Ahhh!!! Thank you so much, Dani! I'm so glad you loved that piece kakehfjiajd it's one of my fav!♡ Thank you for the kind words, for always supporting my works, it means the WORLD to me🥹❤️🩹.
Also, I love all these artists♡ they work so hard to finish every piece, I appreciate every single one of u♡
For @choicesfandomappreciation's Countdown to 2024.
There are so many talented artists in this fandom. I could never pick only four. I am seriously in awe of all of you and your talents. You truly make this fandom a more beautiful place. We are lucky to have you all.
In no particular order
💛 @hydn-jpg: I absolutely adore you and your talent. I can't thank you enough for the beautiful creations you've made for me. I just adore your style. I'm glad you are doing better. I've loved seeing your art on my dash again. Thank you for sharing all of your beautiful visions with us.
💛 @cashweasel: What can I say?! I absolutely adore you and your art. You've created some of my favorite Mal pieces and you gifted the world Valen. How can we ever thank you enough for that?! Valen is everything, but I adore Gideon too!
💛 @oh-so-youre-a-nerd: I've only been following you for a few months but ohmygosh you are so freaking talented. Like how?!!! I absolutely adore seeing your art on my dash, no matter the subject matter, each piece is just stunning. Your use of light is unlike anything I've seen. You are amazing.
💛 @artbyalz: Your art is so much fun! I LOVED your 12 days of Christmas art series. You gifted the fandom so many beautiful and unique pieces. I absolutely adore all you've created, and ohmygosh how can I even thank you for this gift you've given me?!!!
💛 @cassie-thorne: GAH your art!!! The recent art with Astrid is still living rent free in my head. She is so gorgeous! I truly admire and adore all of your work, though I'm a little biased toward your CoP art! I can't wait for the next book to see how you tackle all the new content we get!
💛 @baldwinboy5ive: I've absolutely enjoyed all of your art and memes from Blades. They were simply fantastic. Your work always puts a smile on my face!
💛 @fairymatchmaker : JOY!!! You are just so so lovely and amazing, and your art is brilliant. I know you haven't been able to draw as much as you'd like to have recently, but please know we are here waiting patiently for when you can. Your art is just brilliant.
💛 @violentinecrl: I am still absolutely in love with this gorgeous gift you made for me. I never expected anything like this and genuinely treasure it. It lives rent free in my head always.
💛 @callmebeem: I only discovered your art this year, but I am so in love with it. I love the 3 commissions you've made for me so far (even if I'm still holding on to one of them) but I absolutely treasure each and know I will be back for more soon! Thank you for them!
💛 @rosefuckinggenius: what can I say about you and your art besides you actually are a fucking genius. Your talent is amazing and I'm grateful for all the times we've worked together!
💛 @bayleedraws-sometimesx: you are an absolute delight! You are a sweetheart who creates such lovely art for the fandom. I love your minimalist style. You bring so much love to your work and it shows.
💛 @erixafleur: I've loved seeing all your gorgeous Blades art throughout book two. I can't wait to see more. Your style is lovely whether it's fully rendered or the sketchy style.
💛 @sazanes : Your art is so beautiful! I love seeing all the gorgeous stuff you create for the various appreciation weeks. I truly look forward to seeing all your works. You can see your care for each piece in every stroke.
💛 @twinkleallnight: you write, you do art, what don't you do? Thank you for sharing all of your many talents with the Choices fandom
💛 @mydemonsdrivealimo: Jensen is an amazing character and your OH art is so lovely. Thank you for the Valentine's doodles you made for my Bryce and Olivia. I truly treasure it!
💛 @gaiuskamilah / @talasintahan: your art is simply brilliant. I haven't been following you long, but I'm loving seeing all your gorgeous work.
💛 @weetlebeetle: You're technically not in our fandom, but you've created so many amazing pieces for me and so many others, you might as well be. Thank you for sharing your talent with us! We are so lucky to have you
💛 @hashiedraws (I know you're no longer active in the fandom, but I will always adore and treasure your art!
There are so so many amazing artists in this fandom, just mentioning a few more:
@somewillwin , @garlickk , @myautumnrose , @rainesenator , @ellezelindraws, @totojo2 , @choices-ceri , @crowlion ; @gremmiie ; @cpt-indigo , @mavidraws , @javsarts
This list is by no means extensive, please know that it was not intentional if you were left off!
