to some foreigners about the ice cream vending machines but I think they thought I lived in Japan my whole life because they were asking me what Japan was like pre covid. After Kinkakuji was Daitokuji which was only a 20 minute walk away. It was complete opposites to Kinkakuji in the amount of people. I saw about 6 tourists throughout the whole thing and it was amazing. We got an explanation on some of the sekitei or rock gardens and got to sit and meditate for a while. It was amazing. I just wish I wasn’t coughing as much as I was today otherwise I would’ve had a better time. After we broke for the day the usual group headed to a place called The Burger which gave us all a little taste of home. I got an Oklahoma style burger which I’ve been craving for the past week. The whole restaurant was Texas/Vegas themed which was really funny to see in Japan but it was pretty good so I was super content. After getting back to the hotel via bus I promptly took a quick shower and passed out for one of the best naps I have taken in a long while and I’m about to go right back to bed now.

Academic connection

Learning about the burning and restoration of Kinkakuji had my expectations more gravitated towards a more slightly broken image in my head. In all reality the restoration was seamless and looked amazing. I would have never been able to tell the building had burned down had I not read about it. It was kind of astounding thinking of the context that the building had as a preface. It really did seem to draw people in with its lustrous golden figure which was a sight to behold on its own. I could see how it could even go to drive some crazy. Past that we see Daitokuji which is known for its sekitei and elements of zen buddhism. The sekitei were wonderful to see and the guide lady told us what each little garden was trying to express. My favorite was a piece that she completely skipped over which was a little rock fashioned almost in the shape of a bowl that was holding water. There were bugs that would occasionally pass by and land for a sip of water or something but it was interesting to say the least. The gardens felt incredibly peaceful especially in the time when everyone was just not speaking. There was also a little part of the tour where the guide was explaining what I think was a poem to us which expressed kanji in a way I have never seen before. Buddhist teachings really can be clever with their expressions.

[knwbetter]

day 7 of not talking to him: it's actually been a week, that's insane? i'm faring much better compared to the other days but guess what? i dreamt of him last night and he actually got me back to me in my dream and we were talking again and i felt giddy. only to find out that i was dreaming again. just when it starts to get better it's like i relapse again subconsciously. my dreams always betray me and it hurts like a mf. mom keeps asking me if i'm happy lately and i can't even say yes with my entire being bc some bastard broke my heart and trust. where did he get the guts to do that to me? was i really that easy and worth hurting?

i was rereading our chats again and there were definitely moments where he didn't reciprocate some of the things i said to him. i think he has an issue with being affectionate now that i'm looking at it and trying to analyze our conversations. he wasn't as sweet as i thought. like he can be but definitely not cutesy and affectionate. i think i was too blinded again by him. i wonder he thought of me the entire time i was falling for his trap? he literally lured me into his web. i feel like a fool, extremely stupid and helpless. my ego can't fucking take it. at the same time, i can't believe he took advantage of me by making an effort for me just to leave me hanging in the end. like what happened to the old you? he used to put in so much effort in talking to me, almost like he didn't sleep and now he can't even be bothered to talk to me. why the sudden change? what's more sus is that the change kind of began after i sent my picture. and after he said that he'd be star struck and that he already likes me for who i am. that i shouldn't stress too much about my appearance bc i'm already perfect. i guess his expectations were too high bc pulled away after that. or either was just playing with me from the beginning.

i was actually worried that he might have been doing this to other girls too but he said i was the first one. why do i feel like this isn't tho? now that i think about it it seems a bit too calculated but what do i know. after scouring his accounts i definitely became suspicious of him. he really broke my trust. i remember telling him too that i'd rather know him through him. i also remember him saying that he doesn't have anyone sus that he follows on tiktok but of course i didn't care about any of that bc i didn't bother to check his followings in the first place, scared in the back of mind that i see something i don't like. next time i should really do some research tho, i need to know everything as much as possible. i'm going to be spending the rest of my life potentially to this person after all.

i still keep thinking of him and i do miss him but there are definitely times where i gag and cringe thinking of how i behaved towards him. and how he was flirting with me but probably didn't mean it at all. how wrapped was i in his finger? how does he feel knowing i fell for his trap completely just to throw me to the side? did i get boring for him all of a sudden? it's crazy bc i showed my annoying and bad side to him yet he kept talking to me. was that the side that he liked? that's weird if so. also he was definitely the one to initiate first. i never ever initiated anything more than friendship. fucking weirdo. just to leave me in the end. how can he say things he doesn't mean? doesn't he know how fucked up that is? he really needs to fix his issues! it runs deeper than i thought. how could he say all that shit to me just to abandon me? did he not have any feelings in the first place? it's honestly so fucked up to me. i don't understand him. but that makes sense bc i don't know him at all. now i get why he doesn't have any friends, it all makes sense now. that's always not a good sign tbh. but i guess the good hearted person in me wanted to be there for him. i have a penchant for helping people like that. reminds me again of the line "you're not his therapist" like damn once i heard that it really clicked for me. i'm also not watching as much reels as before but it's probably bc i've been busy.

the effort i spent into looking and securing a job for the past week was insane, i did it all for him ngl. he lowkey gave me the strength bc i really wanted to see him in person somehow and now we're over. this might have been the push i needed but why did it have to be so messed up? i would've been good with something less painful. i randomly remember him asking me how i was doing and i said i'm okay. he replied "just okay?" and i still agreed. he then said "okay is better than bad so i'll accept it." bitch, as if i need your acceptance to be happy. i just pulled up our chats again and it was one of those times where he was being pushy about my pictures. he said as long it's me he'll be happy and that i have no clue. was that a tactic? pressuring me into showing him how i look like but with sweet and kind words. it's actually insane. how did i fall for that? i'll never cross my comfort again for a guy. i'll always follow my own pace, if he doesn't like it then he doesn't respect me and i have no need for someone like that. gotta have strong boundaries and communication the next time. also take it slow, fast is no good. that shit will die quickly. reminders to future self please!

lowkey i'm still waiting for him to text me back even if i see him differently now. will he even come back for me? he doesn't seem even the least bit interested anymore. when previously he used to bombard me with texts. can't believe i was stupid enough to trust him. i let down my walls for him and this is what i get. he basically confirmed what i was fearing. do i really want a guy like that? i told him my insecurities and other things i don't normally share. he was patient with my issues but maybe curiosity got the best of him instead of actually wanting to soothe me. i recall him offering to make me feel better whenever my anxiety kicks in. oh he has no idea how bad my anxiety is. i told you this for a reason for it isn't a light matter. i think he was caught off guard ngl. he can be sweet i'll tell you that, but he definitely has some self centered moments. sending me a revealing picture after i opened up about my anxiety? FUCKED UP. the emotional intelligence is nowhere to be seen. how he could think that would make me feel better is beyond me. once again highlighting why he has no friends + no meaningful relationships. i have a habit of psychoanalyzing people so he probably became like this bc of being bullied and moving when he was younger. i'm not sure if his relationship with his father was good either. definitely did not with his own twin which makes sense why he might be emotionally repressed or is unable to process his emotions properly. he might not have been used to receiving unconditional love and affection from his dad and twin. i have no idea about his mom, they seem close but no idea what their relationship was like growing up. these things are very important to know if you're into someone. their relationships with their family and their dynamic with each other can say a lot about a person. like things may be better now but the past can definitely mark and mold them to be the person they are today. i do remember asking him several times about his family but he didn't share the extent of their closeness with each other. i think he's mostly by himself. honestly i get why now, he's a bit weird. still absolutely immature, a lot of growing up to do mentally and emotionally. he still has some childlike qualities in him. i don't want to be with someone who behaves weird on the internet. that's a turn off and screams immaturity. idc if it's just for fun, it's not cool and mature. think really carefully before you speak and act is the advice i would give him.

[algeroth]

As time has gone on, a minor industry of academic detractors has emerged to argue that MBAs are generally less useful than their hefty price tags suggest, and might even be a cause for concern.

An early blow was delivered more than 20 years ago by Canadian management thinker, professor Henry Mintzberg, who has called MBA graduates “a menace to society”.

When he and a colleague tracked 19 Harvard Business School graduates to see how they had fared since being dubbed US business superstars in 1990, they found 10 had suffered serious setbacks, such as bankruptcy or the boot, and the records of another four were “questionable”. 

More troubling results emerged in bigger studies, such as a 2015 paper by Danny Miller of HEC Montreal business school and the University of Rhode Island’s Xiaowei Xu.

Xu and Miller, who has an MBA himself, had initially planned to study the effects of hubris on 444 US chief executives who had scored an admiring cover story in a top US business magazine between 1970 and 2008. But they discovered something far more interesting: the cover story CEOs with an MBA were noticeably worse at sustaining superior performance than the MBA-free ones.

MBA graduates were also more likely to expand their companies with acquisitions rather than organic growth, sacrificing earnings and cash flow in the process, yet their own pay rose at a faster rate than that of their counterparts who had outperformed them.

When the two researchers then did an even larger study of 5,000 CEOs, they confirmed that those with an MBA degree operated quite differently to the non-MBA bosses, spending less on R&D, say, and using accounting techniques to flatter their firm’s earnings. 

These ploys prompted a swift jump in profits, followed by a decline that led to a bigger fall in their company’s market value compared with outfits run by CEOs without an MBA — whose pay was again less impressive.

As the academics repeatedly cautioned, none of this proves an MBA causes these results. Self-serving short-termists might be more drawn to MBAs, and boards seeking quick profits might be keener to hire them. It’s also worth remembering Harvard MBA grads range from disgraced Enron boss, Jeffrey Skilling, to Wall Street superstar, Jamie Dimon.

Still, as Danny Miller said when I spoke to him last week, the research suggested chief executives with MBAs were often more short-term-oriented individuals whose companies “didn’t do quite as well as they did themselves”.

In other words, if demand for top MBAs has peaked, it might not be a tragedy at all.

[cascadedkiwi]

Losing Steam (Comfortember 2023)

Characters: Simon, Female OC Video Game: Detroit: Become Human Genre: Comfort Summary: I project onto a female OC. Simon helps. I have something to post. Word Count: 828

Prompt: 10. Sadness (It's me. I'm sad.)

Mila sighed, pushing away her laptop. The time ticking away past 11pm seemed to scold her, like a displeased Amanda scraping away at her self-worth with just that face. Another minute ticked by. She watched the number change on the digital screen. Her phone sat to the side, beckoning with its appeal of mindless videos and addictive stories written by people more disciplined and motivated than she could ever hope to be in this moment. 

She thought of the characters she loved to read about. Characters created by others who had burrowed themselves into her brain and made comfy little nests in the grooves. She thought of the characters she herself had created - the past Mila, the Mila who had stories spilling out of her ears for lack of space in her overcrowded mind. Those original characters whom she had engaged with for years. Original characters whose tales fought tooth and nail with each other to be penned and typed and read and recorded in the physical world. 

She sunk into herself as she thought of how, in years gone by, the challenge of penning thousands of words each day for weeks on end was a source of excitement, something she was known for. Something she proudly and seriously informed those around her she would be dedicating herself to for these 30 days and so to expect to see less of her until then. She thought of how, even further back in her life, writing came as naturally as blinking. Poems were her go-to for self-expression, and no media she liked was safe from her creative liberty. 

“I really do wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” came a gentle voice.

Mila lifted her gaze to see Simon, care and consideration personified, crouched next to her. Eye to eye, making himself smaller as if addressing a child. She couldn’t help but appreciate it, even as her chest tightened. 

“You’re not a failure if you miss a day,” he said, “accidentally or on purpose.”

Mila tugged at one end of her durag, tangling the satin around her fingers. “It’s not like I don’t have ideas… it’s just the execution.”

“You’re also comparing yourself again.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t the android’s first rodeo with Mila and her writing.

She looked up at the laptop screen, the insertion point blinking at the end of an unfinished sentence. The words above made sense enough but… 

“Better something than nothing,” Simon said, reaching and pulling the laptop closer. “The priority is consistency, right?”

“I’d like to produce quality, too, if I can…”

“You do. And you will. It's ok if it's not the highest tonight. It’s a challenge, remember? How did you fare yesterday?”

Mila huffed a laugh. “I got like a ten-sentence something right before midnight.”

“And the day before?” 

She perked up. “I actually really like that one! I didn’t realize it was as long as it was until I checked the word count.”

“Did you like it just because of the length?”

“No, it’s actually a pretty cute story that popped into my head out of nowhere. It actually reminded me of how I used to write back in the day. Like I was watching the scene play out in my head and just recording what I was observing.”

Simon nodded with a smile. “And if I remember correctly, that was another ‘last minute’ session, right?”

She thought back. “Wow, you’re actually right. You remember better than me!” And it wasn’t just because he had a literal computer for a brain.

“So, while tonight may turn out to be another salad toss of sentences just to keep the streak up, tomorrow could end up being another observation session. But the only way you’ll know is…” he trailed off expectantly.

