#in a different way than watching as a kid

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 11)

Their background is clear to you—always has been since your social worker told you about them in her car on the way here.

They’re military men. Most of their long lives have been spent in the field. She even mentioned that their first children grew up on base when they were little.

Which sounded cool, you thought. It was so different from the office jobs other foster parents had. A bonus, even—it made you feel safe in their house.

They were bigger than most. If not by height, then by width. They were large. Buff. Even the damn harpy, who was supposed to be lean, had broad shoulders and lots of muscles.

So you felt safe. That was a big bonus. Better than that weird suburban house you stayed in, where the mother often avoided the creepy neighbor who looked predatory. You remember his strange glances and how nervous the mother was when he came knocking one night while her husband was away.

How nervous you were as you watched their interaction a few feet away.

So, you’ve always had a big thing about safety, thanks to the weird places you have stayed.

And they felt so safe. It was comforting, really. After the initial phase of settling into a foster home—when you flinched away from everyone until you got to know them better—you started to relax.

(Unless they were the angry type. Or worse, the type to lay their hands on you.)

So, when Price sat you on his lap, checking your temperature again and combing your hair with his hand and sharp claws, you felt... calm. Eh, not totally, you admit. You still tensed a little when his hand came near your face and stayed quiet because of your shyness.

But it was progress, and you really, really wanted to feel at peace with them.

When night came, after they gave you more medicine, warm tea, and another serving of John's bean and bacon soup, they decided to put you to bed early.

Which... was fine. You were actually very tired. Sickness does that to you.

Price carried you, lifting you easily from the dining room chair with the booster seat they’d gotten from somewhere. He placed you down carefully in the big nest full of heavy blankets and pillows, the others following behind at their own pace.

Being there gave you a chance to watch more of their routine.

Ghost was the last to enter. You could hear him rattling things downstairs and turning off lights as he came. His low voice confirmed that all windows and doors were locked.

Gaz was already in the room, sitting at the nest’s edge as he combed through his wing with a special tool, a weird looking comb thing. Johnny worked on the other wing with a concentration you didn’t know he could manage. Both of them were close to you, their legs nearly bumping your small form in the giant nest.

Price moved calmly around the room, putting things away and finishing his hygiene routine in the attached bathroom.

"Feeling better?" Gaz cooed softly, his leg—talons, talons, such sharp talons—bumping near you to get your attention.

"Y-yeah, better..." you answered quietly, nodding for emphasis.

"Good." He crooned, satisfied, especially when Soap purred right after.

(Is it really a purr if he’s a werewolf?)

"Good pup, such a good pup. Really brave, huh? Dinae complain even once. So strong..." Soap murmured, leaning over Gaz, who relaxed back against him.

"It's just a small fever..." you mumbled, frowning a bit at his exaggeration. You were shy. "It’s nothing..."

"Not nothin’, kid." Simon grumbled, finally climbing into the nest after discarding his mask and gloves. He lay beside you, checking your forehead again. "Sick is sick. A flu is a flu. Still makes you feel like shit."

"Simon..." Price scolded as he emerged from the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "Didn’t hear the hatchling say one bad word ’til now. Don’t influence her."

"To be fair, we barely heard her speak at all until now." Kyle retorted sassily, smiling at Price before glancing down at you. "Small, quiet fledgling."

"Nah, she’ll warm up to us!" Johnny declared confidently, shaking his head. "Right, pup? Wanna play with Papa tomorrow? We can play anything ya want!"

"Tone it down, mutt. It’s snowin’ outside," Ghost grumbled, already wrapping your small body in one of the blankets.

"We can play inside. We’ve got the space," Soap said smugly, finishing Kyle’s wing before slipping into the nest on your other side. "We can play, pup. Promise I’ll be gentle!"

You tensed a little, unsure. Your expression showed your doubt with your little frown. After a few seconds of silence, you managed to murmur.

"....o-okay... I guess..."

"See? Who said peer pressure doesn’t work?" Ghost deadpanned, making Price snort with laughter, faint wisps of smoke escaping his nose.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, hatchling. Soap will understand." Price says with a quiet laugh, approaching the nest as he adjusts some kind of shoulder weight attached over his sleeping shirt where his missing wing used to be.

You stare at him for a moment, frowning slightly in confusion.

"...Soap...?"

Your question seems to stun them for a moment before they all start laughing softly, like it’s some kind of inside joke.

"Tha’ would be me, lassie." Johnny replies with a big smile, flashing all his sharp teeth as he leans closer. "Just a codename. Military, aye?"

"Nickname...?" you mumble, still confused.

"Close, hun. Codename." Gaz explains with a gentle laugh, sliding into the nest now, his wings resting against Soap and Price’s backs.

"It’s like a nickname, but it’s used for secrecy. So bad people don’t know our real names." Ghost adds calmly, his heavy hand giving your back a slight pat.

That makes you scrunch your nose slightly.

"Why Soap...?"

Once again, the others laugh at your question, except Johnny, who just sighs quietly, though his smile remains.

"Doesn’t matter why." The werewolf says with a shrug, still grinning as he gestures at Simon. "This bastard is called ‘Ghost’ in the field, Kyle is ‘Gaz,’ and John just uses his last name, ‘Price.’"

You nod quietly, blinking as you process the information. It’s kinda weird, but it makes sense for their lifestyle. Military men for most of their lives, huh? That actually makes you wonder...

"...Are your kids also military...?" you ask softly, hugging your knees over the thick blanket.

"Thank fucking god, no," Price answers quickly, sounding both relieved and horrified at the thought.

"I thought we weren’t doing bad words?" Ghost asks slowly, his tone sarcastic as he sends Price a bored look.

"Oh, shut it." Price growls softly back, leaning closer to him with a sharp smile.

"But no, none of them are in the military." Kyle chimes in, smiling slightly. "Doesn’t mean they didn’t think about following our footsteps at some point, though."

"Wee lads and lassies always thought the military was cool, wanted to be like their papas." Soap says dreamily, though his smile falters slightly to a more nervous smile. "We would never let them, though."

"Why?" you ask innocently, tilting your head in confusion. "You didn’t like the military?"

"No, no, not that! Ah love the military, wee lass!" Soap defends quickly, waving his hands around. "Can’t imagine doin’ anything else with my life!"

"But no parent wants their kids in such a dangerous job," Price interjects, shaking his head as he mutters under his breath. "Honestly, if I had my way, they’d still be here in the nest with me."

"Ignore ’im. Dragon instincts get the best of ’im sometimes." Ghost mutters, shaking his head before gently nudging you down into the nest. "Come on, kid. We can talk tomorrow. It’s sleep time."

You’re still curious, but you nod, laying back against the nest. Johnny immediately curls around you, his giant body wrapping you up entirely. You even feel his tail loop around your legs. You tense for a moment at the closeness, but soon relax, rolling slightly to burrow your face into the blanket. His much larger body shields you completely.

"Night, kid." Ghost grunts as he settles, his hand resting on top of your wrapped form.

"Sweet dreams, hun." Gaz murmurs softly.

"Sleep well." Price adds last, leaning down slightly as the others settle into their spots in the nest. "Call us if you need anything, alright?"

"Gonna be monitorin’ her. It’s fine..." Johnny mumbles, still draped protectively over you. "Good night, lassie."

You fall asleep as the lights turn off and the others cuddle into the nest. Despite the heavy snowstorm outside, you feel incredibly warm.

Safe.

[koalayoo]

ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ, ʙᴏʏ

michael kaiser x gn!reader

content: pure fluff for the most part, soft! bf kaiser, reference to his backstory, kind of cocky, better than my last fic for sure

author's note: wanted to write a good christmasy bday fic for him. bit late, apologies. not really proofread or beta'd. apologies again.

wc. 1.3k

Kaiser had never celebrated Christmas.

Christmas was also his birthday.

That means Kaiser has never celebrated his birthday.

This was what had become apparent to you in your relationship with Kaiser, when all the walls between you two had become bulldozed and you realised, yeah, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You had come to understand that with Kaiser’s upbringing and all that he would have probably never received a gift from his father. You wonder if at that age he knew what Christmas was.

Then you started tumbling head-first into a hole of unanswered questions. What would he have even done for his birthday? Was anyone there to ever celebrate with him? You knew how bad he had it growing up, you regrettably knew. Part of you wished you didn’t know how bad it was, hoped that sometimes his father grew to be lenient or that maybe the old women in town that would see him around knew his name. Knew him to be more than Michael “professional neighbour thief” Kaiser and instead as the kid he was. That was just wishful thinking though.

He had received gifts, which was expected. He was a pro athlete but he also had Ness from the age of 15 who had most definitely gifted him something you assumed but weren’t privy to the details. However, he hadn’t celebrated. Hadn’t experienced true Christmas joy. He doesn’t know the feeling of waking up early and ripping open the wrapping paper on specially curated gifts that sit under the tree you both decorated together. Hasn’t felt what it’s like making cookies with the radios ruffled Christmas carols sputtering in the background. Wearing matching sweaters while watching stupidly predictable themed rom coms. Making a wreath to put on the front door. Kissing under the mistletoe. Ughhh, there was so much you needed to show him.

So, you did just that.

As soon as December started, you did your utmost best to get him into the festive spirit.

On the 1st, you brought home a tree and excitedly decorated it with Kaiser. Putting various coloured ornaments on, some the typical solid coloured balls, others with stripes and patterns, differing sizes, differing shapes. Then, Kaiser had placed you on his shoulders so that you could place the star on the tippity top despite your insistence it be him.

On the 5th, you went shopping with two very important things in mind. A wreath, and some ugly sweaters. On the way you slipped in some ingredients for cookies too.

On the 14th, you had started wrapping some presents. You had both agreed 3 presents was a good amount to give one another but you couldn’t help but feel a gnaw at the back of your head. It was also his birthday, you just had to double it.

On the 17th, you had put the wreath up which welcomed him home from a long day at practice.

On the 22nd, you had finally worn the sweaters which you had taken a polaroid of before promptly taking them off, sweltering from the heat of the oven that was baking the cookies you both had put hours into making. Later that night, bad christmas movie #1 was watched.

The 23rd and 24th followed a similar routine. Jam out to a different song before you got sick of it and watch another bad christmas movie. 

Then, it was the day.

All the extra presents you hid from him were placed under the tree and you made hot cocoa for two. You had to work quickly, Kaiser was used to waking up at the odd early hours of the morning and there was no doubt he would feel you missing next to him.

Soon, he had stumbled down the stairs and was greeted with you wrapping a blanket around him. You had pulled him down onto the floor and planted a present in front of him, a chaste kiss pressed against his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, handsome.” You whispered softly into the air.

He had begun to wake up more and noticed the excessive amount of presents under the tree. He looked at the presents, then at you, and an eyebrow raised comically.

“And, Merry Christmas too, I guess…” You playfully rolled your eyes with a small smile appearing on your face. “Although that one’s of lesser importance.”

He sighs although he can’t help the small upwards tilt of his lips. “Thought we agreed on 3 each?” “Yeah, but it’s your birthday too! I wasn’t gonna be one of those people, ya know? The ones who just say the Christmas presents are also their birthday presents. You deserve to be celebrated twice.” 

“Yeah but-” And you briefly cut him off because if there was one thing you knew about Kaiser which was wrapped behind layers just like the presents was this feeling of foreboding. That he didn’t deserve this. However, your job as his brilliant partner was to teach him to sit there and take it.

So you started to celebrate, taking turns ripping the presents you both put love and care into wrapping. For every 2 gifts Kaiser opened, you opened one of yours in tandem. You giggled seeing him get you exactly what you wanted and teased him when a small blush appeared on his face when he got the same.

Although, there was one last present you wanted to give him.

A house full of love.

You wanted him to learn this holiday season that you were truly never leaving. Not like his mother, or even his begrudging father. That you were full of love for him and everything that came with choosing him. The arguments, the boundaries, the fear; you couldn’t fix it but you could help and that’s the sentiment you hoped to get across.

Later that day when you finished putting your gifts away and throwing the egregious amount of wrapping paper, you enter the living room to see Kaiser plotting. 

Before you can fully enter he spits out, “Stay right there.” You murmur in acknowledgement and stay put, eyes trailing the figure that is walking towards you suspiciously, one hand placed firmly behind him. You shoot him a questioning look to which he shakes his head, not budging.

“Should invite Ness over.” 

“Why would we do that?” He questions. “Fine with just me and you here, no?”

“Season of forgiveness, champ. Do I need to teach you how to be a good friend too?”

He’s stalked all the way over to you now. He towers above you and the hand he isn’t hiding comes to hold the top of the frame, leaning down towards you. His shirt lifts a little. You look. Then you look back at your boyfriend who has leaned in even closer.

His nose nudges against yours and you knew this was one of his ways of trying to assert dominance with the way a small brazen smirk made its way to his face. Could this guy try not to be a dick for one day? You notice the way his lips brush against yours slightly and you sigh, trying not to be pulled in.

“Answer?”

“Mmm, I’ll think about it?” He chuckles and leans in to swoop your lips against his in a passionate kiss. It didn’t last long because his smile broke the seal between you two apart. His eyes have a gleam in them and they flick up causing you to do the same.

Oh. 

A mistletoe.

“When did you learn about this one?” You whisper softly, genuinely curious.

“I had a tough childhood, doesn’t mean I lived under a rock.” He laughs again, this time more joyfully. You’re not sure whether it’s the fact that he successfully tricked you or that you truly rendered him this clueless.

Then, there’s a knock at the door. You see the sliver of magenta hair through the window panels near the door before you hear him.

Oh.

Maybe Kaiser doesn’t need you to guide him after all.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Title is from December by Ariana Grande. Thanks for reading!

[gold-onthe-inside]

Christmas Request: Spencer catches wind that one of JJ’s kids (or his own kid) doesn’t believe in Santa, so he commits to growing out his beard, dying it white and dressing up as Santa to bring a lil holiday cheer to the kiddos - can be xOC

santa's little helper 🍬🎅

who? spencer reid (post prison) x bau!reader

summary: after finding out henry no longer believes in santa after he missed last christmas, spencer dedicates this year to bringing the magic of christmas back to his godson's life... with a little help from you, of course.

content warnings: fleeting reference to cat adams, a little kissing, spencer with a beard, ambiguous status of reader's relationship to spencer (could be a wife, fiance, girlfriend, up to you),

In the 12 years you've known Spencer, he's never been keen on growing facial hair, and it had never been something you'd thought twice about. And then Cat Adams had come into your lives and had been determined to ruin the happily ever after the two of had fought so hard to make. Spencer's prison sentence had rivalled only Emily's faked death in the pain it had caused you two, the only difference being that at least Spencer wasn't actually dead. The two of you were a month and a half away from the anniversary of his release, and he'd completely stopped shaving for that year, growing out his facial hair.

You hoped that if it was something serious, he'd have told you, or if not you, his mandated therapist. Besides, other than that, he was taking care of himself, eating well, had finally started sleeping better, you had nothing else to complain about. You'd brought the beard up a couple months ago, but his brow had furrowed in concern and his brown puppy dog eyes baring his heart to you when he asked if you didn't like it. "No, I do like it," you had insisted, which was true. You'd learned early on that Spencer could play around with his hairstyles and you found him no less attractive (just never ever grow out a mullet again, for the love of God).

You'd grown used to it, too, his scruff tickling you when he'd kiss you, which was practically every time he got the chance these days. It's your turn to host the Christmas Eve party and the two of you are going over the house with a fine tooth comb, armed to the teeth with cleaning supplies, and that's when you find the white hairspray, mid-way through your bathroom cleanse. Which would go well with the Santa suit tucked away in the back of his wardrobe. You knew Spencer had his silly moments - with his mismatched socks and magic tricks, and with the amount of times he's pulled stuff out of your ear just to make you smile couldn't be counted. But it felt out of character for him to spend the whole night you had planned (Secret Santa, dinner, and Christmas movies) with white hair and a beard.

He's using all the body strength he has in rigorously cleaning the kitchen floor, intent on making it so clean you could eat off of it, when you trudge downstairs, hairspray in hand. "Spence, is this yours?" you asked, skipping the last step, to the kitchen and he looked up, then froze at the sight of the hairspray.

"It's not what it looks like," he tried, sitting on his knees and you narrowed your eyes.

"It looks like you're planning to dress as Santa at some point," you said, leaning against the doorway, and you watched him stand up and pull off his gloves.

"Okay, yeah, maybe it is what it looks like," he said with a sigh, taking a seat on a bar stool. "Henry, uh, doesn't believe in Santa anymore, so JJ and I were planning to let him stay up tomorrow night and catch Santa in the act."

"Oh," you said, nodding at first, but then frowning a little. "I mean, what's wrong with Henry not believing in Santa? He's like, 9 years old. That happens."

"I know it's developmentally appropriate for him to be questioning these things," Spencer said, letting out another little sigh. "But that's not why he doesn't believe in Santa anymore."

Your frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

He wet his lips, not quite meeting your gaze. "Last Christmas… he asked Santa for me to come home," he said quietly, almost ashamed. "And then when I wasn't there…"

"He stopped believing in Santa," you filled in the rest and he looked so sad. "Spence," you said softly, crossing over to hug him, setting the spray on the kitchen island. "It's not your fault."

"It is," he said, choking a little on his voice as he tucked himself into your arms.

"Honey, you were framed, it's not your fault," you insisted, rubbing his back.

"I just… I can't be the reason he doesn't believe in these things anymore," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"Okay, okay," you said, pulling away to look at him, your hands cupping his neck, thumbs stroking his bearded jaw. "Can I help?" His lips twitched into a smile at you.

"Well, um… Honestly, I think I'm gonna make a mess of the hairspray, and you did such a good job at Halloween with Jack's Cyberman costume--"

"I can do that," you murmured, kissing him gently, and his hands loosened to grasp your waist.

Now, here he sat in front of the mirror in the bathroom, watching you meticulously section and spray his hair, which was already damp from the shower.

"Did you know," he started, and you hummed in recognition that you were listening. "That Saint Nicholas was a real guy? He was Greek."

"The Greeks had saints?" you asked.

"Not really," he said, shaking his head as you sectioned out another piece of hair, coating it gently in white hairspray. "Not the kind you're thinking of, but Nicholas of Myra was real. Born in the third century. He apparently had a reputation for secret gift giving, like… leaving coins in people's shoes."

"Keep your head still," you chastised through a giggle.

"Sorry," he mumbled, tilting his chin up to keep still. "He died from natural causes in like, 340, which, for the time, was a good run. It was like… a hundred years later that he became a saint, but by then of course, all of the people who knew him personally were long gone."

"I hate when that happens," you murmured, shifting his chin so you could colour his beard next. "Appreciating people for what they've done after they've died."

