#oliday decorations

[eopederson]

Confederate Soldier Guarding the Holiday Tree and Loudon County Courthouse, Leesburg, 2018.

The election is over and Loudon voted out the odious Trumpian congresswoman who had represented it. The county courthouse is still marred by this egregious example of racism (see my earlier post on the same subject).

[shinemadea]

@drumboi​  |   sc

         “  guess  which  three  ghosts  living  in  my  garage  are  getting  a  tree  for  the  holidays  ??  “  box  of  decorations  is  swiftly  placed  on  top  of  the  piano  ,  wide  smile  brightening  soft  features  ,  the  answer  sure  is  a  head  scratcher  but  if  anyone’s  going  to  get  it  right  ,  it’s  alex  .  she’d  managed  to  go  pretty  smoothly  about  asking  her  dad  for  a  second  tree  for  the  studio  .  she’d  told  him  that  she  spends  most  of  her  time  there  after  school  anyway  ,  writing  &  playing  &  it  would  feel  nice  to  have  a  bit  of  holiday  cheer  in  there  with  her  .  he  didn’t  think  twice  about  it  &  that’s  truly  just  one  of  the  many  reasons  why  she  loves  him  .  “  dad’s  bringing  it  in  now  .  i  told  him  i  wanted  to  decorate  it  by  myself  &  surprise  him  .  “  airquotes  are  used  accordingly  .  “  you  at  least  gotta  help  me  with  the  treetop  ,  you’re  the  only  one  who  can  reach  it  between  the  two  of  us  .  shocker  .  “  

[docholligay]

Support has Arrived

themiscyra1983 replied to your post “What if I did some fluff (hypothetically) prompts tomorrow? Would...”

Mercy and Emily hanging out! It feels like they'd be on a similar wavelength, they both have high-strung partners in different ways, and I like the idea that Emily has formed her own friendships with Tracer's friends and coworkers.

I hope I did okay, it’s my first time writing these two together, so FINDING MY FEET. 2,300 words. All of my OW universe is here, this takes place after Powerless. 

Pharah was a worrier.

She would never herself have phrased it that way, and if Mercy had put it that way to her, she would have wrinkled her lip in a light scowl, in the way she always did before she took issue with something, shake her head, and tell Mercy that wasn’t true at all, she was no nervous person. But you did not have to quake and shiver to be a worrier, and it was true that Pharah did not sit anxiously, biting her nails and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Instead, she took the shoe out of the hands of whomever might drop it, made herself responsible for the maintenance of all shoes, and refused to delegate much more than whose job it was to turn out the light.

Pharah had a gift for overextending herself and weakness for trusting others with any responsibility. Pharah was loving and steady and conscientious. Pharah would do anything for Mercy, before she even asked, and if Mercy ever had to ask Pharah would count herself a failure and write it down in another line of her Book of Responsibilities, so she would never forget again. Mercy loved Pharah more than she could possibly say, and Pharah had healed her in ways that she had not even known she was broken.

And Angela Ziegler was going to get off of the couch, weak as she was, and murder Fareeha Amari with her bare hands.

It was not that Mercy did not understand. She had come very close to death, and it would be a long, slow recovery, and even as Mercy sat reading her own medical records, she wondered if she would ever be well enough to return to the field. She had frightened Pharah terribly, whatever little Pharah had said about it, and Pharah’s reluctance to leave the house was just another responsibility she gave herself. If Pharah was there, no one would hurt mercy. Not while she still breathed.

But however much she understood, Pharah’s hovering and insistence that Mercy could not so much as sit and read her medical records for more that thirty minutes at a time, despite the fact that Mercy was the one with a medical degree, and felt she knew fairly well the limits of her health, was putting her quite on the edge of her sanity.

She could not tell Pharah to go away for a bit, and the thought of even doing so sent a pang through Mercy’s heart. It was only that Pharah loved her. She could not reject that.