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I MISS THEM SO GKJFSKAKRJIGOR MUCH
They also had no idea how carol singers dressed up as. Nora assumed there were scarves involved. Trystan was disappointed that Nora didn’t have the faintest idea. Nora was disappointed that in his eight years of living, not once had he been knocked at the door by carol singers.
PLSSSS Nora. Like he doesn't live in a luxury high rise apparent
Marple Street and its adjacent vicinity of New Pasture was decked out with Christmas cheer. So it shouldn’t be odd of them to sit outside in a cafe, keeping watch while dressed like an army of little kids forced them to play House.
KANFJISISJFJF I can literally picture them like this. This scene NEEDS an art scene fr, they're so freakin adorable😭😭😭 the idea of them in their cute disguise outfits and just chillin' outside in NYC in a cold weather😭
A couple of teens were shoving candy down their throats - or what Nora assumed to be candy, unless it was some sort of a new street drug to hit the market; something with a Christmassy name, like Cheesus Christ.
LMAOO not a seasonal drug💀💀💀 searched it up and, oh man, I was blessed.
(Trystan still insisted he get his special binoculars), obscure themselves to not get noticed (they were quite famous on the papers, thanks to Trystan and his neverending shenanigans spewed across his social media) and share a fruitcake over it, because well, fruitcake was delicious.
HE'S SO DRAMATIC I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. I wonder what Trys post on his socmed loll
“Pipers. That must be the eighth clue, across six.” Trystan didn’t even have to take a glance at the grid to give the right answer. “You’re good at this, aren’t you?”
HELP the way Nora just believed him😭
“I want to be in bed by nine. It’s a new personal goal.”
plsss while being a DETECTIVE
“You are a permanent resident in one of the youthful cities in the world, second to only Drakkos, and yet, you chose to be a sweater-loving grandmother with a knee problem. I am more than disappointed, Nora.”
“How do you know I have a knee problem?”
“You have a knee problem?” he asked, bewildered.
I will never not love them😭 plss Trystan like you don't love grandetective Rose
He was going to say, “Hello there, I am a carol singer as you can tell by my pointed witchy hat, my assortment of plastic rings and the fact that I am introducing myself as one. You must believe me, in the name of this holiday spirit and in the same breath, I must ask you to lend me your vehicle for an imperative good deed I am due to accomplish; as I wade through the streets and distribute presents that I have somehow miraculously fitted—” yeah, yeah, boring stuff. What he did say was something along the lines of-
“Hey there, gorgeous. Mind if I borrow your vehicle? Thank you, bye.”
MADS I'M CACKLING. poor man just standing there💀 🧍♂️🧍♂️🧍♂️
Silver would love the snow if they didn’t taint her view of the world around by pampering her with the luxuries of indoor life.
must've been good to be Trystan Thorne and Nora Rose's beloved daughter pet. Silver belike:
“Hey there gorgeous, mind if—”“Seriously Trystan? I thought you were cutting him off!”
“He is too fast, Nora!” Trystan clamoured into the passenger seat, buckling the belt snugly. “How did you get this?”
“Same as you did, probably. Were you really calling people ‘gorgeous’?”
“Jealous, are we?”
LMAOOO I CANNOT WITH THESE TWO--
They took a sip of eggnog. Nora unhooked all of her plastic jewelry, meticulously as possible. Trystan didn’t want to shrug off his fluffy pink coat. Even though carol singers did not dress like that, he wanted an excuse to wear the most outlandish thing and not get judged. And drag Nora for company too. The plastic earrings did bring out her eyes.
Oh, he slayed his way into catching the kid.
“You know - two wrongs do not make a right. But five can. Car theft. Jaywalking. Driving in places you should not drive. Public nuisance.”
“Trust me, I have done way worse for a case.”
A very normal day for a Nora Rose. The way they've been through a lot of things for a box of yarn😭
Oh, how I've missed reading your CoP fics🥹!!! Mads, thank you so so much for writing this masterpiece, it made my whole holiday. Got me cackling up n shit,😭 I'm not even joking, I'm reading this at 12am lol. This is now my favorite holiday fic, there's nothing funnier and cooler than this one. I NEED THIS FANFIC TO BE A MOVIE. Nora and Trystan are just THAT partners in crime (literally), meant to save the city. Not all heroes wear capes because some wear fluffy pink coats and plastic jewelries. MY HEROES. Just remember that me when reading your fics:
Happy holidays if u celebrate, Mads!!🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
fourth wall ~ trystan x nora
Trystan and Nora chase after a porch pirate who has been robbing people's presents (well, not exactly, but close enough.). That's the fic. (crimes)
wc: 3.2k // triggers for strong language, mentions of drug use
a/n: written for @choicesficwriterscreations's holiday event, prompt used: "forced to dress up as elf/santa for work" (slightly modified)
There was this mutual agreement to dress up as carol singers in the middle of the day. Trystan had run down a comprehensive list of ‘Things To Masquerade Yourself In The Middle of the Day With’ - including a case of donning a matching Santa Claus/Elf Helper outfit, before they decided it would be too out in the open.
