#Krampus Is Coming To Town Sign | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

what-big-teeth · 2 years

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Linked (Male Krampus x Female Reader, pt. 2)

Thank you all for the reblogs, likes, tags, and more for this story! I hope you enjoy learning more about the mystery of this particular Krampus! Thanks for reading! Female Reader x Male Monster (Krampus) [part 1] tw/warnings: death of a minor character ; lemon at story’s end (see Citrus Scale for more) ; oral s* x, monster s*x, unprotected s*x, size k*nk, bulge k*nk If you had to describe Königburg after being put on the spot, the first word you’d think of is “cozy”. And that isn’t because of the darling, two-storied bed and breakfast Ella reserved your stay at. Even with its fortified walls, stone buildings, and vast, Gothic architecture, Omi’s hometown possesses a lovely charm all its own.

And you’re positive, after touring the sites Königburg had to offer, you’ll be hard-pressed to think of it in any other way. Especially with the lingering sweetness and warmth of the cinnamony, apple strudel settling in your stomach from an early dinner. The sole drawback? The change to the original meet-up location arranged between Ella and your local guide.

“Strange how he suddenly said he couldn’t come to the hotel,” you murmur to your childhood friend. “Did something come up?”

“Yeah. I asked him about it, but he insisted on explaining the change in person. In certain situations, that’d be admirable, but since we’re tourists in a foreign country…”

Your mind quickly completes her unspoken thought: it’s a terrifying setup, no matter how you look at it. At least you both were keen to pack pepper spray before leaving America. Here’s hoping neither of you would need to use it.

The ten minute walk dispels the worst of your nerves as the sun gently sets behind the horizon. In fact, you find it difficult to focus on your worries as you pass by a growing number of cheerful faces, both local and tourist alike. But your general caution remains, as it always does in uncertain situations.

With the help of a few directional signs, you soon stand before the Town Hall Square and on the edge of a snow-dusted wonderland.

Beyond the bundled crowds, evergreen garlands studded with twinkling lights hang from the neat rows of painted, wooden stalls. And high above them on the balconies of the older, historic buildings. Vivid blues, reds, and green stand out against the brown-gray of the cobblestones, highlighting the people browsing the stalls for handcrafted wares. Ornaments, nutcrackers, dolls, puppets, sculptures—little knickknacks and bobbles themed for the holidays, all perfectly arranged with seeming cluttered.

And the smells. Savory spices intermingled with the scent of sweets and other foods native to the area. Instead of overpowering the cold freshness of the winter’s night, both mix together in a seamless way. It’s enough to make your mouth water.

The sights, smells, and sounds are nearly enough to make your head spin. But what truly takes your breath away, standing in the middle of the square, is the tallest evergreen tree you’ve ever seen. It’s simply decorated with freshly fallen snow scattered among its lit branches; no ornaments or tinsel of the sort. Not even an angel or star adorning the top. Yet its beauty isn’t lost on you as you take in the sight. Ella breathes out a reverent “wow”, voicing what you can’t.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

You startle, sucking in a short, cold breath as you and Ella both turn around. The deep yet smooth voice chuckles as you take in its owner. The man is tall, his build reminding you of the smaller strongmen you’d see featured on many sports channels. A warm smile lights up his blue eyes and pale, broad features. A few flakes of snow cling to his light brown hair, which is pulled back into a long braid. Yet oddly enough, unlike you and Ella, the stranger only wears a modest green jacket and blue jeans instead of a heavy coat and pants.

He’s handsome, no doubt about it; but also a little…intimidating?

“Oh!” With a growing smile, Ella is quick to extend one of her gloved hands towards him. “It’s great to finally meet you in person!”

“Likewise,” the man says, shaking her hand. His accent is more noticeable this time around since you’re more aware.

He turns towards you and nods his head, now sporting a grin showcasing just a bit of white teeth. You shove your mitten-clad hands into your coat pocket then glance towards Ella.

“Right, you two haven’t formally met yet. This is Kaspar, our official tour guide during our stay…unless something’s changed?”

With such a build and presence, you can’t see anyone attempting to bother you or Ella as long as he’s around. His sheer height and the need to lift your head just to meet his eyes is proof of that.

“It’s wonderful to put a face to the name Ella has said time and time again,” he tells you.

Kaspar doesn’t offer his hand; just an understanding smile and a nod as you shift back and forth on your booted feet. You’re immensely thankful he doesn’t press the issue.

“Same here,” you say.

He looks towards Ella with a weaker smile. “I’d still love to be your tour guide. It’s just that my father’s health has become a huge concern.”

That statement quickly catches your attention. An awkward silence takes hold of you all, but Kaspar is quick to push onward.

“He’s alright! His condition has been stable for the last month and all of his needs are being met.” He rubs a bare hand against the nape of his neck. “He actually insisted that I come by talking my ear off. He didn’t stop until I was out the door.”

Kaspar’s muttered “stubborn old man” dispels the heavy air, drawing a huff of laughter from you. If Omi were still alive, she and Kaspar’s father would definitely get along.

“As long as you’re sure,” you tell him.