"Well, he was very well respected during his life. The story goes that three separate couples were having financial trouble, and in those days, a daughter without a dowry would either never get married or would become a prostitute. So, according to the story, Saint Nick came in the middle of the night and climbed onto their roofs, and dropped three small pouches of gold down their chimneys."

"Honey, I'm gonna need you to be quiet or you're gonna taste hairspray," you said, colouring his jaw, just the hair around his lips left.

"Sorry," he said, his words muffled slightly, and you could see that he was trying desperately not to smile, his shoulders shaking. "I'm done," he said, and you were fairly sure the shake in his voice was from suppressed laughter.

You chuckle quietly, colouring the last of his beard. "All done, Mr Claus."

"How do I look?" he asked, getting out of the chair and taking a look in the mirror, his eyes going wide. "This looks incredible!"

"Yeah?" you asked, stepping away. Spencer had a habit of exaggerating your accomplishments, but you had done a pretty good job with his hair.

"You're a miracle worker," he said, turning to face you, and you could see his excitement. "Now, Santa needs to go get dressed." You chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom so he could get dressed, and sat by the foot of the bed, waiting.

When he reappeared ten minutes later wearing the Santa suit, the white hair and white beard you'd given him made him look like an old man, but there was a brightness in his eyes as he did a little twirl. "How do I look?" he asked, and in spite of how silly he looked, you couldn't help but find him handsome.

You laughed to yourself. "Perfectly in character. Though you could use a little belly."

"Are you saying I'm too thin?" he said, faking offence. He knew he was skinny but sometimes a little gentle ribbing was warranted.

"I'm just saying, Santa's supposed to be fat."

"I take good care of my cardiovascular health, thank you very much," he said, and he looked so ridiculous in the suit, with the white hair and beard, that you were unable to take the conversation seriously. "You know, the modern version of what Santa's supposed to look like was invented in the nineteenth century," he said, his hands on his hips, still very much in character. "Before then, Saint Nick was usually described as an older, slender man, and before that, he was more of a demonic black man. It's only in the fifties that the modern image of Santa was created."

"Okay, okay," you said, holding your hands up. "Skinny Santa it is." You checked your watch. "We should go before Henry actually falls asleep."

Spencer's expression went from Santa to slightly terrified very quickly. "Crap, is it time already?"

"Relax," you assured him, kissing his cheek before leading the way out. "It's just a little breaking and entering. You leave the gifts, you slip right back out."

"Just a little breaking and entering," he repeated dryly. "Why doesn't that make me feel better?"

You snickered quietly, grabbing your coat and car keys. "For someone who's supposed to be a hardened felon, you're so innocent."

He took offence to that. "Hey," he said, as you both started out of the house. "I was incarcerated for three months. I am very much street wise now."

You opened the passenger side door for him. "Streetwise? Really?"

He climbed into the passenger seat, sticking out his tongue at you as you shut the door.

"I know all about the street life," he said, as you got into the driver's side. "I know how they talk, I know what they do, I know..." His voice trailed off as you shot him a look. "Okay, so maybe everything I know about the street life comes from television."

You couldn't help another laugh as you started the car.

His lips curled into a smile when he saw your reaction, and he leaned across the middle of the car to kiss your cheek. He sat back in his seat and you began the short trip to JJ's house. "Alright, JJ said she's gonna leave the back door open," you said, going over the plan with the same gravity you used for unsub takedowns. "There's cookies and milk left on the kitchen counter. The tree's in the living room."

"Got it," Spencer said decidedly, nodding. "Cookies, milk, tree, simple."

You turned off the headlights as you approached the house, killing the engine across the street. Spencer got out of the car and jogged across the street, ducking around the side of the house. He found the back door like you'd said, and went inside, very much in undercover Santa mode. He went into the kitchen, making for the counter where the cookies and milk were, and that's when he heard it. Quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. Spencer panicked, trying to find a place to hide, but there really wasn't one. The cookies and milk were left in the middle of the counter, there weren't any cupboards or anything of the sort. He was stuck, with only the Christmas tree as a possible cover. There was nothing he could do but hope that whoever was coming downstairs didn't flip on the light as he dove behind the tree.

The footsteps stopped, and Spencer held his breath, his heart thudding in his chest as the Christmas tree needles dug into his skin. He could see a pair of little feet in front of him. They weren't JJ, which could only mean- "Mr Claus?" the little voice said, and he shut his eyes, praying to something, anything that he hadn't been caught by Henry.

After a long moment, he peeked out from behind the tree, only to find Henry staring right at him. "H-hi," Spencer stuttered. "I-I didn't realise you'd be awake."

Henry's eyes went wide. "I-It's really you." He had that childlike glee that came with finding out about the magic of Christmas, and while Spencer would usually give anything to have that look come back on Henry's face, this was a little inconvenient.

"Ah, I-I mean," Spencer fumbled over his words, trying to come up with a valid reason he would be in JJ's house at this moment, wearing a Santa suit and munching on cookies. "Um..."

"Where's your reindeer?" Henry asked, completely enthralled by Spencer, and he realised that he actually hadn't thought of a cover story to accompany the Santa suit.

"Oh, they're in the- they're in the sleigh," he said, and even he thought it sounded stupid when he said it out loud. "They're getting a rest while they can."

"The ride must be hard," Henry said, and Spencer was quietly impressed by that. He was just as smart as his parents, and he probably would have called him out on his lie if he'd given an excuse about a magic sleigh.

"It sure is," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice calm, and he hoped that the rest of the night wasn't going to be as awkward as this interaction had been so far. "Do you mind if I finish eating these? I only get so many breaks tonight." It was the sort of thing he could imagine a real Santa saying and Henry's eyes widened at that.

"Oh, of course," he said, stepping back. "I, uh, need to go to the bathroom." And then Henry was running upstairs. Once he was sure the kid had walked away, Spencer leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh and he silently hoped that you weren't watching him struggle. He finished off the last of the milk and the cookies, and, once he'd composed himself, he made his way to the living room and over to the Christmas tree. He dropped the bag of gifts under the tree, just as he was supposed to.

Meanwhile, Henry was upstairs, trying to get JJ to wake up. "Mom, Mom," he said, shaking his mother gently. "Wake up, Mom, you gotta see this."

JJ grumbled as she got up, Will shifting beside her, but still deep asleep. "What is it, Henry?"

"Santa is downstairs," he said in an excited whisper.

"He is?" JJ asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning a little, Henry pulling her out of bed with all his might.

"Yep. He's downstairs in the living room," he said, dragging her out of bed, and he wasn't kidding because his strength was remarkable. JJ let her son pull her down the stairs, neither of them seeing Santa sneak out the back door. He jogged across the street to the car, getting inside. You watched him in mild amusement as he shut the door, and he was slightly out of breath, which was a comical combination with the Santa suit.

"Mission accomplished?" you asked, a smile on your lips.

"I got caught," he breathed, his voice sounding slightly panicked, and your smile faded into concern as you realised he was serious. "But I think I covered it."

"Did he realise you weren't Santa?" you asked.

"I don't think so," he said, and he did seem a little unsure. "He didn't mention anything about it, and he seemed excited by me being there, but I honestly don't know. It's probably a fifty-fifty chance that he realized it was me."

Meanwhile, Henry had dragged his mom downstairs to an empty living room. "I swear he was here," Henry protested, and JJ was still half-asleep and only slightly confused. "I-I saw him."

"M sure you did, baby," JJ murmured. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No, I did see him!" Henry said, looking around the living room. He ran into the kitchen. "And he was eating the cookies and the milk!"

"Well, he probably left, Henry," JJ reasoned, following him. "He's got a lot of kids to deliver to."

The wonder on Henry's face was replaced with disappointment, and JJ pulled the nine year-old into a hug. "I know it sucks, baby," she said. "But I'm sure Santa will have left you lots of gifts." Henry huffed, pouting, and JJ smiled down at his adorable expression. "Come on," she said, starting up the stairs. "Back to bed, kiddo."

Once they reached upstairs, Henry climbed into bed, and JJ tucked him in. He looked slightly upset, but JJ planted a kiss on his forehead. Even at nine-years-old, he still wanted to believe in Santa. "So, you believe in Santa again?" JJ asked.

"I told you," Henry said, his voice indignant, sounding very much like his father. "I saw him."

JJ couldn't help a smile, ruffling his hair. "I know."

He gave her a sleepy smile, and then yawned, snuggling down into bed. “Goodnight, mom,” he mumbled.

"Goodnight, baby," JJ murmured. She watched him for a moment, waiting for that slow rise and fall of his chest that meant he was breathing like only the asleep could, and once she was sure he was asleep, she tiptoed out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind her, thanking Spencer in her head.

[alba1221141]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Arcane High school AU Jinx x female!reader

1

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

"You got the stuff?"

"Yes, dumbass, when do I not?" My hand dives into my pocket. Out comes the 5g of Mary Jane.

"Now this? This is quality. High-end." I waggle the bag. "Don't waste it. Got it?"

Today's buyer nods. He's a boy, tall enough, with the kind of face that might make him passable to get with. He's definitely, probably, bought the weed hoping to get into some druggie girl's pants.

"$20." I hold my hand out.

Cue the grumbling. Expletives.

But hey, there it is—the crisp twenty, right in my palm.

"Pleasure doing business with ya!" I grin, pocketing the money as the boy walks away with a newfound swagger in his step.

Dealing’s not hard—not for me, at least. Dear old Dad supplies the goods: weed, ecstasy, coke, sometimes mushrooms. I supply the school. Easy. Weed’s the favorite, though. Always weed.

Then—ugh. That sound.

Click. Click.

Mary Janes.

I grimace.

And there she is. Little Miss Expert Saboteur. Brows furrowed. Lips tight. Clipboard ready.

"Ah, toots." I peel myself off the wall, sauntering over. "Come to ruin my fun again?"

"Dealing contraband is forbidden on school grounds," Y/N has to push the words out It looks like it hurts her to even utter the word contraband.

I clutch my chest, gasp. "Oh no! A crime! A horrific, terrible crime!" I stagger back, mocking it up real big. "Lock me away forever, toots!"

Nothing. Not even a smirk.

She scribbles on that stupid clipboard, eyes all slitty.

"Ohhh, I see how it is," I sneer, stepping closer. "Writing me up, huh?"

"Knock it off, Jinx," she snaps.

I raise my hands. Innocent. Halo practically glowing. "What? I didn’t mean to offend Little Miss Brown Nose."

Clipboard. Thrown. Smack.

And she’s off. Stiff-backed. Nose high.

I pick up the clipboard. Flip it open.

"Jinx, dealing pot on school grounds again. Issue: week detention."

I snort. Same old crap. She’s such a kiss ass.

Me and her? History. Friends once. Used to be. Past tense. Before she became this tight-ass snob. Okay, fine—maybe part of it’s on me. Messed-up kid. Scary. Whatever. But the kicker? Silco takes me in, and just like that—childhood, fairy tales, besties—splat.

I chuck the clipboard into the trash and light it up.

Flick. Flame.

The fire snaps to life, chomping through her pathetic little notes like it’s starving.

I watch, arms folded, leaning back, enjoying the show. A grin creeps onto my face, sharp and hungry.

The flames crackle, roaring as they climb up the sides of the trash can. The heat bites at my skin, but I don't flinch.

And then—BOOM.

The trash can goes off like a cheap firecracker, bursting with a loud pop. I grin at the sight.

Her precious clipboard? Allllll gone.

"Oopsie,"

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

Y/N

Gosh, gosh, gosh!

She just has to mess up everything all the time. And she just had to keep the clipboard, god knows what shes done to it, probably discovered a way to it into some kind of powder to snort.

And why on earth did she have to taint the school with her sketchy little deals, is it that hard to refrain from drug dealing on school property, apparently for Jinx its a severe struggle.

Gosh and to think i'd once associated myself with her, well... she was different then, less... deranged. She was Powder, but anyone with half a braincell could see the foundations of Jinx, the outbursts, the meltdowns... it was only a matter of time before she cracked... i just wished it was later rather than sooner i just wanted more time.

I slam the locker shut, hard enough to make it rattle. Ugh, why was I even thinking about her? Like, seriously, what is wrong with me? A fixation? Gross. Absolutely disgusting. I yank at the buttons on my shirt, finally grabbing my cheerleading top and shimmying into it.

"Whats going on with you today?" Mel nudges me making me jump. “You missed Caitlyn’s romantic musings. Again. Which as trivial as they are you seem to love.”

Caitlyn huffs, "They're not trivial... just why cupcake why does she persist with that damn name, but that's beside the point... what's going on with you, you've been blanking out."

"No, no, I'm fine, probably PMSing is all." I deflect leaning against the locker.

Mel, Caitlyn, and I have been tight since freshman year. Well, me and Caitlyn long before that. Her parents—the Kirammans—are, like, dripping in generational wealth. Private tutors, fancy everything, the whole deal. Then, because Caitlyn absolutely insisted, they finally caved and let her go to public school.

After the whole disaster with Pow—no, Jinx—we kind of just... found each other. Both of us needed normal, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

Mel's a senior, a year above us, but when we showed up at Piltover Community three years ago, she just... adopted us to put it simply. She’s a Medarda—her family owns part of the trust that funds the school. Everyone kisses her feet. Head of student council, Model UN, you name it.

Cheerleading practice goes by without anymore qualms until... Water’s spraying from the celling everywhere, that damn beeping piercing everyone's ears — the fire alarm. It’s not a drill. Cait and I would've been told, Mel would've given us the heads up.

But I know exactly who it is. Blue braids trailing behind a certain figure slipping out of the gym. She spots me instantly, turns around, and—the audacity—winks at me.

Jinx

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hey this is my first fanfiction on Tumblr, hope you like it :) please like and reblog!

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: gen cw: Steve Harrington has bad parents, holiday celebrations, period typical homophobia, show typical trauma tags: it's the 90s y'all, older steddie, established steddie, stancy is mentioned, reclaiming holidays word count: 728

-

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "stocking" and the @steddiemas prompt "surprise"

Christmas had never been Steve’s favorite holiday. He was more of a Thanksgiving guy. A big meal, friends and family, and a little bit of football? It was exactly how Steve would describe the perfect day.

Not to mention Thanksgiving was more relaxed than Christmas. There was a certain pressure around Christmas time that Steve swears he’d call one of his earliest memories. Life had moved on a long, long way from trying to eat the lights on the tree but the pressure to be well-behaved and happy was the same.

However, finding his own little community did help some. Not that any of them were any more Christmas people than Steve. Chrissy was the closest, she liked to entertain so any excuse. Nancy and Jonathan had a kid now so they had to celebrate but other than that, they were all fine to let the day come and go. It was an obligation best spent with friends who were suffering the same way.

This year was a little different. For the first time in Steve’s life, he had his own place to celebrate. Not an apartment he and Eddie shared with Robin and Chrissy, not his family home that he was allowed to stay in, this was his. And Eddie’s. Mostly his though.

A modest little home just outside suburbia with a lawn and a two-car garage, Steve loved the place. He’d spent the last nine months fixing all the things that needed repaired and updated which only made him love it more. This was where he was going to spend the rest of his life.

It was that ownership, that security of something for forever, that had him buying a Christmas tree a little early this year. Not out of obligation but because there was a perfect spot in the living room for it. Right in front of the window yet not in the way. It wouldn't take up the only communal space and no one would tell him how to decorate it, so why not?

They gave it a few simple decorations and a new string of lights, Steve wasn’t going crazy here. He still didn’t care about Christmas, but this symbolized so much more. Something that became more and more obvious with each new bit of seasonal decor that found it's way up. What really cinched it was the stockings, though. Something about really said "Christmas" to Steve.

One for him and one for Eddie. Their stockings hung in their home as they would be for the rest of their lives. It probably shouldn’t have made Steve as emotional as it did. He couldn’t stop looking at them. All that they’d fought to be alive, everything they went through, made this feel like a luxury. One Steve couldn’t believe he’d earned.

But he had. There were scars, nightmares, and weekly trips to the therapist to prove it. Whether he’d ever feel like they were safe or that he could fully let his guard down, time would still tell, but Steve was starting to feel worthy of more than just existing.

And there was one more thing this picture-perfect life needed.

It wasn’t exactly possible but times had changed enough that Steve and Eddie could live together and even if it raised a few eyebrows, people kept quiet. It wasn’t enough but it was something. Still, Steve knew. He knew there wasn’t anyone else on this planet for him and the only reason he wasn’t married to Eddie was because it wasn’t legal.

So with a bit of scrambling and all the romantic creativity in his body, Steve bought a ring and wrote a little speech. He sat on both for almost a week without saying anything so that he could pull off the surprise a moment like this was worth.

When Christmas morning rolled around, Steve’s stocking was overflowing with trinkets, candies, and other little goodies but Eddie’s sat looking practically empty. Steve rooted around through his and tried to not watch a very disappointed man dig down to the toe of his monogrammed stocking, chasing the only thing in it.

By the time he’d succeeded, Steve had ditched his candy and was waiting on one knee. This was the last thing he needed to make this the life he’d always dreamt of and maybe the first step in making Christmas something truly magical.

[deansbeer]

𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 SKIES & 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 TIES

001. ARE WE MORE THAN FRIENDS? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ִ ݁ ♡ .

✸ 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔; four months after you and jensen met.

PAIRING. cowboy!jensen x female reader ꒱

SYNOPSIS. it's been four month since you and jensen met during that stormy december, and now he's around a lot more. between family dinners, stolen moments, and clearing the air about daisy, things between you and jensen are getting sweeter—and a whole lot more complicated.

WARNING(S). fluff | hand-holding | forehead kisses | flirting | romantic tension | developing feelings | playful family teasing | confrontation (toward daisy) | made-up rumors | sisters' tease reader but r supportive of the blossoming relationship | dads' subtle matchmaking attempts | extended family (jensen's family) | past insecurities | self-consciousness | mutual pining | animal interactions (baby foal) | country lifestyle | ranch work references | rural texas.

kari yaps. merry xmas eve! my lil gift to u for the holidays. teehee, i'm already so obsessed w these two, not even kidding. this one is a lil longer than the prologue (obviously) so ur in for a ride !!! i want cowboy!jensen n his charming fine self <3333 yeehaw! 🏇 edit. i don't like how it came out, so im sorry, if it's shitty compared to the prologue :((( + im not feeling as festive & have been crying since earlier over it. anyway, i would hate to ruin anyone else's holiday spirit, so lemme just stop there <3 with that said, i hope ur all enjoying christmas, my loves. and to those who don't celebrate, i hope ur having an amazing day <3

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ୨ৎ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘.

APRIL in texas brought wildflowers and warm breezes, painting the ranch in vibrant colors that made everything feel new again. four exact months had passed since that stormy december day when jensen first walked into your life, and somehow everything was different while staying exactly the same.

