#listen i know it's all nick kringle this and nick kringle that

[alexturner]

I don't know if I'm ready. You know what I'm really scared of? Some kid's gonna wake up, look at me, and say, "You're not Santa."

NOELLE (2019), dir. Marc Lawrence.

[bonniebird]

Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad

“I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, waiting to be kissed.” - Archie Andrews

“Guess who signed us up to go Christmas caroling?” - Stiles Stilinski

“I hate winter.” - Eragon Bromsson

“I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, waiting to be kissed.” - Theo Raeken & Rebekah Mikaelson

“I wish we could put some of the Christmas spirit in jars and open a jar of it every month.” - Bucky Barnes

“We’re snowed in…” - Illya Kuryakin

“Surprise! I’m your Christmas present.” - Stefan Salvatore

“Listen here, Kringle. I may have gotten naughty this year, but by today's standards, naughty's nothing! I didn't get anybody pregnant, I didn't Facebook a kid to death.”  - Wade Wilson

“Want a cookie?” - Abby Arcane

Christmas with Theo Raeken {Moodboard}  - Theo Raeken

“We’re snowed in…” - Dean Winchester

“Wow. So, what time is the Ghost of Christmas Past coming to visit you tonight?” - Wade Wilson

Christmas with Marko {Moodboard}  - Marko (The Lost Boys) 

Christmas with David {Moodboard}  - David (The Lost Boys) 

“Umm just so you know, I’m kind of stuck in the Christmas lights.”  - Sam Winchester

“The price limit was 20 dollars!”  - Elijah Mikaelson

“Chaos has come again.” - Prudence Blackwood

“Surprise! I’m your Christmas present.” - Lydia Martin

“Aww, too bad Santa's dead.” - Klaus Mikaelson

“You can’t put alcohol in the hot chocolate.” - Eragon Bromsson

“Tell me this, sweetheart, have I asked you for a lot this year?” - Kol Mikaelson

“Is that mistletoe hanging from the light?”  - Elijah Mikaelson

"Why are you even worrying? The kid's just going to ignore the toy and play with the box."  - Derek Hale

“Wow. So, what time is the Ghost of Christmas Past coming to visit you tonight?” - Theo Raeken & Rebekah Mikaelson

"Love the giver more than the gift." - Scott McCall 

"Only two weeks left till Christmas!" - Dorcas Night

“We’re snowed in…” - April Ludgate

“Tell me this, sweetheart, have I asked you for a lot this year?”  - Damon Salvatore

“I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, waiting to be kissed.” - Victor Zsasz

“That was like a crazy trust exercise.” - Napoleon Solo

“I hate winter.” - Dorcas Night

“Umm just so you know, I’m kind of stuck in the Christmas lights.”  - Prudence Blackwood 

“I knew you'd forget, so my gift to you is a gift for you to give me.” - Prudence Blackwood

“I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, waiting to be kissed.”  - Dorcas Night

“Is that mistletoe hanging from the light?” - Michael Langdon

“You cannot do what you did last year.”  - Nick Scratch

“Please stop singing Christmas songs.” - Sweet Pea

“You can’t put alcohol in the hot chocolate.” - Dean Winchester

“I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, waiting to be kissed.” - Sweet Pea

“Three days before Christmas and somebody kills Santa!” - Sam Winchester

"Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone." - Castiel

"I got this, I watch food network." - Dean Winchester

“Umm just so you know, I’m kind of stuck in the Christmas lights.” - Isaac Lahey

Christmas with Stiles Stilinski {Moodboard}  - Stiles Stilinski

“Surprise! I’m your Christmas present.” - Rebekah Mikaelson & Theo Raeken

“That was like a crazy trust exercise.” - Kol Mikaelson

"Only two weeks left till Christmas!" - Daenerys Targaryen

“Is that mistletoe hanging from the light?” - Prudence Night

“Time to deck the halls with your incompetence.” - Peggy Carter

“This is extremely important. Will you please tell Santa that instead of presents this year, I just want my family back.” - Starlight

"Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone."  - Aziraphale 

“Put that cookie down. NOW!” - Sherlock Holmes (BBC)

"Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone." - Sherlock Holmes (BBC)

“It's just a bit of a tradition at Christmas parties that I have with my friends. See, we do a cookie competition, and then the winner gets to take home all of the leftovers to their families on Christmas Day.” - Clark Kent (HC) 

Christmas with Dean Winchester {Moodboard} - Dean Winchester

Christmas with Sam Winchester {Moodboard} - Sam Winchester

“I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, waiting to be kissed.” - Tommy Shelby

Christmas with Theo Raeken and Rebekah Mikaelson {Moodboard} - Theo and Rebekah

Christmas with Monica Geller {Moodboard} -  Monica Geller

Christmas with Rachel Green {Moodboard} -  Rachel Green

“Surprise! I’m your Christmas present.”  - Diego Hargreeves 

“Hands down, this is the best day of my life. And quite possibly the last.”  - Theo Raeken & Rebekah Mikaelson

Christmas with Johnny Storm {Moodboard}  - Johnny Storm

Christmas with Draco Malfoy {Moodboard}  - Draco Malfoy

“What to get the Shadowhunter who has everything.”  - Simon Lewis and Isabelle Lightwood

“Tell me this, sweetheart, have I asked you for a lot this year?” - Bonnie Bennett

“Is that mistletoe hanging from the light?” - David Rossi

“Surprise! I’m your Christmas present.” - Theo Raeken

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."  - Jojen Reed

Christmas with Sherlock Holmes {Moodboard}  - Sherlock (BBC)

Christmas with John Constantine {Moodboard}  - John Constantine

“Umm just so you know, I’m kind of stuck in the Christmas lights.” - Buffy Summers

“Tell me this, sweetheart, have I asked you for a lot this year?” - April Ludgate

Christmas with Nick Miller {Moodboard}  - Nick Miller

"You have such a pretty face. You should be on a Christmas card." - Rebekah Mikaelson & Theo Raeken

“You ruined my favourite Christmas sweater!” - Modern!Ivar Ragnarsson

Christmas with Sweet Pea {Moodboard}  - Sweet Pea

"This is Christmas spirit, as in spirits, booze." - Dean Winchester

“Christmas is just so stressful... with the lists and the lines and-and the dancing girls at TV Town Song Room." - Dean Winchester

“It's Christmas Eve! Who's going out crashing other people's Christmas parties?” - Dean Winchester

"If I hear this song one more time there will be blood." - Steve Rogers

“I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, waiting to be kissed.” - Derek Hale

“Put that cookie down. NOW!” - Rowena McCleod

“Do you want to build a snowman?” - Jughead Jones

“Put that cookie down. NOW!” - Joey Tribbiani

“Surprise! I’m your Christmas present.” - John Constantine

“I hate winter.” - Mick Rory

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re trying to do. But you will not ruin my Christmas. Not again. Not this year.”  - Jason Todd

“You and I on the same team. It must be Christmas.” - Ava Sharpe

"You have such a pretty face. You should be on a Christmas card." - Barbara Kean

“Aww, too bad Santa's dead.” - Gina Linetti

“Umm just so you know, I’m kind of stuck in the Christmas lights.” - Draco Malfoy

Christmas with Derek Hale {Moodboard}  - Derek Hale

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” - Jughead Jones

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re trying to do. But you will not ruin my Christmas. Not again. Not this year.”  - Rosalie Hale

“Put that cookie down. NOW!”  - Sweet Pea

“Hands down, this is the best day of my life. And quite possibly the last.” - Jerome Valeska

“Umm just so you know, I’m kind of stuck in the Christmas lights.” - Stiles Stilinski

“You can’t put alcohol in the hot chocolate.”  - Spencer Reid 

"Call me elf one more time!" - Theo Raeken & Rebekah Mikaelson

Christmas with Remus Lupin {Moodboard}  - Remus Lupin

“You can’t put alcohol in the hot chocolate.”  - Damon Salvatore

“Put that cookie down. NOW!” - Norma Bates

“Umm just so you know, I’m kind of stuck in the Christmas lights.” - Ambrose Spellman

Christmas with Peter Hale {Moodboard}  - Peter Hale 

"Love the giver more than the gift." - Fred Weasley

Christmas with Roman Godfrey {Moodboard}  - Roman Godfrey

“Surprise! I’m your Christmas present.” - Sweet Pea

“Surprise! I’m your Christmas present.” - George Weasley

“Put that cookie down. NOW!”  - Peter Maximoff

"Love the giver more than the gift." - Jughead Jones

"You have such a pretty face. You should be on a Christmas card." - Ron Weasley

[smolsimonpegg]

Who really plays Chris Kringle?

CALLING EVERYONE WHO ENJOYS HATCHETFIELD THEORIES

Okay listen, I remember scrolling long ago and someone was talking about how they believe Ethan is the one who plays Chris Kringle in Santa Claus Is Goin’ To Highschool. I’ve always thought that was a cool and amazing idea! It would make sense he would find something to do so he could raise up money for California. But I just discovered something that makes me think Ethan isn’t the actor behind Chris.

I guess a few things need to be said before I get into everything. These theories wouldn’t exist if Darren had played Chris Kringle, no matter I’m sure we all would have enjoyed that little musical inside a musical. But due to his schedule, Robert Manion was thrown into the role. Which has us now guessing which character was the actor for Chris Kringle.

So many signs point to it being Ethan, mainly because he was the main Robert character (other than Chris) that was in Black Friday. But a cameo at the end seemed a little... out of place. That cameo being..

Hot Chocolate Boy! (HCB for short)

LISTEN! I know this is a long shot, but it seemed a little weird to me that they just threw him in just because Black Friday was set in “Hatchetfield”. Sure, there are other characters that are both in The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals. They all got big parts in songs, but they only threw HCB at the end? Why not also give him a few speaking lines? It had always sat weird with me, and not only until now will I understand why.

A little off track to help tie things together. As someone who is making a Chris Kringle cosplay AND writing a Santa Claus Is Goin’ To High School plot fic, I needed to know what Chris’ costume was! I, at first, only figured that he would be wearing red converse to match his color scheme. So I went back and watched the video for Deck The Halls (Of Northville High) because I know his shoes are shown a few times. (GIF of shoes below)

Upon looking at these shoes in detail, they started to look familiar. I was desperately trying to figure it out. It took me a few minutes before my brain clicked on what it needed to! Those are the same shoes that Robert wore for HCB in The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals! (Proof below)

Now some can say “its a costume choice, was more than likely very easy to switch shoes. Especially since Ethan wears boots, those would take up more time than these slip on shoes!” You’re probably right, these shoes are probably much easier to slip in and out of. But that begs the question, why the SAME shoes? I know there could be MANY answers to this, but I’m taking it as it was a little nod. A nod to the idea that Hot Chocolate Boy is the actor behind Chris Kringle!

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Eggy, that’s insane.. way too far.” Again, you’re probably right.. BUT I full believe in this theory for a few reasons. Reason one, being the shoes as I just spouted above! Reason Number two, Robert used similar voices for them.

I use the word “similar” very lightly. HCB’s voice is a bit more high pitched and cracky, I have reasons as to why his voice could have changed so much for Chris Kringle. Well, as one gets older their voice gets deeper. No matter what men’s voices are always dropping. There are many examples of this if you go searching. You could always look at your favorite TV show for example. Watch the first episode, do the voices seem a little weird? Its because voices are always changing.

Now, it might not only be the fact that HCB’s voice is getting deeper. It could also be that HCB knows how to make voices and decided a different kind of voice would fit Chris Kringle more than his normal voice. “That’s a little much” you may say, but Robert does it! Whether its in the script or not, Robert still uses different voice rather than his normal voice. But still, there are mannerisms that one cannot get away from, and from analyzing both HCB’s (0:12) and Chris Kringle’s (1:35) voices I’ve come to realize they have similar mannerisms. Chris’ voice also cracks in a few places where HCB’s voice would as well.

These could all just be coincidences, simple writing that I’m overthinking. But the thought that they are slowly making HCB’s character a little bigger, really has me excited (even if it isn’t true). Nick Lang did also say HCB was going to be a bigger character later on as well! Maybe this is just the start up! So this is my theory that Hot Chocolate Boy is actually the actor behind Chris Kringle, thank you for reading my chaos.

[themadauthorshatter]

It's September, witches, bitches, and litches(I'mso sorry for any offense, I was trying to be funny!)!

Let's see what mischief is in for the Skellington triplets this time!!!!

It is the next day in sunny Halloween Town and Jacob has been let off the hook for the day's meeting, so Jack and the Mayor can discuss something in private.

That leaves Jacob free to do whatever he pleases!

WITH LUNA AND DAEMON AT HIS SIDE.

He asks why they're following him and Luna states sharply that Jack told her to keep an eye of Jacob so he doesn't do anything crazy. That makes sense, but why is Daemon following?