“Very,” he replies, inclining his head. “Since we’re in the middle of the famed Rider’s Market, did you two want to look around?”

“Now we’re talking!” Ella says with a grin. “Let’s go!”

Your group meticulously visits each stall, talking with the respective seller about their wares while Kaspar provides additional information as a local. The temptation to buy, buy, and buy is great, but you and Ella dig in your heels and stick to your pre-planned budget.

In the end, you and she have purchased a few items for yourselves and your family members. With the night in full swing, Kaspar insisted on purchasing three glasses of warm, mulled wine, “the perfect thing to warm up the body on such a cold night”.

“I’d take some cherry schnapps in a heartbeat, but this is just as good,” he says after taking a sip. Ella wrinkles her nose.

“Not for me, thanks. I’ll stick to what I know.” She inclines her head towards you with a hum.

“But she’s used alcohol in her cooking before. In fact, she was thinking of tackling more complex flavors like schnapps.”

You raise a splayed hand and twist it back and forth.

“I’ve only used it a few times and I’m still new to the technique…”

Your doubt doesn’t stop Kaspar’s eyes from lighting up with a smile.

“Still, trying out something new means you’re willing to learn to expand your tastes and opinions. It’s a good quality to have. Others can benefit from that mindset.”

As his gaze meets yours, a pleasant warmth settles in your chest. One that isn’t from the mulled wine. But it’s still welcome. You softly offer your thanks around the rim of your mug before taking another sip, acutely feeling Ella’s prolonged stare.

The rest of the night is spent browsing the stalls until the crowds begin to wane. You both accept Kaspar’s offer to escort you both back to your hotel while chatting about the upcoming itinerary. Ella suggests a few changes based on his knowledge about the town, which you both feel will add more authenticity to your trip.

Once you’re both standing at the hotel’s doorstep, you both bid Kaspar a good night. As you trail after Ella, you glimpse him smiling at you, eliciting that same warm feeling from before.

The next two days are spent touring Königburg and learning more about its rich history. Why the Rider’s Market is called such; the importance of the surrounding city walls; the artistic significance of the altarpiece tucked away inside St. James’s Church. During it all, you notice Kaspar asking for your opinion during each stop, hanging onto your replies. He also stands closer to you, but the lack of distance isn’t unwanted with the heat he radiates. And judging by Ella’s knowing smile, she’s noticed too.

Even with all the history-centric visits, Kaspar makes sure there’s still plenty of time for more winter merriment.

The fairytale stroll takes your group through the old streets to view many of Königburg’s buildings. And on their windows, you glimpse a number of quotes from an older version of “Beauty and the Beast”. Both you and Ella are enchanted by the layout and the story itself. But towards the end, you notice Kaspar’s lackluster joy once the Beast becomes human again.

“I’m guessing the story isn’t one of your favorites?” you ask.

“Something like that,” he says.

An hour later, at the Outdoor Garden, you and Kaspar are seated at a high-top, wooden table covered by a patio umbrella. Even though he insisted on getting the food and drinks for lunch, Ella swiftly dissuaded him, volunteering for the task instead. All while flashing you that knowing smile. That Kaspar sees.

You bite back a groan. Having your best friend play matchmaker isn’t something you thought would happen during the trip. Sighing, you ready yourself and turn your attention towards him.

“I’m sorry about Ella. My past relationships haven’t panned out so she means well, but…”

“I’m not.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his soft gaze.

“C-come again?”

“You don’t have to apologize for Ella’s behavior. It would be a lie to say I haven’t been glad for her help, especially since I’m rather fond of you.”

Your pulse deepens, steadily increasing as your body grows very aware of what little space there is between you two.

“Really?” Your voice is a horrible squeak you wince at before clearing your throat. “I…I think there is something there, but we haven’t known each other for long, so…”

You trail off, heat bursting from your cheeks at the admittance. This wasn’t what you planned at all. But a slow, gentle touch redirects your focus. Kaspar’s hand settles on top of your, nearly engulfing it. You find yourself staring into deep blue eyes paired with a sadden smile. He murmurs your name.

“You really don’t remember that night, do you?”

“What?”

But Kaspar doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. He doubles over in his seat, his forehead colliding with the tabletop. The loud thud is only noticeable to you due to the live music and singing. You reach over and touch his shoulders, calling out to him. His reedy voice strains out a reply.

“...’m fine. I have to go.”

You’re left clutching at cold air as Kaspar seemingly vanishes. But you catch him bolting around a corner past a throng of cheerful people. You hear Ella call for you; maybe you answer. Maybe she tries to dash after you but loses sight of you. How else are you alone chasing after Kaspar? You pivot around one last corner, hoping to find him. But all that awaits you is the stone side of a building; a dead end.

You pant, eyes darting around for any sign of him.

“Kaspar? Where are you? Kaspar, please—”

A soft, pained groan cuts you off. Just from behind you, down a much smaller passageway that’s so easily missed. Swallowing your nerves, you slowly approach the opening and peer into the shadows. A barely visible shape curls in on itself, releasing the same pained moan as before.

“Kaspar?”

A few ragged breaths. Another hurt groan—a growl.