"he's coming over again?" hannah teased from her perch on the kitchen counter, watching you fidget with your hair in the reflection of the microwave door. "that's the third time this week."

"his dad and our dad are friends," you muttered, though you couldn't hide the flush creeping up your neck. "they're working on something."

kimberly snorted from the kitchen table. "yeah, working on getting you two married off."

"shut up, kim!"

"girls," your mom warned, but her eyes were twinkling as she kneaded dough for her famous cinnamon rolls. "leave your sister alone. though i must say, alan has been mighty pleased with how well you two get along."

you groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. "can we please talk about literally anything else?"

the sound of tires on gravel saved you from further torment. through the window, you could see alan's truck pulling up, jensen climbing out of the passenger side door. your heart did that annoying little flip it always did when you saw him now, but at least you'd learned to hide it better.

"sweetheart," your mom called as you headed for the door, "why don't you show jensen those new foals while your dad and his dad talk business?"

"subtle, mom. real subtle."

but you were already out the door, the spring air warm on your skin as you jogged down the porch steps. jensen met you halfway, that easy smile of his making your stomach flutter.

"hey," he said softly, like he always did, like it was just for you.

"hey yourself." you nodded toward the stables. "want to see the new additions?"

he fell into step beside you, close enough that your arms brushed. "lead the way."

the past four months had smoothed out most of the awkwardness between you, replaced it with something comfortable but charged with possibility. you'd learned things about him—how he took his coffee (black, two sugars), his favorite time of day (dawn, when the ranch was just waking up), how his laugh changed depending on what made him smile.

"you know," he starts, as you reached the stables, "my aunt martha's been asking about you."

you laughed, remembering the energetic woman from last month's family barbecue. "is she still convinced i need her secret recipe for peach cobbler?"

"she says, and i quote, 'that girl needs to know how to make a proper cobbler if she's gonna be part of this family.'"

your steps faltered slightly, but jensen pretended not to notice. that was another thing you'd learned about him—he knew when to push and when to let things breathe.

"your family's really taken a shine to me, huh?" you said, trying to keep your voice light as you led him to the newest foal's stall.

"can you blame them?" he leaned against the stable door, watching as you checked on the baby horse. "you're pretty easy to like."

before you could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. "jensen! i thought that was your truck i saw!"

the happy bubble around you and jensen burst at daisy's sharp voice. she stood at the stable entrance like she owned it, her blonde hair perfectly curled despite the texas heat, wearing a sundress that seemed impractical for a ranch visit. your stomach twisted—she looked exactly like the kind of girl who belonged next to jensen.

"daisy." jensen's voice was flat, nothing like the warm tone he'd been using with you moments ago. his shoulders tensed, and he shifted slightly, putting himself between you and her.

"i've been trying to catch you at your place," she said, her boots clicking against the stable floor as she walked closer. each step felt deliberate, calculated. "daddy keeps saying you're never around anymore." her eyes flicked to you, a quick dismissive glance that made your skin crawl. "now i see why."

"been busy," jensen said shortly. you could see the way his jaw clenched, the way it did when he was holding back words. he turned back to you, deliberately showing daisy his back. "speaking of, you were gonna show me those training techniques you mentioned?"

daisy's perfectly painted lips curved into a sneer. "i guess the rumors about you two are true, then? funny, i always thought you had better taste, jensen."

"excuse me?" the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

jensen's hand found yours, squeezing gently. "there aren't any rumors, daisy," he said, his voice stern in a way you'd never heard before. "and even if there were, it wouldn't be any of your business. never has been."

she flushed, anger flashing across her face. "i just thought—"

"you thought wrong," he cut her off. "there was never a 'we', daisy. you decided there was something between us without ever asking me what i wanted. you showed up at my ranch uninvited, tried to insert yourself into my family, and spread rumors when i made it clear that i wasn't interested."

her composure began to crack. "that's not—i never—"

"you told half the county we were dating," jensen continued, his voice steady but angry. "even went as far as making things uncomfortable for everyone, including your dad. and now you're here, on private property, trying to do it again?"

"jensen—"

"you're wrong, daisy," he said firmly. "now, if you'll excuse us, we've got work to do. i'm sure you can find your way out."

daisy's face contorted with anger and embarrassment. "this isn't over," she spat, but her voice wavered. "daddy won't be happy about how you're treating me."

"your daddy knows exactly how i feel," jensen replied calmly. "has for months. why do you think he stopped bringing you around?"

she opened her mouth, closed it, then spun on her heel and stormed off. you could hear her volkswagen beetle engine rev aggressively as she peeled out of the ranch.

silence fell in the stable, broken only by the soft nickering of horses. jensen's hand was still holding yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your skin.

"i'm sorry about that," he said finally, turning to face you. "i should've handled that situation better months ago."

"you don't have to apologize," you reassured him. "it's not your fault she..."

"got obsessed?" he supplied with a wry smile. "yeah, well. maybe if i'd been clearer from the start about where my interests lay, she wouldn't have gotten the wrong idea."

your heart skipped. "your interests?"

his free hand came up to cup your cheek, and suddenly you couldn't remember why you'd ever worried about daisy at all.

"listen," he moved closer, his eyes serious. "whatever you heard about me and daisy... it wasn't true. never was. she just... decided things were a certain way, and no matter how many times i told her different, she wouldn't listen."

"oh." you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "i just thought... i mean, everyone said—"

"everyone says a lot of things," he stepped closer, his fingers catching your chin. "but the only girl i've been interested in since last december is standing right here, trying real hard not to look at me."

your eyes snapped to his, heat flooding your face. "jensen..."

"dinner's ready!" kimberly's voice rang out across the yard, making you both jump apart.

jensen laughed, shaking his head. "your sisters have terrible timing."

dinner at your house had become a regular thing, both families crowded around the large oak table your grandfather had built. your mom had outdone herself tonight—pot roast, fresh rolls, and three different kinds of pie.

"this is incredible, melanie," alan said to your mom, helping himself to seconds. "you've outdone yourself."

"oh, it's nothing special," your mom waved him off, but she was beaming. "though, i did try that new seasoning donna suggested."

jensen's mom smiled warmly. "i told you it would make all the difference."

you were seated between jensen and hannah, trying to ignore the knowing looks both your sisters kept shooting your way. jensen's knee pressed against yours under the table, a steady warmth that made it hard to focus on your food.

"remember when these two first met?" your dad chuckled, gesturing between you and jensen. "her in those pajamas of hers, looking like she'd seen a ghost."

"dad!" you groaned as everyone laughed.

"oh, i remember," alan grinned. "jensen came home that very next day talking about—"

"hey, dad," jensen cut in quickly, his ears reddening. "maybe we should talk about something else?"

hannah leaned over to whisper in your ear. "bet he told his daddy all about how pretty y'looked in those shorts."

you elbowed her sharply, but you couldn't help smiling.

after dinner, everyone migrated to the back porch. the texas sunset painted the sky in pinks and purples, the air cooling just enough to be comfortable. you found yourself sitting on the porch swing with jensen, your families' voices creating a comfortable backdrop of chatter.

"so," you said softly, "what exactly did you tell your dad that night?"

jensen groaned. "you're not gonna let that go, are ya?"

"nope."

he was quiet for a moment, then he spoke up, "i told him i'd met the prettiest girl i'd ever seen, even if she was wearing pajamas and looked like she wanted to murder me."

"i did not!"

"sweetheart, you looked at me like i was the devil himself."

"well, you were smirking at me!"

"because you were adorable," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "still are."

before you could respond, kimberly's voice floated over, "you two want some privacy?"

"kim!" you hissed, but jensen just laughed, his arm sliding along the back of the swing behind you.

"nah," he answered coolly. "just enjoying the view."

your mom then appeared in the doorway, holding a fresh pie. "who wants dessert?"

as everyone headed inside, jensen caught your hand. "hey."

"yeah?"

"just... i'm glad your dad made you help that day. even if you did try to hide from me for weeks after."

you ducked your head, embarrassed. "well, to be fair, i thought you were dating daisy."

"never," he said firmly. "not her, not anyone. been waiting for the right girl."

"is that so?"

his thumb brushed over your knuckles, just like it had that night. "yeah."

"jensen! honey, you want apple or cherry?" his mom called.

he squeezed your hand once before standing, pulling you up with him. "we should get in there before they send out a search party."

"or before my sisters start making more comments?"

"that too." he tugged you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead that left you stunned. "come on, pretty girl. let's go face the firing squad."

later that night, after both families had gone home and your sisters had thoroughly exhausted their teasing, you lay in bed thinking about everything. your mom poked her head in, smiling knowingly.

"you have a good day?"

"mom..."

she sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair back like she used to when you were a little girl. "you know, i remember when i first met your father. he had that same look in his eyes that jensen gets when he looks at you."

"mama," you whined, but you were smiling.

"i'm just saying," she stood, heading for the door. "some things are worth taking a chance on."

as you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you thought about jensen's words, about waiting for the right girl. maybe, just maybe, your mom was right.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 taglist. @deanswidow @a1ecmcdowell @beausling @titsout4jackles @frosttbitessam @aileenunfiltered @deansbite @jasvtsc @fallbhind @ostaramoon @lacydollette @ultravi0lence14 @rubyvhs @s4wdvator @depressionbarbie2023 @spcncershasting @severe-mental-illness @lmg14 @bluestrd @starkeysprincess ◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ 🏇 ˚⊹ ˖ ﾟ✶ ݁. comment OR send an ask to be added / removed !!!!!

𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍 © 2024. ✶ please DO NOT copy or plagiarize my works.

[rhiannonsknife]

── ❆ DAY 24: christmas with the yellowjackets

— summary: christmas eve with the yellowjackets hcs (shauna. jackie. lottie. nat. van. tai. laura lee.)

— warnings: fluff. established relationships. gn!reader.

shauna shipman

❆ christmas eve at shauna’s is endearingly chaotic. after a slightly overwhelming family dinner, shauna catches your eye from across the table, her expression speaking volumes. as soon as the dishes are cleared, she tugs you by the hand up to her attic bedroom. It’s small but cozy, filled old soccer trophies, faded posters, a stack of dusty books, and most importantly, it’s just the two of you. she pulls out a half-empty bag of holiday chocolates she stashed away earlier and plops down on the bed, grinning as she offers you one. “this is way better than listening to my mom ask about my ‘five-year plan,’ right?” she teases, leaning her head on your shoulder as you unwrap the candy and settle in for a quiet moment together.

❆ shauna insists on a tradition she started as a kid: exchanging one gift on christmas eve. she pulls out a small box she’s been hiding under the tree all evening and hands it to you with a sheepish smile. “i couldn’t wait for this one,” she admits softly, watching you unwrap it. inside is something thoughtful: simple, but so uniquely her. when it’s your turn, you pass her a neatly wrapped book you’d been meaning to share with her for months: it’s your favorite, but you’ve left small notes and annotations between the lines.

❆ shauna definitely isn’t one for large, over the top gestures. instead, she finds subtle ways to show she’s thinking about you. while everyone’s distracted during dessert, she quietly slides the last piece of hers onto your plate with a small, knowing smile. later, as the family gathers around the living room to watch a movie, she settles beside you, her knee pressed against yours. the way her fingers softly brush against yours under the blanket you’re sharing says everything she can’t in a room full of people.

jackie taylor

❆ jackie insists on everything being perfect for christmas eve, and that includes you. she spends way too long fussing over her outfit, then quickly turns her attention to yours. whether it’s a cozy sweater or something more festive, jackie 100% makes it her mission to ensure you both look like you’ve stepped out of one of these cheesy holiday romcoms she makes you watch. only then, the two of you join her family for dinner. of course, her mom comments on how good you both look, which jackie takes as confirmation that all her efforts were worth it.

❆ jackie adores introducing you to her extended family, playing the role of the best friend perfectly. they might not know the true nature of your relationship, but she makes a point in showing you off nonetheless. she clings to your arm, proudly showing you off and basking in the compliments about how amazing the two of you look together. when her little cousins start to get rowdy, she ropes you into playing board games with them, determined to prove she can win more than just soccer matches.

❆ after dinner, jackie insists on dragging you outside for a walk in the snow where it’ll just be the two of you. complete with scarves, gloves, and her earmuffs. it’s her favorite part of the day; walking hand-in-hand as the neighborhood lights twinkle around you. in her block, the neighbors went all out with their decorations and it’s fun to wander around and look at the different lights and houses. at some point, she’ll stop, her cheeks rosy from the cold, and kiss you softly, whispering, “merry christmas”

lottie matthews

❆ on the 24th , lottie wakes up early, watching you sleep from her desk while she works on the final touches of your present. by the time you wake up too, she’s finishing up her letter for you. you blink your eyes open to the bright, white light coming in through the windows and find her with her legs drawn to her chest and her eyes on you. she gives you something meaningful, albeit a little too expensive for your personal liking, like a charm bracelet with a symbol that reminds her of your connection, and watches nervously as you open it, her face only lighting up when you smile and approve.

❆ with you, christmas feels a lot less lonely and lottie makes use of that in every possible way, relishing in your company. you can spend the day however the two of you like, so she takes you out before anyone else is up, only returning after a thorough walk through the snowy streets of wiskayok. she spends the whole time clinging to your hand and whether there’s something for you to talk about, or just comfortable silence, you both enjoy each other’s company. “i think christmas is way better with you here” she admits before kissing you gently.

❆ she has a sweet but quirky side that shines during the holiday season: insisting you join her in lighting candles for “good vibes” before dinner, picking out the prettiest ornaments for the tree, and even convincing you to meditate with her by the fireplace after the chaos of the day. by the end of the night, you’re both cuddled under a blanket, sipping tea while she curls up against you.

nat scatorccio

❆ christmas eve with nat starts quieter than most. she’s not even used to it being a big deal at all. however, since she started dating you, she’s been showing up on your doorstep every christmas to spend the holiday with you instead: knocking on your door with a lopsided grin and a couple of small, awkwardly wrapped presents in hand. again: she’s not used to big celebrations, but the sight of your warm, bustling home instantly softens her.

❆ nat, being nat, spends a lot of her time deflecting with sarcasm, trying to pretend like none of this is getting to her at all, complaining about your aunt’s fruitcake or your dad’s bad jokes. but you can tell she’s secretly enjoying herself by the smiles she flashes you from across the room whenever the mask accidentally slips. when your family hands her a stocking they filled for her last minute, her eyes widen in surprise, and she mutters something about how “totally cheesy” it is while holding onto it like it’s the best thing she’s ever received.

❆ after dinner, nat drags you (and your siblings/cousins) outside for some “fresh air” and immediately starts a snowball fight, pelting you with snow while laughing so hard she nearly falls over. when you finally tackle her to the ground, pinning her in the snow, she grabs your face with cold hands and kisses you impulsively. “merry christmas,” she says, grinning up at you. “now help me up before i freeze to death here!”

van palmer

❆ van is not a morning person, not even on the day of christmas eve, so unless you wake her, she’s staying in bed as long as possible - even if you’ve got plans for the evening. when you do finally poke and kiss her awake, she insists on dragging the blankets with her to the couch, still half-asleep but grinning as she wishes you a lazy, “merry christmas.” she’s the kind of girlfriend who wraps herself around you on the sofa and refuses to let you go until she’s fully awake and ready for coffee.

❆ christmas movies are non-negotiable with van. she pulls out a stack of VHS tapes she’s been keeping since october and insists you watch them all with her. she recites all the best lines, laughs way too loud at the cheesy parts, and even makes up drinking game rules if you’re up for it.

❆ van 100% thrives on the energy of the holidays, so she makes sure to keep things fun whenever she can: whether it’s putting way too much whipped cream on your hot chocolate, building an absurdly decorated gingerbread house with you, or starting a wrapping-paper-ball fight in the living room, she’s all about making you laugh and creating ridiculous memories together. at the end of the day, she pulls you close under the glow of the christmas lights and whispers, “this might be the best christmas yet”

taissa turner

❆ tai, unlike van, is also up rather early, making sure everything is perfect for the day. she’s not overly sentimental, but lets her thoughtfulness show in little ways, like sneaking downstairs to make you coffee and setting up your favorite breakfast before you’re even awake. she’ll also “randomly” give you a gift so personal and meaningful that you feel overwhelmed in the best way possible.

❆ tai knows how to navigate the chaos of christmas eve much better than you do yourself. if you spend it at your place, she happily helps your family keep everything on track, whether it’s herding your younger siblings or stepping in to help with cooking. but she always makes time to steal quiet moments with you, slipping away to sit outside or wander through the snow, her gloved hand intertwined with yours whenever possible.

❆ if things ever get overwhelming (whether it’s a noisy dinner table or your little cousins running wild) tai is always the first to notice and pulls you aside, offering calm reassurance, a subtle shoulder rub, a tight hug, or whatever else you might need. by the end of the night, you’re curled up on the couch together, her arm draped around you as she murmurs softly, “i love spending today with you”

laura lee

❆ laura lee wakes up extra early on the 24th. it is definitely her favorite holiday and she’s even more excited to share it with you. in the morning,she spends some time reflecting on ‘the meaning of the season’ and invites you to join her -not because she expects you to share her faith exactly, but because it’s important to her to include you in something so personal. you sit together by the tree, sipping cocoa as she quietly talks about gratitude and the hope she finds in the season.

❆ laura lee has a gentle way of making literally everything feel peaceful and meaningful. whether it’s the way she smiles at you during a family dinner or how she softly sings along to christmas songs while holding you close, she makes you feel like the most important part of her day. by the end of the night, you realize you’ve never felt more at home than you do with her.

❆ laura lee appreciates it when you join her for christmas church service, even if you don’t share her beliefs. she doesn’t take your presence for granted, holding your hand tightly in hers as you sit together in the glow of candles and the sound of hymns. afterward, she’s all soft smiles as she thanks you for being there with her. later that night, curled up together under a blanket, she reads to you from your favorite book while you rest your head on her shoulder.