But what she could do, was send a text to Tracer saying Pharah seemed like she might wear a hole in the floor for pacing, and hope that Tracer’s agile little mind would come to a solution.

Help arrived the next day, with a tiny Brit practically bursting through the front door with a bright smile on her face, a workout bag slung over each shoulder.

“Fareeha!” She jumped into the living room, “ere to rescue you, I am. Been without a proper bit of exercise for weeks now--”

“When did we give you a key?” Pharah leaned over the back of the couch where she had been standing by the window.

“--Ang gave me one, don’t interrupt--and isn’t you always saying we ‘ave to be all tip-top, first class, ready for anything? I thought as you might forget that, things being as they are, but--”

“You must let Pharah say yes, if she’s to join you.” Emily gave a giggle from where she was removing her shoes in the entryway, and walked into the living room, kissing Tracer on the head when she reached her.

“Was getting to it.” Tracer nodded “Come on then, ‘ave your bag,” she shrugged her right shoulder, as if Pharah could not see the tag on it herself, “Did the washing for it and everything.”

Pharah shook her head. “Angela still needs--”

“Oh, I’m to stay with her,” Emily gave her shy smile and sat down on the little chair near the window, “You and Lena can go on.” Pharah did not respond, and Emily gave a small nod, “Amn’t I trustworthy?”

“It is not that.” Pharah sighed, “if someone were to--”

“Jesse’s out front there!” Tracer bounced toward Pharah and extended the bag, “Owes me a favor or two, e does, but I will e never does argue the point.” She chuckled, “‘ad to ‘ave ‘im take a bit of an ‘oliday from punching Gabe in the face, as it was. Think ‘e’s working out some emotional issues, tried to tell ‘im there are some lovely therapists in town…., “She looked at Pharah, “well, anyhow, I’m...talk to ‘ear me own voice sometimes, don’t I then, love?”

Pharah’s face had darkened, and grown solemn. Gabri--Reaper, he was, now, was still to be dealt with, held in their cell in the basement of Winston’s home. She had tried not to think about it, the man she had thought of as an uncle, and what he had become. What he had done.

Mercy touched her arm. “Go on.”

Tracer brightened up again, and tossed the bag at Pharah, who caught it with one hand. “I’ve an idea. I’ll run, and if you catch me, you can pummel me, right?”

“I will never run so fast in my life.” She slung the bag over her shoulder and looked down at Mercy, stroking her hair. “You will call me?”

“I do not think I will be needing to call you. But I would.”

Pharah nodded, licking her lip and thinking a moment, then sighed, kissed Mercy tenderly, and headed for the door.

She pushed Tracer playfully as they walked toward the entryway. “You should hope you run fast.”

“Fareeha, love, I know I run fast.”

They left, and Mercy relaxed a little against the high pile of pillows Pharah had arranged on the couch. Tracer was good for her. It was difficult to be too caught up in her own thoughts, the way Tracer needled her and played with her. Mercy had always thought their Overwatch had succeeded when the other had failed, because love had been added. Each of them were members of a family, more than an organization.

The thought made her remember that it was only a few weeks ago, just before all this had happened, where they had been together celebrating Tracer and Emily’s wedding.

“You’ve no need to entertain me, if ye do get a wee bit tired.”

Mercy turned to her voice, and Emily sat perched still on the little chair, her red hair tied back and glistening even in the tiny and sparse patches of London sunlight, her eyes soft and kind, as they always were. When she noticed that Mercy had turned, she got up and walked over to the end of the couch, settling in there, realizing even before Mercy had that it would be less tiring for her to sit straight.

“This should not be your honeymoon.” Mercy smiled apologetically.

Emily shook her head. “Och, we have the rest of our lives, don’t we?” She smiled brightly. “Hana’s gifted us a holiday together, once it all is a bit more settled.”

“I used to say you should not be giving someone so young so much money, but,” Mercy gave a soft shrug, “she is kinder with it than most would be.”