But you have to know, fear be damned. You say Kaspar’s name again and hear the faintest reply.

“...I’m here.”

It’s soft but harsh, mixed with a deep rumble you’d expect from a large predator. But the sound is familiar. It is him. The shape shifts, growing taller and taller. It shifts forward, the motion reverberating with a harsh clack and of something ripping. The sound of hooves. Hooves, you soon see, that are coupled with dark, thick fur covering the entire body and contrasting with sharpened white teeth. But the facial features are familiar.

Kaspar stares down at you with blackened eyes, no white sclera in sight. You feel small, but not scared. Just like that night twenty years ago—

“I’ll tell you my name when we meet again. I promise.”

“It’s you,” you breathe out. “The boy from that night.”

A ghost of a smile graces his face until a wince seizes his features. Kaspar sinks to the ground, teeth sharpening and elongating before your eyes. As if he can't control what’s happening. You can’t fathom how to help save for offering comfort. As his fingers elongate, you gently coax him against your chest and cradle his head in your arms.

“I’m here,” you whisper against the swath of fur on his temple. “I’m here.”

The next moments are the longest you’ve ever experienced, each more nerve-wracking than the last. But you stay where you are, refusing to abandon him.

The growling subsides until Kaspar’s left breathing shakily. He lifts his arms, as if considering, then lets them fall to his side.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” you whisper. “But what’s going on? Why are you hurting? What’s happening?”

Kaspar presses closer to your chest and laughs bitterly. “I thought there was still time. But he…”

His voice breaks, a deeply weak and wet sound. So different from the confidence and calm you know him for. You hold him a bit closer and a bit tighter, waiting until he gains back his composure. And for him, for the boy who unknowingly turned your world upside down that night, you’d wait forever.

“My father isn’t long for this world,” he says. “What’s happening to me is proof of that. He’s dying and I’m not there.”

“Then how do we get to him?”

Kaspar pulls back enough to peer up at you, the eyeshine focusing on your face.

“‘We’? But why?”

He tries to shrink away, make himself smaller but you hold firm and keep embracing him. You look at Kaspar with a resolute gaze.

“Because you saved my life that night. And made things better for me. Whatever’s going on with your father, I want to help. Let me repay the favor. Please.”

No words. Only the faint sound of music from afar and the pressure of his touch against you..

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll have to generate a portal. To get back home. But I’ll need to gain some strength back.”

“Whatever you need,” you say.

Kaspar doesn’t shy away from your touch but he doesn’t lean into it like before. You don’t fault him for the choice, not when his father is on the brink. When he shifts against your hold with a long breath, you let go and watch him stand to his feet, following his lead.

“Whatever happens,” he says, “fight off the urge to run.”

Kaspar extends his clawed hand at the empty space before you, fingers splayed wide.

The air surrounding you shifts, crackling with a force you’ve never felt before. The hairs on the nape of your neck stand on edge as black fissures spawn from nothing a few feet behind you. The breach grows until a sizable portal stands before you, revealing nothing beyond its unyielding, dark corridor. Kaspar’s warning makes more sense now.

“We should go.” The exertion in his tone is hard to ignore. “It won’t stay open for long.”

Taking his hand in yours, you fall in step besides Kaspar and walk into the inky depths. It swallows you whole, robbing you of your sight, hearing, your sense of smell. Only Kaspar’s firm grip around your hand keeps you grounded enough to endure the lack of sensations. Until the awareness of self and your surroundings steadily appear again.

A speck of light that grows into a calming flame; a fireplace. The dull gleam of light against black, iron chains decorated with round, bronzed bells—just like yours. The creaking of the wooden floor, the swaying of hanging birch rods bundled overhead. The scent of the cold and wet from outdoors mixed with the warm timber of the indoors. And the faintest, familiar smell—the one that greeted you when seeing Omi in person for the last time.

The pale-skinned man lying underneath the thick quilt before you doesn’t move, save for the weak rise and fall of his chest. But his rheumy, blue eyes do flutter open as Kaspar steps forward and kneels at his side. The elder smiles, rasping out a few words in what you think is German. The tones are familiar to your ears, but the words themselves are odd; much older. As Kaspar encases his father’s thin, wizened hand between his, you let your gaze fall to the floor, refusing to intrude during this private moment. But your ears catch Kaspar’s voice breaking without warning.

“Farewell, Father.”

Kaspar’s cries are muffled from pressing his face against the bedspread. His form is larger now, a complete image now that his transformation is finished. You step closer to him, off to the side to avoid the large tapering horns curving from the top of his head. Eyes burning, you place a hand on his shoulder and feel his body go limp, resting solely on his bent knees.

Kaspar’s composure returns slowly but surely. You continue offering support however you can as he needs, even as he fells trees without an issue. Once his father’s body is wrapped in cloth and placed upon the unlit pyre, Kaspar looks at you and you him. The fur under his eyes is still wet from his tears.

“I’ve already inherited the mantle of Krampus from my father with his passing. But once there’s nothing left but ash, the transition will be complete. I’ll take on the responsibility and all that comes with the role for next year.”