— a/n: merry christmas to all those of you who celebrate today and/or tomorrow!! thank you for joining me on this writing challenge! i really hope you enjoyed reading these as much as loved writing them for you guys! you can find all 24 christmas fics here!! <3

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 12/24/2024

pair of portentous tuesdayposts: this one is christmas eve and the next one is new year's eve

trying something new with the reading section, where i list off a bunch of books i bounced off and briefly explain why. let me know if this is interesting, or if it's more interesting when i finish a book i sort of enjoyed and really dissect what didn't work for me like with that annoying evil wizard book a couple weeks ago.

listening

the true champ of the past few weeks has been friends at the table's (an actual play podcast about critical worldbuilding, smart characterization, and fun interaction between good friends) horror/weird west season Sangfielle, and i know i have listened to about sixty hours of it bc i have played about sixty hours of stardew valley. i am currently on ep 49, one before the last finale episode, and it feels like it is wrapping up in a very rushed and weird way? maybe i will feel differently after listening to the six coda episodes wrapping up everyones' characters?

the song of the week is fleet foxes’ white winter hymnal, which is morbidly festive without being strictly christmas-y and is not salting the open emotional wound within my chest that is The Holiday Season. album released 2008. christ im old

-

reading

the concept of this gag award is EXTREMELY funny to me. i wish the EFF sent them a little physical trophy. perhaps a challenge coin.

bounced off a lot of stuff. the six larger books and the far top right are all from my absolute favorite thrift store with the worst vibes, who regularly has a 8/$1 media sale bc they actually want to be more of a kitchen goods and home decor thrift store and don't really want to constantly be overflowing with records no one buys. yet here they are.

i really do need to find a good indie used bookstore around here that will take books and give me back slightly more in store credit than in cash. bc i would like to fill some missing chunks of trilogies/fill out the star wars shelves a little more. but every time i have gone to half price books i have had an unpleasant time.

lumberjanes/bravest warrior/adventure time were not making me feel nostalgic and in fact made me quite sad instead (more in a memento mori way than in subject matter) so they're going to a friend's kid

glad i looked up Heartthrob (despite the really good premise of woman haunted by her heart donor) on my library's comic app bc the third one seems to mostly take place in a mental hospital which is really never a vibe i want

GRIFTER has art i don't love and a bland storyline about an ex-marine who is the saddest boy in the world and can also detect literal space aliens living among us. no thank you

tangle's game has a close-call near-sexual assault in the first chapter. no thank you! cool dystopic social credit score premise but no thanks!

gil's all fright diner is about the king of vampires and the duke of werewolves but they're hicks. the narrator hates that they're dumb hicks. did not jive with the authorial voice on this one

i bought Two Tickets to Tangiers in high school bc it looked cool and have only cracked it open now, almost fifteen years later. fifteen year old kay did not yet have the context clues from the cover that it would be a very racist travelogue

i need to stop trying agatha christie. i am never going to like agatha christie

-

watching

somehow i have seen the first tinker bell fairies movie three times this week bc that's all my bestie's toddlers want to watch. a really stupidly stacked cast??? how did all these people have free time in 2008???

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playing

finished the community center in summer 2 of stardew valley (wildly popular and very intense farming sim) and would have finished it in winter 1 if not for the FUCKING pufferfish. i hate fishing minigames and i especially hate the fishing minigame in stardew so i am excited to leave it the fuck alone for a while.

my cauliflower got stupid mchugelarge?? i do not know why they did that. also a meteor fell on my farm and gave me a bunch of really valuable ore, just like real life meteors.

i do kind of regret picking the beach farm bc so much of my day is spent watering, but i am trying to lean harder into animal products and being more of a fun silly flower farm instead of the intense agriculture i find myself doing. i have the greenhouse, i have a small patch of sprinklerable land, i will simply make sure to buy some of every seed each season and if i really need something i will toss it in the greenhouse.

-

making

people are being very gracious about their mediocre colored pencil portraits. most of my gift budget this year was two flat rate boxes to my siblings. silly little pet portraits are very cost effective if you already have art supplies, nice paper, gumption, and very cheap small frames.

[yawping-poets-society]

been Thinking about richard cameron again...

and i think the thing that people don't always see when discussing his character is that we the viewers can and should have a different interpretation of his character than the poets do

i get why charlie punched him. fine, i'll say it, i even think it's justifiable (stay with me here)

charlie was a seventeen year old who had just lost his best friend, and had always been predisposed to dislike cameron. why? because charlie only ever saw cameron as a rule follower, a brownoser, a teacher's pet. when cameron talks to nolan, charlie sees it as a betrayal but not a surprise because to him, this is classic cameron behavior. in his mind, obviously cameron would choose authority over his friends and the one teacher who fought the limits that welton set for them. charlie doesn't ever think about what position cameron was in.

and i get it! again! charlie is a teenager who is experiencing probably the most emotional time of his life. same goes for the rest of the poets. they all feel betrayed. and frankly, cameron's dialogue in the scene where charlie punches him is cruel, and a blatant misunderstanding of who neil was, and what keating was trying to do (as todd points out). he says a lot of shit, and none of it makes you want to like him. he wasn't winning any sympathy points from the poets or from the audience.

it’s easy to watch that scene back and say, “cameron behaved horribly here, therefore he is a horrible person with no redeeming qualities.” but when we're actually analyzing the movie? i think we have a responsibility to really consider cameron's motivations.

for starters, he was always the odd one out among the poets. charlie picked on him constantly, and no one ever stood up for him, except maybe neil. and not only does cameron hang out with the poets, he's charlie's roommate. he probably never caught a break from hearing how poorly charlie thought of him.

more than that, though, he has a clear and consistent need to follow authority. on keating's very first day, cameron is one of the first students to stand up and follow him out of the classroom. he does it hesitantly, sure, but we can tell what he's thinking: when a teacher tells you what to do, you do it. this pattern continues all the way into the aforementioned scene with charlie when cameron says: "in case you hadn't heard, dalton, there's something called an honor code at this school, alright? if a teacher asks you a question, you tell the truth, or you're expelled." true, yes, cameron's saving his own ass. but what choice does he have? in his mind, none. this is how the world works. you keep your head down, you do what you're told, or you get punished.

do i think it was the right thing to do? maybe not. do i think the poets are entitled to their anger towards him? yeah, i do. but i understand why cameron did it. he was a scared kid, who, when caught between a rock and a hard place, fell back on what he'd been taught his whole life.

so, to wrap all this up: no, cameron's not unequivocally good. he hurt his friends, and they have a right to be upset with him. but he didn't set out with bad intentions. he was just a kid, and what he did doesn't make him evil, it makes him complex. he has a right to be treated as such.

[drrden]

'Mistletoe' Leon Kennedy x Gender Neutral! Reader

Merry Christmas Eve ;) Cop!Leon x Receptionist!Reader. AU where there's no virus. Silly little fic, awkward flirting, hallmark vibes, inexperienced Leon, SFW, love confession, coworkers to lovers, first kiss!

Since becoming an officer at the Police Department in Raccoon City, Leon's unfortunately lost contact with most of his friends from his hometown, the long-distance seeming to have tarnished the friendships. Evidently, he found himself eager to pursue others in a platonic manner within Raccoon City, striving to help out his colleagues as much as he possibly could. All the way from day one of being stationed there, to the present day - where he's no longer perceived as a mere rookie to the full extent anymore. He's the type of guy who'll stay back an extra hour or two to finish up a report on behalf of a colleague, to let them take the last of the donuts from the box brought in by the Lieutenant. Not only is this behavior applicable to the festive season, but Leon is rather like this all days of the year, naturally being generous and just loving giving. This kindhearted nature of his has winded up in him spending the late evening of Christmas Eve in the police station, despite the fact he'd much rather be back in his dingy apartment watching Jingle All The Way for the umpteenth time this month. There's not a single other officer around, his sigh of exhaustion echoing throughout the office as he absentmindedly chews on the tip of his pencil, having spent most of the evening doodling. It's confusing to him, the reason why an officer was needed to stay overtime on this particular night, yet he clearly volunteered - as that's what left him wound up here. Even if he were to be back home right now, it's not like he'd be sharing the Christmas spirit with anything other than an old box television and a pizza from whatever takeout that's open. The chances of anywhere being open are pretty slim, though, so that tarnishes that fantasy. Leon had a few people that he could spend the evening with, but they all happen to be thousands of miles away and all likely busy with their respective partners. Huffing, his lips part and he pulls them away from the pencil, leaning back in his chair and gazing up blankly at the ceiling - at least being at work gives him something to do tonight. Otherwise he'd be cooped up, basking in his own loneliness that coms with not having any single friends free on Christmas Eve. Ah, who is he kidding? There's no need to get so melodramatic and worked up on the day before Christmas, after all, it's not like he's entirely alone at the station.

Fingertips pressing along diligently on the keyboard, the sound of clicking acts as a rhythmic backdrop to the otherwise silent reception of the somewhat loomingly large building. Shaking your head, you tentatively withdraw your hands and avert your attention away from the monitor, foot tapping along on the cold floor, a sense of expectancy resonating from within you. But for what? Palms reaching for the edge of the desk, you use it as leverage to push your office chair back, standing up from behind the desk and taking a moment to steady yourself back on your feet. They've gone overload with the decorations this year, tinsel of all different shades wrapped around banisters in swivels, fake snowflakes glued onto the glass of each door and window. Even going as far to make a customized Christmas mixtape which usually plays faintly from the boombox settled upon your front desk, the familiar sounds having previously been turned off by you a while ago. Some late night call was expected, which is why you're tasked with the responsibility of staying back a couple of extra hours, not to go home until you instigate the phone call. Which seems to not want to ring anytime soon, your eyes narrowing with a sense of resentment to the plastic landline. A familiar blonde appears in your peripheral vision, walking hesitantly along until he's finally in your line of view, the signature boyish grin causing his eyes to squint the slightest bit. The addressing of your name followed by, "Got sick of the music, huh?" As he motions towards the silent boombox, to which you respond with a knowing eye roll, having gotten bored of the same songs playing on the repeat about five hours ago. "Yup." A nod of the head as you look Leon up and down, eyebrow quirked with mild intrigue. "How come you're here still? Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?" A question of no ill-intent, just something to keep the conversation going, but Leon responds a little too quickly. "I don't have a girlfriend. Or any partner." Seems like he's pretty adamant on the fact that he's single, and you presume it's just to insinuate that that's the reason he stays late so often, not to stay away from a neglected partner, or something. Maybe he's embarrassed. Feeling for the poor guy, you shake your head reassuringly. "Yeah, me neithe-." "I know."

Now a little puzzled towards the nature of this interaction, your brows furrow and you look up at him from beneath your eyelashes, not exactly certain whether he's flirting with you or not. By the softness of those blue eyes of his, you figure that he's merely clueless as to how his words cold be interpreted, a gentle expression on his face. "You were supposed to go back home to see your family for Christmas. But since you had to stay late tonight, that won't be happening, yeah?" A sympathetic head tilt as he questions you, his hand lightly scratching near one of the moles on his neck, beside his Adam's Apple. It's like he knows everything about you, even paying full attention to your half-asleep ramblings early in the morning when you seem to hate everything. Refers back to things you've mentioned only briefly in passing, having been so attentive to everyone who he works with. Especially you. "I don't see how this is any of your business." The second you retort with such a snark, you regret it immediately, just struggling with being overworked and tired, cursing softly to yourself beneath your breath. His eyes widen and he shakes his head adamantly. "No I- I wasn't judging you for it, or anything, I promise. I'm in the same situation." Great, now he's eyeing you like a hurt puppy, guilt etched within the downturn of the corners of his lips, as if he's the one who should be sorry in this conversation. In a feeble attempt to salvage his opinion of you, you blurt out an oddly intimate-sounding suggestion. "Do you want to spend it together?" OK. There's a possibility that he can interpret your wording platonically, so as to not unmask the full truth of the fact that you've had a crush on him since he first joined, which has only built up throughout the passing of the months. The apples above those prominent cheekbones of his light up as bright as a Christmas tree, stifling a noise of surprise in the back of his throat. A silent nod of acceptance to your offer. Until he's bouncing on the heels of his feet excitedly, repeatedly nodding. "Oh are you sure? I'd love that. That's really nice." Blabbering on about how sweet you are to do this for him, now that he won't have to be alone and the two of you can spend the festivity together. Together. Usually when two people spend Christmas together alone, they're a couple.

As that realization dawns upon yourself, it seems to with Leon as well, his eyes widening as his lips part as if to say something else - however nothing comes out. Desperate to shift the conversation, he pulls out a Christmas card penned for you specifically, passing it into your possession in an abnormally jittery manner. Peeling back the envelope, you tug it out and see the grapohlogy of a kitten wearing a Santa hat, the lettering "Merry Christmas to a purr-fect coworker!" beneath it. Man, he really hopes you don't find him creepy for this, but it was the best card he could find and he personally thinks it's quite cute, despite being silly. Your name within the card is followed by "I hope you have a very merry Christmas. Thank you for always being so patient with me in the mornings when I'm still half-asleep. You're the best person for the job of receptionist here, and I'm so happy we work together. Love, Leon :) x" Ok, wow. Since Christmas is the time to be earnest with one another, Leon figures that the opportunity is right, and he stomachs the flutter of anxiety pooling in his stomach. Knowing how cheesy this all is, he plucks one of the mistletoe from the set of decorations on the desk, and dangles it above the two of you, well aware of the fact that he'll never live this down. Seems like the Christmas Spirit is really getting to him, huh? Attention drawn towards your lips, his eyes go half-lidded somewhat, in a daze as his heartbeat thuds in his ears, so hard in his chest that he's almost shaking. "I've bailed on telling you so many times, and if you reject me now then we don't have to spend Christmas together. But I can't do this anymore." A gentle breath of your name ghosting from his mouth. "Shit, I'm just realizing how cringe this is in real life. Um. Anyways, so uhhhh. It'd be really cool if I could be your boyfriend, 'cause I've had feelings for you for a long while now." Leon confesses with such quietness in his voice, it's as if he's in a confession booth, like he's atoning for a sin. Like he doesn't deserve to have feelings for you, like you're too good for him. "Because it's Christmas, you deserve the truth. I like you. Very much." Never has he felt like this before with anyone, having assumed romance just wasn't for him.

Swallowing the last wave of nerves, he whimpers. "Ah, usually people kiss under mistletoe, but if you don't want that or don't feel the same then that's cool-" Reaching up and cupping his warm face in your hands, you lean in and brush your lips against his, and he freezes. Maybe he should've told you before that he's never kissed anyone. Fiingers trembling, the mistletoe slips from within his grasp and he acts on instinct. Leaning over the reception desk which separates the two of you, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other resting against the curve of the side of your neck. His shoulders relaxing as he melts into the tender moment, eyes fluttering shut as he reciprocates the kiss.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Christmas Special

(5.6k words, wrote this in 24h <3 Merry bloody Christmas, guys! TW murder, I guess. Nothing too detailed, tho)

I woke up with a headache. Not a hangover, mind you. I am above getting such things, and in any case it's unfitting for a man such as I to get drunk. No, I had one of those classical headaches, the likes of which are received after a fine blow to the head.

That naturally implied another assassination attempt. How coarse. I opened my eyes and tested my bonds. There were none. Either my captors were convinced I would not run, or they were remarkably incompetent fools indeed.

The room I was held in was… strange, for lack of a better word. There were bright lights that danced across the ceiling, a roaring fireplace, and a table chock full of meats, vegetables, and grains. Yet, that was not the greatest surprise of all.

There was, for unfathomable reasons, a massive tree. Just— sitting, in the center of the room, dominating the festivities. It was gaudy with glowing lights, glittering twine, and baubles infesting its surface.��

Oh, and there were people. Lots of them, in fact, all looking equally confused. We were draped on sofas, sprawled out on armchairs, resting against walls. I was, perhaps, the first of us to wake up, and I swept a watchful eye across the room.

A surprising number of familiar faces caught my eye. Hash, my darling, was there, along with her lowborn friend the vampire. And, would you believe it? There was my old nemesis, the Godhuntress herself, lying blissfully unconscious, just waiting for me to kill her.

By instinct, my hand found its way to my dagger. Some of the bloodlust must have shown on my face, for I caught a mortal boy flinch and hide behind his companion. 

I was halfway to her exposed throat when said companion grabbed my wrist. “You don't want to do that,” she murmured, and her tone gave me pause. It was far too weighty to belong to a mortal, the regality in it far more reminiscent of one of us ancients.

I turned to her and showed off my best smile, the one with all my teeth. She didn't so much as blink at it. “Oh, believe me, miss. I really do. Nothing, and I mean nothing, in this world would grant me more pleasure than snuffing out the life of this vile monster. Now, how about you let me go about my business, hmm?”

She remained imperturbed. “Not happening, kid. Now, how about you tell me what's going on? I don't like this one bit.”

I shrugged and withdrew my blade. Under that strangely cold grip of hers, I sensed a power I did not want to mess with. “Damned if I know. Last I remember, I was in bed, sleeping.” 

“Your kind sleep?” She sounded skeptical. “Actually, what the hell are you?”

“I could say the same of you, miss,” I replied. “But I suppose I'll go first, shall I? I'm a forest spirit, and you may call me Hans.” I left the last portion of my name unspoken, for no one as versed in inhuman dealings as I would ever give my name freely. A damned shame that mine was so short, however. Two syllables was not a great deal of room to make aliases with.

“Katherine, and I suppose you could quantify me as a demon.” She paused. “You don't look like a spirit to me. How old are you?”

I crinkled my nose at her. “Old enough to handle my own, Miss Katherine. And you're one to talk, wearing the face of a little girl. Don't the humans call that pedophilia?”

“No, you're pedo-bait. I'm jailbait. There's a difference, pipsqueak.” The smile was slipping off her face. “Or maybe your little-boy brain is just too underdeveloped to understand that?”

I didn't take the bait. “Fortunately for us, that's not the case. And if you'll excuse me, I'll go find someone more cordial to chat with.” The Godhuntress was stirring, and much as I wanted her dead, a fair fight with her was not one I would win. 

The demoness Katherine let me go, turning back to her mortal boy-toy. I beelined to Hash, the one soul in that room I trusted wholeheartedly. “Wake up, my dear. We've got trouble.”

At that last word, he bolted awake. “Trouble?” He surveyed the room. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Trouble.”

The two of us watched as more and more people got up. The vast majority of them were humans, gangly and pock-marked and over-solid, though I did catch glimpses of spirits and others of our ilk here and there. Katherine was attempting to interrogate the Godhuntress, something I wished her the best of luck with. If I was fortunate enough, perhaps they would get into a fight, and at least one of my problems would be solved.

“We should try to investigate,” Hash whispered. “Someone must know something, yea?”

“If you are so inclined, do it yourself.” I pursed my lips. “I think I shall wait for them to come to me. And sample the food, while I'm at it.”

“Are you crazy? We don't know where it's from. We don't know what it's made of. We don't know jack shit, and you want to play it cool? Have you finally lost your marbles? The only kind of person who would act so casually in this scenario is-” He stopped in his tracks. “Oh. So that's your game. I like it. Dangerous as fuck, but that's life, isn't it?”

“Yes, that is life. Now hop to it, my love. Between the two of us, I think we can get a grip over this crowd in no time.”