Emily nodded happily. “I dunna think she’d ever say so.”

“And she would call me a liar for saying it is true.” Mercy looked over to the photo on the back wall, all of them tucked tightly together in front of the unimpressive building that was their headquarters, taken the first day they came to London. “But she is kind.”

“Oh!” Emily got up and padded back to the doorway, grabbing a large bag she’d left there. “Had a thought,. It’s only from something Lena told me, when she was hurt, so if ye’d rather no, I understand.”

She set the bag down on the coffee table, and unloaded a large bowl, a towel, pitcher, and a small bottle of shampoo, decorated with flowers up the side.

Mercy was not about to cause herself the pain of reaching up to touch her hair, but she knew it must be limp and greasy, tied in a loose bun on her head. Emily had always been a favorite of Mercy’s. She was quiet and kind and calm, a perfect match for Tracer’s expressive vibrancy and volume, and the way she loved Tracer came out in every thing that she ever did. But as much as she had loved her before, Mercy was not certain she ever had, or ever would again, love her as much as this moment.

She blushed slightly. “It should be very dirty.”

Emily set the towel down next to Mercy and smiled, giving a little giggle. “Day before last, a student handed me a dead bird. Bit of grease to your hair won’t phase me. Would you like it?” She looked at Mercy, waiting. Emily would never have done anything without anyone’s okay, if they were not sure, if they were uncomfortable.

“Please.” She hoped she looked as grateful as she felt, in that moment.

Emily popped over to the kitchen, only a few steps away, and began to let the water come to temperature. It was funny, Mercy often thought, that so many of them fell in love with someone in the same business, in the constant danger, because it was easier to be understood. There were things you did not have to say. But Tracer had often dated civilians, because Tracer was the bravest person she knew. Tracer was not afraid to explain herself, to give words to the things she’d been through, and hope another person could understand. Maybe because there was no one quite like her, even in their work.

But Emily had been brave, too. She was a beautiful woman, with a good job and a gentle heart, but instead of picking a suitor who she might have had an easy life with, one where they came home at safe hours and where the news was not frightening, she had chosen Tracer. Because she loved her. Because she refused to settle for a candle when she could have a firework, whatever the risks. And she had done it all quite calmly.

Mercy admired her.

Emily carefully set the full bowl down on the table, and then took a few of the pillows out from behind Mercy slowly, taking the bowl and easing her hair into it. She massaged the warm water deep into the roots, and Mercy felt the comfort of it wash over her, closing her eyes and enjoying the knowledge that not only was she being helped, but her wife, as well. It felt nice to know Pharah was cared for, when she could not do it herself.

“And how is your married life?” She felt Emily smile even with her eyes closed, “Barely a month in?”

Emily squirted a bit of shampoo into her hands and rubbed it firmly into Mercy’s hair, the rose and violet of the thick, rich shampoo filling the air. She must have gone to special trouble,because of course she did. That was Emily’s way.

“Not much has changed, I suppose,” she took out the shampoo to the tips, “Lena is still my lovely, we stay in the same house.” she chuckled, “Haven’t yet told my parents I’m taking Lena’s name over mine. My brother, Owen, he approves. He’s always thought kindly of Lena”

“I am sure the Oxtons were delighted, however, to make you one of their own.”

“Amn’t they over everything, though?” Emily giggled, happily this time, her parents’ light shadow over marrying Tracer forgotten in the joy of Tracer’s family for them both.

Mercy gave a soft, small, laugh. “It is true.”

The pitcher rinsed her hair, and Mercy felt the grease and grime fall out of it, wondering if it had lightened three shades in the course of a moment. It was an exquisite gift, and one that no one had thought to give, even with all the casseroles Jack had brought, the laundry service D.va sent, and even Ana’s neatly wrapped gift of fresh pajamas and baklava from the Middles Eastern bakery, freshly made, which was not so much for her as for Pharah, but Mercy would rather Ana gift her, anyhow.