“That’s why you were outside that night long ago,” you say. “Your father was teaching you what to expect.”

“He was. He taught me everything I know and how to care for myself. I wasn’t his child by blood, but he loved me regardless. Just as his father before him and his father’s father.”

He continues, even as the pieces of information fall in place in your mind.

“Since medieval times, maybe even longer, Krampus has always existed. But the figure has never been just one being. The first of us found an unwanted child and took them in. He cared for the child here in this realm. The tradition continued as time passed.”

His black eyes focus on the unmoving bundle without wavering.

“My father witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms, countless battles, numerous plagues, and the industrialization of the world. He saw the worst humanity had to offer and the best they inspired in others. After all of that, it was old age that finally bested him.”

“...I think…”

You take a calming breath to center yourself.

“I think as children, many of us see our parents as invincible beings. They protect and shelter us. They explain the world to us. And they dry our tears, all while getting us ready to be self-sufficient. Their passing is…something unimaginable but as we grow older, we know it’ll happen. That doesn’t mean we’re prepared when it does.”

You wipe away an errant tear with a watery laugh.

“I wasn’t related to her, but Omi Helena was like that, more so since she treated me like another granddaughter.”

Kaspar stiffens at your words.

“My father said that name before. When I asked him about her, he said she was the only woman he ever loved. She begged him to take her away with him, but he didn’t. He couldn’t take her from all she knew, no matter how stubborn she was. So for her to live a normal life, he left without telling her.”

Omi’s final words to you resound in your mind, the memory pricking at your heart. More tears fall from your eyes and this time, you let them.

“She never knew. Omi passed on but warned me about the bell you gave me. She…she didn’t want me to go through the heartbreak she did.”

A warm touch encircles your hand then intertwines itself between your fingers.

“Then,” Kaspar says, tightening his grip just so, “maybe now they both can find peace.”

“A-are you…am I ever going to see you again?”

You hate how soft and small you sound. But you’ve stepped over an edge, one that you can never hope to uncross. A vulnerability you’ve rarely felt comes to the forefront.

Kaspar smiles down at you. His clawed thumb rubs against the back of your hand.

“You still have my bell and you’ve seen my home. You embraced me and supported me during my darkest time. I’d be a fool to let that mean nothing and never see you again.”

You laugh wetly and return his smile, squeezing his hand.

That’s all you need to hear.

ONE YEAR LATER

To this day, Ella still hasn’t let you live down your decision��“to run all over Königburg like a headless chicken”. She’s let up since learning the cause was a family emergency Kaspar needed to tend to. But she won’t let you forget how your actions mirrored that one night during your childhood.

Still, if you were given the choice, you’d do it all over again. All because it led to meeting the man who would claim your heart. The same one you’re waiting for during a cold, post-Christmas night. It’s hard to stay awake so close to midnight, but you’re determined. Kaspar promised to stop by your apartment after his first official go as Krampus. Knowing how much the role means to him, you want to be supportive as possible.

THUD

You startle, much more aware than a few moments ago. It’s a good thing you live on the third floor of your apartment complex and don’t have any next door neighbors.

You hop to your feet, taking a second to stretch out your stiff limbs before bounding to the front door. Opening it reveals a grinning Kaspar brandishing a few Christmas-themed gift bags. You pop up on your tiptoes and he bends down to meet you in a chaste kiss. You hum against his lips, enjoying the heat he naturally gives off.

“That’s one way to announce your arrival,” you say, stepping back to let him in. “Dramatic, much?”

Kaspar shrugs, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Father insisted on the use of flair. It supposedly helps with the fear factor.”

You laugh. “Probably for most kids, but not all seeing as how I was an exception.”

“Yes, and a wonderful one at that.”

Ahhh, he never fails to fluster you at least once, whether in person or through videocalls. But you’re hoping, that tonight, you can turn the tides in your favor.

After setting down the bags and brewing two mugs of black caramel tea, you drink in the sight of your boyfriend from your seat on the coach. He looks well—and as tall as ever—but one thing stands outs.

“Everything alright? Your hand’s halfway between being human and that of a Krampus.”

He holds up his right hand, examining the black color that progresses to a lightened gray at his clawed fingertips.

“I suppose I’m still energetic from my first time being Krampus. There’s an odd rush that comes with leaping from roof to roof to scare the disobedient straight.”

“And you’re done for the night?”

He nods. “All the better to spend time with you, Häschen.”

Little rabbit, he calls you. But not tonight. This is it; this is your chance. You drain the last bit of your tea, wetting your lips with the remnants as you hold his gaze.

“Want to blow off some post-work steam then, big guy?”

His cheeks and the tips of his ear burn a pretty red you haven’t seen in a while. It’s adorable. More so when you tilt your head expectantly, awaiting his answer as he clears his throat.

“Are you sure? It’d be our first time together. And the transformation...”

You reach over and twine your fingers with his then squeeze, noting how his fingernails are lengthening into claws.

“Is something I’m not scared of in the slightest,” you say. “It’s a part of you, just like your human form. Which is wonderfully easy on the eyes, I might add.”