“If I type another word,” she finished, looking back at the time again. A minute ticked by but her heart felt lighter, as if the digits were smiling at her. 

“You have to allow yourself to experience all the kinds of writing sessions you’ll have. Not just the good ones.” Simon stood, having retrieved her water bottle from the floor. He opened it and held it out to her, resting the cover on the laptop below the keyboard.

She took a drink, turning to skim the last complete sentence she had typed.

The challenge became how far away she could shove her inner critic - that little voice insisting that things had to make perfect sense tonight before she posted. Who decided those standards, anyway? Tonight she would record whatever came to mind and however it landed on the page, it would live. She was allowed to do worse just as much as she was allowed to do better. It was all ultimately for no one but Mila, at the end of each day. 

Of course, she had to leave herself time to actually post what she wrote before midnight, but with this renewed vigor, it was game on.

[footsteps-of-the-furies]

Falsification of Memory

First things first — it is a very good book, an easy read, and a markedly different fare from the Anglophonic sci-fi novels I usually read. It is dated, of course, which is normal for a book written almost sixty years ago, but less so than plenty of other books in that genre from the 60s and 70s, and even 80s. The book and the introduction make a very curious point — did J.K Rowling read this book before getting an idea for the Harry Potter universe? And as preposterous as it might seem — there is something to be said about using and treating magic as just a part of normal human behavior and experience, as long as we treat it not as something abnormal but as a diversity that makes our world colorful and interesting.

But that is not my point today —

I read this book about fifteen years ago. I liked it and decided last week to re-read it because I needed something pleasant and easy to read — since the few previous books I read were really demanding intellectually. Of course, I didn't remember many details of this book, but I had the gist of the plot. Except when I read this book again — nothing I read matched what I remember. The premise was familiar, but all the particulars were not. Not even close to what was in my memory. And that book has a very particular storyline, something quite out of the ordinary and something that I would expect to remember. And there was nothing, not even one correct recollection…

How much can we rely on our memories? Time after time, I let myself be caught unaware when comparing what I remember to reality. And I can catch others — especially family — when they remember or reminisce about something that I know happened in a different way. And here it is not my memory that is wrong, my remembering can be corroborated by others. We have our memories, developed and stored for a recall that, for the most part, can be wrong. And we cherish our memories or build some understanding of the world or of ourselves from what we remember of the past. That makes it so difficult to admit that what we remember can be false. And in most cases — we will never face reality but stick to comfortable but imaginary recollections of the past.

[icedwatersupremacy]

Although Arthur mostly did work on the farm, sometimes he’d be sent on errands into the Henford village. On his way, he’d always stop by Beatrice’s house, and they’d complete the errands together. She had a lot of spare time on her hands until her governess would show up in the autumn, so she was going to be willing to help.

The errands, originally supposed to take no longer than an hour, would last well into the afternoon, as long as Arthur brought Beatrice. His parents never seemed to notice that he was missing, as the food he would buy was never needed until the evening, and all the other work kept them busy. This gave the pair time to be in the village centre together.

There was a plethora of things to do, from reminiscing about their days at the schoolhouse and attempting to truly leave that chapter of their lives behind, to talking, the latter of which was much simpler. Yet they would still stop at the schoolhouse regularly, even if just to look at it. The conversations they had, usually whilst cloud gazing, tended to be more serious than their usual gossip. The subject regularly shifted to their ideal futures. Beatrice, as was consistently apparent, had thought about it for a while, compared to Arthur, who would avoid giving much of an answer at all.

“I think I want to be married to a wealthy man, who could always provide for me. Maybe he could afford servants, and I wouldn’t have to worry about poisoning him. That way, I could spend my days with you, and when you’re not there, I can practise the violin,” she rambled on, smiling wistfully. She could see it now, a house in the middle of countryside, yet within walking distance of Arthur’s farm. “What about you?” “I don’t know, maybe a wife, maybe kids, hopefully not much work. Does that sound alright?” “Oh, Arthur, How ordinary of you! I can’t disagree, though. That seems to be everyone’s ambition, doesn’t it?” “Well, maybe no one wants to work?” Beatrice laughed. “I believe you’re right.”

By the time that Beatrice and Arthur were ready to return to their homes, they were both drawn, from a mixture of being out in the sun all day and constantly walking about the place. Still, their relationship fared better because of the errands — at least, that’s what they presumed. It was understood between them that if there were no errands, they’d be spending nearly no time together, because of Arthur’s work. Both him and Beatrice felt it was unfair that he had to sacrifice his entire day, week, and so forth to his work, no matter how much he enjoyed doing it. His parents often argued that it was just the way things were, not just for farmers, but everyone with a job. He was simply living in the real world, so they said.

[mistresspotterhead]

The American Ymbryne- Chap. 1

Alma Peregrine x fem!reader

Warnings: Yelling, slamming hands on a table, being outed (kind of)

Words: 1,900 on the dot

A/N: Wow, this took a lil bit. Alma doesn’t appear until the very end of this chapter, but she’ll be in the next one a lot. Everyone has been so kind, and that has helped a lot <3. Also: Miss Saker indicates the type of bird you are, not your given name. I hope you guys like this. 😊😊😊

Tags: @itsonlydana @evil-feather @merci-bitch @multimilfs @escapetodreamworld @gay-and-sad-tm @multifandomfix @romanottsmaximoff @n0thing-is-real-exe​ @theaudreymere 

(ask if you want to be added/removed)

In a strange way, Cairnholm reminded you of the Chicago loop you and your wards had just fled from. They were both very dreary, cold, and, from what you could tell from those on the ferry, the people would rather be anywhere else. 

“M-miss Saker? I’m cold.” The bundle of talking coats shivered next to you. 

“I know, Astrid. We’re almost there, though.” You sighed and looked out toward the slowly approaching coastline. Your surviving children, Elina, Alexander, Leonard, and, of course, Astrid, all huddled closer to you. You stared at Cairnholm for a while longer, until the ferryman’s voice suddenly called out.

“Alright everyone, ‘ere we are! The… lovely… Cairnholm!” He steered the small ferry over to the somehow smaller docks, and you led your children out.

“Is everyone here? Astrid, Leo, Elina, Alex?” David, Beth-Anne, Lisa, Frankie, June, Stefanie, Josef, Alice, Rosie, Reggie. You suppressed the urge to call out their names as well. 

“Yes, Miss Saker,” they called in long-suffering voices- you were very adamant about attendance. It was good to see something was normal.

“All right then. Leo, can you see where the loop is? And Alex, are there any other peculiars near?” Ah yes, your diviners. It was very lucky for all of you that they were two of those that survived the wight’s invasion of your loop. 

Your Chicago loop near the Art Institute was one of the last surviving loops in America maintained by an Ymbryne, along with your South Side, McKinley Park, and St. Louis loops, though the latter was run mainly by its older wards and reset once a week.

As of a fortnight ago, though, the Art Institute loop was the only one you had. McKinley Park was attacked by Wights and Hollows in December, with South Side following close in early January. Samuel, the sole survivor of McKinley Park, was what Syndrygasti call a Librarian. He could see hollows and alerted you to them when you were traveling to St. Louis for reset. The problem with this, though, was that Sammy was only five years old, and so frequently got distracted.

It wasn’t hard to understand- Illinois in 1975 was very colorful. Sammy was gone now, though, as were all most all of your children. Speaking of… 

“There aren’t any other peculiars on the island, Miss Saker- at least not in this time,” Alex said, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Thank you, dear. How are you faring, Leo? Have you located the loop? I don’t like being out in the open for this long.” For emphasis, Elina gave a giant, chattering shiver that was surely exaggerated.

“Indeed, but it is on the other side of the island, and the night is fast approaching.” 

You looked over and scowled at the sun; if you couldn’t get rest, then why was it allowed to?

“Well then. It looks like we’ll have to go into town.” Immediately, protests arose.

“Aw, no!”

“Come on, Miss Saker! We can make camp out here!”

“Because that sounds comfortable,” Leo deadpanned to Astrid.

“Well, it’s better than town! There probably isn’t even a hotel!”

“Actually, Astrid, that’s where you’re wrong.” Astrid looked shocked at the suggestion that she could ever be incorrect at something. “There is a hotel. It’s called the….” You took out the crumpled guidebook the ferryman had given to each tourist. “Preist Hole. What kind of hotel is called the Priest Hole?” You muttered that last part to yourself. “Anyway, off we go. Come along, single file now.”

Your ducklings dutifully arranged themselves from youngest to oldest, seven-year-old Elina closest to you and sixteen-year-old Leo at the back.

You hoped that the food was at least good.

Nope. Everything on the Preist Hole’s menu was covered with vinegar. You wondered if that was a Welsh thing or a Cairnholm thing. Maybe the owner just liked vinegar. Next to you, Elina was grimacing with every bite. On a whim, you decided to flag the bartender down.

“Hey, Kev, was it?” He grinned widely at you. You gave him a small smile in return.

“Yes, ma’am, that’s me. What can I do for you ‘n yer bunch today?” 

“I was just wondering if you had some fries- sorry, chips- with less vinegar. My youngest is still picky.”

“Hmm. Well, I’ll talk to Arnie ‘n see what he can whip up fer ye. He’s the cook, ye see.”

“Thank you so much, sir.” You attempted a bigger smile, but it still felt forced.

“Naw, it ain’t a problem, really. ‘N please, call me Kev. Sir sounds like I’m fifty- ‘n I’ve still got twenty years ‘fore that,” he chuckled.

“Well then, you must call me y/n.”

“Of course, ma’am- y/n, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s alright, Kev.” This time, your smile was a small bit genuine- his hesitancy was endearing.

“Yeh. Well, um, I’d better talk teh Arnie now. I’ve kinda been lingering here for a while.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you from work, anyway.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t object if yeh did,” Kev concluded, winking before walking away.

Once he was out of earshot, Astrid started chittering.

“Ooh, was that flirting I saw, Miss Saker?” You rolled your eyes, and Alex guffawed into his water.

“Miss Saker? Flirt with a guy? I think Elina would drink an entire bottle of vinegar before that happened.” You turned your head sharply in his direction, but not before Astrid snapped back at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You jerk your head toward her now.

“Well, Miss Saker isn’t really the type to, ah, dabble in the male gene pool.” It was like you were watching tennis, really, with all this head-turning.

“That doesn’t make any-”

“ENOUGH!” You stood up, placing your hands on the bar. “This is not a discussion we are having, especially not here and now. Alex, I told you that information in confidence, and I am severely disappointed that you have betrayed that. Astrid, whether or not I am flirting with someone, and really my love life in general, is none of your concern. Do you both understand?”

They nodded, Alex looking especially ashamed of himself.

“Sorry, Miss Saker. It just slipped out.”

You sighed and ignored all the stares you and your wards were getting because of your outburst. 

“Alright, Alex. Just… you can’t share things that people tell you privately.”

“Yes, Miss Saker.” He was quiet after that, poking at his food.

It bothered you that he had shared that information, though it didn’t seem as if the other wards had understood. Of course, Leo was the only one you would expect to, as he was sixteen, but he had been sheltered in your loop his entire life. All of your wards had, really.

Just as you were beginning to sink into your past again, Kev came out with Elina’s new plate of fr- chips.

“Here ye are, little lady. I hope you like these better.” He smiled at Elina, tugging a small one out in return. You both watched expectantly as she took a tentative bite. And another. And another. Until the plate was almost gone, and she was rubbing her stomach in contentment.

“Well, that was fast.”

“It was good, Miss Saker. I wasn’t going to let it cool.” You laughed at the disapproving look on her face.

“Alright, alright. I suppose you have a good point.” You turned to Kev. “Thank you again, sir, for-”

“Kev.”

“...right. Thank you for doing this. How much will it cost?” You were ruffled at his interruption, but he didn’t notice. He pretended to think for a moment.

“Hmm… how much will makin’ a little girl ‘n her mam happy cost? I dunno.” He smiled at you. “It’s on the house. I can see that ye haven’t had such a good day, so….”

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, I have the money….”

“I’m completely sure. It’s good te make someone happy once in a while.”

“Well, I truly do thank you. It also seems that we’ll need a room, if that’s alright?”

“Sure. Room four was just recently vacated. It’s right up here.” He led you up the stairs, the kids trailing behind.

The room was small for five people, but it seemed like a mansion to the children, who only had their old, overcrowded loop to compare it to. There were four rickety beds, though they did seem to be clean, and a barren nightstand next to each of them. 

“Ah… I forgot that this only had four beds. I can get ye another room, or-”

“No, no, this is fine. Thank you for your help, Kev.” You subtly ushered him toward the door.

“Oh- well, if ye need anythi-”

“Yes, of course. Ta, then! Have a nice day!” You shut the door, leaving him very confused.

Alex was wheezing on the floor behind you.

“That… that was absolutely amazing Miss Saker! You are an absolute icon!” 