Hash gave me a final nod, and strolled off. The first thing I did was grab a glass of wine. Everyone looked more suave like that, and it gave me an excuse to put myself in the center of the room. Several curious eyes followed me as I picked up a plate of venison on the way back, and it was not long before the first of my visitors followed.

She was a young woman, something I sensed would be a common theme in the hours to come, with a spear in hand and an unquenchable rage about her. I swirled my drink in its cup and waited for her to speak.

“Hey! Creepy little boy.” In my own name, was I going to have to be called little boy all evening? “Tell us what's going on, or I'm gonna shish-kebab you with my spear.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” I replied, pretending to be preoccupied with the vortex within my flute of wine. That glorified stick of hers was hardly sharp enough to pierce a slice of bread, let alone me. “Why would you think I know anything at all, dear?”

“Because you're the only person who looks even slightly at home here? Everyone else is freaking out, and you're just sipping a drink. What are you, one of Santa's elves? Krampus' stolen children? Why are we stuck in a Christmas celebration?” She waved her spear around threateningly.

That was interesting. I did not know what Santa or Krampus were, but I did know the elves, and I knew I could not hope to pass for one in my life. “Maybe,” I said, winking. “Or maybe not.” With luck, she would elaborate.

The girl seemed to only grow angrier at my words, leveling her spear at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hash watch me with alarm. I shook my head slightly, warning her not to rescue me. It would be for the best if we did not show our hand yet. 

“Come on then. Aren't you going to stab me already?” I spread my arms, offering her a clear view of my chest. She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment I felt a genuine flash of fear. Beneath that gaze was something that writhed and fed on rot, something old as time itself and hardly less conquerable.

And then it was gone, as an old man grabbed her weapon and pulled it from her grasp. “Athena! What the hell are you doing?” He was followed by another human boy and… a summoner? 

Yes, a summoner, or something akin to it. I had not seen one of her kind in a very long time. The plot thickened. I have the newcomers a lazy smile, and they responded by tensing up.

“What on earth are you?” That was the summoner, pushing angry little Athena behind her. “You're not human, that's for sure.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Athena snapped, wrestling her spear back. “That thing knows something. I'm sure of it.”

The summoner met my gaze, piercing me right through. “No he doesn't,” she said, before I could recover. “He's bluffing.”

“Excuse me?” I pushed myself out of my chair, going nose to nose (or nose to collar, as the case was) with her in not-so-faux rage. “I know plenty, little mortal. For starters-” Pulling her down by the scruff of her tattered shirt, I whispered in her ear. “I know your little girl is cursed. I know that you are a witch, and a good one at that. And, I know that you really do not want to go back to where you came from, so how about you enjoy the food and leave me be, hmm?”

That last line was nothing more than an educated guess, but it paid off. They were too scruffy and thin to have been living in safe conditions, and I caught sight of more than one open sore on them. 

Gears turned in the summoner's brain, wondering if it was worth the cost to call my bluff. Eventually she stepped away from me. “My apologies, sir,” she said, nodding politely. “We'll leave you be.”

I grinned. “Thank you very much, little one. Go try the venison, if you feel peckish. I find it delightful.”

Athena opened her mouth to argue some more, but the summoner gave her a warning glance, and she left with naught more than a glare at me. Settling back in my chair, I took another sip of the wine.

“Hey, you're Hash's boyfriend, aren't you?” On the list of things I did not want to be called, that somehow ranked below ‘creepy little boy'. I turned to see Hash's vampire friend, still wearing his Smiley Mart™ shirt. What was his name: Dane? Dale? Dave?

Yeah, Dave sounded about right. “Hello, Dave,” I said, turning back around so I did not have to look at him. “Is there something you want?”

“Hash told me to come find you. She said you could use my help?” He stepped around so I was facing him once more. “I really don't know what to do, honestly.”

I sighed. “Go interrogate someone,” I told him, more to get him off my back than anything else. “Actually, go keep an eye on some people for me.” I pointed out the Godhuntress, who was flapping her wings in an attempt to get a mortal girl to stop poking them. 

“Is that who I think that is?” Dave's eyes widened. “You think this was her doing?”

“Hmm? Of course not. I want you to tell me when she looks distracted so I can go kill her.”

“You're crazy,” he said. “That's the Godhuntress. You know, the greatest deity since the Creator herself? Yeah, that Godhuntress. She'll squash you like a bug.”

“Doesn't matter. I will find a way.” I clenched my glass. “She took something very precious from me, and I will take my revenge, one way or another.”

“Alright, alright. It'll be a hell of a story to tell, in any case.” He made to leave, then turned back. “Say, is that wine any good? I'm feeling rather thirsty.”

I considered it. “It is rather dry,” I replied. “But fruity, too. Take that as you will.”

“Cool. Thanks, Hash's boyfriend,” he said, and the glint in his eye told me he was calling me names in insult. Unfortunately, by the time I had registered it, he was long gone.

People were beginning to crowd around the tables, finally encouraged to touch the food. That was when I spotted someone I had thought I would never see again: Merida Ryder. And with another forester at that! 

For once, curiosity got the better of me, and I trotted over to talk to her. She would not recognise me, of course. I had taken great pains to disguise myself that time, and I wondered how she would feel seeing my true face for once. 

“Well, well. If it isn't miss Merida, all grown up. Remember me?” I tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, and it broke my heart to see how she had changed. Her eyes were sunken, the lights gone from them. Merida looked down at me, and there was no spark of recognition. “No,” she said flatly.

The forester turned around, and he let out a little gasp. “You're-” I shushed him. 

“Can you not see I am trying to talk to someone here? It is most lovely to see a fellow Ces-ilre, but I must speak to Merida first,” I said. “Are you sure you don't remember me? I passed you that gun, all those fateful years ago.”

She blinked slowly. “Don't. I don't want to remember.” Merida shuddered. “Go away, Hans. Thank you for your help. I absolve you of the favours you owed me.”

I am not and have never been a stranger to suffering, but it hurt to see her crushed like that. “So you do recognise me,” I continued. “What happened, Merin? You used to be so happy.”

“I grew up.” 

And that was all she would say on the matter. The forester extracted my hand from her shoulder and led me back to my couch. I let him, of course, something in the hollow cavity where my heart should be aching. 

“You're the Spirit Emperor,” he whispered to me, snapping me out of my reverie. “What are you doing here, my lord? And how did you know Merida?”

“Same as you, and that is none of your business,” I whispered back, slipping into forester dialect. “What is your name and clan, sirrah?”

“Kristavla, formerly of the Ko clan. My lord.”

“So you were there when… the Incident happened.” I jerked my chin at the Godhuntress, now attempting to engage a very uncomfortable Dave in conversation. Or perhaps she was interrogating him.

“No. I was attending to my fiance, my lord. The late Kitsy Te-clan.”

“Oh. I killed her, did I not?” I vaguely remembered a foul-mouthed guard who had insulted me the moment I arrived on castle grounds.

“Yes, and I thank you for it.” Kristavla shook his head. “I will not speak ill of the dead, but she was not a good woman.” 

“I can imagine that.”

We sat there in silence for a few more moments. “Would you like to help me avenge our people?” I gestured again to the Godhuntress, who was being fawned over by a lich of some kind. “We may not get another chance.”

“I am not one for vengeance,” Kristavla said. “But you are a friend of my friend. And so I will. For you, my lord, and for our people, may their remains soak the earth.”

“Thank you. Be on your way, friend,” I told him. “Speak with the vampire in the demeaning costume—” I had to approximate a word for Dave's Smiley Mart uniform— “and see if you can isolate and weaken her. From there we shall make the kill.”

Kristavla nodded, and slipped away. Taking his place (for it seemed I would have an endless supply of supplicants today), was a lean, sly doctor. Her red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her skin was dry enough to resemble scales.

“Hello, Spirit Emperor,” she hissed. “Fancy seeing you caught up in the Christmas web.”

There was that word again. Christmas. “Care to explain, doctoress?” I offered her a seat. She was about as human as I, with the way she moved, though I could not tell what on earth she was.

“I am an Oracle,” she rasped, as though reading my mind. “And my people arranged this felicitous meeting.”

I froze up. “I see. And why should I believe you?”

She laughed, a sound that had more in common with the death of a small furry animal than anything friendly. “Your name is Hans-el Ko-clan. You killed and ate your parents to save the Goddess of Dreams. Your lover is a shapeshifter who will not tell you its true name, and you hold a grudge against the fallen angel they call the Godhuntress.”

“All very impressive,” I agreed. “ But any old fool could have worked that out with the right background knowledge. Tell me something nobody knows.”

The Oracle grinned, revealing red and raw gums. “Careful what you wish for, little boy.” She shifted closer, and I could smell the blood on her breath. “You claimed the throne by mimicking the magic-thieving spell the Godhuntress used on your dear friend. You helped the renegade Merida start the civil war in Palioden by orchestrating a situation in which she had to kill her sister using a gun you provided. And, as the topping on this pie, your worst fear is-”

“No!” It came out louder than I expected, and more than a few heads turned our way. “I believe that you are an Oracle. Please, do not continue this.”

The Oracle leaned back, victorious. “Good boy,” she murmured, proving that there was, in fact, a nickname I could dislike more than ‘Hash’s Boyfriend'.  “Now, I suggest you stop hiding in this little corner and get to moving the plot forward, will you, dear? You ought to be an active protagonist.” She pushed me off my chair. “And be grateful we didn't send you the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present or Future.”

Before I could ask her what the ghosts, or even Christmas, were, she was gone. Not gone like a ghost walker, or like a teleporter. Gone entirely, as though she had never existed in the first place. I shook my head to ward off the strange feeling, and got up. It was unwise to disregard an Oracle's warnings.

I was about to approach a random person, when someone once again came to me. For once, she seemed perfectly normal. “You look like you know what's going on,” she said without preamble. “Care to explain?”

“Unfortunately for you? I do not,” I informed her, pausing to pick up a few jellies and put them onto my plate.

“Well that's not very polite of you, seeing as I know what Christmas is and you don't,” she replied, taking a few jellies of her own. “And I hear you killed your parents too. We've got that in common, at least.”

That gave me pause. She didn't look like a mage of any kind. “And how did you do that, little girl? With a knife? A pillow to the face at night?”

“A death ray, actually. I'm Mara. Nice to meet you, Hans,” she informed me, sticking her hand out. “You're the talk of the party, you know. They say you're an Emperor.”

“And just who might this ‘they’ be?” Blasphemous gods above, did she ever shut up? 

“Well, Visitor over there, and his buddy Aida. They're from Palioden, which a few little birds tell me is a land in your world. Which, if you can't tell already, I'm not from.”

“What?” 

Mara giggled. “You heard me, Mr Spirit Emperor. I'm not from your world. And if I eavesdropped right, they-” she pointed at Athena's crew- “aren't either. The creepy girl who stopped you from killing that goddess too.”

“The Godhuntress isn't a goddess,” I snapped. “She's nothing but a grandiose genocider. And how did you know about me and Katherine? Everyone was asleep.” 

“I happen to be really good at pretending to be asleep. Picked up the habit in kindergarten.” I tiptoed to pick a cream puff off the top of its tower, and she helped lift it down for me. 

“Thank you. So what do you want, Mara-murderer? A boon? As you have ascertained, I know naught more about this place than you.” Finally, that was a lie. The Oracle had provided me with some excellent information.

“I want to help you kill that bitch. The Godhuntress, or whatever her name was.” Mara's eyes glinted with bloodlust.

“Why?”

“She disrespected me,” Mara snarled, cracking her knuckles. “I was wondering what she was, and I poked her wings, and would you believe it? That fucking bitch slapped me. Me! No fucking warning.”

I was deeply surprised to hear that the Godhuntress had not done worse than a mere slap for the insolence of grabbing her wings. But any aid was welcome aid, especially from someone as adept at spying as Mara appeared to be. “I see. Let's team up, shall we?”

“Excellent.” She rubbed her hands together. “I know that pretty elf girl and the convenience store dude are on your side. Is the other spirit with you too?” I nodded. “Mmkay. I'll tell them everything I know, and report back.”

“Certainly,” I replied. Mara let out another disturbing giggle, and ran off. There was something deeply wrong with that girl, I decided.

I drifted down the table, plucking up more desserts as I went. The talk of the party, was I now? I could certainly see it. More than one person parted way to let me pick out my food, and I saw a distinct wariness in their eyes. Then again, it was but my dues. 

I passed by a Luxatian Crusader in full armour, and she nodded at me. “Spirit.”

“Knight.” For once, I was having a normal encounter. For once, nobody was questioning me about Christmas, or Santa, or Krampus, whatever they were. For once-

The knight unsheathed her sword.

I moved to dodge the blow, but it never came. Indeed, she was not so much as looking at me. Her eyes were trained on someone else, instead. A lich.

“You,” the knight snarled. “Iraela Foundling. The Lich-Queen. I swore an oath to defeat you. And now, I shall.” Ah. It seemed I was not the only one with a grudge to satisfy. 

The Lich-Queen blinked, and eloquently croaked out, “What?”

“I am going to watch your unlife spill out onto my blade, foul beast. You killed my family, my entire village. I watched your ghouls eat my sisters. They were six years old, Lich-queen. I had to run while they begged me to save them.” Tears sprung to the knight's eyes. “You are a monster of the foulest kind, and a fog shall lift the day you die.”

“A monster? Damn right I am a monster,” the lich announced. “I am the monster humanity made of me. Your kind declared me cursed, broken, unlovable. All I did was listen to their words. You should have known it by now: a child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. And all I ever wanted to feel was warm.” She threw her arms wide. “Go on. Slay me. Continue your precious little cycle of hatred. One day, the people I saved, the ones your family scorned, will avenge me.”

A glint in her eye told me she had no plans of going down so easily.

The Crusader spat on the ground. “Spare me your lies, Lich-Queen. Your pretty words will not sway justice.”

I sighed. I knew what kind of woman turned herself into a lich, and it was hardly the sort who a mere knight could defeat. If nobody stopped that fool knight, she was going to get herself killed.

In a flash, I was standing behind the Crusader, barely reaching her underarm. A quick knockout spell later, and she was down, keeling over like a metal doll with its strings cut.

The room had fallen silent. Everyone, even the Godhuntress herself, watched me. I resisted the urge to declare my undying hatred of her, and instead gave a cheery wave to the room. 

The Lich-Queen let her arms fall. “Say, might you be the Spirit Emperor?”

I nodded. “The one and only. And a little bird—” I prodded the unconscious knight with my foot— “told me you were the Lich-Queen. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And I yours.” She offered her forearm, and I took it. “I actually knew your predecessor: Sucsu'anane.”

That name belonged in our history books. Sucsu was old, and infamous. “But that would make you the first Lich-Queen,” I murmured. “You- It was you who started the Runic wars! It was you who caused the shifters to die out!”

I was staring a legend in the face, a woman who had caused horrors long before my time, horrors that echoes for all eternity. “By the false gods, it is good to meet you! What an honour, Lady Iraela. What an inspiration you were to me.”

I might have spread the flattery on too thick, but Iraela lapped it all up. “Why, you're too kind. Let me tell you: ruling is all in the flair. Why, for my coronation…”

I let history's greatest disaster lead me by the arm to a nice corner, where she proceeded to chatter my ear off. For once, I shall spare you the details. Suffice to say, I learnt more about the history of the Deadlands than I ever wished to know. 

“Let me tell you something, Hans,” she said, interrupting her own monologue.

“Hmm?”

“I heard you knew a shifter named Hash. Well, I met him too.”

That made me perk right up. I'd known Hash was older than I, but that old? Fascinating. What else was he hiding from me?

“Don't trust him. He betrayed us all. We would have won the war, if that little bastard hadn't run off to the elves and spilled the beans. We could have been great, Hans-el. Our peoples, the vampires and the spirits and the ghouls, could have ruled the world. But Hash was soft. Do not let that softness corrupt you,” she warned. “It will rot you from the inside, and when your enemies scoop your guts out, they will not so much as give you the gift of eating you alive.”

“I know,” I replied. “My mother was soft, and it brought her naught but suffering. Our people revile it.”

“And yet you love him,” Iraela commented wryly. “That alone tells me enough about you.”

I did not dare lie and disagree. “Yes, I do. But Hash can take care of himself, now. He's slippery as hell.”

“Yes, that much I have seen from tonight's festivities. But that is the point, is it not? He will slip your grasp and betray you, just as he did the shifters. One day, you will make a cruel choice, a choice for the greater good, and his soft little heart will push him to betray you. All because you weren't hard enough to cut him off.”

I stood up, suddenly reminded of my conversation with the Oracle. My greatest weakness indeed, I thought. “That may be so, my lady. He may betray me, and leave me dead in the gutter. But that is a risk I am willing to take.” I brushed invisible dust off my skirt. “All you are is a woman who failed to rule the world, Lady Iraela. At the end of the day, all you have is your love's blood on your hands and a heart you wrenched out of your own chest. Even if I lose it all, at least I loved, and was loved in turn. For someone who went on and on about needing to feel warm earlier, you just do not seem to understand that, do you?”

Iraela laughed. “So young,” she whispered. “So young and so foolish. They'll make mincemeat out of you, little Emperor. And I'll laugh at you from my grave.”

I strode away from her, back stiff and fists clenched. I could take insult all day, but this? This firm condemnation? It stung. It stung like my father's whippings. It stung and I wanted to never think of it again.

I was still standing about, willing emotion away from me, when Mara tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on,” she said, grinning. “Buncha tables appeared. I grabbed one for us. Your little vampire friend got dragged off to hang out with the rest of his kind, but it seems I'm free to roam.” She laughed maniacally. 

She led me to a table. Hash, my Hash, my brilliant, softhearted friend, grabbed my arms and all but pulled me by his side. “Check this out: That vampire's got a tan!” He pointed a woman in work clothes, conversing animatedly with Dave. “Apparently, she's a field researcher. Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I can,” I agreed numbly. 

“Oh, and this Christmas thing! Mara told me all about it. Apparently, they eat turkey and give gifts and celebrate this saint of theirs. I don't have a gift for you, but I figured this might do!” He pointed at the Godhuntress and lowered his voice. “I cut a sleeping rune onto her piece of turkey while I was carving it. She doesn't know know to use the cutlery, so when she bites into it, the spell will activate, and it'll be your chance! Whaddya think?”

He really was sly. “Brilliant, my love,” I whispered, my mind still on the Lich-Queen. “What else did you find?”

He scrunched his nose up and thought. “Um, the God of Evil's here, and he's a pretty chill guy. The Godhuntress' daughter's here too, and she's got an axe to grind with dear old mum, too, but I convinced her not to do anything drastic. There's some poor blue fellow in the corner, and he's got some kind of curse. I didn't go too close, but he seems… different from the rest of us. When we're done, we should go investigate.”