Emily gently teased out Mercy’s hair with a wide-tooth comb, slicking the water out of each bit as well as she could.

“Fareeha must be driving you right mad.” She whispered conspiratorially. “I canna be too judgmental, for I know I’ve been the same with Lena, but I know I’ve driven her right mad.”

“Yes!” Mercy gave a laugh so sharp it hurt, and she had to catch her breath for a moment. She continued, softer, “She is so protective and kind, but I do not need the supervision so constantly.”

Emily nodded as she reached for the towel. “A regular border collie needing a job, is our Fareeha.”

Our Fareeha. It did Mercy’s heart such good to hear those things. As she awoke from her injuries, days after, the haze still settling over her, her first thought had been of Pharah. What would become of her if Mercy was lost. How she would always worry that her determined and dedicated wife would take that hurt and turn it into overwork, into procedure, into long nights spent studying engineering and strategy as her only protection against the loneliness.

But today, Emily and Tracer had proven it didn’t need to happen. They would care for Pharah, in their complementary, utterly opposite ways.

Pharah was a worrier, and nothing would change that, but as Emily gently braided her hair, Mercy remembered that they both had love beyond each other, a sprawling family that would catch them when they fell, and Mercy worried just a little less.

[thelastresidents]

out of morbid curiosity, has chambrea or clem tried to eat a sprig of mistletoe?

“Does Clem like ‘tasting’ things too? I ‘ope ‘e ‘asn’t been tasting anything before I ‘ave, that’d be gross. Is mistletoe poisonous now? Let me look that up… it is! Funny, knowing it’s poison only makes me more curious what it tastes like. I’m going to see if there’s any in the ‘oliday decorations round this place. Er– don’t you poppets go trying this at ‘ome, it’s strictly for the already deceased!”

[bheithann]

HOLIDAY HEADCANONS -- Septic Egos

Henrik is a grinch where Christmas music is concerned. He doesn’t really enjoy hearing it as it grates on his nerves. He also doesn’t really celebrate any holiday in the traditional sense. That said, he’ll still spend a few hundred dollars to get the other egos something really nice that they can enjoy. It’s not the monetary value he cares about so much as he enjoys seeing them happy. 

Marvin doesn’t particularly care. He probably (as in, I haven’t fully decided yet) celebrates Hanukkah, but he’s the type to put up a mix of Hanukkah and Christmas decorations anyway, just because he can, and no one’s ever stopped him before.

Chase spends a lot of money doting on his children and ex wife. While he and Stacy are no longer together, Chase still likes letting her know she’s a great mother to his children, so he’ll buy her something that she can enjoy, child-free, and he’ll take the kids off her hands and splurge on them too. He doesn’t do anything for himself at this time of year, and even feels awkward about celebrating any other way.

Jackie doesn’t care about gifts or anything. He’ll wrap himself in blankets and watch all sorts of holiday-themed movies while dipping candy canes into hot chocolate. To him, this is the time of year to relax and enjoy things quietly. There’s no need to raise a fuss over anything other than getting as many sweets and goodies as he can possibly get his hands on.

Anti all but disappears into his void, because it’s not Halloween. He’ll probably just watch horror movies the whole time and only come out on occasion to throw everyone for a loop.

Jacques has never celebrated any holiday before. So to him it’s the time of year where he can look for art supplies on sale and hole up in his apartment and wait until the new year. Bah Humbug. 

[thedemonconstantine]

adventurepunks​:

“Cece ‘as eaten real poo-poo too me darlin’ Yoyo”

What was kopi luwak if not poop. Cleaned and processed, digested berries. And some potions contained things such as bat excrement. Yes, well she had met him as a teenager but she also used to debate adamantly that God was actually a baby in a cot floating in space so the idea of a teenager being more than just a teenager had flown over her head…and Tim even in a hoodie looked and spoke old.

To a whimsical child at least.