What in Abaton does that mean? You never could understand the new slang terms that the 1970s held. 

Elina yawned, setting off all the other children and alerting you to their needs.

“Alright then, time for bed.” Immediately, they were completely awake.

“I’m not tired at all, Miss Saker, therefore I shan’t be able to fall asleep.” 

“The fact that your accent is coming out very strongly tells me that you are indeed tired, Leo.” You crossed your arms. “Bed. now.” Your wards slouched, and grudgingly picked out a bed each.

“Miss Saker, where will you sleep tonight?” Astrid asked as you were tucking her covers in.

“On the floor, of course. Now, did you remember to take off your gloves?”

“But it won’t be comfortable! The floor is so hard and cold and dirty and-”

“Your gloves, Astrid.” She was very talkative, even late at night, though you had come to enjoy it. Sometimes.

She took off the gloves that helped control her peculiarity and was about to start chattering again when Elina suddenly spoke up from her bed in the corner.

“I could make you a nest with a spare blanket, Miss Saker?” You gave her one of your very rare genuine smiles.

“That would be lovely, Elina.”

“Wait- how did she know you were going to sleep in bird form?” Alex asked, finally catching on. You smiled again at Elina and kissed her on the forehead.

“She’s made me a little nest before when I fall asleep in my study while in bird form.”

“And that happens often?”

“Surprisingly so. Now, snuggle in and no more talking.” As the children said their goodnights, you finally transformed into your bird form; a stunning saker falcon. You jumped lightly onto Elina’s bed, careful not to hurt her with your razor-sharp talons or accidentally hit her with your wing (which had happened on more than one occasion). 

Though you nestled into the warm bunch of blankets right away, you didn’t fall asleep until much later, and even then, you were restless all night. 

---

Little did you know, in the old manor that you would trek to the next day, a group of peculiars and one very curious ymbryne had observed all of this. Alma LeFay Peregrine set her watch and gave the children a reassuring smile while she pondered what this meant and why her stomach had fluttered when you gave that dazzling smile.

[inkformyblood]

You Speak Of Grace

Commander Cody Week Day 02 Origins [ @commandercodyweek ]

Pairing: Codywan

Summary: Cody is about to meet his new Jedi, but he will make sure his men are as prepared as they can be. Little does he know that Obi-Wan is anything but what he was expecting.

“Once more.” Cody’s voice rang out as the test alarms died away, eliciting a fresh wave of groans from the assembled clones. From behind his helmet, Cody glanced over the group, running through the list in his mind once again. The heavy gloves hid the faint trembling of his hands as his fingers danced over the datapad, drawing up another scenario. “Test Scenario 00726. Oya!”

Distantly, Cody could almost hear Alpha-17’s low rumbling laugh echo forth from his memory at their displays of grumbling compliance. He carefully ignored the brother at the back — Crys, he thought, judging from the bright yellow daubed over his pauldrons and the dark hair growing up through the unnatural yellow dye — who ducked behind a console and emerged after swallowing down the last dregs of his caf.

The consoles rang shrilly as they ran through the necessary checks once more, heads lowered as the other clones focused on their own work. Cody sensed movement just behind him, but didn’t turn, watching the grey painted shape of Helix, their medic, move up behind him in the reflection of a console.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Helix’s voice was soft but no less filled with purpose, expecting to be heard and understood. Cody was the Commander of the Battalion, but Helix was the medic, and that was something entirely different.

“Granted.”

Helix tapped the comm on his wrist, shifting to a private channel, and Cody stifled the reflexive twinge of fear that rattled down his spine. Fear was useful, Alpha-17 had barked at the younger clones in the Command Track, echoing the words of the trainers before him, but it was also dangerous. Drawing in a deep breath, letting it flow through him rather than rule his thoughts, Cody switched to the private channel as well.

“You are doing a good job,” Helix murmured, his voice slightly distorted over the comm. “You are already a good commander, and having a Jedi won’t change that.”

Cody didn’t respond, didn’t want to think about what Helix could read in the sudden stillness of his hands or the lines of tension that flickered into life along his shoulders, but merely nodded, his throat tight.

Helix lightly tapped the back of his wrist guard against Cody’s hip in a silent benediction. “I’m going to head down to medical. Over the next few days, I’ll need to check on the troopers and the Jedi to get a baseline.”

“I’ll draw up a rota,” Cody promised, adding yet another item onto his mental checklist. Dimly, he spared a thought for how his brothers in the command track were faring. Their own comms channel had been eerily quiet since they had received their battalion allocations and left in the early hours of the morning with one final message each of “Oya”.

“Appreciate it,” Helix said with an inclination of his head and stepped away. The other medics, Border and Patience, shadowed him like ghosts, barely half a step behind in a haunting unison that would have made the trainers proud.

Cody turned back to the men, tracking their progress as they worked through the machines, feeling a warm glow of pride settle in his chest. This would work. This had to work.

A warning prickled at the base of his skull, and Cody was already turning to face the doorway by the time his mind had drawn the context clues together.

As Helix left, his pace had slowed slightly, and the soft whoosh of the doors closing took longer than it should have. One of the troopers had raised his head, gaze fixed at something over Cody’s shoulder as one of his hands formed the beginning of the symbol for ‘Mother’, a warning of being watched back on Kamino. But the critical clue was the message flashing from the Command Track Chat from Bly that only read ‘oh no my Jedi’s hot.’

“Hello there.”

“Hello, sir,” Cody said, running on instinct as the rest of his mind went blissfully blank. The only information he had been given was a name and a grainy holo picture to recognise his Jedi by. A small thrill ran down his spine at that thought. Possession was still something all the clones were getting used to, and the knowledge that this man was his, was theirs, was more than Cody could have thought possible.

“Jetti on bridge,” Cody barked over his shoulder to the others, feeling the weight of their eyes on his back.

Obi-Wan smiled, the edges of his eyes — so unbelievably blue, like the point where the ocean met the sky — crinkling. “Please, Commander, call me Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody repeated with a nod, further committing it to memory. He was grateful for the helmet that was still covering his head as he felt the heat settle in his cheeks. Full armour was cumbersome for now, but it had been better to be safe than sorry.

“From what I understand, you have names as well?” Obi-Wan’s gaze darted around the room; his voice pitched low. “I don’t wish to cause any offence; this situation is very new to me.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves, clasping them in front of him.

“CC-2224 is my designation. But my name is Cody, sir.”

It was as if Cody’s words ripped the oxygen from the room, every trooper freezing in place in perfect military rest. Obi-Wan had to feel the pressure lowering onto his shoulders, but he merely grinned once more.

“Cody. That’s an excellent name and a good choice.” Obi-Wan paused, glancing around the room and meeting the gaze of every trooper who quickly lowered their heads back to their consoles at Cody’s signal.

“I trust I can count on you to keep me right, Cody? I will defer to your expertise.” Obi-Wan’s grin was as warm as sunlight, intoxicating when it was directed at just Cody, and he felt his cheeks burst with heat once more.

“Yessir,” Cody said, snapping back into parade rest out of habit.

“I’m not sure what the Kamioans have told you, but if you’re amenable, full armour outside of active combat isn’t required.” Obi-Wan paused with a heavy sigh, looking far older than he was for a moment before he pushed whatever memory it was away. “This isn’t my first war, but no need to make it harder than it needs to be.”

“So,” Cody swallowed, turning his head slightly to track Boil and Waxer’s whispering, their heads pressed together out of the corner of his eye, “Permission to dismiss the men to store their extras?”

“Permission more than granted, Commander.”

If Cody had thought that his mind went blank before, it was nothing compared to being alone on the bridge with Obi-Wan. In every scenario, every training simulation or exercise, nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Alpha-17 and the others took after Prime almost perfectly, and that applied to his lack of attraction as well, at best able to offer rough support to a heartbroken trooper in basic training.

Obi-Wan began to move around the bridge, glancing over the simulated manoeuvres that had been programmed in with a gleam of interest in his eyes. “If you want, Cody, you can store your belongings as well. We’re going to be working together for a while, and I see no reason to start out with extreme formality.”

Cody’s hands were steady as he reached up to remove his helmet, subtly pressing at the itch that had erupted two hours ago at the nape of his skull as he did so. Obi-Wan’s face softened as he watched him, unable to hide the obvious curiosity in his eyes.

“I can definitely see the resemblance.”

Cody laughed, the noise startled out of him, jaw snapping shut with a click.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off with a wave of his hand, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

“Please, don’t apologise, Cody. If there is anyone at fault, then it is me.”

“No, sir.” Cody paused to find the correct words, tapping his fingers against the edge of the datapad as he thought. This wasn’t what he had been expecting, Obi-Wan wasn’t what he had been expecting, but he always had been quick on his feet. “As you said, no reason to start out with extreme formality. No fault here.”

Obi-Wan hummed quietly as he thought, and Cody took a moment to inspect the Jedi he would be serving under. The robes hid much of his frame, but Obi-Wan had moved with confidence, despite the fact that the fabric wouldn’t give much protection or possibly act as a hindrance. Cody made another note on his mental list, needing to confer with the other Commanders once everyone had settled again.

“I think this is going to be an excellent partnership, Cody,” Obi-Wan said at last. “With that in mind, with the full reassurance that you can tell me no at any time for whatever reason, would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I believe there is some final paperwork to go over.”

“Yessir,” Cody answered before the full implication hit him. Obi-Wan would be sharing, even serving most likely, something precious of his, something he had deliberately chosen to bring aboard a battleship, knowing the cargo restrictions. “I’d be honoured.”

“Excellent! Anakin, my padawan—” Obi-Wan paused, and Cody wordlessly fell into pace at his side, a few inches shorter than the other man as he titled his head to continue watching him, “—he never quite got the taste for it, unfortunately.”

“I am looking forward to it, sir.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look, his grin all fond curled edges.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody corrected himself. He felt like a fool to hope, but it was a hope he held onto tightly.

Out of sight, Cody tapped a message into the Command Chat before silencing it, knowing the explosions it would spawn. ‘Mine’s better, vod.’

[charlotte--kensington]

Oh, look, a Christmas fic in January... Let's act like I was punctual for once in my life.

For four years now Arthur has fallen victim to the recurring trend of his neighbour's overzealous decorating. Year after year the amount of lights and decorations grows, and year after year Arthur cannot help but compete.

This is the story of the year they went overboard.

---

This fic is NSFW near the end, but mostly fluff and humour. You'll see.

---

Snow fell silently onto the roofs of the duplexes that seamed Holyoake Road.

Within a matter of hours the city of Oxford had turned from a sombre, rainy town in Britain into a winter wonderland. Each and every surface was coated in a thick blanket of snow, and though whatever had been on the streets had already begun to turn into nothing but brown sludge, anything out of reach of kids or cars had remained a pristine blanket of fluffy white.

It almost felt like the snow alone had made the world slow down and become calmer, not just because people drove more carefully. Given that they were already past the first advent, it did not surprise Arthur, yet he enjoyed the soft atmosphere of it all.

Almost all of Oxford had become quiet like this. Most students had returned home for the holidays, some earlier, some later. The few that had remained spent their time either holed up in their dorms or apartments with blankets and warm thoughts, or in the campus library as they prepared for their last exams of the year.

Personally, Arthur was part of neither group. He didn't have the option of going home, at least he didn't unless he planned on wasting the train fare and spending his Christmas all alone in his family home. With all four sons spread out across the UK, Mr and Mrs Kirkland had taken the chance to spend December on their first couple's vacation in 30 years - the first time since Arthur's oldest brother, Alistor, had been born.

As for exams, Arthur, being done with his degree by several years, didn't have to worry about that. Not even work required any special effort of him these days. There wasn't much of anything left for him to do, leaving him not only calm for the holidays, but also bored out of his mind.

The presents for his family were currently distributed between Amazon fulfilment centres all over the country, just waiting to be delivered to him only to then be sent away once more. He'd made Christmas cookies, prepared whatever ingredients he already knew he'd need for his Christmas dinner, he'd even gone as far as to develop his annual hatred for Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey a week early. And thus all that was truly left for him to do in preparation for Christmas was the one holiday activity he loathed with all his heart.

Decorating.

Now, no matter how his hatred for certain annually returning artists and all things decorating might make it seem, Arthur did by no means dislike the holidays themselves. Fine, he was the proud owner of a Grinch pullover and he had been compared to the character on numerous occasions, but at the end of the day he loved it as much as anyone. No, it was just the decorating that he despised.

He hated hanging up the lights out in the cold, fiddling with knotted cables as his fingers slowly but surely turned into popsicles. Hated poking himself on holly leaves and other needlessly prickly evergreens in the process of making a wreath for his front door, all because the ones at the store were either too expensive or too flashy for his taste.

The thing Arthur Kirkland hated most of all about decorating, however, was not his electricity bill, the flashiness of it all or even the various cuts all over his hands in the aftermath. No, it was a man - Alfred F. Jones.