He's BORED.

Jacob's glad to hear that, at least, because he's going to keep his brother entertained with an exploration around town, specifically what's on the outer limits of the town.

Luna warns him against it and Daemon's skeptical, but neither are able to stop Jacob as he slips through the bars of the town gate, explaining that they should stop him, then.

Daemon follows because he's bored, but Luna also follows, very reluctant.

Jacob teases her, asking if she's afraid.

She's not afraid. She doesn't want to get in trouble, lest they forget how mad their parents get when they misbehave.

Jacob corrects her: They don't get in trouble, if they don't do something they're not supposed to.

Luna, fed up, asks if he's been hanging around those bastards Lock, Shock, and Barrel, who are listening behind some tombstones and are all very offended by Luna's insult toward them.

And Jacob's response that no, he'd never go within a mile radius of those three reprobates, not with being the next Pumpkin King amd his father on his back.

Luna asks if he DOESN'T WANT to be his father's heir and Jacob kicks up a stick, asking back if SHE'D like the position instead.

She doesn't, because Jacob is the eldest, therefore making him the heir by tradition. And he's a boy, which us another strike against her.

Daemon reminds them both that tradition and gender be damned, they're ALL the same age. Imagine a Halloween with all three of them after Jack steps down.

Jacob muses that it sounds like fun while Luna sighs that she'll be the ring leader of two out of control hell hounds that are her brothers.

Daemon gawks at her, because he doesn't even take his EYES off of the line, much less set a toe outside of it, so how dare she.

Before she can correct him, Jacob dashes up a hill and stands still, staring long enough for his siblings to catch up.

Turns out they found the treehouse Lock, Shock, and Barrel reside in, and where Oogie Boogie used to be.

Luna is a little freaked out at the fact that it has now started to fall apart and Daemon, who pulled himself up to look, dips back down because he heard rumors that there have been a alot of bugs that remained and are still residing there to this day.

Jacob asks, a little nervously, where these rumors came from and who's been saying them.

Daemon shrugs, admitting he just heard it from Corpse Kid and Vampire Kid and it just stuck with him because some bugs are kind of hard to kill.

And then there's the fact that Lock, Shock, and Barrel are still hanging around, for some stupid reason.

Luna hugs herself and notes that knowing WHO lived there, under the house, and what he did, it doesn't make any easier to look at, even with the knowledge that he's gone by their father's hand.

And Santa's boot, which Daemon adds before sighing that he'd actually like to meet old Saint Nick one day, if it's okay with Jack and Chris Kringle himself.

Those words make Jacob's uneasy look turn to determination as he clenches a fist; now he doesn't just want to exceed Jack and everyone else, he wants his brother to meet Santa Clause.

He's also mentally wondering how he missed the woods with the doors, seeing as how he knows the town very well by his age, even semi-hallucinating/visualizing a map he'd drawn to find the holiday doors.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when he hears Daemon shrieking and falling down the hill.

Turns out a butterfly is flying around him and won't leave him alone no matter how hard he tries to smack it away.

He shouts for either of his siblings to kill the butterfly because it's trying to kill him.

Luna pulls him up and swats it away, givung a sound of disgust because while she likes wearing dresses and playing with her hair, she's not a fan of things like butterflies.

She calls for Jacob, asking if he's coming, because Jack's bound to be finished with his meeting by now and is probably looking for them.

Jacob nods and follows them, after one last look at the treehouse and watching the butterfly circle him before flying away.

Luna was half right, Jack IS done with the meeting and is looking for them, except he brought Sally and Zero with him.

He asks where they've been, and Daemon somewhat saves Jacob's ass by saying they were looking for something interesting and found nothing, except for a good walk.

Somewhat because when asked what they were looking for specifically, he replies by offering the encounter with a killer butterfly.

Jack asks him to repeat so he KNOWS he heard that Daemon was attacked by a BUTTERFLY.

He was, and it did not help that Luna and Jacob stood by and did not help him in the slightest.

Sally, not buying this BS and genuinely curious, asks where their walk took them, while they walk home.

Luna offers an answer, which Jacob would know.

Jacob bites that she was there, too, so she should answer.

She would, but all she did was follow him, so his call.

Jack tells them to not argue because all they want to know is where they went, not if they had some sort of competition. He and Sally are asking because good on them for exploring a little and they want to know what their kids are up to.

Jacob relents and says they were just wandering until they accidentally found the old treehouse. They didn't go inside. They just went there and saw it from the outside, that's all.

Daemon backs his brother, saying they found it on accident and turned around, because it's evil.

Sally calms him by explaining the place itself is not evil, but kudos to the teiplets for no going in to explore.

Luna asks if it's because of all the bugs and Jack explains it is not because of the bugs. It's because he doesn't want them going in and getting trapped there with no way out, and doesn't want Lock, Shock, and Barrel to be anywhere near them because those three are still living in the house.

Jacob is silent as he listens, zoning out and thinking about the rumors and the fact his brother is probably going to be in on the idea of finding the holiday doors.

While the family continues home, the butterfly we saw earlier flies over to a crouching Lock, Shock, and Barrel, whispering into Lock's ear about what it found.

Shock asks what it's saying and Lock explains that they found their way of helping out their old friend, said way being a zoned out Jacob as the family returns to town.

With a bonehead even more clueless than Jack, it'll be easy to bring Oogie back, they just need to get him to walk a little further away than he should and they've got him.

Barrel, in a moment of realization, asks if they should really ask JACOB for help.

Sure, it'd hurt Jack the most, because Jacob's the eldest, and he's really good at sewing, but that's qhen he needs to keep his hands busy, and he's walked into trees mutiple times, sat and stared at a wall for hours on end, accidentally lit himself on fire, and made a bookshelf fall on top of him. To sum it up: he puts the E in idiot, for a guy who's his father's son.

He offers they go for Luna instead, who's worked in Dr. Finklestien's office the most, is very meticulous in her sewing, and is the only girl, so they can use that to draw her to them. Shock explains why THAT is a bad idea: Luna is not stupid. She has been sharp enough to see when people lie to her, just like Sally, and is the most obedient out of all three triplets, so she's a no go.

Okay, okay, that leaves the youngest, and arguably easiest to deal with, Daemon.

HA! Fools! They have never heard the series Pirates of The Caribbean, which Daemon watched on marathon on one Halloween night, or a particular man named Captain Jack Sparrow.

Five words:

Genius diguised as a fool.

Lock laughs and states the two of them are lying, because he's only seen Daemon following his brother and sister or either if his parents. There's no way he's a genius.

Shock challenges Lock, then, asking him to try and talk to Daemon and also try to get him to do something Lock wants him to do, maybe try pranking him.

We end with the triplets with their parents, Sally braiding Luna's hair while Luna vigorously sews a horned hat for Daemon, who's writing and solving math problems, while Jacob and Jack look over Halloween plans.

Jack notices that Jacob looks confused about something and asks what's on his mind.

The question turns everyone's heads:

Who lived under the treehouse, what happened to said person, and why did it happen?

[caramel-the-christmas-elf]

December 16th, 2020

Holly Nutmeg and I told Gingersnap about Vincent yesterday evening, as a kind of gauge to see how our parents would react. Gingersnap did not take the news well. She kept talking about how Mainland elves are dangerous and how I should stop talking to him before I get hurt. She didn't want to listen to anything else, didn't want to hear that Vincent isn't like that.

Gingersnap's reaction made me really nervous to tell Mom, Aunt Glimmer, and Uncle Kringle. I did, though, right after work last night. I was hoping everyone would be too tired from work to make much fuss. I told them the whole story, including how much I like Vincent and that I'm not going to stop talking to him, no matter how they react. They were all really quiet at first, then told me something I never could have guessed. My dad was half Mainland elf.

I'm still trying to process that. I don't remember much about my dad. I knew he grew up on the Mainland, only coming to the North Pole when he was a teenager, but he always told everyone he was half human.

Mom pulled me aside and told me that she knows there are good Mainland elves, and that she'd give Vincent a chance. That's all I ask. She's going to ask Santa if we (Holly Nutmeg's family, too) can take a family trip to the Mainland after Christmas so they can all meet Vincent. I'm going to wait until after I get a solid answer to bring it up to Vincent.

Oh yeah. Santa's coming to the candy department tomorrow morning for an inspection. Frost told me to behave myself. I promised I would (I always do). I just hope Nick doesn't try to get me in trouble. -🍭💖 Mel

@north-pole-journals

[bechloeislegit]

25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2019

DAY 17 - SANTA'S DAUGHTER

Prompt from FanFiction User ChrisM92: My idea is inspired by the new movie Noelle that Anna Kendrick just did. [See the end for the full prompt.]

"What do you mean Nick is gone?" Mrs. Kringle asked.

"I mean. Nick. Is. Gone," Beca responded. "No one has seen him around the Pole and no one knows where he is. He took the sleigh."

"This can't be happening," Mrs. Kringle said, pacing around the room. "Your father must be turning in his grave over this."

"What does that mean?" Beca asked. "Turning in his grave?"

Mrs. Kringle stopped and looked at Beca. "It means, he would be upset that this is happening."

"Oh, right," Beca said. "What are we going to do?"

"We aren't going to do anything," Mrs. Kringle said. "You, Rebecca Noelle Kringle, are going to go out and find your brother."

"ME?" Beca yelled her mouth agape. "Why me?"

"You're his sister," Mrs. Kringle replied. "He listens to you. You need to find him and bring him back home. Christmas is a little over a week away and we still have a lot to do."

"How am I supposed to find him? He took the sleigh."

"I don't know, but you'll have to figure out something."

Just then an elf ran into the room. "Santa's sleigh just came back. It was set to auto-pilot. There is no sign of Santa."

The elf ran out with Beca and Mrs. Kringle right behind him. They got to the middle of town and there was Santa's sleigh and all eight reindeer.

Beca rushed to the sleigh and climbed on board. She pushed some buttons and looked at the GPS.

"The last place the sleigh was is Barden, Georgia," Beca told her mother. "That must be where Nick went."

"You know what you must do," Mrs. Kringle said.

Beca sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I'll let the reindeer rest and leave tomorrow."

Beca jumped off the sleigh and looked around at the elves, looking to her for instructions on what to do.

"Unhitch the team and get them fed," Beca said. "Clean up the sleigh and make sure to check everything. I want this sleigh ready to go first thing tomorrow morning."

The elves started rushing around to accomplish their tasks. Mrs. Kringle looked at Beca with a proud smile.

"That was very Santa-ish of you," Mrs. Kringle said. "If you can't convince Nick to come, we may have already found our new Santa."

Beca couldn't say anything; she just stared after her mother as she walked back toward their house.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

"I have something for you," Elf Polly said, waking Beca the next morning.

"If it isn't some hot cocoa with a peppermint stick," Beca mumbled. "I'm not interested."

"Get up!" Polly said, grabbing Beca's foot and pulling her off the bed.

"Really?" Beca asked. "That's how you treat the next possible Santa?"

"Yes, it is," Polly said. "Now put this on."

"Is that my dad's suit?"

"Yes. I altered it to fit you."

"Why?"

"Because you need Santa's magic to help you find Nick and bring him home."

"Can I at least have breakfast first?"

"It's right there," Polly said, pointing out the tray next to Beca's bed.

Beca sat up and looked across the bed. "Thanks," she said and jumped onto the bed to get to the food.

Polly stood patiently waiting as Beca ate. Beca swallowed the last of her cocoa and let out a sigh of contentment.

"Get dressed," Polly said. "Everyone is waiting for you."

Beca took the suit and put it on. It fit her very well. She pulled on her boots and smoothed down the jacket.

"Don't forget this," Polly said, holding out Santa's hat.

"Wouldn't leave home without it," Beca said sarcastically.

Polly left the room and Beca followed. They made it to the sleigh and Beca checked everything before climbing on board. She set the GPS for Barden, Georgia, the last known location of the sleigh before it returned to the North Pole.

"We are a week away from Christmas," Mrs. Kringle told Beca. "You don't have much time to find Nick and get him back here so he can prepare for Christmas night."

"Got it," Beca said. She sang out and looked around. "Hmph." She sang out again and looked around. "Come on, Snow Cone! I can't do this without you!"

Suddenly, around the corner came a small, white reindeer. Snow Cone hopped into the sleigh with Beca and bounced around happily.

"Do you think it wise to take him with you?" Mrs. Kringle asked.

"Barden looks like a small town but it has a lot of places Nick could be," Beca said. "Snow Cone can track Nick."

"Okay," Mrs. Kringle said. "Take good care of him."

"I will," Beca said. She looked down at the tiny reindeer and asked, "Are you ready, Snow Cone?"

Snow Cone bleated and hopped up and down.

"Here goes nothing," Beca said. "Everyone clear?" she asked as she looked around the sleigh.

"All clear," a voice rang out.