“Since when does yeh care abar bein’ rude an’ declinin’ invitations? If I poked the fireplace I bets I’d find at least ten of ‘em in the ashes” she teased but halted the teasing right there, with an understanding nod.

“I is sure me ma an’ da be glad ta see yeh again Timoffy. Specially me ma-” Talia’s words still stung.

“Yeh dun ‘ave ta send cards. Yeh dun ‘ave ta sign ‘em eiver, I kin just write from Alexis & Timoffy” He didn’t have to be social or warm, he could just be an added name to her wishes.

“Or nah, if yeh nah comfy. Fink abou’ it, yeh gots till Easter. I likes sendin’ ‘andmade cards, makes em special. Imperfect, messy an’ wiff love in every inch, me da said I should remin’ lonely people they’s though’ off. Might be the only card they gets, might be thrown in the bin the moment is seen buh fer the right person, it’s sweet. I likes gettin’ cards. I likes knowin’ someone though’ of me even fer a minute ta pick un an’ sign it.”

She kept hers as decorations for a good month and then recycled them, cutting them up to add the colorful pieces to her craft box.

“I suppose I is more sentimental than yeh buh I is alrite wiff tha’.”

“I knows Iason is gun be there this year if ‘e remembers. Me bruver Damian is comin’ from Uni too, me three youngest siblins are gun be wiff Auntie June an’ uncle Chas. They’s goin’ ta see the Northen lights in Scandanavia, me auntie June is gun be Other June this Winter Solstice. Somma ta do wiff Riley an’ ‘er first blood. Makin’ a ‘oliday out of it, ma paid fer them ta ‘ave a nice vacation if uncle Chas babysits the little uns.Fer someone tha’ ‘ad a ‘obby of bein’ preggy she sure gets fed up of bein’ a mum often”

Bitter, bitter pettiness.

“Eleven actually, to be exact,” Tim corrected, “And I am not proud of it.”

He didn’t seem to mind her teasing though, leaning in to refill her cup of tea before his own.

“Really? I would think John would be the more...enthusiastic one, but I suppose maybe even he tires of my face after a while,” Just like how Alexis teased Tim, he too had a certain repertoire when it came to interacting with John.

“I suppose I don’t mind signing off some. To the ones that matter then, perhaps to Jason. I’ll skip out on Mister E though, thank you.” Tim never quite forgave that one for trying to kill him multiple times.

“Ah, her first moon is near. That means we’ll be seeing a Blood Moon this Solstice.”

Tim’s lips curled just a hint at her grumble.

“Your mother just happens to have too much on her plate is all. She tries very hard despite it all, a power mum.”

So maybe now was the right time for him to place his hand over hers just a little. Just fingers touching, and then Tim cleared his throat and took the dishes to the sink.

“Gifts,” He repeated from earlier.

“We should go shopping for gifts.”

Poo-poo Cece Poo-poo!

Yoyo didn’t seem to mind Alexis eating real droppings, after all birds did just that too when they clean their nests for their young. Or at least take it in their beaks to toss it out elsewhere later.

Poo-poo was a funny word though, almost as funny as saddo.

Alexis always has the best words.

[windmila-blog]

Valentines Day

Mila tilted back a shot of fire whiskey and slammed it down on the bar with a grin, turning on her heel. It was Valentines Day - so naturally, she was in all black. The sight of all the people around her wearing red and pink made her want to puke, to be honest, and all the tacky decorations didn’t really help.

“Valentines Day is so gross. I mean, it’s just so over-the-top’n ridiculous. Girls get all needy ‘n whiny and guys just use it as an excuse to get laid. Which ‘appens often enough anyways. I don’t get why we need a ‘ole ‘oliday and shit for it. It’s just stupid.”