Beside me, a man in a strange vest sat down. “Hello there, lad,” he began, only to fall silent when he met my eyes. “You're no child. You're a monster.” He stumbled back, clutching his hand to his chest. “Maya? Let's find another table.”

Hash barely hid back laughter as he all but fled the scene, the girl he called Maya giving me a wry smile and nod as she followed. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The others. Look over there. No, not at the demon-girl. The blondie and the redhead next to her.”

“I recognise the others at that table,” I told him. “Kristavla and Merida.”

“Yeah, Kris was helping us out earlier. The redhead? Apparently an infamous mind-mage. She fuckin conquered an entire city, all on her own. And the blond girl's a spell-snapper. Ugly combo, if you ask me. They're from the same era as us, but Nyctomachian.”

“And them?” I pointed at Athena and the one-eyes summoner. “They damn near called my bluff.”

“Yeah, they bothered Dave real bad too. Something tells me they're not gonna harass us again, though.” He grinned at me. “A certain someone may have implied that he was the reason they even ended up here.”

I wanted to facepalm. “Damnit, Hash. That was exactly what I told them too.” I looked over at them, deep in discussion. The old man met my gaze, and held it with the kind of defiance that promised trouble. “Ah, what the hell. We can deal with them later. For now, let us celebrate.”

I drank more wine, this time watered down (for no man of my stature should ever get drunk), gossiped with Hash and Mara, and bided my time.

The Godhuntress took her spare time sipping drinks and eating appetisers. For a moment I suspected she knew of our devious plan, for she avoided her turkey for far too long. Then she lifted the fateful piece of poultry with more grace than it deserved, and bit down.

I was by her side before her head hit the table. My reputation preceded me, for the others at her table, a rather foolish spirit and his mortal friend, scrambled back. Gasps of shock and horror resounded as I readied my blade.

It was quite a shock to realise those noises were not for me. I glanced up from my goal for one fateful minute, perhaps compelled by the strings of Fate that the Oracles pulled, and caught sight of what could only be described as a cryptid.

He came from the chimney, white and red despite the soot. A full white beard hung limply from his chin, and his deep voice resounded throughout the room. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry bloody Christmas, fools!” He pulled out a massive sack and grinned at the room. “You're all bad apples, the lot of you! Coal for everyone!” 

Everyone except me dodged the sudden hail of coal that followed the opening of his sack. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He leered at me, icy blue eyes piercing me like the fangs of the last Oracle I met. 

I lifted my knife, aiming it at the dazed Godhuntress' throat. A glimmer of recognition dawned upon her face, but I did not let her recover fully. Down went my blade, swift, brutal and twice as just as any executioner's axe.

And what a merry, bloody Christmas it was.

[ms-writerandreader]

PROLOGUE: GOTHAM'S SATYR

Even then, when Nico Di Angelo was actually young, Gotham City wasn’t the best place around, when it was first built in 1635 it wasn’t so bad but by the 1930’s that altered entirely. It was a city surrounded by crimes like, murder, thievery, assaults of many kinds, among other things, and now even in 2010 Gotham seemed to be no different along with the other cities that followed a similar banner. Cities like Metropolis, Star City, and Central City, for some examples, were brighter than Gotham, and while their crime rates were nothing in comparison. The odd phenomena and odd occurrences were nothing to sneeze at, but suddenly, it was like the Son of Hades wanted to sneeze at that after accidentally finding himself in the city of crimes.

The city smelt of pollution, alcohol, and cigarettes, what’s worse? He couldn’t Shadow Travel away due to loss of strength, and the ghosts of the dead that looked upon him before dipping their heads in bow, some would even start to beg him to let their souls free. (He just wanted to go to McDonalds) But then reality separated him from the mythical as he bumped into a child who looked scared beyond their mind, shaking and crying desperate to get past the demi-god And as Nico looked ahead, he came face to face with a Harpie, a monster under the name of Zeus. But if this kid could see it, then..Nico stopped his thoughts and drew his sword, and with a simple thrust to the roaring harpies core, it evaporated into golden dust. As Nico turned toward the kid who had only made it a few steps past him, they were now on their hands and knees hysterically crying and gasping for air.

Slowly, Nico made his way to the child who seemed to be no older than 7 or 8, Nico knelt down awkwardly and stayed next to the child, telling them that they were okay softly. “Tha-nk you. Thank you..that thing cha-sed me outside my home..I have no clue what’s going on. Help me, help me.” As the child pleaded, they latched onto the son of Hades, their arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Nico tensed greatly, but he understood. “Where do you live?” Nico asked as gently as a child of Hades could sound. “Across town..” Sighing slightly, Nico stood slowly, causing the child to let go.

Though he really didn’t want to, Nico offered his hand to the child, which they gratefully took. Nico trailed in the direction where the child first bumped into him, and as he did, the more the criminals came out, that of course made a family of bats roam the city. But he wasn’t expecting to be met by two of these bats, one a short hooded figure wearing red and wielding a katana and the other about his own height also dressed in red gear but wielding a bo staff.

“Who are and why do you have that child?”

A stern voice came from the shorter figure, and before Nico could really answer, another voice came along.

“Alex! Alex! There you are!” A woman came running over and in the same motion the child let go of Nico’s hand into the arms of who he guessed was their mother. “Mama that boy helped me. He got rid of that thing, Mama. He saved me!” The mother held her child tightly, and Nico and the two other figures watched. The mother looked up at Nico, and by the look in her eyes, Nico knew she knew what he was.

But she smiled kindly at him, “Come, I feel as if I owe you something for saving my child.” And with a glance to his left and right, Nico saw the angry scowl of the shorter boy and the relaxed face of the other taller one. Nico walked toward the mother and child swiftly, and they made their way across town swiftly and safely. (Much to Nico’s surprise) It was a small and comfortable home, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” A cry came from the mother as she turned to look at Nico with tear filled eyes.

“I’ve been so selfish keeping my Alex away from that camp, but after tonight, I know they need to go. Thank you, thank you for saving my Alex.” “Mama?” Alex mumbled softly, “Why has no satyr come for them?” Nico questioned the woman softly as he could, which might not have been that soft. “I was told that satyrs would come for them when they became twelve, but the attacks started becoming too frequent. I can’t keep being selfish and putting my child in danger.” The mother explained, and while Nico understood, the explanation led to another question.

“Who?” The woman caught on quickly to what he was referring to, “Iris.” Nice, was the first thing that came to Nico’s mind, and the other was I should probably get this kid to camp. “I don’t think I’d look that well taking your child outside the city after I was already pinned by those..?” “Vigilantes” The woman said, and quickly nodded in agreement, “The Grey Sisters?” The woman suggested, and Nico had to hold back a smile. Nico nodded and let the mother explain to Alex what was going to happen to him this year or a brief of it.

Alex quickly threw open the car door and got out, finally relaxing after feeling the ground below. “Lovely ladies, may the darkness always suit you. Thank you for the ride.” As Nico and Alex made their way to the Big House, Nico gained stares from the other campers, some being awe others being fright. Alex asked questions the whole way there, to which Nico gave answers to the ones he could. “Mr. D, Chiron. There’s someone you need to meet.” “Nico, good to see you, whatcha got?” “Nico my boy, what is it?” Nico nodded in greetings again before getting the attention of the eight year old he saved. “This is a child I saved in Gotham City. Their name is Alex Walker, the child of Iris.” The child stood stiff in the gaze of Mr. D and Chiron, “Hello..” Mr. D said nothing and turned his attention away from the child as Chiron greeted Alex.Mr. D called over the Son of Hades, to which Nico followed. “You know, there’s no Satyrs in Gotham?” Dionysus said factually, while Nico turned to him completely in confusion. “Why?” “The Mist there is thin, due to all the bat shit things that happen there, sending satyrs there means most would know. So I have an offer.” Dionysus said smugly, and Nico gave the God of Wine a questioning look. “Be the satyr for Gotham, save and guide kids to this wretched place.”

“Why? You don’t really care about demi-gods.” Nico fired back in confusion, and Mr. D laughed. Though while he did, it was like he shifted into another person, his hair turned black, and he became slightly paler, and his eyes red before he quickly switched back after his laughing fit. “You know, besides good ol’ Chiron, I think you’re the only one I’ll allow to question me. Yes, I don’t like demi-gods, but this is what Chiron wants I’m just the one telling you.” Nico thought for a moment. What if there were minor or chthonic kids like himself or children of Dionysus? After more contemplation, Alex ran up and hugged Nico, “This place is great! My cabin’s being built!” As Nico looked at Alex, he finally knew his answer, “Yeah? Enjoy Hermes Cabin for a bit.” Alex let go of Nico and ran back out of the Big House. “Yeah, I’ll be the satyr for Gotham.” Nico answered sternly, and Dionysus, once more chuckling, shifted before changing back. It was really starting to concern the Son of Hades, “Good, be careful, brother. Some bat’s are hiding there.”

On Wattpad now ♥︎

[shaunamilfman]

Where the Lovelight Gleams

pairing: Shauna Shipman x reader summary: Christmas drabble Christmas Masterlist

You hold Shauna's hand tightly against yours, stuffed in the pocket of her jacket in a pointless search for warmth. Shauna has insisted that you had to go out to see the light tonight, even though you would be there for the rest of the week. Why it has to be the coldest night in your entire stay, you aren't sure, but she was so insistent on it. 

It would be one thing if the town square was anything particularly impressive, but like everything else in her hometown, it seems to be disappointingly small. The worst part is that Shauna herself doesn't even seem to be impressed by the whole thing, which leads you to question why she wanted to come so badly in the first place. 

It's not that she's having a bad time, not with how eager she is to drag you from place to place with an adorable skip in her step. Every so often she stops in front of something utterly inconspicuous–a lit storefront or a lamp with an uninspiring wreath on it.

She'd gotten you to take no less than four different pictures with her in front of the big Christmas tree, even resorting to bribing you with paying for the hot chocolate in order to get the last one. You decided to be the bigger person and not point out that she was always going to be the one paying, if only to watch the way her face lit up as she handed it to you. 

Her cheeks were flushed, either from the cold or sheer excitement. It wasn’t like your girlfriend to be so interested in a place like this. Truthfully, she had never seemed all that interested in holiday events, so it had really caught you by surprise.

Shauna rolls her eyes as she catches you eyeing her hot chocolate, glancing away to pretend to look at the lights above you until she wordlessly lifts the cup up to your lips. You had your own cup, of course. But the keyword was had. That cup has long since made its way to a trash can. 

Besides, Shauna's tasted better anyway. 

You grin over at her as you take a sip, enjoying the way the twinkling lights look reflected in her eyes.

“It’s kind of lame, isn’t it?” She asks, bumping her hip playfully against yours.

“...I wouldn’t say that,” you say slowly, wondering if she’s trying to lead you into a trap.

“I would. I always thought so.” She looks around slowly, dragging you back toward the tree. You laugh joyfully, breath coming out in white puffs of air as she brings you to a stop. Shauna rests her head against your shoulder as she looks up at the tree.

“Then why…?” You ask, trailing off as you rest your head against hers.

“Jackie always used to drag me here with Jeff. Always insisted on not doing stuff like this without me, since we used to go together as kids. It just sucked, having to follow them around with the camera this whole time while he was all over her.” 

Shauna pauses, squeezing your hand tightly in hers with a bitter smile on her face. “They’d be laughing together, and I’d just also be here. I kept thinking about how much I hated it the whole time and how much I wanted to come here with someone who wanted to be here with me one day.”

You can almost see it: a teenaged Shauna getting dragged around the square by an equally teenaged Jackie, her gloomy expression matched by Jackie's enthusiasm as she directed the show. The thought of Shauna's broody expression behind the camera as she glares at Jeff almost brings a smile to your lips, but you brush the thought away in favor of imagining how lonely it must have felt. 

Despite how close she and Jackie obviously were, a lot of Shauna's stories from high school seem to have a common theme. The more you hear about it, the more you start to suspect that Shauna was the only one making herself feel that way, but it still felt real to her. Having an unhappy girlfriend this close to Christmas simply won't do. 

Shauna breathes out a sigh. “Well, it’s not that Jackie didn’t want to be here with me, but it just wasn’t–”

“The same?” You finish. Shauna nods slowly, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

You want to kiss her right now more than anything, but the two of you are getting enough suspicious looks as it is that you don't dare to risk it. 

“I guess you got your wish, then.” 

Shauna laughs softly. “I guess I did.”

“It still sucks, though,” she admits in a low whisper as she looks around. “I don't think they even try.”

“How about we get some more hot chocolate–” 

“Highlight of the night,” she agrees. 

“And then we'll drive around to go look at lights instead,” you finish. 

“And maybe while we're in my car…” Shauna trails off expectantly, a hopeful note re-entering her voice. You could always count on her for one thing. 

“Ask again when the heater’s on.” 

Her laugh is quieter this time, but it feels lighter than before as she drags you back toward the coffee shop.

[apomaro-mellow]

Two in the Bush 8

Part 7

Steve’s wardrobe options had gotten more limited as his belly grew, but he tried not to feel some type of way about it. He was still able to dress in a nice shirt and pants and not look too out of place when they brought him to the restaurant. An upscale kind of place that made him wonder how they’d found this place.

“Some guy I know works here”, Billy said as they were taken to their table.

“And he admits that to other people?”, Eddie gasped.

“Watch it, Munson. I’m trying to be nice.”

Steve smiled. He had to admit, just a few months ago, Billy would’ve just decked Eddie and be done with it, ruining the mood and their night. The fact that the three of them were even doing something like this. A date was different than just going out to eat. This was both Eddie and Billy showing their intentions with Steve, and thus their intentions with his pup.

Conversation flowed easily between the three of them, it always did. Eddie was naturally talkative, as was Steve. Billy was less so, but he surprised Steve with what he said sometimes. It made Steve realize he was a good listener.

“So about that one guy…”, Eddie started as their appetizers were replaced with their entrees.

“The alpha redhead or the blonde beta?”, Steve asked.

“Redhead”, Eddie answered.

“You mean Manfred?”, Billy asked.

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Manfred! Yeah! He came in again, trying to micromanage and shit.”

“Isn’t that the same guy who couldn’t tell he was driving on bald tires? And he couldn’t remember which mother gave birth to which kid?”

“The very same! Tires bald as hell and shuffling around like he knows shit.”

“Speaking of kids”, Billy said as he looked to Steve. “You thought of names yet?”

“I’ve thought of several. But I’m not really gonna know until I’m holding them in my arms.” Steve smiled, bringing a hand down to his bump. “I did decide on the names you guys are involved in.”

“Oh?”, Eddie leaned in, intrigued.

Steve nodded, smiling at him. “Whoever the real sire is, the baby will get their last name.” Then he looked at Billy. “And whoever isn’t the father, will get to give them a middle name.”

Billy blinked in surprise. “You’d do that?”

“It only seems fair”, Steve said, looking at the both of them. “Only one of you is the father by blood but you’ve both taken care of me and this pup.”

They went with Steve to doctor appointments whenever they could. They helped him modify his diet, even foregoing some things just so Steve didn’t get jealous. They had massaged his back and feet to relieve aches. Steve had been prepared to do this with just himself and Robin. But with two extra hands, the load was much lighter.

Steve found himself staring at them both more and more. He knew he was lucky, so incredibly lucky. To have not just one but two alphas vying for his hand and fatherhood of his pup. There were plenty of alphas who turned tail at the first mention of the word ‘baby’. Eddie and Billy had not only NOT turned away. They ran at Steve in full force. After dessert, Steve watched them split the bill and then they were on their way home.

He was feeling satisfied in a way he hadn’t in a while. And he didn’t miss the way their gazes lingered on him. Steve wasn’t completely surprised that guys had stopped coming up to him in public. A prominent belly didn’t do much for his dating prospects. And he had gained weight in other places as well. He told himself he was still a catch and that after having the baby he could get right back out there. But sometimes when he looked in the mirror, it was harder to convince himself of that.

The way Billy and Eddie looked at him though, were looking at him right now, it was the same way they always did. It carried the same heat, the same desire. There was a small voice in the back of his head. The one that tried to keep him from making bad decisions. But as they got back home and started towards the stairs, it got quieter and quieter. Steve had forgotten why this was a bad idea in the first place.

Before the other two could part ways to go to their respective rooms, Steve cleared his throat, making them pause. Steve stood at the door of his own room.

“Do you two…wanna come in?”

They entered wordlessly, Billy on him in seconds, lips on his and hands in his hair as Eddie closed the bedroom door. Then Steve felt a warmth at his back that could only be Eddie.

“You sure about this?”, he whispered as he kissed his ear.

Steve broke away from Billy’s mouth to nod. “I’m sure. I know it.”

“What about Robin?”, Billy asked, already unbuttoning Steve’s shirt.

“She’s out. Won’t be back until morning.” She’d told him as much when Steve told her about this date. And at the time, he had assured her there was no need. But she’d given him a look, full of meaning. She knew him better than he knew himself. 

“Then we’ve got all night”, Billy grinned, showing his teeth.

Eddie brought his own teeth out, nipping at Steve’s ear and the back of his neck. He was surrounded on all sides but he didn’t feel caged in. No, he felt embraced. One hand went to Billy’s jaw while the other reached behind, bringing Eddie’s arm around him. As the fell together into bed, a different voice became louder and louder in Steve’s mind.

A voice that said this was the best idea he ever had.

[alpaca-clouds]

On Santa, the Christkindle, Krampus and Frau Holle

Let me tell you Americans something – because I know that most people on this specific hellsite are in fact American, while I am not. I am European. German, to be exact, with some Asian roots, according to my mother. And a few days in a rather useless attempt to get a bit into the Holiday spirit, I watched the movie “Red One”. An American friend already noted, how he was aware that in the finale of the movie, it does not make a lot of sense to save Christmas, given not everyone celebrates Christmas around the world, and how also a couple of countries have the presents out on January, 6th, on the Epiphany. Which, yes, is true.

When I watched the movie, though, and got to the place, I messaged that friend: “By the way, do you know that Santa does in fact not bring us the presents in Germany? Or most of Europe, in fact. Oh, and also, Krampus is in fact not really the Anti-Santa or Santa’s brother or some shit, but that goes back a whole lot further than just Christianity.”

On the next day, though, I could not help it, but think about the entire thing. Because I was not quite sure whether I had some cognitive bias about Krampus – or if my gut feeling was right. And that got me down a long, long rabbit hole.

So, my dear Americans, let me regail you with Christmas stories from Europe, and why Krampus has more to do with white men being butthurt than anything else. Alright? Alright!

Christkindelein, Christkindelein

Now, I will not go too deeply into the entire Santa thing. Just know: Yes, St. Nikolaus is in fact connected to Christmas traditions all over Europe. However, in quite a lot of European countries, like in Germany, St. Nikolaus only comes on December 6th, where he will bring a bit of chocolate, and maybe some socks. No big presents. Those are for Christmas.