"On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen," Beca called out, holding onto the reins. "On Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen."

The reindeer began to run and soon the sleigh was in the air. Beca smiled as they were on their way.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

"Okay, guys," Beca called out to the reindeer. "We're near Barden and we need to find a place to land and hope no one sees us."

Beca looks down and notices a clear area in some woods and guides the sleigh to it. The landing is a bit bumpy, but all in all, not bad for her first solo run. Beca hops out of the sleigh with Snow Cone at her side. She walks to the front and looks at the team.

"Okay," Beca said. "I'm going to unhitch you so you can graze in this field. But you must stay in this area so we can make a quick getaway when I find Nick. Understand?"

The reindeer looked back at her, eyes blinking.

"I'll take that as you understand," Beca said.

Beca unhitched the team and checked her watch.

"Come on, Snow Cone," Beca said. "Barden is this way."

Beca walked for about half an hour before she came to what appeared to be a college. She stopped and looked around. She knelt next to Snow Cone.

"Okay, Snow Cone," Beca said. "I need you to track Nick. Find his scent. Go ahead."

Snow Cone stuck his nose in the air and started sniffing around. He suddenly started jumping up and down.

"Did you find his scent?" Beca asked and Snow Cone turned in circles. "Great! Lead the way."

Snow Cone took off with Beca following closely behind. They turned a corner and there were people all around.

"Halloween's over, numbnuts," a guy called out to her, laughing.

Beca looked back at the guy and frowned. "Halloween?"

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

A lot of people looked at Beca like she was crazy. A few made some comments; some of which made Beca blush.

It was getting dark and Beca still hadn't found Nick. She was also getting tired.

"Come on, Snow Cone," Beca said. "Let's get back to the sleigh. It's getting late and we need to sleep somewhere."

Beca checked her watch to locate the sleigh. "The sleigh is that way," Beca said, looking down at Snow Cone and pointing in the direction they needed to go.

Beca turned and bumped into someone. She grabbed their arms to keep them from falling.

"Whoa," Beca said. "Are you okay? Sorry about that I didn't see you."

"M'fine," a voice slurred.

Beca looked at the woman closely and couldn't help but smile. She was very pretty.

"Chloe Beale," Beca said, somehow knowing that was the woman's name.

The woman looked at Beca. "Do I know you?"

"Um, no," Beca said. "I'm Beca and I know you. You've been on Santa's Nice List since you were born."

"Is that supposed to be some pick-up line?" Chloe asked. "It's pretty lame although I must give you kudos for wearing the Santa suit to really sell it."

"Sell it?" Beca asked. "Sell what?"

"I have to go," Chloe said and turned to leave, only gravity had other ideas and she fell to the ground.

Beca rushed to her side. "Are you okay?"

"Don't mind me," Chloe said. "I'll just sleep here."

Beca looked at the woman again and checked her watch. She reached down and lifted Chloe, holding her bridal style.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take you home."

"Oh. Okay," Chloe said and promptly passed out.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Beca managed to get Chloe to her apartment and gently laid her on the sofa. Beca looked around and frowned. The place was just one room with a small kitchen area and what appeared to be a bathroom through the only door Beca saw.

"Our list said Chloe Beale is a veterinarian," Beca mumbled. "I'd think she'd be able to live better than this."

Beca looked at her watch and clicked a few links. "Oh," Beca said. "Wow, she's had a bad year. Someone sued her because their dog died when Chloe performed surgery on him. They won and Chloe's vet license was revoked. But, it says here there was nothing she could do. The dog was too badly injured. That doesn't seem right."

Chloe stirred and mumbled before settling down. Beca looked at her.

"You've lost your Christmas spirit," Beca said, somewhat awed. "I'm going to help you get it back. Well, as soon as I find Santa, my brother."

Beca took the blanket off the back of the sofa and gently placed it over Chloe. She then looked around the apartment and found another blanket and a pillow. She made a bed on the floor and laid down.

"Come on, Snow Cone," Beca said. "It's time to sleep."

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Beca was awakened the next morning by a shrill scream. She jolted up and looked around to find Chloe standing over her with a large frying pan in her hand.

"Wh-who are you?" Chloe asked. "And what are you doing in my apartment?"

"Oh," Beca said, jumping up to face Chloe. Chloe took a step back, holding the frying pan like a weapon. "I'm Beca. Santa's daughter."

"Oh, God," Chloe said, shaking her head as if trying to make things clear. "I must still be drunk."

"You were last night," Beca said. "You passed out so I carried you home."

Snow Cone started bleating and hopping around. He rose into the air in front of Beca and Beca pulled him to her.

"What the hell is that?" Chloe asked, looking at Snow Cone.

"This is Snow Cone," Beca said, smiling. "He's a reindeer in training."

"I think I need another drink," Chloe mumbled.

"No, you don't," Beca said.

Beca put Snow Cone down on the floor and took a step toward Chloe. Chloe took two steps away from Beca.

"I get it," Beca said, holding up her hands to show she wasn't dangerous. "You've lost your Christmas Spirit and don't believe in Santa. I'm here to help you get it back. And to find my brother, who really is Santa."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Ask me anything about Christmas."

"What did I ask Santa for when I was six years old?"

Beca checked her watch and frowned. "I'm sorry Santa wasn't able to bring your grandmother back. He's magical but he can't bring back someone who has died. And, I'm sorry for your loss."

Chloe's eyes widened. "How do you know that?" she whispered. "I never told anyone about that."

"Santa's daughter here," Beca said, pointing to herself. "I'm not lying about that."

Chloe lowered the frying pan and sat down on the sofa. "I must be in some kind of alcohol-induced dream. Ow! Why did you pinch me?"

"To let you know this is not a dream," Beca said, sitting next to Chloe. "I'm really Santa's daughter and I'm here to help you."

Chloe ran a hand through her hair. "I used to love Christmas. But, this last year has taken a toll on me."

"I know," Beca said. "I'm going to help you get your Christmas Spirit back. I also need your help to find my brother or there won't be a Christmas."

"How can I help you find your brother?"

"Snow Cone can track him," Beca said. "I need your help to fit in so we aren't recognized."

Chloe looked at Beca's Santa suit and smiled. "We need to get you some different clothes."

Beca looked down at her suit. "You don't like my clothes?"

"They're perfect if you want people staring at you," Chloe said. "But if you want to find your brother, you need to dress like everyone else."

"How do I do that?"

"I'll lend you some of my clothes," Chloe said.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

An hour later, Beca and Chloe had both showered and Chloe had given Beca some of her clothes. Beca looked down at her outfit.

"This is what everyone is wearing?" Beca asked. "The jeans have rips and tears in them."

"That's the way we wear them," Chloe said, looking Beca up and down. "You look cute in my clothes."

"Oh, um, thank you," Beca said, blushing.

"Let's get some breakfast and discuss how you plan to find your brother," Chloe said.

Chloe grabbed her jacket and went to the door. She looked over to see Beca still standing where she left her.

"Let's go," Chloe said, putting her jacket on. "We only have six days to find your brother."

"Oh, right," Beca said and moved toward Chloe. Snow Cone followed her, floating through the air.

"Um, we need to do something about that," Chloe said, looking at Snow Cone.

"Snow Cone, down," Beca said, pushing him gently to the ground. "You need to stay grounded until we get back to the sleigh, okay?"

Snow Cone looked at her. "Good. Let's go," Beca said.

Snow Cone caught Nick's scent but kept going in all directions.

"Your brother has been all over the place," Chloe said. "Maybe we need to go where there are fewer people and see if Snow Cone can catch Santa's scent." Chloe shook her head with a laugh. "Not a sentence I'd thought I'd ever say."

It took two days for Snow Cone to find Nick's scent and followed it straight to Nick.

"Are you sure this is it?" Beca asked, looking down at Snow Cone.

Snow Cone sat, looking up at Beca, his little reindeer tail wagging.

"Okay," Beca said and knocked on the door.

The door was opened by a man with brown hair and twinkling blue eyes.

"Nick!" Beca squealed.

"Beca?" Nick said. "What are you doing here?

"Looking for you, loser," Beca said as she pushed him aside and entered the apartment. Chloe and Snow Cone following close behind her.

"Who's this?" Nick asked, looking at Chloe.

"You don't know?" Beca asked, surprised. "You should know just by looking at her. You are Santa Claus and Santa knows everyone by sight."

"Nope, sorry," Nick said.

"But, you knew who I was when you saw me," Chloe said, looking at Beca. "How did you do that?"

"I... don't know," Beca said.

"I do," Nick said with a knowing smile. "You're the real Santa."

"I am not!" Beca exclaimed. "You take that back!"

"Can't," Nick said, his smile growing wider. "Look, Beca, you've always been more like Dad than I ever was. I knew I wasn't Santa material, but everyone was expecting it to be me since I'm male. But, you're the one that has all the traits of Santa."

"I don't know what to say," Beca said. "What do I do? I'm expected to bring Santa back home so he can deliver all the toys on Christmas."

"Go home," Nick said. "And you will have fulfilled your duty of bringing Santa home so she can deliver all the toys on Christmas."

"He's right, Beca," Chloe said. "I felt something change inside me since I've been around you. I've started to believe in the magic of Christmas again. And I definitely believe in Santa. That's all because of you."

"You need to decide quickly," Nick told Beca. "You've only got four days until Christmas."

Beca bit her bottom lip and looked deep in thought.

"I need to get back to the sleigh," Beca said. "Nick, will you come home with me and tell mom about not wanting to be Santa?"

"Sure," Nick said. "As long as you promise to bring me back here when you're on your rounds?"

"I promise," Beca said with a smile. "And Santa never breaks a promise." She turned to Chloe. "As for you, I'd like to see you again."

"Well, you did say I was on the Nice List," Chloe said with a grin. "So, I guess I'll definitely be seeing you on Christmas."

"You most definitely will. I promise," Beca said. "Do you want to go with us to the sleigh?"

"I'd love to," Chloe said, excitedly.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

After a quick stop at Chloe's apartment, so Beca could change back into her Santa suit, Snow Cone led the way back to the sleigh.

"Wow!" Chloe exclaimed when the sleigh and reindeer came into sight. "This is amazing."

Chloe walked around the sleigh, lightly running her hand over it. She was startled when Beca let out a loud whistle.

"Alright, you guys," Beca called out. "Get into formation."

Chloe stared in amazement as the reindeer came and stood in the proper position in front of the sleigh. Beca and Nick quickly hitched the team up and Beca looked over at Chloe with a soft smile.

"Hey," Beca said, walking over to Chloe and taking her hands in hers.

"Hey," Chloe said.

"I'll see you in a few days," Beca said.

"I'll see you in a few days," Chloe repeated. "Um, am I allowed to kiss Santa before she leaves?"

"Santa has no objections to that," Beca said.

Chloe slowly leaned in and kissed Beca. Beca kissed her back.

The kiss ended and Beca smiled before turning to get on the sleigh. Chloe was smiling as well as she stepped away from the sleigh. Nick and Snow Cone got in the sleigh and Beca took the reins.

With one last look at Chloe, Beca turned and called out, "On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen. On Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen."

The reindeer began to run and soon the sleigh was in the air. Beca smiled as she looked back at Chloe and waved.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

It was two in the morning on Christmas, when Chloe heard a noise. She sat up and saw Beca standing there, looking at her with a smile on her face.

"I've been waiting for you," Chloe said, smiling.

"I promised I'd be here," Beca said. "And Santa never breaks a promise."

"I know," Chloe said, standing and walking to Beca. She put her hands on the fur collar of Beca's suit and pulled her toward her. "I hope this is okay," Chloe murmured as she pulled Beca in for a kiss.

"Mm-Hmm," Beca mumbled as she returned the kiss.

Chloe pulled back and put her arms around Beca's neck. "So, what's the protocol if someone wants to ask Santa out on a date?"

"Well," Beca said. "I'm not sure, but I think I know a way to figure that out."

"Oh, yeah?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah," Beca said. "Chloe Beale, would you like to go out with me?"

"Why I thought you'd never ask," Chloe said and leaned in for another kiss. She pulled back and said, "That's a yes by the way."

"I got that," Beca said, pulling Chloe closer. "Merry Christmas, Chloe."

"Merry Christmas, Santa," Chloe said.

They kissed again and only stopped when Beca heard a noise on the roof of the apartment building.

"I have to go," Beca said. "Duty calls."

"I understand," Chloe said, stepping out of Beca's embrace.

"I'll call you about that date," Beca said as she headed for the door.

"You'd better," Chloe said.

"I promise," Beca said and winked at her.

Beca left and Chloe laid down on the sofa, touching her lips where Beca had kissed her. She squealed and did a little happy dance before making herself comfortable and going back to sleep.

Chloe woke several hours later and was surprised to see a wrapped package sitting on the coffee table in front of her. It wasn't there when she went to sleep. She sat up and picked up the package.