Kaspar chuckles, growing redder while looking your way with an expectant smile. A shame, since it evaporates your remaining bravado damnit. But you trudge on, knowing exactly how want the night to end.

“Besides I…actually like it. A lot—!”

You gasp as two large, clawed hands gently grip at your waist. They drag against your pajama top, almost tearing the fabric. All to pull you flush against his heated body to feel how eager he is. Kaspar grins down at you with sharp teeth and elongating fangs.

“Then I shouldn’t leave my dear häschen disappointed, hm?”

You squeal and laugh as he lifts you effortlessly into a bridal carry. His claws dip beneath your pajama bottoms to skim against your lower back, making you shudder. He draws nonsensical shapes against your warming skin, careful to not draw blood. He could, you know he could so easily, but how he doesn’t and just only teases...

You whine pitifully as he sits you on the edge of your bed, watching as he carefully, slowly, pulls off his clothes. Still, the sight is lovely and you can’t help but admire his build and bulk.

You reach out an eager hand once he’s only in his boxer-briefs. He not only meets you half way, but guides you to straddle his hips as he crosses his legs. Your fingertips skim across his chest then down his toned stomach to the hem of his underwear.

“So is this my present for this year?” you ask. “Because I’m not complaining.”

You squeak from the sensation of sharp teeth nipping at your pulse point. Then, Kaspar pulls a deep moan from you by lapping at your skin with his much longer tongue.

“N-not complaining at all. Fuck Kaspar…”

He chuckles, voice deepening into a rich, sinful tone that goes straight to your cunt.

“Just one of a few,” he drawls. “If you’d like, I can go—”

“I swear to god if you stop, I’ll kick your furry ass.”

Kaspar laughs, gripping at your hips and pulling you flush against his growing erection. You grind down against him, threading your fingers through the thick fur at his shoulders. The resulting sparks are good but aren’t enough.

“Kas, please...”

“Far be it from me to deny you anything, love.”

Kaspar takes his time removing your pajama top, laying you down to press kisses to your collarbone, down to the skin just above your breasts then your stomach. Once he rids you of your bottoms, still leaving your panties, he presses his thumbpad against the growing the dampness between you legs.

“Look at you, häschen,” he coos. “I haven’t done anything worthwhile and you’re already so wet for me.”

You rub against his finger to feel more warmth and pressure only for him to pull away.

“Now, now,” he chides above your whining. “Think you can be a good girl and let me taste you? I promise you’ll feel so good.”

You nod against the pillows behind your head.

“Please, please, Kaspar. Wanna feel you...!”

He yanks off your panties, leaving you bare as he positions his horned head right in front of your sopping cunt. He laves at your lips with the thin tip of his tongue then your clit, pulling a strained curse from your throat. You try to sit up and reach for his horns only for his tongue to plunge into your wet heat.

You cry out and fall back, your body arching at how it leaves no place untouched and skims against your cervix. And the heat; it’s almost searing, but so addicting and god do you want more.

As if reading your thoughts, Kaspar retracts his tongue just enough so it rubs against that one spot that leaves you seeing sparks behind your eyes. Again and again and again.

“God, Kas, ‘m gonna cum!”

His hand finds yours, twining your fingers together with a squeeze. One final swirl of his tongue pushes you over the edge, pulling a strained cry from your throat.

He slowly withdraws his tongue from between your pulsing walls, lapping up as much of your release as he can. Catching your breath, you glance up to see him hovering over you with a pleased smirk. He isn’t fully transformed, but he’s more than halfway there. You giggle as he growls at you playfully, reaching up towards him as he kisses you. He moans against your mouth, letting you taste yourself before pulling back with a hum.

“We can stop now if you want,” he murmurs, but you’re quick to shake your head.

“I want to keep going, but only you want to. Do you?”

“More than anything, häschen,” he breathes.

You grin. “Need some help with shedding your last bit of clothes?”

A sudden rip and the swift motion of his claws is all the answer you need. You laugh, looping your arms around his neck.

“Really, Kas?”

He shrugs. “The elastic was getting too tight.”

It’s enough to pull a fit of giggles from you. He nuzzles his forehead against yours, shifting his large bulk to better position himself. But you end up staring straight at his chest instead of his face.

“Here,” you say pushing against him. “Let’s try this, instead.”

You’re soon straddling him again with no barriers between you two. His large, erect cock is pressed between your bodies, relative to his size and weeping despite being untouched. Your mouth waters at the sight, but the urge to use it will have to wait. You focus on Kaspar and rest your palm against his cheek.

“This way, I can see what makes you feel good and we can both control the pace,” you say. “You alright?”

“I should be asking you that, love.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I need to stop. Ready, big guy?”

Leaning down, he presses his forehead against yours and nods. He lifts you up so the tip of his cock presses against your sensitive hole. You wrap your arms around his neck and shift against his gentle hold. His head coaxes past your lips making you moan.

Just that bit alone presses against you fully, leaving no spot untouched. The fact you’re already feeling dazed from just that...

“More,” you breathe. “Want more, Kas.”

He grunts, his grip tightening on your asscheeks. His trembling transfers to you, pulling you from your haze.