So, why does Nikolaus come on December 6th? Well, this has to do with Saints’ Days in the Catholic calendar. Basically: Every saint in the Catholic canon has a day dedicated to them. And yes, we have more than 365 saints, so yes, several saints will usually share a day. St. Nikolaus, the Turkish bishop, has his day on December 6th, hence this is the day when someone dressed as a somewhat more historical St. Nikolaus will appear in German kindergardens and schools. And also in some other countries. (Not all countries celebrate this.) That will usually look something like this.

Now, Germany will have the presents on Christmas Eve. Not on the morning of December 25th, but the tradition was originally for the family to go to Christmas (like a literal mas) on the evening of December 24th, and then come home for a good feast and presents, because the presents had been “delivered” while the family was in the church. But no, they were not delivered by St. Nick, but by the Christkind, the Christ Child. And generally speaking in most of the Catholic areas of Europe it tends to be either the Christ Child who delivers the presents, or the Magi – in those areas of Europe where the presents get to the kids on Epiphany.

And yes, there are absolutely a lot of families in Europe today, who have not a strong religious tradition, and hence just use Santa, because American Imperialism is a thing, and most movies the kids are aware off use Santa. After all those families will usually not go to Church for the literal Christmas and… Well, what difference does it make.

However, I should not that it is generally not a thing over here – even in those families that were taken in by American Imperialism – to put out cookies and milk for Santa. That very much is an American thing. Please, dear Americans, just do not assume that something that is a traditions with you folks gets done the same everywhere on the world. Because in fact, very few things Americans celebrate are celebrated the same way anywhere else (outside of Canada, I guess).

But this is actually the less interesting part of this little essay.

No, I actually wanted to talk with you about Krampus.

Krampus is not Santa’s Brother

Now I will tell you something, that has surprised all my American friends: I never heard of Krampus until I was 18. Never once was I aware that Krampus was a thing that existed, despite me being from Germany. Shocking, right?

Because here is the thing: Krampus does not originate in Germany, but in Austria. And specifically the Krampus tradition originates in Styria. Which once more is the moment I will remind my dear Castlevania fans that: Yes, indeed. Styria is a real place. It is a region within Austria. And to be exact it is the region in Europe that was Christianized the latest. (Please mind: Yes, there were other region that were not-majority Christian later, but those got Christianized before, but were taken over by Muslims afterwards. Meanwhile Styria was only Christianized majorly in the 12th century. Mainly because it is an area that is so high up in the mountains, that pretty much everyone until then who tried to forcefully Christianize failed.)

And when I was 18, I moved in with my then boyfriend, who lived in Leoben in Styria. So that year was the first time, that I ever heard of Krampus, because there was a lot of Krampus related stuff happening in Styria. Mainly there was a Krampuslauf pretty much everywhere on December 5th, so in the night before December 6th, before St. Nikolaus came. And yes, as you might be aware, the story about Krampus is usually about how he will take the naughty children and kidnap and eat them in some way or form.

In Austria meanwhile this looks like this: A whole lot of men dress up with creepy masks, run through the streets, and hit people with whips. A very Castlevania holiday indeed. Yes, usually some bullshit happens, because of people are anonymous some bullshit always happens, right?

And for my whole life I have always wondered: While I was living in Austria I noticed a whole lot more references to Krampus in American media. I chucked it up to be a cognitive bias. You know, when you learn about a new word for example, you notice it a lot more being used. So I shrugged and went on with my life, not really thinking about this again. Until that conversation a couple of days ago. And this time… This time I could not help myself. Because I was like: “I am pretty sure the Krampus tradition is older than the St. Nikolaus tradition in that area. So it is probably not a Christian thing.” But I also kept thinking: “Is it though?” Mainly, because during this years @fluff-cember I also wrote a story about Perchten, and I could not help but notice one thing: Krampus has an awful lot of similarity to Perchten.

Mother Holde and Perchten

Hey, you. Americans specifically. Do you know the story of Frau Holle? Because while I know you might probably not be familiar with a lot of European folklore, there is a good chance you at least will know the fairytale by the Brothers Grimm.

If you don’t, don’t worry. I will give you the short rundown. (Mind you, like with all fairlytales, there are about 10 different versions of this story going around. Because those were oral stories first.)

The short version however is like this.

A miller looses his wife and marries anew. And his new wife has a daughter from a previous marriage. Now they have two daughters named Marie. And like it goes in those fairytales, the stepmother treats the Marie from the old marriage very poorly, especially after the father dies. However, this Marie is a diligent child. She will do all her chores without complaining. And one day she is send to spin yarn at the local well. However, her spindle falls into the well – and when she tries to fetch it, she falls into it as well. However, instead of being stuck in the well, it turns out she gets basically isekai’d into another realm, where an old woman meets her, introducing herself as Frau Holle. And she offers this Marie to help her with her chores, and if Marie does so, she will be rewarded. Marie, being the diligent child, obviously agrees. And she does the chores, that unbeknownst to her actually allow the season on earth to move on properly. Part of it is to beat out the pillows and blankets, making it snow on the world. And after a while, Frau Holle is very impressed with her, and showers her in gold, before sending her back home. Now, the stepmother finds this child now rich and golden, and asks her where she got all that gold. And Marie, being the diligent child, tells her. So the stepmother tells her own daughter to do the same. So this daughter will also spin by the well, drop her spindle, fall in and get isekai’d. And indeed. It happens. However, this Marie is lazy and not at all diligent. And after a while Frau Holle has enough with her, and instead of with gold, she showers this Marie in pitch and sends her back.

And then there is this moral about being a diligent girl and diligence being rewarded and stuff.

However, Frau Holle actually goes far, far back into German, and especially alpine mythology to the goddess Holde, Berchte, or Perchten.

Now, we have a pretty good idea from mythological research, that Berchte (to be translated as “the bright one”) was probably very related to Frigg from Norse mythology, just with some adjustments given that this was a goddess who was prayed to in the alps, rather than Scandinavia – and mythology will always shift to reflect the area people live in.

But yes, Berchte was – from all we can reconstruct – always linked to spinning, and to the midwinter holidays. After all, most cultures did celebrate the solstices in some way or form. And it seems that indeed Berchte was connected to bringing gifts during the solstice, but also with punishing lazy and naughty children and servants. While we do have little written evidence for this in the pre-Christian culture (because they wrote down very little), we know that Berchte was said to roam around during the Christmas holidays, after these areas got Christanized.

And while Berchte would both appaear as a pretty young woman, and a motherly old woman, there seemed at some point a shift to happen. And when she came to punish those who had been lazy or naughty, she would appear as a monsterous woman with goat horns, who more commonly was called Perchten. (Still same word root though.) It is not quite clear whether Perchten at that point already was a different being from Berchte – or just a slightly varied name for a different incarnation. But however it happened: Over the next few centuries the Berchte worship died out, but Perchten survived.

Perchten and the Angry White Men

Now, here comes the interesting bit. Because we have written evidence of Perchten going as far back as the 12th century. And we know that even after Christianization of these area, Perchten stayed around. And in fact, it became a tradition for the women to dress up as Perchten during the Christmas celebrations (which back in the day lasted for 12 days, as you might know) and play tricks on everyone, who they perceived to have been naughty.

And… Well, here is the thing. We do not know how it happened. But one of the current theories is, that simply some men were like: “Why do women get to have all the fun?!” And kinda wanted to make a male pendent for Perchten. Which ended up being Krampus.

Now, please consider two things: 1) There is a theory too, that Krampus might have been influenced by Ottoman and Balkan mythology, though this connection is kinda hard to source, though it would explain the origins of the name. 2) In northern areas of the Germanic people, St. Nikolaus was already celebrated and had a companion, who was indeed punishing the naughty kids. Servant Rupert (Knecht Ruprecht). However, this companion was not monstrous like Krampus, but just a guy in a servant’s uniform and with a whip made of twigs. Simple as that. It still might have been an influence.

One way or another: Ethnologists are very, very certain that Krampus did come to be as a reaction to Perchten and the Perchtenläufe, which also explains the visual correlations between Krampus and Perchten.

The first written sources we have for Krampus showing up only go back to the mid-17th century, but historians assume that this tradition started in the late-16th century. But the exact details are fairly hard to pin down.

It turns out, though, that my very subjective experience of not noticing a whole lot of Krampus stuff earlier was very correct. Because… this tradition kinda got lost mostly during the 19th century. Like, sure, some places still had a Krampuslauf of some sort, and had Krampus come with St. Nikolaus during the celebrations, but for several reasons (one of them being that the Krampus just appeared too pagan) the tradition mostly got lost for a long, long while.

White People and their Lost Culture

And this brings me back to me never ever hearing anything about Krampus until I moved to Austria about 15 years ago. Because when I was in Austria, everyone told me that, yeah, sure, this Krampus thing is totally an old tradition. And heck, many of them might not even have meant to lie to me, given they were themselves fairly young. But indeed, the widespread comeback of the Krampuslauf actually only started in the late 1990s and early 2000s.

Again, no, it was never a fully dead tradition, but it had petered off over the centuries and only was a thing in very few places until Styria came into the problem, that a lot of western European nations generally have to struggle with: “Well, Christianity got pushed onto us during the middle ages, and we actually do not fucking know a whole lot about our culture before Christianity, do we now? So if I do no longer align with Christianity, what the heck is my culture?” This need to have a culture of their own clearly also was influenced by the influx of immigrants and the racist reflex to be like: “Hey, this is our culture” in comparison.

And so… someone stumbled across the entire Krampus thing and was like: “Welp, this certainly does feel kinda pagan, doesn’t it?” And so Krampus was brought back, and within a couple of years became a tradition pretty much every place in Styria participated in, before it even spread to other parts of Austria.

Which brings me back to being a little alpaca standing in Austria and being like: “Huh, I never heard of it.” And then seeing horror movies themed around Krampus spring up, tilt my head and wonder: “Wait, was this always a thing?”

The answer is: Nope. Nope, it wasn’t! American references to Krampus in media go only back until 2004, and actually the big push to include Krampus in western media only happened in the early 2010s. So no, it was actually no subconscious bias on my side. It was true. Krampus was actually fairly new and the reason I never noticed this before was, that it simply had not been a thing for very long, when I came to Austria – and that indeed American media only started to broadly include Krampus in the early 2010s.

Which brings me back to the most important thing this rabbit hole has taught me: It was actually not my subconscious cognitive bias! HOORAY!

So, what about St. Nikolaus?

Let me finish with this: St. Nikolaus has been a figure who has brought treats and presents to children and servants (I cannot stress the later part enough) at least since the 11th century, probably already earlier. The historical figure that inspired this tradition goes back to the 4th century, obviously, and the way St. Nikolaus has given out presents in Europe for the most part was related to the legend around the historical figure. And yes, from all we know, the tradition of giving St. Nikolaus some sort of other person who accompanies him and at times is responsible for punishing the evil kids and servants might go back at least until the 12th century. Those servants of St. Nick have had a whole lot of names in a whole lot of different areas, and talking about them all would let me write at least a small novella here.

And in a way, I am somewhat sad, that the one of the figures who somehow managed to get picked up by Americans is actually Krampus – and how very much divorced from the cultural context he originated it became.

I guess in some way it is fitting, given that of course the American version of St. Nikolaus is also very much divorced from any cultural context he once had. It is simply the thing American culture does: Divorcing things from their cultural context. I mean, I am gonna be mean here, but I am gonna bet that I know more about the bible than pretty much 95% of American Christians, given how Christianity came ot the US and is taught there to this day. Again: Fully divorced from the cultural context.

And still, I wish it would not be that way. It would at least make Holiday movies a whole lot more interesting. Be it the ones about Santa dealing with Santa actually being a brown man, or the ones about Krampus dealing with my horny boy originating from men wanting to have a horned representation as well, while running around the alps during the winter months.

[ancha-aus]

:D :D :D

It is amazing.

It also shows the Dream really isn't the perfect warrior of light everyone expected him to be. He isn't the pure goodness and picture of forgiveness that people see him as.

He is just a guy who has been lying to himself and had the world lie to him. And this is the moment. This is the moment. He found the person who TOOK his brother from him. and he is going to make him pay and hurt for it.

And it is so important for Nightmare to see this. This is Dream. Dream changed over time. and Nightmare for a moment. Can only see Nim in Dream. (and maybe. just maybe. after Nightmare returned to being13. He realised... He ahd been terrified of his mother) But Nightmare can see that Dream isn't going to stop. He is going to murder his brother!

And Nightmare rushes over. Even after hearing these strange delutions about mindcontrol and tricking and manipulation.

He stands between the attacked and his brother. His mask gets hit and destroyed. But he stays right there as he tries to reason with Dream. Begs him to back off and not continue hurting Killer.

And dream? Dream just stares at Ngihtmare. Feels that it is him. and Drema just doens't care about Killer anymore. He knows that Killer will die thanks to those wounds. So he picks Nightmare up, and starts to leave.

ANd Ngihtmare struggles. Mostly because NO! He eneds to help Killer!! Killer needs help! But Dream just keeps walking. Taking Ngihtmare away. Ignoring what Nightmare is saying and what he wants for what Dream wants. (kinda like so long ago)

Killer being forced to just having to watch as Dream walks away with him. Nightmare begging him to let him go. Struggling to get to Killer. reaching for him. Killer trying so badly to move, speak ANYTHING to get his little brother back. To be able to protect his ltitle brother like he promised. But he is left there, unable to do the thing he swore he would do. THe thing he tried so badly to do. He failed Nightmare... (chara was right in the end. Killer can't do anything right with their help.)

I Think it fits that Error would be wiht the staff! Everyone knows Error isn't well known to people outside of the castle. So in case of attack people wouldn't expect him. Ccino just worries about that so he makes sure to grab Error in case of emergancies and keeps him wiht him. He needs to make sure Error doens't feel forced to have to fight. He is a kid! He shouldn't have to make that choice! (Error wants to watch over Ccino as doesn't have ways to fight. And so he stays close to protect him. Becuase that is something that nightmare would want!)

Ccino sees Killer and his crisis management skill activates. While Error is frozen and staring Ccino jumps to action and gets to Killer within seconds to start stop the bleeding. Meanwhile Error jsut stares because... that... that is so much blood... so muhc mana.... so much actual life force just... leaving him...

And Error knowing he can't heal that. Knowing that Geno couldn't even heal that. Maybe knowing that the healers won't even be able to heal that... But Ccino is keeping the wounds closed and Error does't want to acknowledge what he knows. That is Killer... Killer is the funny cat guy. He makes jokes and sneaks him chocolates. Killer will lay on the ground to let the cats stand on him... Killer cna't be... he can't be...

Then Ccino starts to pray of all things?! Error is shocked. because Ccino like Error himself is an atheist. Ccino was by Ngihtmare's side and even THAN ccino didn't treat Nightmare as a god. Why would he-

and he feels it. Something.... something eldritch. Soemthing otherwordly. It... sort of reminds im of the magic that fresh just showed up with one day but this one is different. Whatever magic fresh has feels weird but instable and new... this? this one feels... feels stable...fundamental in a way. the energy itself is weak like it is tired. but it is there... and it ANSWERS! It helps keep Killer whole because Ccino asked. The whole thing where people were calling ccino a miracle worker and how Rogers had so much respect for Ccino suddenly makes even more sense to Error. He kinda understood before becuas ehe saw how much Ccino does for eveyrone but this? this is beyond that.

Error remains quiet about it but can now kinda feel this presence. Now that he KNOWS it is there he can feel it. Tiny things that would shift or seem different now have an explanation. The way that after such a long long day there would be a bath waiting and ready for him. The fact that Ccino could be anywhere and everywhere in a speed which shouldn't be possible. The way that if the knights fell asleep in the living room the fire would keep burning and they owuld have blankets. Something else is watching over them... if only a little. or working wiht ccino to make him able to look after them even more.

ANd Error asks reaper. Reaper so confused because he never heard of it but he will ask life. and life writes error a letter about it. about there being these old legends and older magics that were rumoured to exist. how one was suposed to be in orchard but life never managed to find it. and error has an explanation. but aside from that he remaisn quiet. silently watching because he is curious how much stronger it will become. Becuase Error can FEEL the almost magical marker on Ccino. it isn't Ccino's magic and ccino clearly doens't notice. but the marker is there and it is from this weird magic. Error is watching. just to be sure it is fine.

Killer gasping awake. Ccino focussing on just him. Keep rbeahting. Look at me killer. Don't look away. You are okay. You are okay. And Killer just staring at Ccino. trying to do as told.

And then the knights rush in and Ccino keeps crisis managing like a champ. He sends Dust to get the healers (and Error could have SWORN that the servant pathway was on the other side of this room. Not where Dust just disappears into as Ccino points into that direction) and Horror lays Cross, also wounded, nearby. Cross who is still awake staring with panic at Killer. Killer still not all there.

Horror being the guard but seeing the broken mask. But knowing he needs to defend them at least until the normal guard gets here.

The healers and guards get there and Horror and dust get back to searching while the guards and healers take care of those left behind. the healers taking one look at killer and shocked he is alive but well.. .ccino is here...

I love the idea that life is the painful and harsh part in the comparison. So that if people get a choice they CHOSE to remain to experience it knowing there will be bad parts as well. I love that the Tree is just dragging Killer back like a disobient child "What did you think you were doign young man?! Ccino is worried sick! You don't get to just disappear somewhere and leave Ccino behind sad and confused. You will go right back to him and stay there! No dying!" and exactly. The tree is storing magic to heal and recover little by little. but Ccino was so hurt and scared and loves killer so much even if he doesn't want to admit it. the tree nods and just uses this saved energy to bring killer back to its favourite person. Ccino deserves to be happy and the tree doens't mind taking longer to recover.

I think. that when Ccino was holding the woudns close he may have gotten like a few tears in his sockets but nothing fell quite all the way. this boy is so used to stress and pain he knows he can't break down yet. He needs to keep going. So the tears were there but they didn't fall. but i LOVE the idea that ccino is by killer's bedside. Having a cry session there. Realising he failed with helping nightmare. that he almost lost killer. So much pain and fear just needs to leave his body. So he cries next to killer, killer who is kinda awake sees it and feeling things about ccino being there still. beign by his side. Making sure he was okay even after killer clearly failed. Knowign that Ccino still made sure that Killer survived even if Killer failed to protect Ccino's most important person... Killer has feeligns. (also. something about how ccino only has bad memories about being near healers because of nim before. How he is willingly staying by killer's side to make sure he is okay. That killer isn't alone.)