"Did Beca come back?" Chloe thought to herself.

Chloe unwrapped the gift and found a box. She opened it to find a note and read it.

Merry Christmas, Chloe.

This is so I'll always be able to reach you.

Love, Santa

Chloe smiled as she set the note down and looked inside the box. Her smile grew bigger when she pulled out a cell phone. She bit her bottom lip and pressed the call button to see what would happen. She laughed when she heard: Hi, Chloe. You've reached Santa. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I promise I will call you back.

"A very Merry Christmas to me," Chloe said. She was all smiles as she placed the phone on the table and went about her morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Full prompt from FanFiction User ChrisM92: My idea is inspired by the new movie Noelle that Anna Kendrick just did. Where Beca could be Santa's daughter and has to save Christmas. Chloe could use some saving too this Christmas and who better than Beca? Thank you!

[jcmorrigan]

Dear Santa...

(I saw some people doing this for @nougatships‘ prompt, and I realized, the way I set this up...I could hit this up creatively.)

Hi Santa Claus (or do you prefer to go by “St. Nick”? “Kris Kringle”? Which is most accurate?),

Let’s get this out of the way: I hope you’ve been well. I hope you’ve found lots of great cookie recipes this year, the reindeer are in top form, and you and the elves have had plenty of office parties.

But now let’s get down to the brass tacks. See, they all say that you judge people based on whether they’re naughty or nice, and give them gifts accordingly. So...here’s my request, with contingencies for three scenarios.

Have I been good? Too good? Have I been too meek, too willing to let people walk over me without standing up for myself? So good, you couldn’t possibly see me consorting with the blackhearted? If so, then feel free to reward me with a fast-talking robot with a sense of humor. Someone who claims to be the most important person on his squad, but who truly loves his friends. A veteran of intergalactic adventures, who probably needs to be sent my way so he can get a break from being chased around by silver energy vampires. Someone who can wear that good side of me down a little by getting me to let my hair down, break the rules a little, fight for myself. Someone who I can playfully argue with all day for the rush of trading insults with someone you know loves you. Put him in white, purple, green, and yellow. He can be short; I would love that, in fact.

Have I been bad? Horribly bad? So much you don’t think I can redeem in what little time we have left this year? Do you fear my soul is rotten? Then feel free to punish me by sending me a blackhearted villain - a suave gangster in maroon who deals in chopping auto parts for black-market resale and hijacking firearms deliveries. Someone who understands fear so well, the white shock in his black hair speaks to it. Someone who just might need a partner in crime...and who will pull me down further into the abyss.

But if I’ve walked the fine line, if I’ve been just good enough that you can’t punish me but just bad enough that you see no use in making me get back in line, then it should only make sense to send someone as in-between as I am. Someone with a heart of gold who still gets a thrill from doing illegal things. A fountain of positive energy with cotton-candy hair. Let him dress in a bright neon yellow and fasten his scarf with the logo of his syndicate accidentally pinned sideways. Reward my forthright actions by having him listen to me, have fun with me, and care about me like he does everyone else important to him. But punish my missteps by having him not know what he’s doing, be as unable to be a successful adult as I’ve been, and be rather easily beaten in combat. I’ll make up the difference myself.

And if none of these is available at this time, well, then, feel free to just send me some validation for my crossover crackships. That’ll work, too.

~JCMorrigan

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Makosmonkey!

*****

Christmas Party AU – Yankee Swap

“Alec, stop worrying and start trusting me. You called me for a reason, didn’t you?” Alec rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

“Good. Thank you.” His sister was starting to sound irritated. “Dark wash jeans, one of your work button downs, and the black pullover sweater I got you for Christmas last year. You still have it, right?”

“Yes, Iz. Somewhere. I think,” Alec muttered, emptying his shirt drawers to look for the sweater he definitely hadn’t worn. He didn’t remember donating it, so there was still hope.

“Okay, found it.”

“What do you mean, ‘found it’? Ugh, you really haven’t worn it, have you? You know, I go through a lot of effort looking for things that suit you but aren’t ten miles out of your comfort zone….”

Alec stopped listening.

“Thanks Iz, I owe you one,” he said as he jabbed the END CALL button on his phone. He hated fussing over clothes, but he wanted to make absolutely sure that he made a good impression tonight. Or, at least, a better impression than what his typical wardrobe of well-worn jackets usually did. Izzy knew style, hence his last-minute panicked call for advice.

Alec raced through the shower and threw the prescribed outfit on, combing his hair before heading downstairs to the kitchen. The invitation clipped to the fridge said the party started at 6pm, and it was already 5:57. He stared at the gift he’d picked up that afternoon on his way home, still wrapped in its plastic bag from the store. “Fuck. Wrapping.”

He ran back upstairs to his guest room, shoving the closet doors open and praying that there’d be something he could use. There. A roll of plain green wrapping paper, most likely left over from his sister from when she had stayed with him over the summer. Perhaps he owed Izzy more than one favor at this point.

Back downstairs, Alec hastily wrapped the gift and grabbed the bottle of Pinot he brought for Luke every year, nearly stumbling on his way out the door. Calm down, he told himself. It’s just a party. He picked his way down the sidewalk and around a stray snowbank or two, thankful that at least he didn’t have to worry about parking; the street was already packed with cars.

Luke’s house was, by far, the most decorated one in the neighborhood. Wreaths topped with red ribbons hung on every window and candles shone from every sill. He must have used something like a mile of string lights because every single edge of the house dripped in softly glowing icicles. The giant tree in the foyer was visible from where Alec stood on the sidewalk, glittering with silver and gold ornaments.

But never mind the decorations – Alec had to remember that tonight, he was on a mission. It was time. It was past time, really. He’d just have to buck up and be brave, and do the thing he came here to do.

Right. Here goes nothing.

He rang the doorbell and was immediately greeted by Luke, fashionably dressed in no less than Saint Nick’s signature red velvet suit, arms held wide open.

“Bro-ho-ho! Alec!”

Alec snorted and shook his head. “Really, Luke?”

“Yes, really. Tonight, I’m Santa. Don’t diss the beard man, and come on in.” Alec handed Luke the bottle of wine and followed him through the kitchen and into the den, where a second tree was set up, cluttered with presents underneath. Alec looked around the room, taking in a few familiar faces that were already paired off in deep conversations.

“Ah, almost forgot. Here,” Luke shoved a stocking toward Alec and gestured inside. Alec drew out a folded post-it note with the number seven on it and shoved it in his pocket.

“Put your gift under the tree and make yourself comfortable, Alec. Mix and mingle, like Ol’ Kris Kringle,” Luke chuckled, already backing toward the kitchen to greet his next guest. “Oh, and Maia insisted on taking over Nog duty this year, so… well, just be careful not to stand next to any open flames, if you get my drift,” Luke said over his shoulder.

Alec smiled. “Gotcha.” He turned toward the makeshift bar set up at the back of the room and raised his hand in hello to Maia.

Internally, though, he was groaning. This was the part of the party he always hated. Not this party specifically, but really, any party. Small talk was much more Izzy’s thing, even their little brother Max was better at it. For god’s sake, he was a thirty-year-old man and he couldn’t even manage to attend a party by himself without feeling awkward and out of place. He busied himself by heading to the kitchen to make a plate of appetizers; at least he’d look normal holding some food.

Before settling down in an empty chair, Alec took a loop through the crowd in each room, pretending to look for someone in particular. Well, perhaps it wasn’t pretend. That didn’t mean he actually intended to talk to the person he was looking for. Not right away, at least. He’d have to come up with a something to say first.

Alec looked down at his plate, trying to identify what was in the pile that had been labeled “Mexican Dip” that he’d generously scooped onto his plate. There wasn’t much “Mexican” about it, and the cheese had re-solidified. Maybe it was best to just leave it be for now.

“Ah, alcohol; helping us survive Christmas one sip at a time. It’s Alexander, right?” Alec nearly choked on the bacon wrapped scallop he’d been chewing on. He turned toward the voice and found he was being handed a festively decorated Solo cup filled to the brim with eggnog. Magnus.

Magnus, who was loud, attractive, and always perfectly— though often unexpectedly— dressed. Alec raised his eyes to meet Magnus’, immediately imagining himself melting into a puddle just like Frosty the Snowman threatened to. Magnus was generally flirtatious with everyone, but Alec hadn’t been able to help but watch him from a safe distance every year. Alec had come here tonight with the express intention of at the very least talking with him, and if he was feeling brave enough, hopefully flirting back.

Alec had attended Luke’s annual Christmas party almost every year he’d lived on the street, but this was the first time he’d be attending as an officially out and proud gay man. Well, out. Proud was still a work in process, no thanks to the ongoing icy relationship with his parents. Logically he knew he had nothing to be ashamed about and that his sexuality was nobody’s business but his own, but his mother’s sharp tongue and father’s disinterested tone still tended to cut at him unexpectedly, even a year after coming out to them. That announcement, or actually the resulting blow up, is what had kept him from missing the party—his annual opportunity to oogle Magnus Bane—last year.

Alec stared at the drink in his hand, trying and failing miserably to come up with something to say that wasn’t ‘finally’ or ‘thank god.’

“You looked like you could use a drink; did I read that wrong?” Magnus asked him.

Alec felt completely too caught off guard to properly respond. He thought he’d have more time to plan this interaction, why is his brain suddenly blank?!

Alec shuffled his feet and was saved from further embarrassment by Luke shouting from the kitchen.

“Come one, come all! Get your asses to my den so we can get this party started!”

Alec snorted. It sounded like Luke had been sampling some of Maya’s eggnog.

Magnus touched Alec’s elbow lightly. “Well, shall we?”

Still terribly confused, Alec followed Magnus. Why on earth was Magnus talking to him? Of all the people at this party, Alec had to look the least sociable. There were far better conversationalists; even Dot, his 80-year-old neighbor, could keep a person interested long enough to tell a story or two.

They made their way through the crowd and took a seat on the stairs in the corner of the room.

“All right, thank you everyone for coming. It’s always nice to end the year with all of your faces and all of this booze.”

“Hurrah!”

“Anyway. Thanks for all the presents, you can all go home now.”

“Fo’ real this time! To those of you who haven’t had the extreme pleasure of participating in our little holiday extravaganza exchange, here are the house rules: each of you has brought a wrapped gift and put it under the tree. When you arrived, you were given a folded piece of paper with a number on it. Whichever of you lucky sonsabitches has the number 1 will pull a gift from under the tree and unwrap it for all to see. Because there were some, uh, shall we say disagreements, last year, I will allow visual inspection of the gifts. You may pick them up and gently shake them, just don’t unwrap them until you’ve made your choice. And, Mr. Bane… apparently you need the reminder that there will be NO CHOOSING OF THE GIFT YOU BROUGHT.”

“But I bring fabulous gifts!” Magnus exclaimed, clearly disappointed that he’d been caught out. Alec stifled a chuckle.

“Anyway, the next guest will choose a gift from under the tree and model it, and then that sucker gets to choose to either keep that gift or choose from one that has already been opened. I am placing NO LIMITS on the number of times a particular gift can be stolen, or the number of times a poor soul can be stolen from.”

“Ah, I see we’ve graduated to the ‘Dirty’ version of the game,” Magnus murmured. Alec turned to look at him and found Magnus smirking, eyes filled with glee. Alec raised an eyebrow in question, but Magnus just responded with a shake of his head.

“We will continue in this manner until all those presents are unwrapped and we swing back around to number 1 again – who has that, by the way?”

*Ragnor raises his hand*

“Ok, Ragnor… at the very end, you get to choose from all the gifts, including the one you unwrap”

“Damn it, that means I’m stuck here.”

“You were stuck here anyway, my friend. No one leaves until we’re done…. With both the presents and the booze!”

Alec looked down at the folded paper in his hand. Hastily scribbled on it was the number seven. So much for lucky number seven… he’d only have a handful of gifts to choose from unless someone stole his gift near the end of the game. Magnus peered over his shoulder to steal a glance at Alec’s paper with a smile and a murmured “Perfect.”

Perfect? Maybe Magnus had been looking at something else. But Alec’s attention was quickly drawn to Ragnor grumpily unwrapping the gift in the pile that had been closest to him. He finally managed to get the box open after struggling with a particularly stubborn tape job and a soft-looking throw blanket slid out of the package, piling at Ragnor’s feet.

“Lovely,” Ragnor muttered with great distaste. He shoved the blanket into the corner of the chair he occupied and crossed his arms. “Next victim!”

“Ah ah ah, Ragnor, you have to model it!” chastised Luke. Ragnor looked at him in horror, but then bucked up and shook the blanket open to drape it around him. Alec tried to stifle a giggle, but seeing the grouchiest man he knew draped in a Snuggie was wonderfully entertaining.