“Kas?” Damnit, you’re slurring your words. “You ‘kay?”

“Shit…the change’s not done. Still coming. Can’t stop it—”

You kiss him deeply and let your tongue caress his, shushing him.

“It’s fine baby, it’s fine, I want it, please Kas I’m begging you. I’ll be fine!”

He keeps pushing in with a low hiss, stretching you so completely and deeply. And the way he fills you. God, you’ll never want another man. The burn is amazing; grounding yet leaving you breathless. And he’s still pushing in, until the head of his cock kisses your cervix. It’s then your ass ends up flush against his hips.

Your head lolls against your shoulders then falls forward, pressing against Kaspar’s heaving chest. Your body feels aflame but his fur carries the chilling scent of winter and his forested home. Calming yet addicting. Kaspar’s breathing stutters as he looks down at where you’re connected.

“Kas?”

“Shit...it’s me. T-there’s an outline...”

You grip at his fur with one hand, letting the other fall to your lower stomach. Your fingers skim against the hard bulge pushing out from inside you.

“Fuck, Kas, I can feel you...”

“Can I?” he strains out. “Want to move, please häschen, need to.”

“Yes, yes, move.”

He lifts you up and down on his cock, leaving the tip inside then touching your cervix with each motion. The sheer size of it leaves nothing untouched, pulling and pushing at your walls. His arms pump faster. Pressure builds up inside you, deeper and stronger than you’ve experienced. It leaves you slack jawed and panting, but you manage to hook your heels at his waist. Dig your fingers into his fur and listen as he rambles nonsense in German and English.

“Scheisse! So good, so good. Going to cum, häschen. I should—”

“Fuck, stay right there, Kas, cum inside—hah—it’s okay…!”

The band of pressure snaps, leaving you screaming and crying into Kaspar’s thick fur at the pleasure surging through your body. He follows right after, pulling you flush against his body to thrust deeply once more. Kaspar bellows into his hand with a roar that leaves you shivering.

Time passes, more than enough for you to catch your breath and overcome your daze. Kaspar’s tongue swipes at the sweat and tears staining your face; you smile.

“Feel better, big guy?”

Kaspar groans against your skin then sighs.

“Amazingly so. Perhaps we can make this a tradition of sorts?”

“I am more than okay with that idea. Stay the night?”

“Yes. And if I want to stay longer?”

You coax him down into a gentle kiss and press your forehead to his.

“Like you have to ask.”

#krampus #monster boyfriend #monster romance #lemon #exophilia

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monster-bait · 3 years

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Santa's Workshop, M Krampus x F Human, NSFW, BDSM~Dubcon (because it's Krampus) Patreon Chistmas Poll Winner

Dara took a shuddering breath, attempting to slow her hammering pulse.

She had left the house that night with her nerves jangling, feeling like an exposed wire: tingling and electric, a buzz beneath her skin that demanded she get in the car and drive. She couldn’t explain why she drove for what felt like hours, nor why she directed her car down the seedy stretch of road beside the highway on the edge of town, pulling at length into a lot bearing a lurid, candy cane-striped sign, advertising the adult club.

Santa’s Workshop

It seemed exceptionally obscene, she thought, invoking Santa’s name for a place like this, but obscene, she realized, was why she had come. She had heard of this place. She knew what it was, what happened here. She knew why she’d come.

Why are you like this, Dara?! Why can’t we have a normal night in without you wanting me to beat you black and blue? I can’t do this anymore! This isn’t the kind of life I want…

Her boyfriend’s words buzzed through her mind like static on the radio; his face creased with frustration and disgust. She didn’t blame him, she truly didn’t, but she was unable to help the things she craved, the desperate need to be punished…It seemed apt that her relationship had fallen apart at Christmastime.

After all, that was when it had all started.

She’d been just a year or two out of university at that point, her roommate someone who’d answered an ad. She and Juliette got on well enough, and neither of them was home often enough to get on each other’s nerves. She did the dishes and kept the common areas clean, and Dara had foolishly thought that was all that mattered. Her lack of knowledge of her roommate’s extra-curricular activities came to a head on Christmas Eve, their first year living together. The heavy rap upon the door had startled Dara, and when she’d heard the blood-curdling scream Juliette had let out, she’d tried to run.

Tried and failed spectacularly, but at least she’d tried, she told herself.

She was uninvolved, an innocent bystander, but it hadn't mattered to the creature who’d entered the apartment. Large black horns and the hindquarters of a goat, it was draped in chains and carried a heavy-looking woven basket, and produced a hand-tie of branches. It was there to punish Juliette, but Dara had been collateral damage—had felt the bite of those branches against the curve of her ass and the sting of its broad palm against her thighs, the press of its knuckles into the hot cleft of her sex before the spanking had continued. She’d watched Juliette be used over and over again, had screamed when it was her turn, eyes streaming as she was fucked repeatedly from behind by the creature…

By the time sunlight began to stream through their windows on Christmas morning, it was as if nothing had happened. She’d woken curled in her bed; the blankets pulled up to her nose. The living room had been unmolested, and the tipped over furniture and strewn cushions righted, Juliette staggering groggily from her room. They’d never spoken of the things that had happened that night, and Dara had moved back home shortly thereafter, determined to put the memory of that night behind her.