Jones inhabited the other half of the duplex Arthur lived in. It should have been simple, a good neighbour relationship, some small-talk across the stupid little fence between their halves of the tiny spot of grass that had been advertised as a garden, and perhaps even sharing recipes for Christmas cookies.

It wasn't simple, though.

Jones, who'd moved to England for reasons unbeknownst to his neighbour, was not only the personification of the stereotypical loudmouthed American, he also loved Christmas decorations with all his heart. And so, the exact same way it had been for the four years they'd spent living in this arrangement, on the first of December he'd pulled out box upon box of lights, inflatables, garlands, wreaths, anything and everything that was even vaguely related to Christmas.

And just like every year since Jones had first moved here four years ago, Arthur had put his hatred for all things tacky and decoration-y aside and decided that, no matter the popsicle fingers and bandaid usage, he couldn't let Jones succeed in making Arthur's half of the duplex seem unfestive, not to mention making the rest of the street think neither of them had class in decorating.

☆ • ☆ • ☆

December 4 - Second Advent

They were only four days into December and Jones was already in full Christmas mode. It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas was blasting from speakers that Arthur would have paid millions to locate, just so he could throw them out of the nearest window. Three more weeks until Christmas, and already Arthur's chronic hate for the voice of a certain Canadian four-time Grammy-winner had resurfaced.

Cheerful, off-key whistling sounded from outside, no matter the fact it was 7 am on a Sunday. Through bleary eyes and half-closed curtains Arthur looked outside, only to find Jones busily hanging all sorts of rainbow lights of the poor shrubbery on his half of the garden. Tiredness be damned, it took Arthur all of four minutes to get dressed and grab his own crate of holiday lights.

Outside he was awaited by frosty air, a grey sky and a neighbour that might as well have been a paid actor to advertise for some string-light company. Arthur had misjudged the amount of work Jones had already done: not only his shrubs but also the wall of his half of the house as well as the fence were decorated with all sorts of lights; a net across the wall, a garland at the edge of the small awning over the door, small light-arches all along the edge of his garden.

"Mornin', Kirkland!" he called. "Finally made it out to decorate? I gotta say, your half's gonna look like the home of the Grinch if you don't do something!"

Arthur didn't reply, simply returned a muttered, "Morning," as he pulled on the end of the first string of lights he could reach. Curse Jones and his stupid, over the top decorations, his loudness, his music, his everything. With furrowed brows and both hands in a huge, tangled ball of cables and lights he glanced out from beneath his messy bangs.

His neighbour was currently bent over some small reindeer figurine, fiddling with cables and antlers and whatever else got in his way. It was almost involuntarily that Arthur let his gaze wander across the other's body - entirely Jones' fault too, how dare he bend over and stick his ass out in Arthur's direction. Clad in only one of what had been proven to be a full collection of ugly Christmas sweaters (this one saying "It's the most wonderful time for a beer") Jones looked like the perfect fusion of a holiday card and a frat boy.

"Need some help back there, Arthur?" he asked at that moment. "I know getting festive is hard for you, considering how much of a Scrooge you are!"

Arthur grit his teeth and tried to keep from replying. If he just ignored Jones and concentrated on his decorations instead, the other might stop bothering him. If he was Scrooge, Jones must have been the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, for he was clearly showing Arthur how he'd suffer for the next 3 weeks.

"Lest you forget, Ebenezer Scrooge is just as festive as anybody else after the arrival of the three ghosts," Arthur retorted. "Then again, Americans aren't exactly known for their literacy, are they?"

The words passed his lips before he could stop himself, and with a small curse Arthur tugged on what had to be the end of a third string of lights, given how he was already holding the ends of two different ones. He knew it was stupid to get into this with Jones, simply because the other was as stubborn as he was prideful as he was loud.

"Pff, so you're telling me all I have to do to get you to be likeable is keep you up all night?" Jones gave him a bright grin and wiggling eyebrows, and as though his violation of Dickens' novel had not been bad enough, the fact that he had somehow managed to turn it into an atrocious pick-up line was somehow far worse.

"I- Uh! I'm gay!" Arthur blurted out, and even Bublé shut up. Mostly because the song was over, but probably also because of how sudden a confession that had been.

Arthur's cheeks were about as red as the stripes on a candy cane, and as George Michael took up the place that had opened up in the absence of Michael Bublé, Arthur decided he'd have to become a hermit somewhere in Antarctica.

Not only could his words not have been any further from the matter at hand - how his sexuality related to Dickens, he'd never know - but also he had just proclaimed his gayness to Alfred Jones of all people.

Jones burst into bright, bell-like laughter, but perhaps that was just the Christmas mood speaking from Arthur's brain.

With a frown Arthur returned his attention to the bundle of cables and small lightbulbs before him, somehow producing yet another end, but still not one string of detangled fairy lights. Had he packed those damn things by cutting them up?

Alfred turned around to face Arthur - a pity, really, his ass had been a welcome view considering how annoying that mouth of his was - and looked at him with a raised brow. "Trust me dude, I know. You're wearing skinny jeans, eyeliner and black nail polish. I know."

"You're confusing punk and gay, Jones," he commented wryly, before focusing on the stupid lights once more. Finally, he produced the end of the first string. With a steady hand and attention to detail, Arthur began wrapping the string all around the two pillars seaming his entryway, making sure the lights were both evenly spaced and well-fixed to the columns.

After about fifteen more minutes of various Christmas songs and even more sleigh bells, Arthur's entryway had begun looking at least partially festive. The only thing missing was the evergreen garland to go around the top and hide any cable mess he might have left behind. He glanced over at the neighbouring garden, coming to find Alfred had placed not one or two, but eleven more reindeer next to and behind the first one.

Of course. In true Jones fashion he wasn't just putting up a single one, but a whole sleigh setup.

"What, jealous of my reindeer, Kirkland?" Alfred asked with a grin, as he connected the individual figures with smaller cables. "I can give you a carrot, too."

"I'm not jealous of anything," Arthur retorted, not even addressing the "joke". Great. All of twenty minutes had passed, and already Jones was belittling him for his sexuality. "And even if I was, it sure as hell wouldn't be some tacky reindeer decorations."

"Oh, you're totally jealous."

Arthur let out a small huff and turned back to his garland, pulling out a small roll of twine. With the plastic greenery looped over his shoulder and the twine in his right hand, he began cutting off small pieces of string, careful to leave them long enough to fix the stupid garland. This would have been easier with a helping hand or two, but not only did Arthur live alone, he'd also rather fall off the chair he was standing on than ask Jones for help.

With the power of spite and a general disdain towards appearing weak, especially in front of Jones, Arthur made it eventually. The garland hung from perfectly spaced hooks in small arcs, little lamps glowing amongst its faux foliage. As it was, only the entrance to his half of the duplex was decorated, not the entirety of the garden and house.

Arthur would yet have to prepare the wreath for his front door, not to mention the various decorations for his windows and front lawn, but at least he'd gotten part of the work done, without injury no less. On the other half of the property, however, it appeared as though Santa Claus himself had thrown up all over the garden.

A small sleigh complete with twelve reindeer and a Santa sat diagonally across the lawn, multicoloured fairy lights wrapped all around shrubs and trees and whatever else Jones had been able to reach. A net of lights hung all along his wall, each and every square inch of surface was adorned with lights and glitter.

"Amazing, isn't it?" His neighbour asked at that moment. "I just can't wait for the other stuff to arrive, this is going to be so cool!"

"The... The other stuff?"

Jones turned to face him, gleaming just as much as his garden. It looked as though he had tried to put up landing lights for Santa - too bad the old man's parking spot was already occupied by the glowing sleigh. At this rate he'd only need to elongate his driveway a little more and he could put Heathrow Airport out of business.

"Of course! Did you seriously think I was done?"

Did Arthur think that? No. Had he hoped? Yes.

Jones began counting on his fingers as he listed off what was apparently missing, as Arthur struggled to imagine even one of the decorations finding a free spot on the lawn. "I'm still waiting for the inflatable Santa, the Santa for the window, the glowing ladder, the third Santa, the 6-foot candy canes, and about 100 more feet of lights! Oh, wait, I forgot about the-"

Arthur slowly tuned out as his mind was instead occupied by the entirely horrific picture of what the house would look like once Jones was done decorating his half. And as Bing Crosby sang about a white Christmas, he began silently making a list of what he'd have to buy by next weekend.

☆ • ☆ • ☆

December 11 - Third Advent

The packages had arrived on time, in both halves of Holyoake Road number 32. The morning of the third out of four advent Sundays began the same way the last had: a Christmas playlist in 32B, a cheerful neighbour, and Arthur almost falling out of his bed to the blared tunes of Bruce Springsteen's Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.

With a rather un-Christmas-like wish to commit homicide, Arthur crawled out of bed and, after a quick wash, began gathering what decorations had amassed over the past week. A whole Saturday's worth of work still sat on his kitchen table - a wreath of holly and noble fir, yet another amazingly prickly evergreen, as Arthur had come to discover.

Hands still covered in bandaids (at least he wouldn't need gloves this week), he tore his coat off the hook on the door and exchanged loafers for some worn out winter boots that had seen better days. Twelve packages and another wave of curses later, Arthur was outside in the biting cold, already regretting his decision of not putting on gloves.

"Hey neighbour! Finally dropped out of bed?"

Jones was already at work, not that Arthur hadn't known that before. The sleigh and reindeer had been joined by a snowman at the centre of what little lawn the suburban home offered. Against what Alfred had previously promised, the snowman was not a product of plastic and air pump, but rather real snow, as attested by the thick covering of white powder snow sticking to Jones' gloves.

"Ain't little Frosty over here amazing? He's almost as cold and grumpy as you!" Jones exclaimed with another wave of bright laughter, only countered with an eye roll from Arthur.

"Little Frosty" was only about fifteen centimetres shorter than Arthur, which was to say he was just under 160 cm tall. The snowman was huge, and the thought of how long it must have taken and, by extension, how early Jones must have gotten up to make it, was horrifying.

"At least he's silent," Arthur retorted as he hung the greenery-turned-murder-instrument from his door. "Can't say that about you."

"Well, he's also not as much of a party-pooper as you, so that's a plus! And he can glow!"

"I... What?"

There was some rummaging and the sound of what had to be Jones digging through some snow, then the other man produced a small remote with a cheerful, “A-Ha!” and yet another one of those one thousand megawatt smiles. With furrowed brows Arthur watched on as Jones pressed a button on the remote and the snowman came to life.

Well, not literally, but all of a sudden the body of the snow-giant began glowing in bright red and green, pulsing to the rhythm of the current song - Jingle Bell Rock. He didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified that Jones had taken such amounts of effort onto himself, all for a craft that would quite literally melt away. In the end Arthur decided on a mix of the two.

"Isn't he cool?" Jones beamed.

Arthur stifled a groan before replying, "That's the way snow is, Alfred. He's cool by definition."

Jones didn't reply and instead picked up what Arthur recognised as a super-sized candy cane only far too late. He hadn't been joking the week before, the damn thing truly was six feet tall. The fact alone that half of his neighbour's decorations were either as tall or taller than him horrified Arthur more than he'd like to admit. Was this how all Americans behaved?

As Arthur busied himself with the strings of lights for the conifer on his front lawn, carefully wrapping the thin cables all around the tree, he watched on from the corner of his eye how Jones put up cane after cane. The sound of his rubber mallet echoed through the street, and Arthur was somewhat impressed that he actually stuck to the beat of the song as he hammered each cane down into the thick blanket of snow.

"Dude, you totally missed a spot!"

The call came from much closer than he'd have liked, and when Arthur turned to see what Jones was talking about now, he found his neighbour leaning on the low fence separating their gardens.

"Are you going to explain where, or is that about as helpful as you're going to be?" Arthur asked, caught by surprise when Jones simply leapt across the fence and came to stand beside him at the bottom of the tree.

He pointed at some area vaguely to Arthur's right. "Over here, look! There's no lights there at all!"

Arthur leant over slightly on his step stool, stretching to reach the area Jones was pointing at. He saw it now, too, but somehow he couldn't quite reach it. With renewed effort he stretched some more as he tried to get the string of lights around one of the empty branches, but he was always a couple of inches short.

That was the moment it went south. Jones reached for the cable that Arthur was still holding on to and simply pulled it over some more. He did get the job done and got lights onto the barren part of the tree, but he also succeeded in making Arthur lose his balance.

With a small yelp Arthur slipped off the edge of his stool, and with his hands still clenched around the fairy lights, he tumbled onto the ground. Or well, he would have, if not for something warm, squishy, and groaning beneath him.

He'd landed right on top of Jones. Lord have mercy.

Arthur struggled to push himself up, however, both because of the arm that had been slung protectively around his waist and because of the way the lights had managed to wrap around them. He'd always thought that was just a trope in Hallmark Christmas movies, but apparently Arthur was just as able as the busy businesswoman coming home to her small town for the holidays. Lucky him.