“However this night ends, this moment right here has already surpassed my expectations,” Magnus said beside him, shamelessly clicking off a half a dozen photos of Ragnor pouting in his chair.

Alec nervously stood to choose his gift from the tree. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to choose the gift and open it so publicly. Something about being on display like this always made him uncomfortable. He reached for a smaller square box wrapped in purple and silver paper – at least it was practically guaranteed not to be a Snuggie. He turned around to unwrap the gift in view of the rest of the party and was relieved when the paper peeled aside to reveal a Bluetooth speaker. Huh. Something he’d actually enjoy taking home for once. “A Bluetooth speaker!” he called out to the rest of the crowd, holding it up for those who might not be able to see it.

“Nice!”

“Excellent choice, Alexander,” Magnus praised him when he returned to his seat.

“Thanks. Although I guess I should really be thanking whoever brought it. This is a pretty cool gift.”

“You’re very welcome, then.” Alec looked up, immediately caught by Magnus’ happy grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Alec.

“Back there, how did you—know my name?” came tumbling out of Alec’s mouth. Great. Perfect. Smooth, Alec.

“Well, I admit that it did take some detective work on my part. I had to ask Luke weeks ago if the brooding tall tree of a man would be attending this year, as I was remarkably disappointed by his absence last year,” Magnus said with a sly smile. “And there you were, brooding away in your corner.”

Alec ducked his head to try to hide the smile rising to his lips. “Well, you weren’t here yet. I had to wait somewhere.”

That seemed to spark something in Magnus’ eyes, at least.

“So it would seem. How have we gone this long without having a proper introduction? I’m Magnus,” he said, extending his hand. Alec took it in his own, immediately relishing the warmth radiating from Magnus’s palm.

“I know,” Alec said. “And I’m Alec, obviously.” Duh.

“Do you prefer Alec, or may I call you Alexander?”

“Uh…” Max’s sarcastic voice echoed in his head. You can call me anything you want, as long as you call me. “People usually call me Alec, but…” Alec trailed off, shrugging.

“Alexander it is, then.” Magnus smiled. “Something tells me that if I ask you to tell me about yourself, I won’t get the kind of detail I’m looking for. What if I were to ask you about this tattoo, instead?” As he posed the question, Magnus trailed a finger along Alec’s neck down his throat, causing goosebumps to chase after it.

“Ah, um. That’s… I guess you could call it a symbol of protection? It means ‘deflect.’”

“Like a shield?” Magnus asked, an eyebrow raised in interest.

“Exactly. I’ve had a lot of … well, my relationship with my parents has never been great. So when I got this one, it was like this reminder to myself to block out the bad things they said. Plus,” Alec found himself continuing, “having it so large and visible it may have really pissed them off.” He smiled. He can’t say he enjoyed that fight exactly, but he did feel freer afterward.

“I don’t doubt it,” Magnus chuckled. “Is that the only one you have?”

“No, I have quite a few, actually. But the rest aren’t so, well, visible,” Alec mumbled, feeling a blush rise. For a moment there, he’d been ready to take off his sweater and his shirt to show Magnus the tattoos on his torso.

“I see,” Magnus’ eyes glowed. “Or rather, I’d like to; at some point in the future. Perhaps this isn’t the time and place.”

Alec flushed and looked down at his hands. His attention is grabbed by the crowd around him laughing in unison; somehow, the game has moved on while he and Magnus been wrapped in their own little bubble. Someone had unwrapped a towel, half of it labeled “FACE” and the other half “BUTT”.

“Now that’s certainly more of a White Elephant gift than one for a Yankee Swap… can you say ‘regift’? Oh, that poor soul is stuck with that one, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t realize there was a difference between the two games.”

“Ah, then you must let me enlighten you. Popular theory is that the term ‘white elephant’ came from a story about the King of Siam, who was considered to be quite the evil genius. He had a brilliant way of exacting revenge on any courtier who dared displease him – he would present them with the precious gift of a rare albino elephant. At first, the unlucky courtier would be pleased as punch, thinking that they had impressed the King. But little did they know that caring for one of those elephants was a huge and costly pain in the backside and would likely lead them to financial ruin. As such, it was called a ‘fatal gift.’ I believe the story dates back to at least the 1850’s, but as far as I’m aware, no one has been able to verify that such a king existed. Nonetheless, the term still persists in popular culture.”

“Well I’m not sure that towel will lead anyone to financial ruin, but I guess I can’t say it’s a gift I would have liked to unwrap.”

Finally, Magnus springs to his feet when Luke calls for number twenty. Magnus tiptoes through the remaining gifts and makes his selection. He flings the tissues paper out of the bag until he reaches his prize: a poster-sized world map covered in the same scratch-off material lottery tickets are made of. Before Alec has a chance to realize what’s going on, Magnus has plucked the Bluetooth speaker out of Alec’s hands and replaced it with the map.

“Next number!” Magnus calls out as he reclaims his seat next to Alec, ever so closer than they had been before. Alec smirks. “I guess Luke didn’t forbid stealing your own gift, huh?”

“No, he did not make that distinction, did he?” Magnus asks around a wink.

The game continued around them and Alec is pulled back into his bubble with Magnus. They discover a shared love of tv shows (Magnus considers himself a bit of a pop culture whore) like the Runaways and the 100, and discuss how interests of younger generations typically have a bad reputation with older generations, even though the same values and lessons can be found in them. That topic carries them until Luke asks for number twenty-nine. Magnus, caught mid-sentence, raises a finger to Alec in a request to hold that thought and rises to select another package from the tree. He returns with another gift to plop in Alec’s lap and takes back the world map.

Alec is terribly confused.

“What—” is all he gets out before Magnus interrupts him with a wry smile and a finger to his own lips.

“Shhh, Alexander. You’ll see.”

Magnus takes the opportunity to ask Alec more about his tattoos, and Alec eventually stammers that each of the tattoos he’s chosen have both a deeper personal meaning and a purposeful placement on his body. That, in turn, leads to a rather lively discussion about deriving strength from elements of pop culture like music, shows, and movies, and how fictional characters can be inspirational figures in real life. Before they get too far down that path, they’re interrupted again.

It turns out, that in addition to numbers twenty and twenty nine, Magnus also has numbers thirty three and thirty seven. He steals Alec’s gift every single round. Finally, once he has seemingly completed his turns, he takes a moment to whisper in Alec’s ear.

“Luke never puts a limit on the number of gifts that can be brought to the exchange. If you bring multiple gifts, you get to take multiple gifts home. I see it as a way to increase my odds of taking home something I want. And before you ask, I had this plan to steal your gift every turn before I even walked in the door tonight. Speaking to you before the game and witnessing that adorable blush was just the cherry on top.”

Alec doesn’t even know where to begin.

“May I be presumptuous, Alexander?”

“If you must. I can probably handle it. Maybe.”

“Would you like to find some place a little less rowdy and continue our conversation over a nightcap?”

Alec takes a deep breath. “I know just the place, actually. And it has the benefit of being close by, since I don’t think any of these guys are in shape to move their cars.”

Alec helps Magnus with his coat and gestures down the sidewalk. Magnus takes his hand, and the words “cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we” echo in his head.

They continue their discussion of how tattoos have helped Alec unlock his truth (with each one he gets, he feels a little more sure about who he is and what he stands for, what he wants to fight for). Magnus responds that he feels that Alec has unlocked something in him as well.

Alec tugs on Magnus’ hand to pull him to a stop in front of his house. “Well, we’re here,” he stammers. Magnus chuckles, clearly surprised but pleased that Alec has led him here. Fuck, that’s probably the smoothest he’s ever been, and he has no proof for Izzy that he came up with it himself.

“May I ask another question, Alexander?”

“You can ask me anything you want, Magnus.”

“Do you believe in the theory of soulmates?”

“I believe it’s possible.”

And reader, he kissed the living daylights out of that man.

[hellizens-a]

“Merry Christmas, my deer listeners! As promised, I’m here to sing for you - every hour, on the hour - until the day is done!

I came across a little theory concerning the big man in the red suit! Let me sing it for you!

Ahem...

♪ Christmas is a special time 'cause it's the birth of Christ. You could go worship him at Church. That would be nice. But instead you are home, and that is because you're waiting for a Jolly Elf they call Santa Claus. Some say he's a saint, but I think it's a trick. How do you get from Ol' Chris Kringle to Ol' Saint Nick? Now, Ol' Saint Nick is crafty, but you must be quick. Take away the "Saint" and all you got's Ol' Nick.

Makes you think, doesn't it?

Santa Claus is Satan, and it's so clear to see. He don't mind the ragin' fires in your chimney. He took a pass from Christmas Mass. And now you are home waitin' for an elf to bring you wealth 'cause Santa Claus is Satan. I know what you're thinkin'. 'He lives up in the North Pole. They ain't got no fire up there. Hell, all they've got is snow.' But ask any Russian from, uh... Golang and he'll tell, 'Ain't no mortal man can stand a place so cold as Hell.' He's got nine familiars and they pull his sleigh. Don't you think it's strange a reindeer should float that way? Rudolph, with your nose so bright, tell me-and don't lie-what kind of devilry would make a reindeer fly?

Oh, I know why. Santa Claus is Satan and it's so clear to see. He don't mind the ragin' fires in your chimney. He took a pass from Christmas Mass. And now you are home waitin' for an elf to give you wealth 'cause Santa Claus is Satan. S-A-N-T-A is S-A-T-A-N. S-A-N-T-A is S-A-T-A-N. S-A-N-T-A. Do I gotta say it again? I'll do you one better. Just change one letter and it's S-A-T-A-N. So, if you're a Christian, please listen to me. Go into your livin' room and chop down that Pagan tree. Get rid of that Yule Log and that Paganry. I don't mind Christmas Time, but I hate hypocrisy. S-A-N-T-A is S-A-T-A-N. S-A-N-T-A is S-A-T-A-N. S-A-N-T-A. Do I gotta say it again? I'll do you one better. Just change one letter and it's S-A-T-A-N. Because Santa Claus is Satan, and it's clear to see. He don't mind the ragin' fires in your chimney. You took a pass from Christmas Mass. And now you're just home waitin' for an elf to bring you wealth 'cause Santa Claus is Satan. Santa Claus is Satan, and it's clear to tell. Tell me where an elf is from. You know the answer’s Hell. You took a pass from Christmas Mass. And now you are home waitin' for some imps to bring you gifts because Santa Claus is Satan. Santa Claus is Satan. 'Cause Santa Claus is Satan. ♫

Be sure to listen in at the next top of the hour for another song sung by yours truly! And as always...thank you for tuning in!”

( banner art cred )

[mrmcnamerica]

All I Want for Christmas Is….

Dear Santa,

First off, I know this is a little weird. I mean, what kind of mid-30s man still writes a letter to Santa Claus? Well, I’ve got news for your jolly old elf ass: I’m not asking for anything. No, this is not a summary of yearly requests. This is a list of demands.

Alright I’ll tone it down a bit, I’m sorry. Something about flies in the vinegar and honey and all that.

You see, I really need your help this year. I’ve reached the point in my life and career where all of my material needs are easily met, and often times exceeded by my desperate attempts to manufacture dopamine through consumerism. It’s gotten to the point where I am giving my parents (and in laws) a list of non-profits to donate to rather than material goods to gift me. Did I also do that to feel slightly superior to everyone else, especially my siblings who probably actually asked for things? Yes. But that doesn’t matter!

What matters is that there is something I want, and you’re the only one who can give it to me because it requires a little bit of magic.

So I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want. I want a, I want a, I want a…. DVR. No not really a DVR, like I don’t need a TiVo. Who watches linear TV anyway? So I guess I want a “DVR,” but instead of episodes of Blue Bloods or Yellowstone I want to be able to watch moments from my kids’ lives.

You know, it’s a double-edged sword right? Like, I try to put my phone down, I don’t over photograph or over record, I try to stay in the moment. I try to stay present, engaged, living my life instead of documenting it. But it’s not fair! I don’t get to relive anything! I don’t get to watch the first soccer games or funny moments where they laugh until they cry or when they say “daddy I love standing on a stool next to you, it brings us closer together.”

OK, OK, so maybe a magical DVR isn’t in the cards. But how about a VR headset instead? Like a Oculus, but instead of creepy Facebook (Meta I guess) tracking and spying I get pre-loaded memories that I can observe and watch and walk around. Find the details I missed the first time, the things that I didn’t realize were so important and meaningful the first time around. The way J scrunched his face the first time he had soda, the way V looked at me and laughed when I stole her ice cream, the sound of one saying “bagel pancake” when having a donut. If I could add a feature request, maybe some haptics and temp pads too? So that I can remember what it felt like to snuggle my now giant oldest child when he was the same height as my knee.