The knights after almost losing Killer having to figure out that Nightmare is gone. That Dream took their little brother and king. That Nightmare trusted them to protect him and they all failed. (Cross would feel so bad. He sees it as his mistake. If He had just fought Ink Drema may never had managed to get past him. Cross feels so guilty. He didn't follow the plan and training they had done and Nightmare got taken.)

The knights seeing that ccino is THIS close to his breaking point. But Ccino STILL managing stuff. Managing the castle. the people. the country?! (them realising that when nightmare said that ccino kept the country running while he got used to his power was not a hyperbole or anything. He was being factual. ANd ccino is doing it AGAIN)

thank you thakn you :D

They don't have TIME To send out searhc parties and search everywhere. They don't KNOW what dream has got planned (maybe they fear that dream will STILL try to do the apple ritual. Seeing as Nightmare was suposed to have it. Maybe they fear that Dream wants to continue it and get that power. Not knowing that nightmare lost it ages ago or not being wlling to see that nightmare CAN'T give it)

Error working for two weeks in a row before having to admit he can't do it. He can't make it big enough fast enough. And he is near tears because he is so frustrated and angry at himself and so tired and he just wants his best friend back. Dust offering that he can charge it. ANd Error doing the math. changing some stuff to be able to receive the magic/energy and repurpose it to do what it has. Adn Dust blasts it to to hell and back (the knights seeing some of Dust's magic FULL force. FUll of dust's frustration adn anger. BEcause even if he practices. he never felt this powerless and angry and frustrated in those training sessions) The spell does what it has to and they get a location.

Cross convincing them that he WILL come wiht. He can and will keep ink distracted. He will make sure of it. and with Ink busy Blue and Dream will be easy to deal with between Horror and Dust. and they give in.

I love the idea that Dust pulled it all back. He knows they need to be sneaky so he did what he has done a lot in the past. Disassociate and njot let himself feel things. He is on his horse and trusts the horse to get him where he needs to be. Cross is nervous but Horror reassures him. Horror explains to Cross that the storm as they call it is directly connected to Dust's emotions nad feelings. If they want to be stealthy. Dust NEEDS to keep a tight control over his own state of being.

And we mentioned it in the other bits but yes. Some people in camp saw that nightmare wasnt this evil king dream made him out to be. that is just a child. A young terrified child who is BEGGING Dream to leave his fmaily alone. To not hurt them. Eclipse seeing what he saw before. He sees Nim in Dream. He sees that Ngihtmare isn't like Nim. Eclipse knows that he and his family mean nothing to Dream beyond their usefull ness. Nightmare meanwhile isn't even begging to be released. he is just begging dream to leave them alone. and dream isn't listening.(Nightmare's actual mask may have been broken but the mask Dream held up for the people who followed him broke as well.)

So eclipse does what he can. He sees the lilttle group of knights and makes the others back off. he goes towards them and they talk. He listens and hears what horror is saying. they aren't here for anything but their king. Their little nightmare. eclipse nods nad leads them in. Right to where they can get to work and gets eveyrone else to back up and just let them. Do not interfere and you won't be hurt.

And he is right. becuase even after the fight. None of their stuff is hurt or damaged. No one is hurt beyond a warning zap which jsut gave them a sunburn kinda wound. Nothing gets stolen. All that gets taken are Dream, Ink and blue. and of course the young king.

and yes! they encountered ink 100% first. and ink tried to yell out but Cross immediantly moves right in fron tof him. Cross knows that if ink is distracted he wont call for back up. and ink is trying to reason with himself and wonder what he has to do or should do. and cross uses the distracting to control the other. put magical blockers on him. and make sure he can't move. Ink is shocked but all in all? no fighting.

Dust meanwhile is DONE playing nice. He is going to make you hurt and make sure you remember it. He is going to show you why you dont'fucking mess wiht him or his family. He sees Dream. and for the first time in his fucking life. Managed to fucking aim the lightning bolt and made sure that dream got hit with the full fucking force of the fuck you lightning spell. (the whole camp. Watching with terrified eyes as the fucking heavens open up to blast dream with so much lightning that they didn't even know was psosible. itw asn't even for jjust a second. it lasted for almost a full minute of pure lightning.) and then drema just... drops. friend and barely breathing. (the only reason drema isn't dead? Dust wanted it to HURT. and his intent was to MAKE dream hurt. you can't have someone be hurt and dead at the same time) and FRIEND!! tHe idea that dream has a lightning scar?! That his bones just has so many lightning scars running over them? i love it. It isn't just one either. if you look at the scar you see it has different ligthning patterns. making it obvious it wasn't just one lightning he got hit by. but lightning after lightning after lightning bolt. I do like the idea that with time the scars heal but for a long time and through his entire redemption arc. the scars are there. very loud about what happened.

Horror is using speed and the element of surprise. Hell maybe horro doesn't even summon his own axe. He remains wihtin close combat range and rains punches down on blue. Not giving him time to back up and summon his hamemr. Not giving him time to reach a weapon as Horror just fist fights him into submission. and then the lightning happens and blue is blinded while horror is used to the flahs and just continues hitting him. Blue looking over and seeing Dream out cold (stop the family guy pose is so funny!!) and blue is panicking. he can't focus on the battle and horror defeats him. Blue is restrained and put in the back.

Error meanwhile is rushing to search for nightmare. and nightmare!! who was going to use the moment of distraction to make a break for it! They collide and Error lays on top of ngihtmare nad he jsut confesses. I love you. I lvoe you adn wnat to be boyfriends. Meanwhile nightmare is distraught because 'error?! This is the worst time! Where are the others? Dream wants to kill them adn hurt them and-' nightmare is near tears nad error scraps the plan. Error doens't let himsefl feel the rejection as he helps nightmare up and back to the knights.

Hroror jsut holding Nightmare. ngihtmare sobbing and sobbing as he sniffs through his quesitons of where killer is. if they are hurt. and please dont'hate him for getting hurt because of him.

Horror holding their little brother close. reassuring him killer is okay. ccino got to him and kept him stable untilthe healers arrived. and nightmare? nightmare doens't think about it anymore. he must have remembered wrong how bad the wounds were then. and of course ccino would safe nightmare's brother. nightmare relaxes but refuses to let go of horror. Horror jsut keeps holding nightmare with an arm and holding him close. (the people who still believed nightmare to be an evil king? feel a lot less sure now. now that nightmare was sobbing and hugging and hiding hismelf in the arms of this trained warrior. how gentle this beast of a warrior was with the smaller skeleton... doubt is being spread about how evil this king is exactly.)

okay i just read the bit where ink willingly put on the dampers?! I loke that more than hism being put in restrains. Ink was okay with willingly stepping down adn being restrained. that is so much better for him! Amazing idea spot!

Ccino has many rought nightmares and honestly remaining near Killer helps. because he wakes with panic and sees that killer is okay and resting. it will take a while and honestly. it isn't until killer and ccino became a thing. Because then they start having sleepovers nad killer realises that ccino has many many night terrors. Killer holdign ccino as ccino softly admits what eh dreams are about. How many doubts and what if's haunt him. How keeping busy helps him. Killer just holding his boyfriend. promising hismelf to help ccino and protec thim better.

and yes! The sillies that is Ink and cross's friendship! The knights don't get it but cross seems so happy that ink just wants to hang out and play games so the gang just kidna, shrugs and lets him. It works best that way.

I don't think nightmare would pick which cells they would be in. this boy jsut wnet through a traumatic happening and he just wnats to sit by killer to make sure he is okay bad be hugging by ccino to feel safe. The knights would pick the cells. adn they would 100% put ink between blue and dream to minimise scheming. Blue hates it! Just let hims tay wiht dream! Please! He eneds to make sure dream is okay! (only for dust to smirk and lean close "Oh. so when we try to make sure nightmare is okay we are evil but when you try to make sure dream is okay it is nobel and right?" and blue stares because no? yes? it isn't... he is trying to protect the... the prince of light and rightful king and... Dust just slowly tiltlign his skull "And what lies have you exactly told yourself to believe those things?" and just. AH!) Dust just using some light sparks to make dream shut up. to intimidating him into shutting up. to show that dust doesn't need to be outside to do this lightning spell. That he WILL make him hurt again. (each tiem dust lights a spark Dream flinching and holding one of his now many new lightning scars)

Let Dust be a MENACE! Killer is his bestie/first brother/kinda chosen twin. and Kilelr almsot DIED. those fuckers stole his younger brother nighty AND seriously hurt cross!! Dust is pissed. and he used to work in crime rings and black market. this guy knows how to make someone HURT. both emotionally and physically.

Drema learning the truth. all the truth. realising that nightmar ehad been right from the very beginning. because before the ritual. after the ritual. to seperate them for both their safeties. when nightmare begged him to not hurt killer because killer didn't do any of those thigns!

all of it was true... and dream... dream killed his twin's protector. Someone who just wanted to protect nightmare. Dream killed him and made sure it hurt. He forced Ngihtmare away from him so he couldnt'help him.

Dream feels sick. He feels so guilty and sick to his core. Allt he truths about nim and what she did and how much she hurt people. How dream can see... he can see that he behaved JUST like her. The whole time. He was the one who continued the cycle of pain and abuse. Not ngihtmare.

and then killer just walks in. clearly still bandaged and healing (because his wounds were so serious it would take a long time to heal i think). to change shifts with dust. dust is unimpressed. he can hadnle a bit longer of a watch to make sure they do nothing. yu are suposed to be resting.

Dream is shcoked to see killer alive but so relieved. he didn't kill him! Drema didn't murder someone close to his brother! He smiles and tries to apologise.

When Kilelr hits him with another fact. that if it weren't for nightmare loving dream dream and his little kngiht would both be dead. they don't care baout him. they don't give a shit about dream. Adn drema eneds to stop acting as if he gives a shit about them because they know dream doens't. they know that dream only wants to hurt them and stela THEIR little brother. and they won't allow it.

And that was it! :D

Hey! The ask!! Lets see if i can manage to type everything i thought about in the time i got my break!!

So. I got thinking. (This was also a half baked drabble idea but didnt feel like making it a full one so you are getting the idea like this!! >:D)

We spoke about how Killer would be guarding Nightmare in the raid where Dream manages to steal him.

The problem is. If Killer can still move this guy WILL throw himself at Dream to save Nightmare. Meaning that Killer has to be mortally wounded. (Also works with why Nightmare rushes to shield his older brother)

So we got Killer just laying in whatever room Nightmare and him ahd been in. Probably slowly bleeding out.

On one hand. You can have the Knights run in right after. But then what is stopping them from splitting up, one part staying with Killer and one part rushing after Dream? And it has been YEARS since Dream last visited the castle. He may not remember everything quite right.

So... in theory. It should take more time for the Knights to get to Killer. But Killer is mortally wounded.

So. In comes!! Ccino (my beloved).

Ccino had been going towards killer and nightmare after helping the servants and maids evacuate or go to the bunker.

He gets there to see Killer pretty much laying there dying on the ground, Nightmare no where to be seen.

What does he do?

Ccino's crisis management skills activate. He wants to find Nightmare but he has no clue of where Nightmare went and he has no way to fight whoever took him. Killer is in front of him actively dying.

He goes to Kilelr's side.

Killer, the romantic idiot, probably realises he is fucking dying. So maybe he is like. Maybe i can confess? (Add some extra angst and make it that the hit was by either his neck or spine or soul. Making him unable to communicate)

Ccino is trying to keep the wound closed but he has no healing magic. He doenst even have first aid kit on him beyond the bare minimum. What does he do?

Well... he knows there is one being still in the castle. He does a little prayer and asks for help.

For Killer? Killer is slowly falling unconscious. He tried to confess but cant speak. He cant even apologise for failing everyone and losing Nightmare. At least Ccino is here in his last moments. He isnt alone. So he falls asleep.

Maybe some warm light guides him. A familiar voice that was once a friend? He tries to follow only to be stopped. Stopped by something sharp and pulling him down. Back into the darkness. It feels like when he fell into a bush. The way those thorns prick his bones.

Killer at first tries to follow the image of his friend (were they his friend? They saved him right? So why shouldnt he follow them?)

Only to hear so soft. So quietly from the darkness. 'Please dont let him die...'

And that sounds like Ccino... so Killer follows that voice. Goes into the darkness and it feels as if he traveled through a overgrown forest with sticks and stuff all pulling on his limbs.

And he wakes up. His skull in Ccino's lap as Ccino keeps the wound closed and did the best first aid he did. Moments later the Knights rush in to assist.

(Yes. The tree pulled Killer's soul back to the living side while the memories of chara were trying to pull killer into oblivion and get him to die)

Okay that is all. I wanted to get that out of my system.

Okay. Hi. As always, losing my everloving mind over this. Gonna make a Cut so it's easier to scroll hehe-

First off, you are SO right about Killer fighting till he physically can't move. I think that the combat between Dream and Killer is actually decently drawn out, because Dream is kinda in a frenzy (Storm growing outside + just obliterated Cross as far as he knows) and as a mostly long-range attacker it was stupid of him to try and fight Killer alone in a confined space. Killer's fast, and has a lot more to lose if he loses this fight (Nightmare is still hidden but low key stuck, and Dream is very adamant about ending his life) so he gets up close and personal for a while and lands quite a few solid attacks. However, Killer has also heard about Dream. He saw the distress on his little face when Cross admitted who had sent him and why. How Nightmare refused to send an assassination party to end things prematurely. This is Night's brother, so Killer won't kill him. As much as he wants to.

This leaves him at a direct disadvantage, and anytime he backs off to recoup Dream shoots arrows at him. (I also think he took a couple on purpose, because where he'd hidden Nightmare was the trajectory and he couldn't block it fast enough). And then, I like to think that when Killer gets in really close one time, Dream summons his blades, the ones he was still a novice with. But! One of Them peirces Killer's outer ring of his soul, and Dream jabs upwards (kinda using his other hand on the hilt to have more force) and wedges it into Killer's spine just past his ribcage. When Dream does this it his the magical equivalent of a vein, and when he shoves Killer away and off his blade, the other can only stay upright for a few stumbles before he teeters and falls onto his back.

Soul out in the open, covered in wounds (I like to think Dream's arrows peirce and burn), and now bleeding and seemingly paralyzed, Dream pulls out his bow again, ready to shoot Killer straight in his target soul. But, he's still selfish, and he wants to monolgue a bit, curse Killer (who he believes has been controlling his brother for so long) and shoots his hand, then a gash in his neck from a well-placed arrow, until he can see that dusty layer rising on Killer's bones signaling it'll be a slow death.

But, when he finishes cursing out Killer, is ready to fire the final shot? Nightmare had been hiding in a wardrobe, when Killer had stopped talking he'd gotten worried and peeked out against his better judgement. Now, with the scene, he rushes into the crossfire and, like we've discussed, the arrow ricochets off the mask and knocks it off, revealing Night in his teen form.

And it's a quick pleading, a desperate little plea from Nightmare not to kill Killer, or hurt his knights or the people. To just stop. And Dream, after his moment of shock + probing Night's emotions to find this really is him, scoops him up. His intention was to finish Killer off, but the storm outside roars louder and he can feel a strong emotion hurrying his way, so he decides to retreat. Killer should bleed out anyways.

And now finally to your point!!! Ccino is absolutely the best option! The Knights have no idea what's happening inside, and all they can. Do to help is keep Blue and Ink occupied. Cross is down for the count and looking rough, and they just have to trust that Killer got Night out or somewhere safe. Ccino? Ccino finished his part of the job, efficient af, and is rushing to go find Nightmare and Killer. He doesn't know Dream got in, he doesn't know quite where they'd be, but he can kinda sus it out based on carnage and wet steps in the halls where *soneone* got it. If they did, Killer would probably be stalling with Night nearby.

And like u said, he gets there and finds Killer actively dying, and crisis management kicks in! Ough everything about this moment is so perfect... Ccino never learned medicine, and has no healing magic, so he can only make Killer a little more comfortable and put pressure on his wounds to try and stop the bleeding. And he *sees* that soul injury. No matter how well he staunches the blood flow with his apron, that would surely kill him without treatment. And Killer seems to still be conscious, but barely. He's fading. And silent, which is deeply eerie and Wrong.

And good gods. Killer wanting so so bad to confess because, he's gonna die anyways so he wants to get it out, but he Literally can't say anything?? Wauhh!!!!!

And Ccino reaching out to the Veing in the castle... praying, begging for Killer to be saved, because Ccino refuses to leave him alone, and also refuses to lose him. Killer was Night's first knight, the most important person in that kid's world (Ccino doesn't count himself). All the Knights rely on Killer for guidance and support. Ccino needs Killer in his life, this idiot, this criminal, is somehow one of his favorite people in this castle. Please, please, please don't let him go. Keep him here until help arrives. *please*.

And the Castle obliges. Not only is Killer the one who protected Nightmare, the prince who is restoring this land, but Killer is one Ccino values. Ccino is here, stopping his wounds, begging for help to save a life. He hasn't done that before.

And!!! The description from Killer's perspective!!!!! For all intents and purposes, it seems the warm friendly voice (Chara!!!) Should be the one he follows. It's gentle, beckoning towards a soft glow, it's peaceful. And then the tree's method of getting Killer back is to snag him. Darkness, unpleasant contact that stabs and pricks and scratches. It's not nice, it's not subtle, it's dragging him back into pain and agony of his injuries (even if it's not immediate). But Killer doesn't fight because he hears Ccino! Even if he doesn't process that it's him, it unlocks something in his core that makes him decide to take the hard route and push back through that dense forest until he's back to the living realm. Still on death's door, but alive!

Oh I love this visual so dearly, frothing at the mouth about it....

And ofc the aftermath. Dream couldn't find the main entrance, so he snuck out a servant's door and signaled from outside that he was ready to go. The militia (I think the guard was busy holding off militia members from entering the castle walls) retreats first, scattering into town and Rogers demands no pursuit, hold the walls strong. Then Blue and Ink narrowly escape by simply using Ink's magic puddles, appearing somewhere else in the city through a big enough rain puddle. (Though, miles out they're still dodging the occasional lightning strike).

Only after they're too far off do the knight rush back. Horror's got Cross (in critical condition due to a blow to the side of his ribs+spine but ultimately stable) and Dust leads the way to search for Night and Killer, also following the trail Dream had left, and... they find Ccino and Killer. Killer is very very much limp in Ccino's lap, they're basically sitting in a pool of Killer's blood, and Ccino upon spotting them rapidly tells Dust to go find a healer and bring them here. Immediately.

Horror sets Cross nearby and focuses his efforts on trying to help Ccino put pressure on Killer's wounds but he can't do much either.

But, y'know, the healers who have magic for it are able to stabilize him (they are flabbergasted that he's not dead) and Cross is alright too. Dust + Horror go searching for Night. Nowhere to be found.