No, she wasn’t smiling. That was definitely not a smile twitching at the edges of her lips. And it wasn’t because Kai was back and her life had stopped sucking again. And her life definitely hadn’t stopped sucking just because Kai was back. The two had nothing to do with each other. Or anything. Shut up, she told her restless brain. “What? What’re you looking at?” she asked, feeling defensive despite the fact that the person she was speaking to could not read her mind. Not that there was anything interesting to read. Obviously.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Because I’m a sap for Christmas and the idea of a Varia Christmas definitely amuses me, I indulged in this meme for Belphegor! I hope you all have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!

A(ngel): The Varia are definitely unique and it’s no surprise that they top their tree with something rather unique too - a skull wearing a Santa’s hat. It is a real human skull, they’re just not sure who it actually used to be.

B(ook): While Belphegor doesn’t like to read, he’ll occasionally enjoy being read to during the holidays, but not from any of the traditional holiday novels. He prefers something with a bit of an edge, while still being festive, like NOS4A2 by Joe Hill.

C(arols): Bel really likes singing Jingle Bells, though not the usual version. He prefers the version that goes ‘the snow is turning red, I think you’re almost dead...’, while throwing knives at people with each new line.

D(inner): That’s easy - Bel enjoys fighting with his fellow Varia members over who gets the last roll or the best cut of meat. It’s the battle that makes the food taste so good, after all.

E(ve): Bel spends Christmas Eve being as lazy as possible. He’d already gotten his gifts professionally wrapped and has thrown them under the tree the night before, so he just kind of goofs off, sleeping in late, watching horrible Christmas movies, bothering the other Varia members, drinking lots of hot chocolate and eating cookies by the handful. 

F(amily): Though he sometimes gets tempted to spend the holiday alone, Bel would be lonely without the rest of the Varia around on Christmas.

G(rinch): Christmas is Bel’s second-favourite holiday. Why wouldn’t it be? There’s a crap-ton of food, lots of tacky and cheesy decorations for him to ridicule, and people buy him things. He loves it. 

H(oliday): Bel’s favourite holiday isn’t Christmas though; his favourite holiday is Black Friday. He loves shopping and the sales on Black Friday are enjoyable but honestly, he enjoys people watching that day the best. People get so pathetically worked up and he feasts on every argument, screaming match, and fistfight that he can watch, sometimes even encouraging people to start them.

I(ce): Bel’s too naturally lazy to really go ice-skating often. It’s too physical for him. However, he’s got enough natural grace and athleticism to be a really good skater and when he does go ice-skating, he’ll actually sort of enjoy doing so, though the enjoyment wears off quickly after the first hour or so.

J(oy): Bel, volunteer? The only thing he volunteers for is to be the taste tester for the cookies or to help decorate the tree - and by help, he means supervise and boss the people doing the actual decorating around.

K(rampus): If there was a naughty list, Bel would be one of the first names. He deserves nothing but coal for years and years and years to come since he’ll never once make it to the nice list.

L(ocation): If he isn’t able to spend Christmas at the Varia mansion, where the staff and underlings can coddle and serve him, then he wants to spend it at a luxury hotel, where he can be pampered and spoiled by that staff.

M(istletoe): Mistletoe and kissing under it is the stupidest thing Bel has ever heard. He wouldn’t do it and he’d mock anyone who did. He cuts down every branch he sees hanging in doorways, stomping it underfoot.

N(ew Year’s): Bel doesn’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. They only get broken after the first week anyway. He likes celebrating New Year’s though and will check out a party or go out hunting for something fun to occupy himself that night.

O(rnament): Bel doesn’t have a special Christmas ornament but he’s very picky about how the main tree in the mansion is decorated and will have his own personal, smaller tree that is always lavishly decorated, often in golden or silver tones, with personalized knife ornaments.

P(resent): Is it expensive? Potentially deadly? Perfect for lazy people to continue being lazy? Delicious? If it hits any of the former statements, then it’s a good gift. And you want to give him a good gift - he tends to kill or maim those who don’t.

Q(uick!): - Write a short holiday ficlet for the character!