They also had no idea how carol singers dressed up as. Nora assumed there were scarves involved. Trystan was disappointed that Nora didn’t have the faintest idea. Nora was disappointed that in his eight years of living, not once had he been knocked at the door by carol singers. Neither of them presumed Google was any helpful. With some borrowed, some blue, some red and neon pink, they put together a disguise.
Marple Street and its adjacent vicinity of New Pasture was decked out with Christmas cheer. So it shouldn’t be odd of them to sit outside in a cafe, keeping watch while dressed like an army of little kids forced them to play House. It was funny - New Pasture, there were about tens of people walking back and forth with funky outfits that Nora could only assume were from some intense rave party leading upto the holidays. People carried armfuls of bags from Macy’s, presents wrapped in gold and red. Families dragged their uncooperative children down snow-trodden pathways, in claustrophobic cars brimming with pots, pans, clothes, sometimes even trees. A couple of teens were shoving candy down their throats - or what Nora assumed to be candy, unless it was some sort of a new street drug to hit the market; something with a Christmassy name, like Cheesus Christ. The bars were packed, as usual. The Irish pubs down at the corner were trying their best to inflate their fifth Inflatable Snowman after copius amounts of duct tape. It was different than the typical holiday scenery she was used to.
“Oi! Pay attention, Nora!” Trystan motioned, as he pointed at the nearby brownstone apartment.
“Nothing’s happening, come on.” Nora opened up a copy of the New York Times, going to the crosswords just to pretend she knew something about them. Ever since Mafalda learned Trystan could actually be useful to future investigations, she’d been throwing him some easy ones to tackle first. He took it with the fervour of a determined car salesman with an impossible boss to please.
It was an easy well, case - if it even qualified as one. Porch pirates. A well-to-do Etsy shop-owner, Mrs Remiel, had had her crocheting spools of yarn stolen for a while now. She’d been forced to put her restocking on halt - a rather dangerous thing in this time of year for online businesses, which meant a lot of her customers had to wait more than the stipulated time for their commissioned pieces to gift their friends and family. She’d expected to hit the jackpot when one requested her for a special design, but withdrew at the last minute because she’d notified everyone about her situation. The sooner the better. Clearly the NYPD wasn’t interested in taking her case. No, they were far too busy trying to bust a couple of teens over excessive candy cane dealing.
It was easy bait, anyway. Mrs Remiel informed Nora that she’d had the last seven of her packages stolen and the pirate wouldn’t stop until they’d robbed her eighth. Or well, a safe assumption to make anyway. Which was due at ten o’clock in the morning that day. So all they ought to do was camp outside of a cafe, where they had a decent vantage point (Trystan still insisted he get his special binoculars), obscure themselves to not get noticed (they were quite famous on the papers, thanks to Trystan and his neverending shenanigans spewed across his social media) and share a fruitcake over it, because well, fruitcake was delicious.
“What’s ‘On The 11th Day of Christmas’ mean?”
“Pipers. That must be the eighth clue, across six.” Trystan didn’t even have to take a glance at the grid to give the right answer.
“You’re good at this, aren’t you?”
“Well, if you have read everything in the house and almost everything in the library, you are — what people call a wordsmith.”
“Very ‘humble’ too. That’s tenth, down six.”
“No, actually that is ‘frosty’.”
“Stop.”
“That is third, down four.”
“Really?”
“No, it is actually ‘sock’.” Trystan held back a laugh. “I am so sorry, Nora, but you are delightful to mess around with.”
“Well, this paper’s a bust. Anything’s happening out there?”
“A leaf blew in the wind.”
“Scandalous.”
“I know, right?”
“What else’s happening?”
“I see—” Trystan paused to study the scene before him. “— two people getting into a fistfight over a pink microwave.”
“Those are rare. The microwave, that is.”