Much like her attempt to escape, she’d tried and failed spectacularly.

It had been exhilarating, blinding pleasure and excruciating pain, twisting and melding into a sensation she’d never before experienced, one she’d been chasing ever since. Not a week went by when she didn’t dream about the bite of branches against her skin, of being spanked until she was unable to stand, and fucked until her legs were numb.

Now she was free once again, another relationship down in flames, free to seek out the experience she craved. It had been impossible finding someone who could meet her expectations as the years passed, which was how she’d wound up seeking out the candy cane-striped sign of this sleazy club. She’d heard rumors that this place catered to certain desires, and she was here to test the veracity of those claims. It’s now or never. Dara sucked in a deep breath and stepped from the car.

Read the whole thing!

#krampus #exophilia

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resurrectionrpg · 3 years

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JINGLE BELLS, SOMETHING SMELLS.

With the holidays in full swing everyone has been busy stocking up on gifts and enjoying the dazzling lights put up all around town. Snow has covered Deacon Falls in a nice blanket as cheerful laughs fill the air since there has been a lull in horrible happenings. It felt as if the communities run of bad luck was finally turning around, but everyone should know by now that the quiet simply mean something more horrible is lurking waiting for the right time to strike. That moment has finally come in the form of a horrible gift left under the tree put up in the town square. The report covering the incident are as follows:

“This morning officials found a body of a man who appears to have been in his late thirties under the Christmas tree set up in the town square. Upon closer inspection the body had been open up and filled with coal as a substitute for his organs. There has been no sign of the entrails anywhere, however police have confirmed the man to fit the profile for an unsolved murder case of a handful of young women which happened a year ago. This is due to the files of evidence being pinned onto the body, with the words NAUGHTY written in his own blood on the front page. At this time there is no solid lead on suspects, but locals have been warned to look out for any suspicious burly figures big enough to take down a fully grown man and tear open a chest with their bare hands. There have also been warnings of a potential incoming snow storm, so it would be best for everyone to stock up now and stay indoors for their own safety.”

While the local news plays out over the televisions in Deacon Falls, certain villains around the town are waking up to gifts on their doorsteps and tables. Seven boxes have gone out curtesy of whoever was the coal culprit, each one containing an organ that belonged to the man. The packages pass off as innocently wrapped presents at first, the only hint of mischief being a tag which has neat cursive writing in red reading “You better watch out.” It is apparent upon opening that these are threats, and it is up to them to decide what to do with it.

Welcome to the newest event, where Krampus just may come calling. This event will be held from FRIDAY the 18th to SUNDAY the 3rd, and there will be THREE parts to this event.

VILLAINS: If you’d like, up to 7 of you can find “gifts” at your doorstep. Please contact us to let us know that you’d like to be one of the 7. 3/7 TAKEN.

VICTIMS/VILLAINS: If you’d like to plot more with Krampus, please contact our lovely mun Izzy, who plays Kirby (Krampus).

Please note: this is not an event where your characters powers get suddenly stronger.

Remember: Play nice or you might just find a lump of coal in your stocking.

#resurrectionevent004 #rp #rpg #horror rp #discord rp

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foreverwayward · 5 years

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“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 7: A Very Supernatural Christmas

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 10,866 (yup. this one got long)

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

The weather in Ypsilanti, Michigan would never have anyone believe it was late December. There was no chill in the air, no snow on the ground.

A little girl with blonde hair stood motionless and sad at the window as Riley and Dean spoke with her mother on the front porch. The woman had almost identical hair to her daughter and her face was worn and tired. Her husband had disappeared without a trace only days before Christmas. The family had their home fully decorated for the season. Poinsettias, a large nutcracker, wreaths, and lights lined the porch.

Through the open door, the hunters could see a large tree in the foyer of the home that twinkled as though everything was as it should be.

Posing as FBI agents, Riley and Dean questioned the mother to find out all they could about the missing man.

“So, what exactly happened, Mrs. Walsh?” Riley asked.

“Um, my daughter and I were in our beds. Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the roof and then I--I heard Mike scream.” The worried wife stared down at the ground in disbelief as tears welled in her eyes. “And now I’m talking to the FBI.”

Taking notes of the interview, Dean still took part in the questioning. “And you didn't see any of it?”

“No, he was--he was just gone. The doors were locked and my parents are the only ones with a key to the house, but they live in Florida.”

Riley could feel the woman’s agonizing concern and lost herself in her sad eyes as her empathic abilities sucked her in.

Dean scanned around the porch once more. “And no sign of forced entry?”

“That’s right.”

With his hands in his slacks, Sam walked out of the house and half-smiled at the victim’s wife. “Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh--got just about everything we need. We’re all set.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Dean added. After noticing Riley, he cleared his throat to snap her out of her trance-like state.

Immediately, it was as if she was grounded back into her body and Riley tried to compose herself. The three turned to walk down the steps with a quick nod to Mrs. Walsh.