"Damn, are you ok?" Alfred groaned from somewhere far too close to him. When Arthur finally opened his eyes, which he didn't know he'd clenched shut in the first place, he came to discover just how close they were.

He could have counted Jones' eyelashes, if he felt like it, and even without doing that Arthur was close enough to smell the soft scent of chocolate, peppermint and coffee that surrounded him. As if he hadn't been able to be any more clichéd.

Arthur was probably bright red, but between the cables and Alfred's arm there was little to no room for him to escape. "I, uh... Yes. Are you alright?"

"With you in my arms? Always."

Jones gave him a saucy wink, and though Arthur had to admit he was actually surprisingly comfortable like this (with the thick jacket to cushion him even his neighbour could make for a nice pillow), that single comment was enough to make him renew his efforts to escape their entanglement.

"Stop it," he complained, one arm twisted behind himself in an attempt to undo whatever knot they'd managed to get into the string of lights upon falling. Just like Jones' discovery of the remote before, his success was accompanied by a small, “A-Ha!”

Arthur was quick to jump off of Jones after that, eager to escape his hold. At least the cold gave him plausible deniability as for the bright red flush of his cheeks. "Thank you," he muttered, then he returned his attention to the string of lights, newly tangled and most definitely plotting to make his life worse.

With a chuckle Jones swung a leg back over the fence and returned to his half of the property and the half-erected candy canes. "Well, happy to help! Can't have your tree looking as one-sided as British cuisine, can I?"

"Pretty sure an American shouldn't comment about cuisine, considering you don't have any of your own," Arthur commented wryly. Right back to the usual business, good. Just don’t address what happened just now... "Unless diabetes counts as cuisine now?"

Alfred laughed, but didn't reply.

Arthur was still wrapping the cables-turned-matchmaker/murder-weapon around the rows of branches, careful to weave them so they'd withstand the wind, when Jones pulled out what had to be the twentieth string of fairy lights in his garden alone. In his mind Arthur thanked the Lord that this wasn't his electricity bill to pay.

A new box, a new string of lights, a new decoration, a new power strip.

"Do you just live like the Amish all year so you can afford your electricity bill in December, Jones?" he asked as he hung the first of all too many light brown baubles onto the tree. "Or is there government funding from the American embassy specifically for shenanigans like this?"

He glanced over to the other half of the property, absentmindedly noticing how ten human-sized candy canes now seamed the small path leading up to Jones' porch and front door. Two of the striped pillars were already wrapped in lights, the rest of the string still in his neighbour's hands.

"Man, I wish!" he laughed. "But don't worry, just living as old-timey as you is enough to keep my bills low."

Arthur's expression darkened, but he kept silent as he went on hanging ornaments on the branches of his tree. He remained that way, minding his business in an attempt at ignoring the Christmas faire that was his neighbour's lawn and house, but when Jones opened the last of the packages on his porch - most definitely large enough to fit Arthur - any attempts at goodwill ended.

"You cannot seriously plan to put that up," he said.

"Of course I can, dummy! Why else would I buy it?"

Alfred was as cheerful and innocent as he was grating Arthur's nerves, and for a second the Brit found himself contemplating whether he should just throw down his baubles and pick up snowballs instead. Perhaps some snow to the face would wake Jones up to how obnoxiously flashy and tasteless his half of the duplex looked.

In the end he didn't, but instead watched on in a state of powerlessness as Alfred Jones, menace to polite society and American extraordinaire, pulled a life-sized Santa, complete with a string-ladder and a huge sack of gifts, out of the package.

"You cannot be serious," he repeated, but Jones had already set up a ladder at the edge of his roof.

Three years of this, and each year he was horrified anew by the sheer amount of time and money Alfred was willing to spend on his Christmas decoration. Less than ten percent of the year, and yet he did enough to compete in some entirely unnecessary and likely American-dominated championship over the worst, most over-the-top decorations.

Arthur did not stick around to wait until he had fixed Santa, including his rope ladder, to his roof. Jesus had been crucified just before Easter, he did not need to watch Santa being hanged on Christmas.

☆ • ☆ • ☆

December 18 - Fourth Advent

The fourth advent had proven to be a deviation from the norm Alfred Frighteningly-Festive Jones had established over the past two weeks. Unlike the weekends before, he had not started his routine of decoration, Christmas playlist and bafflingly cheery attitude until late in the afternoon.

Arthur knew the reason for that too - considering how loud his neighbour's Christmas party the night before had been, it wouldn't surprise him if Jones had spent his morning and noon both cleaning and dealing with a splitting headache. He might have felt pity, had his head not also been screaming at him - going by the half empty bottle of scotch on his dining room table Arthur had made an attempt at helping himself fall asleep.

As it was, Bing Crosby only began singing at half past 5, in the light of Christmas decorations as the sun had already gone down - how Arthur hated winter. Headache be damned, he was not ready to give in to the fact he'd had to accustom to every year before this - that Jones had decorated his house more and that, no matter Arthur's classier decorations, the duplex still looked like a mess because of that fact.

Regardless, Arthur still gathered the last of his own decorations. Whether it truly made sense to put up decorations one week before Christmas, well, perhaps not, but he'd be damned if Jones outdid him. He might have done so already, but nonetheless Arthur was more than reluctant to give up. And so he left his part of the house once more, armed with gloves, the last 30 feet of fairy lights, and some small glowing arches to seam his own pathway.

Outside he was welcomed the same way as each of the past weeks. "Hey Arthur, welcome to the land of the living! And here I thought you'd slept in last week, damn!"

He didn't reply and instead crouched down right by his front door, getting out the first of the arches. They were small, and even now Arthur could envision himself kneeling here some time past nine, still hammering in the decorations. The influence Jones had over his actions was equally scary and annoying to Arthur.

Nonetheless he went to work, switching back and forth between red and green arches to place them in an alternating pattern. Whether that was just his own view of things or not, to Arthur it still looked more discreet and tasteful than the rainbow madness that was going on in 32B.

"So, tell me, Jones," he began eventually, figuring that after all the comments his neighbour had made about him in the past weeks, he owed Arthur one. "When are you going to put up the flashing lights warnings? At this point I wouldn't be surprised if your house gave somebody a seizure."

"Depends!" the chipper reply sounded from beyond the fence, where Jones was currently setting up a pile of glowing gifts next to the sleigh from two weeks before. "When are you going to set up the "No fun allowed" sign in front of your house? Wouldn't want your Grinch-complex to ruin too many people's moods, right?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and proceeded to add arch after arch to the melody of Little Saint Nick. Whoever had decided that the Beach Boys of all people should make a Christmas song had not only held too much power, but had also been wrong.

After the lights disaster from the week before, things went surprisingly smoothly this time around. Arthur was reluctant to admit that he still felt the weight of Alfred's arm wrapped around him, if he thought about that moment, but other than that it was almost as if he'd never fallen off that damn stool. A small jab here, a witty remark there, all was back to normal. All was good.

Until Alfred pulled it out.

"It" was a large package, as had been every other thing Jones had pulled out into his garden on the past Sundays. Arthur tried acting as though he was focussing on his own decorations, as he instead watched on in something akin to fear what Jones had ordered this time.

He saw red. Something large and red slowly but surely surfaced from amidst packing peanuts and cardboard, here a bit of white and there a bit of black. Arthur stared from behind the fence, not that Jones would have been able to tell, considering the amount of plastic he was holding.

There was some rummaging, the sound of what had to be the ninetieth plug Alfred had pushed into one or the other socket this month. Once more Arthur wondered just how high his neighbour's electric bill had to be. The sound of a switch, then the roar of a pump.

Oh Lord. Of course. Inflatables.

Thinking nothing more of it, Arthur went back to work by the shine of both of their decorations. One thing he had to admit, Alfred's half of the premise was brighter. Then again, unlike Arthur's side it flickered the entire time as each and every part of the garden flashed or changed colours, one bright, bothersome sludge of rainbow colours.

It was completely dark by the time Arthur had set up the last of his arches. With a small sense of pride he watched the decorations flicker to life upon plugging them in. By now Arthur was shivering. The winter cold had slowly seeped into him from the bottom up, starting at his feet and crawling up until he felt like a living popsicle. And he would have called it a night, he really would.

Had it not been for a certain something to his right, namely a more than life-sized Santa-inflatable. Arthur froze, not because of the cold, but simply because there was no way. He couldn't be serious. No. This was it.

Arthur had endured the sleigh, the candy canes, the window decorations, the miles upon miles of fairy lights, the Santa on the roof, hell, he'd endured Frosty, but this... This was too much.

"You can't... You can't seriously mean to put that up." He struggled finding the words as he stared up, emphasis on up, at the inflatable Father Christmas.

"Of course I can! Why else would I have bought it? It can even play Christmas songs, wait, I'll plug it in-"

"Don't. You. Dare."

Just three words, and yet Arthur swore he caught a challenging glint in Alfred's eyes from across the fence. He stepped a little closer, arms folded across his chest.

"What are you gonna do about it, Mr. Scrooge?" Alfred asked with a grin, plug already in hand. "All it takes is one little push and it'll be done!"

Arthur didn't even think, he simply leapt over the low fence between their gardens. Before he knew what he was doing, he was next to Jones, one hand reaching for the cable of that stupid monument to American hyperbole and hubris, the other clenched into a fist. He darted forward in an attempt to get a hold of the cord. "I swear to God, Jones, I'll-"

Before Arthur could finish that sentence or reach the cable, Alfred dodged to the side. While Arthur stumbled and fell into a pile of snow, he spun around with a smirk. "Well? What're you gonna do, Kirkland?"

Arthur growled, bare hands digging into snow as he pushed himself off the ground to lunge at Jones once more with a hoarse yell. They both fell, limbs tangled as they rolled across frozen ground in the battle for the cable. Arthur found himself clawing at whatever he could reach, clothes, hair, anything, hoping he'd somehow get a hold of the cord.

He was doing his best to pin Jones down, but even with all of Arthur's weight on top of him, Alfred began moving once more, dragging himself towards the closest power strip. With a stifled yell Arthur tried once more, finally catching Jones' leg and yanking him back with a harsh pull.

Alfred fell into the snow face first, sputtering and spitting out snow when he resurfaced at last. He was covered in snow from head to toe in much the same way Arthur was.

"It's over, Kirkland!" he exclaimed, and only then did Arthur recognise the power strip in his hand. With a triumphant grin Jones presented the multi socket. "I won!" Alfred yelled with an almost maniacal grin when pushed in the plug, laughing to himself as hundreds of lights flickered to life all at once.

Arthur could only watch on powerlessly as the inflatable came to life, a single glowing spot at the centre of a small front yard in Oxford.

Between the music, the air pump and Jones' laughter, he almost missed it. A brief burst of sorts, a single sound and all of a sudden everything was gone.

Nat King Cole fell mute, the candy canes lost their lustre. The noise from the air pump was gone, the sleigh on the lawn was dark once more. The music, the light, the noise, all was gone. All of a sudden, there was nothing but the dark, quiet cold of winter.

"What... What just happened..?"

Deep down, Arthur wanted to scream. Of course, of course Jones' festive frenzy had resulted in nothing but trouble. In the absence of motion he could feel the cold seep into his skin and bones, burrowing deeper and deeper in his body until he felt like he was about to freeze to death. He was wet and covered in snow all over.

"What do you think just happened?" Arthur snapped, struggling to contain the urge to yell at Jones. "You blew a fuse. We don't have power."

After a brief moment of silence Jones seemed to realise their position. He slowly crawled off of Arthur and got up, dusting himself off. "But we can just put it back in, right?" he asked, almost meekly. Arthur couldn't see his expression, even with the faint glow of the street lights on the other side of the road.

With a groan Arthur rose back to his feet. He could feel the dull ache of the oncoming bruises around his shoulders and hips where he'd hit the ground. And still he was pained more by Jones' sheer endless well of naiveté. Had he not known better, he would have sworn his neighbour was a child.

"We can't," he grit out. Arthur's teeth were chattering. "The fuse box is in the basement, so unless Mrs Smith gave you the key, we can't reach it."

Jones shook his head. Phenomenal.

Somewhere next to him Jones fidgeted. "W-Wait, so we don't have electricity? Like, at all?" Arthur didn't know whether it was just the cold or whether his mind was playing tricks on him, but it seemed like Jones was shaking.

"No," Arthur said curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me, unless you want to spend Christmas this way, I have a phone call to make."

With stiff limbs and numb fingers Arthur returned to the fence, past the torn remnants of a string-light and trampled snow. Now that the adrenaline from before had ebbed off, each and every movement Arthur made felt heavy and sluggish, but perhaps that was just the cold. He struggled getting back across the fence this time.

It was only when Arthur was fiddling with his keys, struggling to find the lock with only the light of his phone flashlight to guide him, that he felt the burn of Jones' stare on the back of his neck.