“- and that bookshop is having a half-off sale and I see a couple of kids nursing a hangover with blunt and they have not even rolled it properly - it is literally on fire! God, the schools in this district are pathetic. You are not supposed to roll it like a döner kebab - these people have gotten it all— ooh, I see a man with a neon get-up. Must have been quite the Christmas party to get yourself entangled in fairy lights. Very new, compared to getting entangled in your lover’s arms. And the fairy lights are lit-up in a marvellous case of ‘where on earth has that man plugged it into’?”
“We’re going to get kicked out.” Nora groaned into her hands. A plate of fruitcake appeared before them. She stabbed a piece with a fork and swallowed. It wasn’t like she was in comfortable clothes to mourn either; the plastic pink necklace was getting all dangled up in her ear.
“They are.” he refused to put his binoculars down. “That woman can fight! And she is going to drop the — no, yep, she has dropped the microwave - argh - this is painful to watch- and the security are breaking them both apart now. This is messy. I see other people streaming in. One person has already uploaded it to Instagram. If only I had an advanced earpiece to listen to them.”
“All right, you can put it down now.”
“Oh my God!”
“What?”
“The woman just performed a fantastic uppercut!”
“Wait, let me see- hold on-” Nora yanked the binoculars away from his grasp to take a look at the brawl going down in a nearby home appliance store, with large enough windows (thank heavens). Trystan’s play-by-play wasn’t doing the fight any justice, because the woman not only performed an uppercut, but had broken her opponent’s jaw in the process. There was a lot of blood, but it was a nasty car crash Nora couldn’t look away from. People were clamouring inside. It took three people to hold her down and three more to get it on video.
“I take it you do not see many fistfights in and around?” Trystan asked.
“Try seeing absolutely nothing interesting.”
“We should go to a proper rave. Now that these local grimy clubs will likely zhuzh things up for the holidays, this presents a perfect opportunity.”
“I want to be in bed by nine. It’s a new personal goal.”
Trystan raised his eyebrow. Really?
“All right. One. But if the light’s too bright, I’m quitting.”
“You are a permanent resident in one of the youthful cities in the world, second to only Drakkos, and yet, you chose to be a sweater-loving grandmother with a knee problem. I am more than disappointed, Nora.”
“How do you know I have a knee problem?”
“You have a knee problem?” he asked, bewildered.
“Yeah, I scraped mine when I was trying to reach a top shelf yesterday and - Trystan—”
“Yes, do go on. This is just the fuel I need to be insufferable about my incredible deducing skills-”
“Trystan, porch pirate at twelve o’clock. Go! Go! Go!”
In the span of the appliance shop brawl that they were too occupied with, a FedEx personnel had left behind a box that a porch pirate was waiting for, with great anxiety, in the bushes. And just when they’d left, he’d taken his chance. Now, Nora and Trystan were speeding across the narrow streets in the neighbourhood on foot with their disguises flying against the wind. The porch pirate - a surly-looking teen with a gash across his cheek was racing down on a scooter, with the package in his right arm.
“You go left, I’ll go right.” Nora instructed. “Give him a chase. I’ll cut him off.”
Trystan ran into a back alley, searching for a quicker means of transport than just his measly legs. He spotted a man park a yellow Vespa, the key still stuck in the ignition. Quickly, he ran over to him.
Trystan had quite the knack for lies with narrative backstories. He was going to say, “Hello there, I am a carol singer as you can tell by my pointed witchy hat, my assortment of plastic rings and the fact that I am introducing myself as one. You must believe me, in the name of this holiday spirit and in the same breath, I must ask you to lend me your vehicle for an imperative good deed I am due to accomplish; as I wade through the streets and distribute presents that I have somehow miraculously fitted—” yeah, yeah, boring stuff. What he did say was something along the lines of-
“Hey there, gorgeous. Mind if I borrow your vehicle? Thank you, bye.”
The neighbourhood faded away in streaks of red and green in true holiday fashion, as Trystan sped through at above-average speed after the kid with the scooter. There was so much more to this busy life than he could spot from a narrow area in a cafe. Hairdressers had half-off sales for haircuts- quite the contrary to what the hundreds or so Santa Claus impersonators were actually looking for. There was a bank nearby, which had a minimalist tree set up in the front which some vandals had already spewed some rude drawings on - there was no time for laughter. People walking dogs in the snow; well that’s adorable. Silver would love the snow if they didn’t taint her view of the world around by pampering her with the luxuries of indoor life. A pet adoption center nearby had a cute poster of their dogs, cats and exotic birds photoshopped with fluffy hats on.