R(eindeer): If the evening wasn’t horribly cold and he was alone on the sleigh, with luxurious fur blankets, warm hot chocolate, and fresh cookies, he would love a sleigh ride and would demand a second turn around.

S(tocking): Aside from various Christmas candy, Bel demands a Christmas orange and apple. It’s the only time he’ll actually eat fruit. He really enjoys getting gift cards in his stocking, new socks, new mittens and scarves, DVD movies or CD’s, and playing cards (he loses cards from his already existing decks too often). He collects jackknives too and likes getting a new one in his stocking every year.

T(ree): Bel enjoys having a tree that screams Christmas. It has to be bright and festive, with lots of twinkling lights, candy canes, ornaments hung perfectly symmetrically, and absolutely no goddamn tinsel. Tinsel is the devil.

U(nwrap): Bel’s too lazy to wrap the gifts he’s giving people. He figures that gift-wrapping services exist for a reason and that he’s being charitable, creating a job for someone. When he unwraps gifts, he tends to tear into it, not even bothering to read the tag to see who it’s from ,eager to see what’s inside before quickly throwing it into the ‘good’ or ‘bad’ pile.

V(ideo): Christmas movies of a more unique bend are right up Bel’s alley. While National Lampoon is definitely a Christmas staple, he also enjoys Gremlins, Die Hard, Jack Frost - the horror movie, not the kid friendly Christmas movie, and Santa Slays prime Christmas entertainment.

W(hite): Bel does prefer a white Christmas. Snow is a part of Christmas, though he doesn’t want sub-zero temperatures. If it isn’t snowy that year, he’ll really seriously suggest that they vacation somewhere with snow simply so their Christmas can be white.

X(-mas):  Bel couldn’t be bothered to send Christmas cards and unless a Christmas card sent to him had money or a gift card in it, he really wouldn’t be bothered with it, chucking it right into the garbage without bothering to see who sent it.

Y(ule log): It’s definitely not only a Christmas necessity but a winter necessity! Nothing is better, in Bel’s mind, than taking a nice long nap in front of a warm fire. He tends to hog the best spot to get warm in front of the fire as well but he’ll never tend to the fire or start one, demanding others do that for him.

Z(zzz): Bel loves sleeping in and that isn’t going to change just because it’s Christmas. He’ll want to sleep as late as he can and will be lazy about heading downstairs. Once he opens presents and has dinner and lots of junk food into him, he’ll be relaxed and bored and will often nap late in the day while staying up late that night enjoying his new things.

[aussiegunsmoke]

He flicked out another cig, pulling a lighter from his pocket and lighting it up. A cinnamon scent wafted from it, Jack taking a deep drag. “Yup... stressful times.” He didn’t want to talk about how he’d be missing his family’s celebration this year. Respectfully, he blew it with the wind, carrying it off and away from her. Not all people found smoke in their face to be pleasant. “Nevah been a ‘uge fan of ‘oliday decorations. Too broight in moi opinion.”

"Hey, Jackrabbit. My dad sent me some fresh pork from back home. You wanna join me for a pulled pork sandwich? I got plenty. Nice and tender," Caroline offered in a tone that was meant to be tempting.

Jack had been casually smoking, looking to Caroline. Lovely, it was wonderful to see her. "Oi'd love ta, sheila." He puffed one last inhaled before dropping it and stomping it out. The sniper made sure not to use cheap ones, knowing they smelled pretty bad if you went cheap.

[chicagodefendernews]

Check Out Fun and Free Easter Events For Kids

Check Out Fun and Free Easter Events For Kids

Holidays are some of the best times to spend together as a family, and Easter is no exception. Take these next few weekends as opportunities to spend time together at Chicago Easter events around the city and suburbs! Start your day by decorating Easter eggs, then get out of the house for an Easter egg hunt, photos with the Easter bunny, and more! Read on for the best Chicago Easter events in…