I’m really not asking for a lot here, Kringle. It’s not like I’m asking for world peace, or an end to hunger, or for Christians to actually understand and live the message of the Bible as much as they say they do, or a Falcon’s NFL title. We both know none of those things are possible. But, come on, I haven’t asked for anything in decades! Is it too much to want to be able to experience the best moments of parenthood again? Or even the not-best moments?

Listen, St. Nick, I’m not even sure if you have children. (As an aside, if you do have kids, what exactly do you do to keep them from becoming spoiled? You can literally give them anything, how do you not do that?) Do the elves count as children? I mean I don’t think Lord of the Rings elves would, they’re tall and spritely, but the tiny short ones could. North Pole Oompa Loompas. Actually, just put me down for a follow up letter, I have tons of questions about basic elf biology and social structures.

Back to the important stuff. I don’t know if you have kids, hell I’m not sure anyone else who is reading this has kids, and if not then, well: 1) this probably won’t resonate for you and 2) why are you reading someone else’s mail? That a felony bro. I have kids, and since the first moment that first one popped out and looked me dead in the eye I have had only one important job. Making your children the most important, central aspect of your life and personality is a controversial subject, even among parents, and so the level of importance I place on these moments might not resonate with child free folks whose opinions are so eloquently summed up with the phrase “fuck them kids” or parents who insist that “I just need to make sure I still do my own thing you know”. For me, being a parent is my entire self. For me, there is nothing as important, enjoyable, or meaningful I could be doing.

For me, you bowl full of jelly belly having ass bastard, this is the only thing I want. I deserve it. I need it.

But. I guess. If we can’t do the DVR, and if we can’t do the VR headset, I guess there’s one last option.

Please just have it be enough. Remind me that being present and invested and paying attention is what matters, that the urge to record every moment so that I can remember and examine it over and over years from now is genuinely a selfish one. Remind me that even though plenty of moments will be lost to mefloquine brain damage, or old age, or whatever fun new apocalypse waits around the corner, being present for those moments will mean so much more to the kids. As the old proverb says, the tree remembers what the axe forgets.

Just make it enough, you cranberry mold of a mythical B&E artist. Help me remember that it’s the legacy that matters, not the details. Do this and next year we can talk about putting the good cookies out again.

Oh. And a new pair of slippers please. Fuzzy inside. Size 12.

All the best to you,

Lionel

[shootwinterfest]

She sees you when you’re sleeping; she knows when you’re awake

From @t-ninjaa

Stop

.

Shaw stopped and looked around, scanning the area for any sign of trouble.

Nothing seemed amiss.

“You mind telling me what I’m looking for?”

Shaw mumbled

to

the Machine.

Wait

.

Number is approaching from east.

Shaw’s eyes darted up towards the direction indicated by the Machine. She spotted a familiar figure walking towards her.

“You,” Shaw growled, trying to hide the surprise in her voice.

“Me,” The figure replied, not at all hiding the smugness in her voice.

“Root, what are you doing he-“ Shaw was cut off unexpectedly when the hacker’s lips connected with her own.

Root’s lips were soft and warm. Shaw’s hands automatically reached out to pull her closer by the lapels of her pea coat so that she could deepen the kiss. Shaw silently cursed herself for being so weak - one kiss from Root and she’d lost all control. But it

had

been weeks since she had seen the hacker, and well...the body wants what the body wants.

As if she could read Shaw’s thoughts, Root grinned smugly into the kiss. “I knew you missed me,” she whispered when they moved apart.

Shaw huffed indignantly. “Why are you here, Root?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The Machine wanted me here,” Root replied, “in this exact spot.” She glanced above Shaw’s head and grinned.

Shaw looked up, following Root’s line of sight. She looked back at Root, unimpressed.

“You got the Machine to send me on this wild goose chase

just

so you can kiss me under the mistletoe? Isn’t that misappropriation of company resources?”

“Of course not, Sameen. I can’t get the Machine to do anything that she doesn’t want to do. Actually, I didn’t expect to see you here, either. But now that we’re here...” she leaned in for another kiss.

Shaw leaned backwards, out of Root’s reach, causing the hacker to pout.

“Wait wait wait. So you’re saying that the Machine is playing Cupid now? The all-seeing Machine - the ASI that was built to save lives - is now a glorified matchmaker?”

“Oh come on, Sam. You know just as much as I do that this match was already made long ago in that hotel room with me kneeling between your legs holding that hot iron above your skin. I’d be happy to perform a re-enactment of that day if it would help jog your memory...”

“And here I thought I’d actually get to shoot someone,” Shaw grumbled. She had been a bit on edge recently; her apartment building burned down because some idiot on the third floor left the stove on all night, so she had been sleeping at the subway for the last two weeks.

Root chuckled, but then stopped to listen intently as the Machine whispered in her implant.

“I understand,” Root nodded, confirming her instructions from the Machine. She turned to Shaw. “We have a new number.”

“An actual number, or is this more of the Machine trying to help you get in my pants?”

“Oh, Sameen. We both know I don’t need the Machine to get into your pants,” Root winked at Shaw. “She says this is a real number.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Shaw asked. “Lead the way.”

....

“I hate this time of year,” Shaw growled as she narrowly avoided being elbowed in the face by yet another last minute Christmas shopper. The hand tucked into her coat pocket tightened around the handle of her pistol. “Our number just

had

to be working at the mall around the busiest time of year, huh?”

Root smiled. “It’s not that bad, Sameen.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re a hundred feet taller than half the people here and you have the Machine in your ear telling you how to navigate around the crowd.”

Root beamed. “You could always take my hand. I’ll lead you through the crowd so you won’t get stepped on.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Shaw grumbled, stepping sideways to avoid getting shoulder checked by a man whizzing by.

“She says our number should be around the corner,” Root said, grabbing Shaw by the elbow and pulling her back as another frenzied Christmas shopper nearly barreled into her.

“What are we looking for here?” Shaw asked, yanking her elbow back with a frown.

“See that crowd of children up ahead?”

“Kinda hard to miss the screaming mass of mini humans.”

“Well, our number is right there, in the middle of that crowd. White beard, red suit, jolly laugh.”

Shaw looked at the target and then slowly turned her head to face Root, a scowl fixed on her face.

“You have got to be kidding me - our number is Santa Claus?”

Root grinned. “He sure is. Word is that he’s the most authentic Santa Claus out there.”

“So, why is he in trouble?” Shaw asked, “The other mall Santas are jealous and want to knock him off?”

“There’s been a hit put out on him by three guys who are notorious gangsters in the city. We need to find out why these guys want him dead. This one’s a team effort, Sam. The Machine arranged for Lionel to assist with extracting the number. Santa will be going on his break in ten minutes - we need to intercept him when he gets to the break room and replace him with Lionel while we get him to a safe place.”

“Great, so it’s Christmas Eve and we’re going to try and extract the most popular guy in the city and replace him with Fusco. I feel sorry for the kids who expected to see ‘the real Santa’ but are getting Fusco instead.”

“You know I can hear you right, Shaw?” Fusco’s voice came through the comms.

Shaw smirked. “Oops. Welcome to the party, Lionel. I hear you have some pretty big boots to fill.”

“The only reason I agreed to help out with this is because Lee is at his mother’s tonight...and I hear that this Santa Claus is the real thing. I gotta see for myself.”

“Why do people keep saying that? Santa doesn’t exist.” Shaw heard a loud gasp and looked down to see a little girl looking at her in wide-eyed horror. Her mother, who stood beside her, frowned at Shaw.

“She’s just kidding,” Root jumped in, “Santa really does exists, and he’s sitting right there,” she gestured to their number.

The girl slowly walked away, led by her mother, but not before shooting one last disappointed look at Shaw.

Root tried to stifle her chuckle.

“Alright, Dynamic Duo - it’s almost time for the switch,” Lionel said. “I’m headed to the break room now.”

“Roger that,” Shaw confirmed as she and Root made their way to the break room.

....

“Lionel, you need to stop adjusting your beard, or your cover will be blown before you even talk to the first kid,” Shaw said as Fusco fidgeted with the white piece of fluff on his face.

“Can’t help it; the thing is itchy as hell,” Fusco complained.

“He’s coming,” Root announced, relaying the message from the Machine.

Fusco gave one last exasperated tug at the fake beard before giving up.

The door to the break room opened, and their number stepped in. He really did look like Santa, with his white beard, rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes peering over tiny spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He paused when he spotted the three strangers in the break room - one of whom was wearing a cheap department store Santa suit.

“Don’t worry, Santa. We’re here to help. There are three men who are after you for some reason - the Flynn brothers - any idea why they might be targeting you?” Root asked.

“Oh, the Flynn brothers - Colin, Conor and Sean? It must be because I put them on the naughty list.”

“Ha ha,” Shaw deadpanned, “Very funny, gramps - what’s the

real

reason why you’re being targeted by these three?”

“It’s true, I’ve put them on my naughty list,” the jolly old man said, pulling out a notebook from his pocket. “Let’s see here,” he murmured, flipping the pages and scanning the contents. “Ah, here it is - Colin, Conor and Sean Flynn - all on the naughty list this year for smuggling the guns into the city on the evening of November 24th to be sold on the black market.”

“Wait - let me see that,” Shaw said, gesturing for Santa to hand over the notebook. He passed the notebook to her and she read over the notes scrawled across the page.

“Looks like they’re after you because you witnessed their shady business deal,” Shaw said, handing the notebook back to the number.

“These three are known arms dealers, but they’ve never been arrested because there has never been a witness around to testify on their crimes. At least none that lived to rat on them,” Root added.

Shaw turned to the number. “So, how is it that you happened to be around when they were selling the weapons?”

“Well I was dropping off presents at the nearby shelter in Hell’s Kitchen when I saw them. I went straight away to the police to report what I saw, but it appears that these three boys have informants within the precinct.”

“Dirty cops,” Fusco muttered, “I used to be one of ‘em. But that was a lifetime ago.”

“Oh, I know, Lionel. I’m glad you’ve chosen a better path for yourself now,” the old man said.

“Me too,” Fusco agreed, then paused. “Wait a minute, how do you know this? And how do you know my name?”

“Sorry, Lionel - no time for Q&A,” Root interrupted. “We have to get Santa out of here before the perpetrators realize that he’s left.”

Fusco pulled on his Christmas cap and headed toward the door. He opened the door and turned around. “This isn’t over yet; I still got a lotta questions,” he said before leaving.

“Alright, Root - where are we taking jolly old Saint Nick now?”

Root turned to the man. “We’ll be escorting you to the 8th precinct and handing you over to our good friend Detective Joss Carter. You can file a report with her, and she’ll take care of you until you can testify against the Flynns.”

“Ah yes, Detective Carter is one of the good ones.”

Shaw raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Right. Okay, Kris Kringle - let’s go,” she said, heading towards the exit.

“I’ll just have to get my bag,” the man said.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you have a sack full of gifts.”

“Close - but it’s only a satchel,” the man responded, holding up the bag. “It

is

full of gifts, though.”

“Whatever,” Shaw said, opening the door and leading the way out.

....

“He’s all yours, Joss,” Root said after they’ve escorted their number to the precinct.

“Ah, Detective Carter. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person!” the man exclaimed. “You are truly one of New York’s finest.”

“I’m sorry - do I know you?” Carter asked, perplexed.

“No, but I know you,” he said with a wide grin.

“Okay, that’s kinda creepy,” Shaw murmured to Root.

The bearded man pulled out two packages and an envelope from his satchel and turned to Shaw. “Sameen, this is for you,” he said, handing her one of the packages.

Shaw gingerly accepted the package when Root nodded to confirm that it was safe.

“And Root, this one is yours,” the man handed the other package and the envelope to Root. “I would have gotten you some ammo as well, but space is limited,” he shrugged apologetically, gesturing to his satchel.

Root and Shaw exchanged puzzled looks.

“Oh, I almost forgot - one more thing,” he pulled out his phone and started typing. “I’ve sent you coordinates for your next gift. Be sure to get there before midnight!”

“Okay, weirdo,” Shaw said.

“Wait wait wait,” Carter interrupted, “Did you just give guns to these two? In the presence of a police officer? Who

are

you?”

“Apparently he’s Santa Claus,” Shaw said sarcastically.

“That’s not gonna cut it. I’m gonna have to see some ID,” Carter prompted.

“Jocelyn, if you can believe that there is a Machine out there that can monitor everyday human interactions and predict imminent violence, then it’s not so farfetched to think that there’s someone out there watching and keeping checks and balances on good and bad deeds, is it?”

“Well I guess if you put it that way...” Carter mused.

The old man chuckled. “Now, Root and Sameen - I think you better follow those coordinates.”

Root shrugged. “Well, Joss, if we’re all done here, I guess Shaw and I have to get going.”

Carter smiled. “You ladies take care, I’ll take care of our jolly guest here.”

....