“Get back you vindictive vermin of the Earth! Return the package!” was something Trystan definitely wanted to shout out - y’know, because he wanted to look cool and everything, but he managed a scream and a “A-ghh-ghrhhh—” with the sound of the wind hitting the back of his throat.
They zipped past a bakery selling fruit pies, another bank with a vandalised back wall - seriously, how many of these banks existed - and a big street choking with traffic and smoke, small enough for a scooter to squeeze through but wasn’t ideal for a Vespa. Trystan improvised instead. He ditched the scooter, rushed up to the car in the front of the line in all his neon glory and knocked on the door for the driver to open it.
“Hey there gorgeous, mind if—”
“Seriously Trystan? I thought you were cutting him off!”
“He is too fast, Nora!” Trystan clamoured into the passenger seat, buckling the belt snugly. “How did you get this?”
“Same as you did, probably. Were you really calling people ‘gorgeous’?”
“Jealous, are we?”
“No, it’s got a fifty-fifty chance of turning out horribly wrong. Brute force, now you can’t go wrong with brute force. You pull the driver out and you get in and accelerate before they notice what’s going on—”
“Drive!” he yelled at the sign of the green light in the intersection. Nora stepped on the gas. The 1970 Camaro was no match for Scooter there, scooting away with the package he’d scooted off of someone’s porch. They were slowly but surely running out of gas and Nora made sure to strategically accelerate such that Scooter’s legs gave out at the right time. However, he was ten steps ahead of them - physically and figuratively, as he cut through a lane leading up to the neighbourhood’s park. Nora swerved, narrowly hitting a curb before recovering and pushing past down the cobblestoned street. People jumped out of their way, right at the nick of time. She was a highly controlled driver, ensuring all the turbulence they experienced was inward and the car did not receive so much as a scratch.
Scooter scrambled down a pond, before he lost his balance, hit a Christmas tree set up by Isabelle Johnson of the New Pasture Community Watch and much to everyone’s dismay, did not fall into the pond himself. That shut up a couple of people who were trying to film things.
Trystan and Nora quickly got out of the car and ran over to help the boy up, only to realise he had dropped the package in the pond.
“Fuck you man. Fuck you, you and you.” Scooter pointed a finger at them.
“We’re only the two of us.” Nora said.
“Really? Why do I see three?”
“You have taken quite the tumble. Come on up, lad.” Trystan hoisted the boy up. “Now, question. Exactly how much money have you got in your wallet?”
“What are you doing?” Nora wasn’t even surprised anymore.
“The least we can do is make a pit stop at the fabric shop.”
“Twenty bucks.” Scooter answered.
“That’s a two hundred dollar box of yarn you pushed into the water.” Nora said.
“Who buys yarn for two hundred dollars?”
“Oh I dunno, must be a guess in the dark, a knitter, for instance? I know, I know, an outlandish guess-”
“How much have you got in your bank account?”
“Trystan!”
“What? The person who has inflicted the damage must compensate!”
“We’re not extorting money from an actual child. We’ll turn him over to the cops-” Nora was mildly taken aback she didn’t gag at the mention of Captain Thompson’s clown circus. “- and we break the bad news. That’s how it works. It’s the nature of the job.”
“Well, I reject nature. Cough up, son.”
“Here— now hold on- here’s a thought, man-” Nora stopped him. “You’ve stolen other boxes too, yeah?”
“What other boxes?”
“Dude.” Nora rolled her eyes. "It's Christmas. Give us a break."
"It's December 17th!"
"Still. Come on, man."
“Okay, yeah - well, they’re with me but I didn’t know they were yarn. I was just going to sell it back in one of those sketchy uh— places where they take Amazon packages that are taken back and refunded or something — uh, y’know those large godowns and stuff? I mean, I didn’t know they were yarn. I don’t think I can get a good enough price for them anyway.”
“But you’d let a two hundred dollar box just drown in a pond?”
“I didn’t know it was worth that much!”
“Something’s not adding up.”
“Dude, I just want to steal shit, God. That’s literally it. I found a shower radio once. I sell stuff that I don’t like. The resale price isn’t that much and I doubt I’d get any for yarn. I do get a lot for the good shit, y’know? Like hair vitamins and stuff. Keto powders. Whey protein. Health shit.”
“Okay, nobody asked for a detailed explanation of your business.” Trystan stopped him midway. “Nora, what do we do?”
“I have literally twenty bucks in my account. The rest others, I’ve got to pay it for renting out an apartment for this stuff.”