"What?" The word came out harsher than he'd meant it to, and Arthur could have sworn he caught the other flinching.

"I... Um..." Jones seemed lost, almost intimidated when he replied. He stood in silence, alone in the dark and cold of the last Sunday before Christmas. "Do you have a candle?"

Arthur turned back towards the fence, key stuck in the lock, unturned. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you maybe have a candle I could borrow?" The question felt almost too polite after their struggle in the snow, too silent to fit Jones. "I... Well, I don't have any, and I just really don't like the dark and my phone's almost out of power but I can't go to bed because it's only seven and you know, just..." He trailed off.

Arthur remained quiet for a moment. He already regretted what he was about to say, and yet he couldn't stop himself. "Just... Just come in, Alfred." At last he turned the key, and with a small creak his front door swung open. It took another moment or so, then Alfred began moving again, hurrying over onto Arthur's side and to where he stood.

"Leave your boots by the door," Arthur said. "I don't want melted snow all over my floors."

Guided only by what little light their phones provided, Arthur led Alfred inside. Even after shedding the snow-covered jackets and boots, he felt nothing but cold and wet. Apparently the "100% waterproof" jacket was about as water-resistant as tissue paper. A cold shiver ran down his back, and for a moment Arthur played with the thought of just taking a hot bath - until he remembered Alfred, at least.

He might as well have been glued to Arthur's heels, judging by the way he never left more than four feet between them. Without the thick winter jacket and his boisterous behaviour, he seemed only half as big and imposing as usual. The only thing that didn't fit that image was tonight's ugly Christmas sweater, decorated with the words "Jingle my bells."

For that crime against his eyes alone Arthur should have left him outside.

Nonetheless he guided Alfred into the living room. Arthur quickly began rummaging through one of his cabinets. With his phone in one hand and only one free to actually work through the contents of his drawer, it took Arthur quite a while to find at least one candle. He'd just discovered a second one when Jones bumped into him. With a small sound of surprise from Alfred and a curse from Arthur the candle dropped to the ground.

"Oh shi- I'm sorry Arthur, wait, I'll-"

He crouched down to get the candle, only to hit his head on the drawer on the way back up. With a hand pressed to the back of his head he stood, handing Arthur the candle.

"Are you ok?" Arthur asked, but Alfred only nodded. Well, he moved his head at least, Arthur couldn't see much more. Unless he pointed the flashlight right at him, that vague movement was all he got for a reply.

At last Arthur found a lighter amongst the clutter of his drawer. When the first wick finally caught fire, Alfred relaxed visibly next to him. He handed the other the first candle, already working on lighting a second one for himself.

"Thank you, Arthur," Alfred muttered, his hands clenched tightly around the small jar.

"You're welcome." Another flicker of his lighter, another small flame as Arthur lit the second candle. With another glance at the old, already half-burnt candle in his hand he set some extras out on the side.

He turned Alfred around by his shoulder, carefully directing him in the direction of his living room. Arthur made a point to ignore the way he flinched. This was awkward enough as it was.

"I'll call Mrs Smith, just wait here," he said eventually.

Without another glance Arthur retreated to the kitchen, already dialing his landlady's number.

☆ • ☆ • ☆

"She's in London."

Alfred tore his eyes away from the little flame dancing in the glass. "What was that?" he asked after a moment. "I'm so-sorry, I didn't notice you coming back in."

Arthur let out a small sigh, taking a seat opposite to Alfred at the dining room table. He carefully set down the candle he'd been holding.

"She's in London, visiting her family. With the snow and the traffic jam on the M25 it'll take her a good three hours, at the very least..."

"There's a traff-"

"There's always a traffic jam on the M25."

Even with nothing but the flickering candle flame to illuminate him, Arthur could see the way Alfred's expression fell. The faint light had helped him ease up somewhat, but he was still shivering. He'd wrapped his arms tightly around himself, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

Arthur rose from his seat once more. Even now, back in the comfort of his own home, he was freezing. Arthur was cold enough to freeze to his chair. "Do you want me to light another candle?" he asked gently, hoping to coax some sort of reaction out of the other.

Annoying as he might've been, at that moment Alfred looked like a picture of misery. For a second he felt sorry for yelling at him earlier, but then the second passed and Arthur remembered that they wouldn't be in this situation without Alfred.

As though he'd read his mind Alfred spoke up. "I'm s-sorry, Arthur..." he muttered. "I really fucked up this t-time, huh?" He gave him a weak smile, but somehow that only made him look more pitiful. Somehow Arthur did feel sorry this time.

"You did," he replied eventually, earning him a startled glance from Alfred. "But you didn't mean to, right? I know that d-doesn't change the outcome, but..." He trailed off. But what?

Without the music or the sounds of Alfred working outside like on each of the past Sundays, the wordless silence between them became uncomfortably loud. Without the trouble of climbing ladders and falling off them, without the work of hammering in individual arches and decorating whatever else he could reach, the duplex half that had felt so cosy each of the past days suddenly felt ice cold. There was nothing. Nothing beyond that small island of light surrounding the two candles, just Alfred and him.

"I'll... Go get you something f-fresh to wear," he said eventually. "You're p-probably wet all over, too, right? I'll see whether I can-"

A hand closed around his wrist, gentle but cold. "Plea… Please don't leave me alone, Arthur."

Alfred hadn't turned to look at him, in fact he still stared ahead, at the flickering lights of the candles. For a moment Arthur remained still, unsure what to do. It wasn't fair. When those blue eyes met his own, they were soft and pleading in the way they looked at him.

They shouldn't belong to his neighbour with a love for flashing lights and rainbow colours. They shouldn't belong to somebody so loud, tall, bothersome.

It wasn't fair that Alfred looked at him this way.

"I'm sorry Alfred, but I have to-"

All words were gone. Before Arthur could as much as finish his sentence, it had dissolved in his mind. Everything was gone, as with a rough yank on Arthur's wrist, Alfred pulled him into a gentle kiss. The contact lasted a moment, a moment longer, a moment too long. With a gasp Arthur flinched back, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth as he brought some distance between them.

Alfred's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I can-"

"How dare you-" The words died on his lips. Lips Alfred had touched. They'd kissed. No, Alfred had kissed him. How could he just-

"Is this because of t-two weeks ago?" Arthur blurted out. "Is this all a joke to you?"

It took a moment until his words sunk in. Alfred stared at him with wide eyes, wide and open and so bright and blue they might have been the sky over Antarctica. He stared at him, as though it had been Arthur who'd kissed him. He stared at him as though he wasn't in the wrong, as though that stare alone was not infuriating in itself.

"I... What?"

"Is this your idea of a joke?" Arthur asked, and what had been shock seconds ago turned into anger, hurt. "Are you trying to make fun of me for being gay? Is that what this is, Jones?"

Alfred looked as though he'd been burnt. He flinched back with each of Arthur's words, mouth agape in wordless silence as he realised what Arthur meant. The way he stared at him was almost one of betrayal, and for just a moment Arthur would have loved nothing more than to wipe that stupid expression off his face.

"What? No! No, I didn't-" Alfred cut himself off. Arthur raised a brow, gesturing for him to proceed. "Look, I- I don't care whether you're gay! F-Fuck, I'm not straight either, ok? It's just-" He wrung his hands, wordless once more.

I'm not straight either.

Arthur shook his head, pushing aside the echo of that sentence. He didn't want to think about what it meant, what it could mean for what had just happened. He didn't want to think about what had happened just now, at all. He was too cold to think.

"T-Take off your sweater," he said eventually. Against his will, his ire had died down as quickly as it had come. He felt no more than resignation and tiredness. Resignation, tiredness, and the cold that had been seeping through his clothes and skin and down into his bones.

It was only when he noticed the way Alfred looked at him, that he realised what he'd just said. There he went again, staring at him with those stupidly innocent eyes, cheeks bright red. With a slight stammer Arthur added, "I- Shit, not like... I just don't want you to catch a cold, ok?"

Though his blush didn't fade, not that it could have this quickly, the baffled expression left Alfred's face. "O-Oh," was all he got out. He rose from his chair and reached for the hem of his jumper, and with Arthur's eyes still on him, he halted, let his arms sink once more.

Arthur raised a brow as he watched on for another moment. Alfred stayed still. "Is something the matter?" he asked at last.

"I... Um... Aren't you going to turn around?" The question was tentative. "I... I don't have anything on beneath the sweater, so- You d-don't have to lend me anything, just like-" That faint red colour had returned to Alfred's face stronger than ever, and this time Arthur was sure it wasn't just the cold.

"Ah, shi- Sorry, I should have thought of that. I'll see whether I can find something for you."

Somehow it felt like he was fleeing, when Arthur left. He knew he wasn't, knew that this was his own home, but the thought proved too persistent to push away just yet.

When he returned at last, armed with an old, positively gigantic hoodie, Arthur was still as cold as he'd been before. He'd changed, too; everything down to his socks had been wet. The fresh clothes were dry, but even with the thick, fluffy jumper and fuzzy socks he was shivering.

Back downstairs, he was awaited by nothing but the lonely flicker of the first candle. That, and the bare back it illuminated. Alfred must have heard him, too, because at that very moment he spun around. Somehow Arthur didn't mind too much, however, not with the way the candle highlighted his bare chest.

He couldn't help but trace along the even plains of Alfred's chest and farther down to his abdomen. With the faint, soft lighting of the candles and what little light streamed in through the cracks in his blinds, it almost seemed as though his chest was glistening. Maybe it was some of the water from his soaked jumper or maybe Arthur was simply starved for a view like this one. 2022 hadn't proven to be all that successful in terms of dating, at least not for him.

Whichever one it was, it took a moment for him to realise that Alfred had caught him staring, then his mind caught up at last. "I, um... I found a hoodie you can wear, I think that should fit. I also have a pair of sweats, but I'm not sure whether those will..." Arthur trailed off, perhaps because of the look Alfred gave him. Shock, yes, but also something that reminded Arthur of how he had to be staring at Alfred just then. "D-Didn't you- I thought you didn't want me to see-"

Somehow words had become hard. At last the tension snapped and Arthur regained control over himself, dropping the clothes and spinning around. This is just a guy's body, nothing you haven't seen before, he told himself, but somehow that proved to be rather uneffective.

There was some rustling, the sound of Alfred's soaked trousers hitting the floor, then more rustling. Another moment passed, then Alfred spoke up from behind him. "You can t-turn around now."

If he was honest, Arthur was almost disappointed when he did. Not only was Alfred’s chest covered once more, the hoodie and sweatpants were also loose enough to leave just about everything to the imagination. He shook his head slightly in an attempt to push that thought aside. What was even going on inside his mind?

At least Alfred saved him from having to say something first, a small comfort. "Damn dude, how c-come your half is so cold?" he asked between shuddering breaths, rubbing his hands together. "Was I the only one to g-g-get a heater?"

Arthur let out a small laugh, tried to behave as though he wasn't freezing his arse off just as much. "S-Sorry, I turned it down to reduce heating costs," he replied. He failed, he was stammering the same way Alfred was. He really should turn up the heat.

"Yeah, you're right, what's a few f-fingers, if you can reduce the c-c-cost..." Alfred replied, but with chattering teeth and trembling fingers the snark of his reply was lost. "J-Just listen to me! C-can't even make a joke effectively in this f-freezer of an apartment!"

"Guess that's a sign you shouldn't c-complain as much," Arthur joked, even as he reached for one of the blankets on his couch. "I've got some blankets, we can't do much like this, anyway."

He was halfway over to the small, two-seater couch at the centre of his living room when he turned around once more. "Oh, and Alfred? Watch out for the coffee-"

There was a thud, then a hissed curse as something dropped to the ground.

"...table." Arthur set his candle down on the offender, coming to find Alfred just behind him, a stream of various, none-too-festive curses on his lips as he clutched his shin. "Are you alright?" he asked, and though he tried, Arthur failed miserably at holding back his laughter.

"C-Can it, Kirkland," Alfred grit out between chattering teeth. "First you try to make me freeze to death, and now you try assassinating me!"

"I'd be a great assassin, wouldn't I," Arthur mused with a grin. "First one to have a confirmed kill with a coffee table."

Cold or not, Alfred made another attempt to glare at him. Too bad he failed in the face of Arthur's amusement, breaking out into bright laughter himself.

"Come here," Arthur said eventually. "Let's make sure I don't freeze you solid by accident."

Alfred grumbled more to himself as he placed his candle next to Arthur's, some muttered words that sounded suspiciously like "Is it really an accident at this point?" He slid into the big, worn out cushions, flinching when he sank into the cool fabric.

"Did you expect me to pre-heat my sofa?" Arthur joked as he shook out the small throw blanket he kept by the sofa. With a last shivering breath he crawled into the spot right next to Alfred, spreading the cuddly fleece blanket right over them.

Almost instantly Alfred scooted over, leaving an inch of distance between them. "Gah, why are you so cold!? Dude, just because I'm freezing doesn't mean you can make me even colder!"