“Here we are,” Root said as they approached the coordinates that their number had provided.

They both looked up at the brownstone in front of them.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Shaw asked.

“She says to check the envelope,” Root said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the envelope that the old man gave her earlier. She opened the letter and plucked out a set of keys.

Both of their phones buzzed; Shaw looked down at the screen on hers.

New apartment

. You’ll

have to

share.

Shaw rolled her eyes.

Root looked at Shaw and smiled. “Shall we?” she asked, jingling the keys in her hand.

Shaw shrugged and gestured for Root to go ahead.

They entered the brown stone and Shaw was pleased to find that it wasn’t decorated from floor to ceiling with cheesy Christmas decorations. The echo of their footsteps bounced off the empty walls and floors as they explored the new space.

They walked a bit further into the apartment and Root suddenly grabbed Shaw by the shoulders, spinning her around to face her.

“What the-“ Shaw looked up.

Turned out there was a piece of Christmas decoration in the house.

“Mistletoe,” Shaw muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Mistletoe,” Root repeated; a big grin on her face as she leaned in for a kiss.

[ckerouac]

Klaine Smutvent Word: Drink | Also on AO3

Summary: In which Blaine needs to relax, so the girls take him to a Christmas themed strip club.

Blaine pocketed his ID hesitantly as he took in the overwhelming decor -- he’d not expected it took look like Christmas exploded all over the room.  And even exploded was putting it gently.  There wasn’t a hall that wasn’t decked, a table trimmed, or a wall festooned with glitter and Christmas cheer.  Not one surface, save for the stage in the middle, which while obviously painted with some sort of glitter on acrylic, was the only place that it seemed safe to move around.

Which, when one thought about it, made sense.

“Guys, I know that you mean well, but did it have to be a strip club?” Blaine asked.  

Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina all turned to look at him, all looking far too pleased with themselves by half.  “It’s Naughty St. Nick night,” Mercedes said.  “And guys drink half off.  Cute guys drink free,” she chuckled.

“And you desperately need a drink,” Tina added.  “You’ve done nothing but work work work for weeks.  You deserve a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t we have just, I dunno, got drunk on eggnog and played Settlers of Catan at home?” Blaine asked.

Rachel turned and placed both hands up on his shoulders.  “Blaine, listen to me.  I’m going to give you the same advice that the members of my Jewish musical theater pre-union performers book club gave me when I was working on perfecting my audition piece for the gender-swapped revival of Carousel so hard that I didn’t sleep for five days straight and ended up breaking out into song in the middle of a Duane Reade completely unaware that this sort of beauty would not be appreciated by 80% of the tone deaf sad sacks in line.”  She leaned in closer.  “You need to relax and take a break or else someone is going to accidentally tie you to a light pole outside of the Richard Rogers and pin a sign on you that there are Hamilton tickets somewhere on your person and watch as people tear you limb from limb.”

“That seems… awfully specific,” Blaine said.

“We’ll have a few drinks, we’ll ogle a few guys, it’ll be fun,” Mercedes promised.  

“So, they’re guys stripping?” Blaine asked as Tina herded them into seats in the very front.

“Oh yes,” Rachel replied.  “I’m surprised you aren’t aware of this place.  I thought you were up on all the hot guy gossip.”

“Yeah, but not… strip clubs…” Blaine sighed.  A cocktail waiter in the tiniest shorts he’d ever seen on an ass that perky brought a round of blight blue shots.  What was it a shot of?  Blaine didn’t ask.  He didn’t actually want to know.  Rachel was right.  He did need to relax.  He needed to relax, and not think about work, or his ex, or anything other than drinking this shot, then another, and then hoping that the stripper took Visa because he’s pretty sure he only has a total of $7 in cash in his wallet.  

Ten minutes and three electric blue shots later, the lights started to dim and the women around him started to flip out.  Even if this turned out to be a dud, it made for a good story for his next article.  ‘Local man gets lit at Christmas strip club’.  Nah, he needed a better angle.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you may be chilly right now, but it’s about to get real warm up on the North Pole tonight.  Please give a festive holiday welcome to Kurt Kringle!”

Blaine’s eyes went wide as a gorgeous man strolled out onto stage to the purring lyrics of Eartha Kitt’s ‘Santa Baby’.  He was expecting more Magic Mike and not… fuck, when did he start finding stilettos and a full length fur coat sexy?  But this guy, with his toned legs, and perfectly coiffed hair, and eyes that seemed to sparkle as they fixated on him was… hot.  

Wait, no, Blaine, the stripper was not fixating on you.  Don’t be foolish.  He’s fixated on all of them.  For the money, for his job.

The ladies went wild once the fur coat was flung off leaving Kurt in red lame pants and no shirt.  There was a big black belt with a gold belt buckle ostensibly holding the pants up, but considering how tight they were, he knew the belt wasn’t doing shit.  

And honestly, with how tight those pants were, how was he able to swing his legs so smoothly around the pole in the middle of the stage?  And fuck, those pants didn’t hide anything did they?  Taught thighs helped hold him perpendicular to the stage, and Blaine could only imagine how strong they’d be holding on to something else.  LIke his waist.  Oh good, he was going to fantasize about the Santa stripper’s strong thighs squeezing him until he came.  That’s just what he needed right now.  

Kurt sauntered off the stage to the squeals and delights of the women in the audience, but his head whipped around to Blaine… and he smiled.  It took Blaine a moment to realize what had caught Kurt’s attention -- Rachel goddamn Berry waving a $100 bill.  With Kurt over by their chairs, he placed a finger on Blaine’s lips and smiled.  “I think someone’s been a naughty boy,” he murmured.  

“Very!” Tina yelled, grabbing the money out of Rachel’s hand and tucking it into the waistband of Kurt’s impossibly tight pants.  “Make him be a good boy, Santa!”

Before Blaine could put up even a token opposition, those muscular thighs were settle on either side of his chair, Kurt’s ass sinking so low that they bumped his legs on each pump down, and his… candy cane and jingle bells so close to Blaine’s lips he could almost kiss them on the pop up.  Without thinking, Blaine’s hands went to Kurt’s hips, and then slid back to hold on to his ass.  God, what an ass.  Each movement as he bumped and grinded against Blaine flexed under the red lame and almost fucking sparkled.  Blaine felt himself get hard as he imagined what was under those pants -- not that he had to imagine hard.  They were so tight they even hide shame.  He’d originally thought the pants might get torn off, but with his hands on god’s most perfect ass right now, there wasn’t a fabric seam to be felt.  There was nothing under the fabric but skin and sex and fuck, Rachel was right about him needing something, but it wasn’t to relax… it was to get laid.

Blaine pressed his fingers into Kurt’s ass a little harder causing Kurt to chuckle and place a finger on Blaine’s lips.  Blaine took the opportunity to let his mouth fall open just enough for the finger to slip onto his tongue.

He was going to get thrown out.  This was not how you behaved in a strip club, Blaine was sure.  He was going to get yanked up and grabbed by a bouncer and then thrown out on his face in the cold.  But the girls were cheering, and Kurt… Blaine didn’t dare look down to check, but he was pretty sure his cheek was starting to get brushed by a hard dick underneath those impossibly tight pants.  And it had been so long since he’d broken up with his ex, and so long since he’d done anything for himself, that he let his imagination run wild.  This impossibly sexy man on his lap, moving like that, looking at him like that.  Blaine could gather that Kurt was hard, and Blaine could feel himself filling up the front of his jeans quickly, but there was nothing he could do about it.  He dare not let go of Kurt to slip a hand into his own lap and become that pervert and then really get thrown out.  

With the song winding down, Kurt slid back down into Blaine’s lap, grinding his hips down onto Blaine’s erection to make an obvious point, and motioned for the audience to give him a round of applause for being a good and sexy sport.  Blaine gasped at the sudden feeling of contact and tried desperately not to bite his lip or whimper as Kurt shifted absently against his dick.  He knew what he was doing, Blaine was sure about that.  And it was too much for Blaine, too goddamn glorious much.  

As he pushed back to stand up, Kurt let his head fall down to Blaine’s ear and whispered, “If you want to actually slip a sable under my tree, Starlight diner, 1am.”

Blaine swallowed hard and managed a nod as Kurt pulled back, winked at him, and then gathered his fur coat with a flourish.

“See?” Rachel said, as the lights came back up as they readied the next performer.  “You just needed to relax.  Aren’t you glad we brought you here?”

“Yes,” Blaine squeaked, finally finding his voice again and hating that it was obvious he enjoyed himself.  “Yes… I’m very glad I came.”

[quintessentiallygifted]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Gifted (TV 2017) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John Proudstar/Clarice Fong, Marcos Diaz/Lorna Dane Characters: Clarice Fong, John Proudstar, Lorna Dane, Marcos Diaz, Caitlin Strucker Series: Part 10 of 12 days of X-mas oneshots; Underground Edition Summary:

The adults of the underground see the flip side to the joy of Christmas; there’s also the wishes they can’t begin to bring to life

The small bag sits in the centre of the room. Clarice, John, Lorna, Marcos and Caitlin are all prepared to read the letters that everyone made for Santa.

The joy as the kids wrote them, that was special. The adults had been thrown off kilter this year when the children devised the idea that the adults should write to St. Nick as well. The adults didn’t take their assignment nearly as seriously as the children did, but they also wrote wishes. Wishes they wholeheartedly know Santa cannot grant or deliver.

Being in the underground, being different means that all the things that regular citizens take for granted, are luxuries for them.

This isn’t the first time Clarice has participated in letter reading, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Last year was hard but this year, so much had happened during this year. These letters will be excruciating to read, they all do it anyways. Society might shun them, but they will read every word these children have written and try with every fibre of their heart to fulfill a portion of the wishes harboured within the pages.

Clarice smiles softly as John is the first to move, reaching into the small sack housing the letters. Everyone else has too high an emotional stake; Caitlin who teaches and witnesses the struggles that these children face, Clarice with her (somewhat maternal) bond to Caspian, and Lorna & Marcos who have become friends with the other children as Aurora brings them into their family.

John’s emotionally invested too, but he is able to better manage it as he hands out the letters, at random, to everyone.

Lorna is cuddled up to Marcos, her head on his shoulder. John’s on the floor, his shoulder against Clarices leg offering support and Caitlin sits in the middle of the two couples.

Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas this year is for daddy to come back to me and mommy. I would like you to help him escape from Sentinel Services and join us in the bank. Sincerely, Dominique

Dear Sante Klaas, No matter how much I don’t believe in you, my only wish is that you protect my family; Marcos and Aurora. Save them and I’ll deal with everything else.      Lorna.

Dear Santa, I’ve been really good all year, mommy and daddy can tell you so. For Christmas this year daddy let me write my own letter; he wrote my letters to you because I couldn’t write then. This year as Christmas gifts I would like a dolly in a stroller, Princess dresses: Belle’s and Cinderella’s, my powers, the X-Men to return so me mommy and daddy can have normal lives, and I want you to make everyone love each other so that the war will end. Thank you Santa, Aurora

Hey Saint Nick, The children made me write to you. -Shatter.

Dear Santa, Merry Christmas! So much has changed in the past few years and I’m okay with it. If I could ask for anything, it’s that everyone I love stays safe and that this war doesn’t overwhelm us. Please let us find hope. All the best, Sonia

Dear Santa Claus, I’m not sure if I believe in you, but I really want to. Your suppose to be magical, maybe your a mutant like us. Sentinel services got my older sister when she was bringing food back for me and mummy. I found her. There was blood everywhere. Mummy said she’s in heaven so I was hoping you could give her a present.                                        I hope you read this, Love Elsie.

Dear Nicholas of the North Pole, Let me be strong enough to protect and not lead Sentinel Services directly to my new family. Clarice.

Dear Santa,                                        Can you please find my mummy and daddy? Bad people came to my house and Daddy told me to hide. He said to be quiet and he would come back for me. But nobody did. All I want for Christmas is my parents. Thank you Santa, Sammy

Dear Father Christmas, At Aurora’s fervent request I write to you to wish for the continued health and safety of my family. Oh, and if Aurora asked for a pony, please don’t listen to her. Best regards, Marcos Diaz.

Dear Santa, I know I’ve been bad this year but that was all before Clarice found me. I get it if I’m on your naughty list tho, in case I’m not I hope you don’t mind reading my letter. This Christmas I would like to stay here and not have to leave. I would also like a veterinarian book with animal diagrams so I can shift into new animals. I would ask you to end the war but I understand if that’s too much to ask for. Yours Truly, Caspian D.

Dear St. Nicholas, Please protect my children, give them the strength to survive the enormous task they are facing. Also help Reed as he tries to make amends. Sincerely, Caitlin.