There was a righteous option and a crooked option. The righteous, so-moral-encompassed-that-the-needle-would-always-point-to-the-true-north option was to hand Scooter over to the cops (with some induced gag) and call it a day, phone Mrs Remiel back and tell her that they’d caught the perpetrator in question with some unfortunate collateral damage and pray to the heavens she didn’t dock off anything in her wire-transfer to the Agency’s account. With some help and canoodling, Captain Thompson might turn down her insufferable-ness a notch now that she’d gotten a tip and a lead on this porch pirate case that haunted the localities.
“I’ll pay you ten bucks if you can swim and get the package back.” Nora said.
Scooter weighed in his options. He looked at Trystan, dressed in neon pink and a fluffy coat on top. He looked at Nora, who had an assortment of plastic jewelry around her neck and wrists. Really? These people? Scooter could do better.
“Forty.”
“Thirty.”
“Sixty.”
“Fifty.”
“Deal.”
All in all a happy day. Nora just had to delicately transfer the spools of yarn into a bag, dry it up a little and hand it over - apologising profusely that the ruffian in question had ripped open her parcel already. Mrs Remiel was more than happy to get her stuff in one piece - thank God for the absorbent material of the fibres and was a little unhappy that the ruffian in question had also snatched away her receipt ( “I don’t understand why they take the receipts!”). She’d given an extra tip to Nora, for all the trouble she’d to go through - a first in her career as a detective. A Christmas bonus - she’d insisted. Enough to buy another piece of fruitcake and eggnog.
“Did you have to bribe him?” Trystan asked, as he took a sip from his cup.
“You’ve got to do what you got to do.”
“I liked my idea better.” he said bitterly.
“That’s daylight robbery.”
“Well, he was a child, Nora.”
“That would still be daylight robbery.”
“But he did something wrong. Two wrongs can easily cancel and make a right.”
“That’s just something they say in the movies.”
“And I suppose bribery is not a ‘wrong’.”
“Yes, it is a transaction. I don’t tell on him. He gets my job done for me and starts over with a clean slate. I like being nice that way. Very generous with my second chances, that I am.”
“Jury is still out.”
They took a sip of eggnog. Nora unhooked all of her plastic jewelry, meticulously as possible. Trystan didn’t want to shrug off his fluffy pink coat. Even though carol singers did not dress like that, he wanted an excuse to wear the most outlandish thing and not get judged. And drag Nora for company too. The plastic earrings did bring out her eyes.
“You know - two wrongs do not make a right. But five can. Car theft. Jaywalking. Driving in places you should not drive. Public nuisance.”
“Trust me, I have done way worse for a case.”
“It cannot get as bad as thieving a car.” Trystan helped her unbuckle a tight wraparound bracelet that lit up with bells everytime she swiped it. Clearly technology walked so funky holiday bracelets could run.
“Pickpocketing. Breaking and entering. Shootout with water pistols. That’s just during Christmas of last year. Identity theft. Pretending to be a DJ. Setting up a shop without permit. Vandalising for a good cause— my private detective excuse is hanging very thin.” - Nora took a sharp swig of her drink. “Defacing money. Doing actual drugs - they called it Nutmeg. Not to be confused with actual nutmeg. That part people get mixed up way too often.”
They didn’t even have a hat on and yet, Trystan had bits of fluff lodged in his brown locks that Nora managed to pick out, as if they were mid-life crisis-ridden people yearning for their youthful days by living it up in a sad pub somewhere and this was the morning after, where mistakes were made. It was then they mutually agreed that they looked nothing like carol singers, because in order for someone to be a carol singer, they’ve got to sing, well, carols.
“You have stolen identity and you are worried about people mixing up Nutmeg and nutmeg?”
“Happens way too often, like I said.” Nora emphasized, as if that was the bigger problem there and not the fact that they looked like they'd been chucked glittery trash at and kicked out of places.
Another sip of eggnog followed by multiple bites of the fruitcake.
“Whatever happened to the vehicles we stole?”
“I suppose the traffic cops will return them back.”
“That is an oddly convenient ending.” Trystan agreed.
“Yes, I suppose this is what Scorsese would call a 'plot armour'.”
“Did he?”
“Nah, I’m just making stuff up.”
***
Tag List:
Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam
Crimes: @cassie-thorne@peonierose@ao719@trappedinfanfiction@jerzwriter@fuckitweball0000@lilyoffandoms @moominofthevalley
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