With a rough yank Arthur pulled the blanket back towards himself, stealing back what Alfred had taken and then some. "I might be warmer, if you didn't steal the blanket," he hissed, but even so Arthur found himself inching back towards the other. Annoying or not, Alfred was still warmer than his couch and the blanket combined. After a moment's consideration he pulled his feet up onto the sofa, too, tucking them into the blanket. Way better.

"That doesn't justify stealing it from me!" Alfred whined, but he slid back over, until their hips and shoulders touched. "Stupid tiny blanket..." he muttered.

Arthur raised a brow but said nothing, simply giving the blanket the tiniest bit of slack, so Alfred could have a bit more. That's what he got for being so buff, Arthur thought, more surface area that needed to be covered by the blanket.

Buff or not, Alfred did the same as him and pulled his feet up onto the sofa, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs as they sat there in silence.

Arthur looked over for a moment, finding him watching the flame of his candle, the same way he'd done before. The way the candlelight danced across his face, softly illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and reflecting in his eyes, it drew him in in a way Arthur had never noticed before. He spotted the soft dusting of pink on Alfred's cheeks, the way the corner of his mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly.

"Are you just going to stare at me until Mrs Smith comes?"

Almost instantly Arthur turned away, but of course it was too late. Alfred had caught him staring, as though being this close wasn't bad enough. He could smell that stupid aroma of chocolate, peppermint and coffee once more; just like last week Alfred smelled of Christmas and comfort and stuff Arthur shouldn't know because he shouldn't know what his neighbour smelled like. But here he was.

Shit.

"Oh, uh, I-"

All his life people had told Arthur how quick-witted he was, but at that moment he was all out of ideas on how to get out of this. His eyes stuck to one of the two candles. That's right. As long as he just looked at the candle, Alfred wouldn't notice, he might even forget that he'd stared at hi-

"You know that's not a reply, right?" Alfred asked, and even without looking Arthur could just see the smirk playing around his lips.

"I was just... Um... Thinking about whether a different position might be warmer..?" Arthur hated the doubt in his voice, but at least he'd finally come up with a reply. A bad one, not to mention an excuse Alfred would never believe, but at least he'd tried.

"Oh?"

Of course he'd ask. Shit.

"Well, you know, if you... If we... cuddled, basically? It would save blanket space and-"

"Just say it, Arthur," Alfred said from somewhere beside him, far too close to him. He had to be smiling like that again, and some part of Arthur, most likely his pride, simply couldn't bear the way he was laughing at him. "You want to spoon, don't you?"

Arthur wanted to slap him, he really did. He would have loved to just spin around and slap him, or at least give him a piece of his mind or something, but no, he remained silent.

With a quick movement the blanket was gone, so was Alfred. He scooted back on the sofa, until his back was pressed against the armrest of the sofa. He spread his legs somewhat, leaving a free spot between them. A free spot for Arthur.

"So, wanna test your theory?" he asked with a grin.

Arthur surely was just as red as the stupid fleece blanket, but nonetheless he slid back on the cushions, until he was nestled in between Alfred's legs, his chest to Arthur's back and his arms around him. Alfred carefully draped the blanket around them once more, creating a fluffy cocoon and simultaneously trapping Arthur.

Awkward or not, he had been right - this was far warmer than it had been before. Nonetheless Arthur's face was burning, and even if Alfred hadn't noticed (yet), the thought that a bit of closeness could make him blush like this was humiliating in its own right. At least he could blame it on the cold.

They sat in silence for a little while. There was something calming about this, the gentle flicker of the candles and the way his body was slowly warming back up after being exposed to the winter cold for so long.

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

The words tore him from his thoughts, entirely out of nowhere. Arthur turned around as best he could with the way they sat, but he could only see part of Alfred's face. If he was honest, he saw even less because of the darkness. Eventually, after accepting that he wouldn't be able to meet Alfred's eyes without also breaking his neck in the process, he replied.

"I already told you, Alfred, you didn't know it would blow the fuse, and it's not like it's unfixable, so-"

"That's not what I meant." He was quiet, barely above a whisper. Alfred had tensed up ever so slightly as he spoke. The thought of being able to feel something as minute as this made some unknown feeling spread inside of Arthur, but nonetheless he was worried.

"What are you talking about, then?" Arthur asked, unsure what type of response he was expecting. What was he even hoping for?

"I'm sorry for kissing you."

Oh.

"I shouldn't have done it so suddenly, and I'm sorry for that. I just... Well..."

Arthur didn't know what to say. On one hand he could feel the anger from before returning, running hot and fast within his veins, but on the other hand the apology left him defenceless all the same.

"I... It's just... I've been crushing on you for a while."

Arthur's thoughts screeched to a grinding halt. "What?"

"I like you, Arthur. I know this sounds stupid, especially after what happened earlier, but-"

"Wait. Just wait a second-" Arthur pulled away the blanket and left his - admittedly very comfortable - spot between Alfred's legs to instead sit opposite of him, finally meeting his eyes. The blanket lay discarded between the both of them, leaving him exposed to the cold once more. But Arthur couldn't think, didn't even notice. He just barely caught the way Alfred reached out, as though to pull him back in, either. "You..." he started. "You like me?"

"I... That's what I'm trying to say, yes." Alfred looked almost apologetic. He looked at him with such gentle eyes, and though Arthur was still trying to gather his thoughts, just trying to regain his ability to think at all, those eyes occupied his mind all the same.

"How can you just... How long?"

Alfred was staring at his hands, almost as though he expected to find the answer to Arthur's question somewhere on the back of them. Maybe he had written it down somewhere on there and Arthur was just underestimating him.

At last Alfred broke the silence. "Just over two years now," he admitted. "I know it sounds stupid, but when I saw you just... mumbling to yourself in that fuzzy Grinch sweater and old man slippers as you put up the garland outside one Christmas, it just clicked I guess."

Arthur wanted to be serious, confused, shocked, all that, but he couldn't help but snort. "Out of all the times we've met," he laughed. "Out of all of that, you fell for me while I was cussing up a storm in an ugly sweater?"

"Not quite Hallmark-worthy, huh?" Alfred asked with a soft smile.

"Well, we did do the stringlight-tango, so if you reveal you're secretly the prince of some unknown magical kingdom in Central Europe we should be fine."

"Does central Virginia count?" Alfred asked, making both of them laugh.

Arthur tilted his head, feigning deep thought. "Well, depends on how you sell it. Maybe if you put on some strange accent..?"

Alfred gave him a gentle nudge, forcing him to focus on the topic once more. "Still," he insisted, "are you not going to, well, reply?" The silence returned, thick enough to cut as Alfred watched his every move. "I... I guess your response after the kiss was clear enough, but... I just want to hear you say it. Is that selfish?"

"Alfred..." The words got caught in Arthur's throat. He could only imagine what he looked like right then. Next to Alfred he had to look small, and with the way he looked at him, pleading almost... Arthur had to look nothing short of miserable. Pitiful.

"I guess that settles it..." Alfred's expression fell. Where Arthur had wondered whether he looked miserable, Alfred truly did. Any brightness from a moment ago was snuffed out like a candle's flame, total darkness in but a breath. "Shit. I really should have waited another two hours to ask, shouldn't I?"

"I just never knew..." Arthur tried once more. It felt like words were running from him, as though with every word he said, the others ran farther, slipping from his grasp and disappearing altogether. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Confusion - the way Alfred looked at him, furrowed brows and tight lips, as though to ask what he meant. "But... I've been trying to do that this whole time? I've been flirting so much over the past weeks! And I've tried to get your attention with the lights every year, and-"

"Oh God..."

The words were less than a whisper, almost inaudible as Arthur realised what Alfred was referring to. The stupid pick-up lines. The looks. The smiles. He'd been so incredibly dense.

"Yeah... I'm sorry, I should have realised you weren't..."

"Oh my God, I'm- I'm so sorry Alfred," Arthur said at last. "I... I thought you were making fun of me, I never- I'm so stupid, how..."

He buried his face in his hands, dropping back onto the sofa as his face burned in shame. Him and his brothers had always been joking about how dense Alistor was when it came to his partner, but it seemed that it ran in the family. Arthur wanted to scream.

"Wait, so you didn't reject me?"

Alfred had perked up almost immediately. He was leaning over Arthur, which was only slightly complicated by the fact that Arthur still had his legs kicked up onto the sofa, meaning he was more or less resting his stomach on Arthur's knees. Somewhere at the back of his mind Arthur noticed how firm his abdomen felt, not that this should have been his main interest just then.

"No," Arthur groaned from behind his hands. How could he ever have been so...? "I can't believe I never noticed..."

"So... What is it? What do you say?" He looked at him with those bright eyes again, excited, but also worried ever so slightly. It seemed like each and every one of Alfred's expressions was mirrored on his face the second he felt them, with no filter whatsoever.

Arthur bit his lip, trying to find the right words. He was interested, yes, but... "I think I'd need to know more about you, to say that," he admitted at last.

Almost instantly that expression of excitement dropped. Arthur hadn't rejected him, but even he knew that what he'd said wasn't much better than that. Still he asked, "What's your favourite Christmas movie?"

"Huh? What are you trying to do?"

"I want to know more about you," Arthur replied. With a small smile he insisted, "So, what is it?"

For a moment Alfred stared at him almost bewilderedly, then he chuckled. "Well, if you ask me like that..." he started. He tilted his head slightly in thought. "I'd have to say The Polar Express."

"Wait, isn't that the one with the strange animation?" Arthur asked between his laughs. "The kids looked so uncanny to me!"

Alfred crossed his arms, and with a small pout he retorted, "It's about the nostalgia, not the quality." He poked Arthur, but only succeeded in making him laugh harder. "If mine's so strange, what's your favourite, hm?" he questioned.

"Love Actually, always has been," he replied without another thought. Upon seeing Alfred's confused expression he added, "It's a romantic comedy, but it's just really sweet over all. Great actors, too."

"I don't think I know that one," Alfred admitted.

"Guess we'll have to watch it together some time," Arthur smiled. With Alfred back to sitting across from him, he sat back up, and crossed his legs. As he draped the blanket across both their laps once more, he asked: "Okay, next one. What's your favourite genre of music?"

This time Alfred was quicker with his reply, "Good ol' rock for sure. You can't beat Queen, and Led Zeppelin or Guns n' Roses are just classics. And that isn't even mentioning the Ramones!" Alfred seemed to glow when he replied; all of a sudden his excitement was back. It was nice to see him this happy again, after he'd been in various states of worry or doubt for half of the evening. "So? What's Mr "You're-confusing-punk-and-gay" listening to, when he isn't complaining about my choices in Christmas songs?"

"If you answer your own question, what am I meant to say?" Arthur laughed. "I'm into punk and alternative for the most part. The Sex Pistols and The Clash are unbeatable, but I can definitely get behind liking the Ramones. Recently I've been more into Muse though, their new album is simply incredible."

Alfred had been listening attentively, and though Arthur felt his eyes on him, he wasn't staring at him like before. It was gentler now, in a way he couldn't quite put into words. "You know," Alfred mused, "I already knew you like punk stuff, but there's something about you talking about it while wearing some fluffy sweater that's just really funny to me. Like a bunny with a knife."

"Better watch out, I have knives, too," Arthur retorted with furrowed brows, eliciting a wave of laughter from Alfred.

"Pff, if you say so..." he laughed. "Speaking of danger, though... My turn: if you could have any super power, what would you choose?"

Arthur took a moment to consider, one hand beneath his chin as he did. He wasn't into superheroes all that much, if he was honest, so it wasn't something he could answer right off the bat. Nonetheless, if he didn't want to go with some sort of magical power, what was there that he'd pick?

"Probability manipulation," he answered at last.

"What? That's so lame!" Alfred laughed. "Dude, you could pick flight! Or laser vision! Or super strength! I'd totally take super strength, if I had to choose. Way cooler, and I could help people! Save them from getting squished by a bus and stuff!"

There was something cute about Alfred's excitement, but nonetheless Arthur couldn't help but defend himself. "Well, if you think about it, probability manipulation is way stronger though! What's the probability I have super speed? Well, I could tweak it and do a quick trip over to Buckingham Palace!"

Alfred puffed out his cheeks. "That's cheating, though! Where's the limitations on that?" he asked.

Arthur laughed, giving the other a small nudge. With an overly dramatic flailing of his arms Alfred tumbled back into a pile of throw pillows at the corner of the sofa, pulling the blanket along with him.

"I totally thought your power would be invisibility. Or sneaking. Oh, or maybe illusions!" Alfred said as he pushed himself off the pillows to rest against the armrest of the sofa, half-leaning as he watched Arthur.

"Why that?" Arthur asked with furrowed brows.

Alfred gave him a brilliant smile. "Well, you stole my heart, so you have to have some sort of power, right?"