Dear Kris Kringle, I don’t pray or make wishes, I don’t happen to believe in supernatural beings having control over anyone’s actions. I also do not celebrate Christmas, however, because of all the kids and adults nagging me to write, I will ask for the continued strength to keep the underground running and to save as many lives as possible. Personally, help me find the strength to protect Clarice. -John Proudstar

Dear Santa Claus, Can I have a kitten for Christmas? Mummy and daddy said maybe when we find somewhere to live, but we are always moving. I want a kitten so I have a friend. Merry Christmas, Adrien

By the time they finish reading, over an hour has passed and there’s not a dry eye in the room. Caitlin has a steady stream of tears pouring down her face, as does Lorna. Clarice keeps her face averted as her tears fall, whilst John rubs her leg reassuringly. Marcos holds Lorna, a tear falling as he clutches a pile of children’s letters. John is not crying, his eyes are visibly damp.

The magic of Christmas is still alive in the underground. The children will have something to celebrate, but in this moment the injustice of being different resonates with those who have read the letters and hear the pained pleas of the people who want what should be a right, not a privilege.

[cringeynews]

New Post has been published on

New Post has been published on http://cringeynews.com/offbeat-news/everyone-is-falling-in-love-with-the-mall-of-americas-first-black-santa/

Everyone is falling in love with the Mall of America's first black Santa.

Larry Jefferson-Gamble’s transformation into Santa Claus began when he was just 12 years old. He remembers that Christmas fondly.

It was the year his father hurt his back around the holidays and told him, “I need you to be Santa for me,” the Washington Post reported. So little Larry, excited about his new role, went to work gathering all the presents for his 11 siblings and put them under the tree. It was a big moment.

Many years later — 17 of which were spent playing the jolly old man in a big, red suit at the professional level — Larry has taken on the gig of a lifetime.

Mall of America welcomes its first black Santa https://t.co/TJ90SkjZLP pic.twitter.com/cus0Jy2Zg8

— Star Tribune (@StarTribune) December 2, 2016

“Santa Larry” will be the first black Santa at Minnesota’s Mall of America, the largest shopping center in the U.S., this holiday season.

For the first time in the mall’s 24-year history, one of the jolly men giving out hugs, smiling for photos, and listening to plenty of wish lists from kids won’t be white.

The Mall of America isn’t the exception, either. At the national scale, Santas of color are “far and few between,” according to Larry. And that’s a big reason why he does it.

“This is a long time coming,” Landon Luther, co-owner of the mall’s Santa Experience, told the Star Tribune. “We want Santa to be for everyone, period.”

Photo via of the Mall of America, used with permission.

Sarah Schmidt, senior public relations manager at the mall, says slots to sit on Larry’s lap at the Santa Experience — where families can schedule an appointment in advance to see St. Nick — are completely booked up throughout the next few days.

For many people, he’s more than your average Kris Kringle.

Santa Larry, a U.S. veteran, means something special to a lot of boys and girls out there — and their parents.

Jefferson says he’s talked to families who’ve driven hours just to see him, the Washington Post reports, with one woman telling him that she’d been waiting 25 years to meet a black Santa.

Unfortunately, Santa’s skin color still seems to ruffle some people’s feathers. An editor at the Star Tribune, for instance, says the paper had to turn off its comments section due to nasty feedback on its article about Santa Larry. And the debate over Santa’s race has been known to fire up a few talking heads in the 24-hour cable news world.

Photo via the Mall of America, used with permission.

To kids, however, Santa Larry’s skin color is no big deal.

“What they see most of the time is this red suit and candy,” Larry says. Santa represents “a good spirit. I’m just a messenger to ing hope, love and peace to girls and boys.”

And when they do notice that he doesn’t look like most other Santas, it’s a good thing, he says.

“There needs to be more Santas of color, because this is America, and kids need to see a Santa that looks like them,” he says. “That helps kids to identify with the love and spirit of the holiday, you know?”

Via

[raisingsupergirl]

Make a List and Check It Twice—A De-stressing Tip From the Jolly Old Fat Man

We've all heard the profound lyrics of "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" hundreds of times. So many times, in fact, that we may have become numb to its true message. Sure, old St. Nick is a diligent fellow, poring over his list, checking it twice to make sure every good little boy and girl gets due credit, but there's something else going on here that needs to be addressed. Something both unnerving and uplifting: our favorite sled-riding philanthropist has the propensity for holiday anxiety just like the rest of us! But there's one thing that separates him from us. Time.

That's right, that jolly old so-n-so has been around for quite a few Christmases. All of them, in fact, if the legends are true. That's not to say that he was around for the birth of our Lord, but I mean, they probably didn't call it Christmas then, right? I'm pretty sure Santa put that title on it. Likely for tax purposes. But I digress. My point being that Santa has had a lot of practice with the craziness that consumes us this time of year. He's no stranger to the onslaught of family dinners, candy-cane comas, plan-crushing snow storms, and ever-growing stuff-n-things to remember and do. SO many things! But how does he manage it all so well at his age? Well, the obvious answer is that Mrs. Claus keeps him in line, but that's not the whole truth. No, the secret is right there in the lyrics: he writes things down.

Yep, that's the big reveal. When he's feeling overwhelmed—when he's faced with a million tasks and facts—he makes lists. Big, long, detailed ones. With the fanciest pen on the scratchiest parchment, all rolled up in magnificent scrolls so they look like something far more important than to-do lists. But the thing is, they are important. In fact, without them, Kris Kringle would likely be in a North Pole nut house by now. I know I would (minus the North Pole part).

List making definitely doesn't come naturally to me. I have some friends who are masters at it. They bask in unnervingly organized stockpiles of multi-colored sharpies, highlighters, folders, and planners, and they're not afraid to use them. In fact, they enjoy it! Can you believe it? Anyone that twisted HAS to be on the naughty, right? Well, that's for Santa to decide, but I CAN tell you that the rest of us disorganized, bull-headed, seat-of-the-pants adventurers can certainly learn a thing or two from them.

I've been in a bit of a tailspin lately. Don't worry. I get that way. It's my natural state. I love life, so I take on too many projects, but I don't take the time to keep them all organized. I mean, with so much awesome stuff out there, why waste time just talking about it? On top of that, I imagine that I'm smart. I think that I can keep everything straight in my head. And for the most part, I can. But it doesn't come without a huge drawback. And that monster is called Anxiety. And when Anxiety comes squirming into town, I do one of two things. First, I usually run away. I recoil, distract, and generally procrastinate. I build walls between Anxiety and me. The problem is, those walls also block me off from all of the things I've committed to. And so, I'm fine for a while, listening to Anxiety's slobbery roars behind my walls as I enjoy the superficial joys in life (which is OH so easy to do during the holidays, amIright?).

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), my walls eventually start to crack. Little rays of light peek through. And then I peek back through those cracks, and I see all the wonderful THINGS I've been putting off—all of those glorious, REAL aspects of life that I've promised to be a part of. And they're all coated with Anxiety's slime. Poor things. I left them out there to die. And about that time, I realize that I've got to do something FAST before I end up on the naughty list.

And that's when the No Duh stick hits me in the head. I'm thirty-four years old, and I STILL let Anxiety distract me from his single, simple kryptonite: LISTS! But I always remember… eventually. When I get to the point where I'm just as likely to break down as my walls. But then it just happens. I write a single thing down. "Get income tax form." Then another. "Write season four story." Then another. "Pay back David." Then I find that I can't stop. It's as if the walls crumble beneath a tidal wave of relief and freedom. Everything that I've attempted to hold in my head at the same time comes spilling out, leaving room for something else: Joy.

Turns out that Joy is the arch-nemesis of Anxiety. Those two have been battling since the first Christmas (the REAL one). They've gone by many names, but the battle always looks the same, and it's up to people like Santa (and more importantly, the Guy he works for) to give us simple truths to help Joy defeat Anxiety. And it's up to us to listen.

So maybe, like me, making lists isn't your thing. But that just means they'll be even more effective for you. You manage to stay afloat without them most of the time, so imagine what you can do WITH them! Christmas is supposed to be the happiest time of year. Why let Anxiety crush your Joy when the key to victory is so simple? So go ahead, make a list. Heck, check it twice! Because this season, if you're not going to be good, at least be joyful, for goodness sake!

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

Ho-Ho-Horror: 6 Great Holiday Horror Shorts

New Post has been published on https://nofspodcast.com/ho-ho-horror-6-great-holiday-horror-shorts/

Ho-Ho-Horror: 6 Great Holiday Horror Shorts

Since the turn of the 20th Century, we have kept our spooky tales and traditions firmly attached to October. At one minute past midnight on November 1st, the pumpkins hit the trash, the trees go up and Christmas music begins playing in the background. This wasn’t always the case, however. For hundreds of years, families have gathered around the fire in the dead of winter to hear terror-inducing tales of Holiday Horror. The telling of these ghost stories is a folk custom that finds it roots in ancient Celtic traditions and was brought to the Americas by Scottish and Irish immigrants.

Jerome K. Jerome, a British writer and owner of the ultra-powerful Double Name, said, “Whenever five or six English-speaking people meet round a fire on Christmas Eve, they start telling each other ghost stories. It is a genial, festive season, and we love to muse upon graves, and dead bodies, and murders, and blood”. When the Puritans took power, however, Holiday Horror was permanently relegated to only be told on Halloween.

We here at Nightmare on Film Street are on a mission to take back the Christmas season and start telling spooky tales once again! Instead of the written word, however, we are starting the revolution by sharing five of our favorite Holiday Horror Short Films. The short film is the best equivalent we have today to the ghost stories that were told around the fireplace. All of these films have a manageable run time, so sit back and enjoy them all!

  A Christmas Treat– Tim Sullivan

This one is near and dear to my heart because it is filled with mid-eighties nostalgia. Tim Sullivan, future director of 2001 Maniacs and Driftwood, made this short at the age of 21 and won himself a Fangoria Short Film Search Award. It may not be filled with state of the art creature effects, but it is a great cautionary tale about not listening to your parents. They always tell you to not try to sneak a peek at Santa while he is delivering your presents, and this short shows you what happens when little Jason disobeys that order.

  My Name is Kris Kringle– Drew Daywalt

We have been told that he knows when we are sleeping, and that he also knows when we are awake. Apparently, he knows if we have been bad, or good, and we have been warned that we should be good, for goodness sake. What we were never told, however, is what would happen to us if we decided to be bad. Well, wonder no more, Fiends! This amazing short from Drew Daywalt stars Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3‘s R.A. Mihailoff as a killer who claims to be Santa Claus. Is he a lunatic that has gone on a four-child killing spree one Christmas Eve, or is he something much, much more sinister?

  The Winter Stalker– Stephen Reedy

This Christmas short from Stephen Reedy is as beautifully shot as it is creepy. if you actually sit and think about it, Santa Claus is a very disturbing character. He is always watching you. He knows what you are thinking at all times. He has the ability and, even worse, the desire to reward or discipline you for your actions. To do this for every child in the world requires a certain level of obsessive behavior, and this short shows the depths of Santa’s devotion.

  Treevenge– Jason Eisener

At 16 minutes in length, this one runs a bit longer than the other films on our list. Don’t let that hold you back, though, because Canadian director Jason Eisener’s 2008 short film is a delight. From the Jeremiah Johnson-esque opening to the gore-filled scenes of trees devouring children, this film is perfect for the Christmas season. Plants are living creatures, so what would happen if the Christmas trees finally had enough and decided to exact their revenge on us lowly humans? You can see Eisener’s penchant for humor and gore throughout the film and you also can see how he was absolutely dripping with talent. It’s no wonder, then, that he was then able to direct Hobo with a Shotgun and segments of The ABC’s of Death and V/H/S 2.

  Santa– Manos Atzarakis

Every kid that celebrates Christmas stays up most of the night before, listening for old Saint Nick and his reindeer. Every bump and creek in the house could be him walking across your roof or him sliding down your chimney. What would happen, then if Santa is not in your home to leave presents and eat cookies? What id he is after a different type of treat? This disturbing short from Manos (The Hands of Fate) Atzarakis answers those questions and guarantees that you will be up all night thinking about it.

  HUMBUG– Matt Thiesen & Justin Lee

Last, but not least, we have this beautifully done short from SiniSisters Productions starring Jessee Foudray & Milly Sanders. What do you do when your neighbor just flat-out refuses to get into the Christmas spirit? Why, you tie them up and draw the literal Hum Bug out of them, that’s what! This short has a lot of NSFW language, so be careful where you watch, but make sure you do watch this one. This is one of the most inventive Holiday Horrors that I have ever seen.

There you have it! These are six of our favorite Christmas and Holiday Horror films. Many of them are focused on Santa, and who can blame them. I was never cool with some fat dude breaking into my house and walking around while I sleep. Even as a child I had seen way too many horror films for this to be acceptable. What are some of your favorite Holiday Horrors? Join our Official Facebook Group and share your recommendations!