Against his will, Arthur felt his cheeks flush a bright red. He didn't want to admit it, but stupid as it was, the line had done wonders at making his heart stumble in its pace. Stupid sap.

"Idiot," he muttered, but he knew damn well that he couldn't sell the insult. Curses. "New question," Arthur said. "What's your ideal date?"

"You go first," Alfred retorted almost instantly.

Arthur didn't bother questioning him and instead answered his own question. "A trip to the city, walking around together and just talking, before ultimately having tea or dinner together. I want to get to know the other person. What about you, then?"

"My perfect date would be a trip to the city and just spending time with them, walking around and talking, before ultimately having tea or dinner together."

"You know, this isn't an exam, you don't have to copy my answer. You can tell me, if you don't have one," Arthur said with a small roll of his eyes, even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, but I had an answer!" Alfred defended himself. "My ideal date is whatever you want to do."

Arthur bit his lip, turned away as he tried to ignore just what Alfred's stupidly adorable replies did to his heartbeat. How dare he have such an easy time at making his heart skip?

He wanted payback.

"Alright, last question," Arthur said.

Their eyes met again, and somewhere at the back of his mind Arthur noticed the slight flush on Alfred's face. At least he wasn't entirely unbothered.

"Can I have another kiss?"

"I- uh..."

Got him.

With a soft smile Arthur leant in, and while Alfred still tried to save that almost suave façade he'd put up before, Arthur reached for the collar of his jumper, pulling him in just a little more, until their lips met.

Unlike before it was gentle and slow this time, and though Alfred had stiffened initially, he quickly melted into the touch of Arthur's lips. Strong arms came up to wrap around Arthur's back, keeping him close as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly.

They broke apart breathing heavily, clinging to one another as though only they could ground each other. When their eyes met, it felt almost magical. Alfred's pupils were dilated, his lips parted just barely as he looked at Arthur.

In the soft light of the candles his eyes gleamed like gems; the wetness of his lips glistened enticingly. "Another," Alfred said breathily, and instead of replying Arthur simply pulled him in once more.

He didn't allow for Alfred to kiss him so sweetly again, tilting his head almost immediately and deepening their kiss. Arthur shifted to wrap his arms around Alfred's neck loosely, tangling one hand in his hair as he forced him ever closer. He could feel Alfred's hands at the small of his back, and as their movements grew more eager, more greedy, the heat of his touch slowly burnt Arthur up.

With Alfred's hands to steady him, Arthur straddled him, hovering above his thighs as he pressed a small kiss to his jaw. The blanket they'd shared had long since fallen to the floor, but even without it Arthur felt a steady heat building up just underneath his skin wherever Alfred's skin touched his own.

Arthur smiled when he caught Alfred's eyes closing, leaving another kiss right below his last. Alfred's grip around him tightened just barely, just enough to dig into his skin. He traced a couple more kisses along Alfred's jawline, before ending his path with a small peck on the lips.

"Do you want more?" he whispered against Alfred's lips.

A low growl was all the reply Arthur got, then Alfred caught his chin in a tight grip as he recaptured his lips in a hungry kiss.

"Didn't you say..." Alfred rasped between uneven breaths, "that you wouldn't ask... any more questions?"

With Arthur's arms still around his neck Alfred shifted his focus to Arthur's neck, lavishing him with attention as he left a myriad of nips and bites all across the unblemished skin of his neck and collarbone. His hands roamed freely along Arthur's torso, across his back and along his sides until they finally reached the hem of his jumper.

Gentle fingers snuck underneath the folds of thick fabric, drawing a soft keen from Arthur's lips as they danced across his ribcage and along his spine. Each touch raised goosebumps all over his cold skin as newly warmed fingertips traced every inch of his skin. He could not help the silent moan that escaped him when Alfred's thumb grazed one of his nipples.

At last Alfred pulled off Arthur's jumper, baring him to not only the cool air surrounding them, but also to the burning heat of Alfred's gaze. It felt like cheating, to unwrap his present more than a week before Christmas day. Somehow Arthur didn't mind, though, not when his present was so lovely, so beautiful in every way.

For just a moment they remained like that - with him straddling Alfred, whose eyes raked across his skin as though to memorise each and every square inch. With gentle touches he caressed Arthur's chest, running his fingers down along his breast bone and farther yet, until he reached the hem of Arthur's sweatpants.

Alfred halted for a near eternal second, half-lidded eyes hungering after a half-naked man, tracing Arthur's every part. He felt the burn of those dark blues on his face and his chest, following the curves of his body as the flickering light of the candles outlined them in ever-changing schemes, unsteady spectres for Alfred to discover anew with every passing moment.

With his hands still on the waistband of Arthur's sweats, his lips on a small, sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, Alfred muttered but four words, "Do you want more?"

Arthur held on to Alfred's shoulders and lowered down farther onto his lap, to the point he could feel the bulge in Alfred's pants pressing against his own. With his head thrown back in a breathless moan Arthur ground his hips against Alfred's, as Alfred suckled on the spot he'd just kissed. A sharp hiss escaped the other, and Arthur replied, "No more questions."

His words didn't leave any room for discussion or question, not when he'd finally closed that pesky gap between them, bucking his hips at a fast, uneven pace. Neither of them cared for the lack of a rhythm - not when Alfred's hands tangled in his hair, when Arthur's hands clawed at whatever parts of Alfred's shoulders and back he could reach, when his every move drew a litany of those desperate, pleading sounds from the other.

"Take off your top," he said, ordered, and Alfred complied wordlessly. Neither of them minded the tone, the fire beneath their skin burnt to brightly to spare even a thought. Funny, Arthur thought to himself, first I get him clothes and now I make him undress him all over again.

It didn't matter either way. The instant the fabric fell Arthur's hands were roaming that bare, strong chest he'd only caught glimpses of before, feeling the frantic rise and fall with each deep, gasping breath, the frenzied beat of Alfred's heart, the smoothness of his skin.

Before Alfred could react, Arthur pushed him back onto the pillows with one hand on his chest, the other on Alfred's thigh as he rolled his hips in a particularly slow motion. A low, unconstrained groan broke from Alfred's lips, raw with need, emotion, hunger. "Hold still for me..." Arthur crooned, and as he found Alfred so willingly submitting to him, bare chest beneath his spread fingers, he could see a fraction of what Alfred must have seen staring at him.

Sharply cut muscles and soft, even skin fought a relentless battle across the expanse of his chest, from his sculpted pecs to the plains of his abdomen and farther down yet to the spot where a fine line of hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his underwear. On either side of Arthur's splayed fingers the other's nipples stood hard and sensitive in the cold air, pleading for his touch as much as Alfred himself.

He stared at Arthur with longing eyes, pupils blown wide and lips parted just barely. Sweat beaded on his forehead, condensation fogged up parts of his glasses. Carefully Arthur reached for the obtrusive frame, setting it down on the table beside them before leaning in for another kiss.

"More," Alfred gasped, demanded, and who was Arthur to deny him whatever he wanted? He claimed his lips in a rough kiss, all tongue and teeth and tension. With gentle nips and bites Arthur coaxed ever more of those sweet sounds from Alfred - music much nicer than any Christmas song. The soft whimpers and whines paid him back for every bit of painful pleasure that Arthur lavished upon him, sent spikes of white-hot arousal through his veins and to his groin.

Another languid roll of his hips, and Alfred was gasping for air. Hands grasped at nothing and everything, at skin and at clothing, as Arthur's slow yet rough, gentle yet hungry pace sent them spiralling ever closer to that edge. Each breath was a breath too much, a moment too long spent apart when they could have been kissing, touching, feeling one another.

Only the strength of Alfred's grip around his wrist tore Arthur back out of that haze of heat and hunger. "Arthur-" he gasped in between ragged breaths. "Need you t- Ah! touch me-"

Perhaps Arthur was teasing too much, perhaps his mind had been lost to the sudden delicious desire that filled his every breath, his entire body, his skin and bone. But at that moment, with Alfred so defenceless beneath him, greedy and at his mercy all the same, he only raked his fingers down his chest, trailing red lines in his wake.

Alfred's breath got caught in his throat, but Arthur simply traced his hand lower yet, across his abdomen and beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, and the hitch in his breath became a breathless moan. A single gasp of "Fuck-" passed Alfred's lips, but all words were lost when Arthur curled his fingers around his erection at last.

Alfred's cock burnt against his skin, hot and hard, just as much as him. He gave it a first, slow stroke, and as he swiped his thumb across the head of Alfred's cock Arthur could not help but marvel at the entirely reverent look on his face. Head thrown back in ecstasy and eyes clenched shut, lips parted and neck covered in the marks Arthur had left there.

Nary a thought passed Arthur's mind; the heat smouldering underneath his skin and throughout all of his body had become too much to bear. One hand around Alfred's cock, one on his shoulder, Arthur moved just an inch closer.

They closed that gap one more time, a heated tangle of lips and tongues. With every movement of Arthur's hand around that most sensitive part of Alfred, a new moan spilled from his lips. Arthur built his pace up gradually, coaxing all sorts of sweet sounds from Alfred.

"Beautiful," he muttered in between their kisses, "Just-"

All of a sudden he felt Alfred's hand moving down the front of his own pants. Whatever he'd meant to say turned into a sharp hiss, then a moan. Arthur tried to object, say something about how he wanted to give Alfred a gift first, but Alfred just pulled him closer and wrapped his hands around both of their cocks.

It was hot, tight, and for a moment Arthur couldn't tell whether he was in heaven or hell. The touch of Alfred's hand on his oversensitive flesh was torturous with the way it clenched around both of them, and yet it was so unbearably good, so blissful it made him see stars.

Each movement of Alfred's hand had him spiralling, and soon enough Arthur found himself clinging to the other as he lost himself to that feeling of utter bliss. He was close. The heady scent of sex and sweat filled his nostrils with every laboured breath he took and Arthur felt each frantic beat of his heart all throughout his body, from his chest to his fingertips and down to his feet.

"Alfred, I'm-" he gasped but no more could pass his lips when Alfred sealed them with his own so easily.

With his eyes clenched shut and his hips bucking against the rhythm of Alfred's hand Arthur knelt there, unable to form a coherent thought. His whole body was abuzz with those unbearable sensations, vibrating through his veins until all of him was humming with the electricity of their arousal.

Arthur was on fire as lust swept over him like a tsunami, sparking when all he needed to ground him was the tender feeling of Alfred's lips on his own. One last twist of Alfred's hand, and with a gasp and a soundless scream Arthur came, spilling over Alfred's hands as he followed shortly after.

He was little more than a boneless heap on top of Alfred. Arthur couldn't have cared less about how he was spreading their combined mess all over himself, he was too exhausted to care. His mind was sluggish, and he didn't mind.

After a moment an arm wrapped around him, a comforting weight on his back as Arthur rested against a broad, warm chest. With a small, displeased hum he scooted a tad closer, until he could feel that warmth all around him. Way better.

"You know…" Alfred began after a moment, "I didn't think I'd kiss you, be rejected, confess, kiss and then frot with you, all in that order and in a single day."

"Call it a Christmas miracle," Arthur muttered against his chest, eliciting a small laugh from Alfred. It was nice when he laughed, a soft sound from deep inside his chest. Arthur could feel it from where his head rested.

Another moment passed, and with a hand stroking his back and another carding through his ruffled hair, Arthur might have just fallen asleep, had Alfred not spoken up once more.

"Speaking of Christmas," he said. "I know we're a week early, but… Does this count as a white Christmas, Arthur?"

It took a moment for the question to sink in, another for Arthur to comprehend the sheer idiocy of the pun. He snapped back up, and with a small push against Alfred's chest and loud laughter from the offender, he exclaimed: "You unromantic oaf!"

Too bad that Arthur couldn't help but laugh himself.

Rolling his eyes, he crawled off the sofa and off Alfred. With another look at the various stains on Alfred's and his own (or rather: just his own) clothes he grabbed the discarded hoodies and his own sweatpants, walking back towards the stairs.

"Undress," he said, "You've got stains, too. I'll be right back, I should still have something that fits you."

This time around Arthur took a bit longer to come back downstairs, maybe also because of a rather large stain on his abdomen that he had to clean off, but when he came back at last, he found something was off.

Namely, that Alfred stood by the (sadly fake) fireplace, naked as the day God had created him.

Or well, not naked, that was the issue. He was wearing a stocking, a single, bright green stocking far too large to fit him.

A Christmas stocking.

A stocking that said Arthur on it in elegant cursive.

Arthur's Christmas stocking.

He halted in his tracks.

"What are you doing, Alfred?" he asked, deadpanned, and somehow he found himself reminded of Frosty. This just had to be another stupid idea. He didn't even know the idea yet, but-

"Well, presents go into the stocking, right?" Alfred beamed. "I simply put yours in."

Against his will Arthur flushed, and unfortunately he didn't know whether Alfred had seen or not. His only solace was that the bundle of socks he threw at Alfred did hit its mark.

Served him right.