“Agents…” the woman called out and the hunters stopped to turn back toward her. “The police said my husband might have been kidnapped. But, if that’s true, why haven’t the kidnappers called? Or--or demanded a ransom? It’s three days ‘til Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?”

Still reeling from her connection to Mrs. Walsh, Riley bit her lip trying to control her emotions. “We’re so sorry.” Moving on with the Winchesters, they all resumed their walk to the car as the woman turned to go back inside. Riley sighed heavily before saying, “Sam, please tell me you found something.”

“Stocking, mistletoe...this...” Sam replied as he pulled something out of his pocket to give to Dean.

It was a human tooth. “A tooth? Where was this?” Dean examined it more closely as Riley released her hair from its bun trying not to let it all get the best of her.

“In the chimney.”

“Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It’s too narrow.”

Riley took a deep breath as a horrible thought crossed her mind and she shared it with the boys. “Not in one piece at least.”

“Alright, so, if dad went up the chimney--”

“We need to find out what dragged him up there,” Sam said finishing his brother’s sentence.

------

In their motel room, Sam sat at his computer researching while Riley pinned their printed pictures, lore, local history and more up on the walls. The wallpaper was a dark beige with ivy plants covering it, so she was happy to cover some of it up.

Dean walked into the room carrying a brown paper bag. “So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?”

“Oh, yeah,” Riley replied sarcastically. “We’re looking for Dick Van Dyke.”

As he put down the bag, Dean looked back at her in confusion. “Who?”

Sam smiled at his question and tried to help him. “...Mary Poppins?”

“Who’s that?”

Riley and Sam shared a look of humor before the Winchester chuckled. “Oh come on--never mind,” he said giving up on the pointless conversation with a wave of his hand.

“Sam, remind me to make this guy watch a Disney movie at some point,” Riley teased as she pinned up pictures of what looked like different types of demons.

Ignoring their encounter, Dean went back on topic as he went to greet Riley with a quick kiss. “Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month.”

“Another guy got pulled up his chimney?”

“Don’t know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof.” Dean took off his jacket and shrugged before Sam and Riley gestured the same in response. “So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?”

“Actually, Rye and I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

Finally finishing her task, Riley joined Sam at the table and smirked at Dean. “You’re gonna think it’s crazy.”

“What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?”

Sam and Riley both chuckled before the Winchester smiled up at his brother. “Um...evil Santa.”

Dean paused and then nodded in agreeance. “Yeah, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah…I mean, I’m just saying that there’s some version of the anti-Claus in every culture.” Sam pointed to some of their findings on the table and Dean took them to get a closer look. “You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there’s all sorts of lore.”

“Saying what?”

“Well,” Riley started as she looked down at her notes. “Some of it says that back in the day, Santa had a brother--that he went dark-side though and he also shows up around Christmas time. But, this guy didn’t bring you goodies, he punished you for being on the naughty list basically.”

“By hauling their ass up chimneys?”

“That’s just some of it, but yeah.”

“So, this is your theory, huh? Santa’s shady brother? I mean, Santa doesn’t have a brother. There is no Santa.”

Sam scoffed before replying, “yeah, I know. You’re the one who told me that in the first place, remember?” He looked at Dean who glanced down almost looking like he felt guilty. “Yeah, you know what, we could be wrong. I mean,” Sam sighed as he shut his laptop. “We gotta be wrong.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” When his partners looked at him quizzically, Dean grabbed some papers with his own findings. “I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched.”

“Where?”

------

A beat-up sign reading, ‘Welcome to Santa’s Village’ hung over the entryway of a large lot. Inside, Christmas music played as employees wandered around in cheesy costumes of elves, reindeer, and snowmen. Cheap lights hung from a red building labeled, ‘Elves Station’ and evergreen trees were being sold toward the back.

Children were running around playing as if the cheap lot was a magical Winter Wonderland.

The three walked in and they all glanced in different directions before Dean said, “You know, all this Christmas talk? I think we should have one.”

“Have one what?” Sam asked.

“A Christmas.”

With a surprised look, Riley replied, “really? I mean, we haven’t done one before.”

“No, thanks,” the younger brother scoffed through a chuckle.

“No, we’ll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little, Sammy. But, this time…” Dean said with a smile before putting an arm around Riley, “it’ll be the three of us.”

“Dean, those weren’t exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know.”

“What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases.”

Sam’s face fell as he grew slightly more serious. “Whose childhood are you talking about?”

All of a sudden, Riley felt Sam’s energy change. There was a sadness in him that felt old and like it had always been ingrained in him. She tried to focus on him, hoping she could understand.

Stopping mid-walk, Dean turned to his little brother. “Oh, come on, Sam.”

“No! Just…no.”

Dean looked surprised and somewhat shocked as he turned with Riley to keep going. “Alright, ya fuckin’ Grinch.”

As they both walked away, Sam stood still. His attention went to a small, almost cartoon-like, reindeer statue and he looked uncomfortable.

Riley glanced over her shoulder to watch her brother with curiosity.

------

Broken Bow, Nebraska

Christmas Eve, 1991

On a thick television set, in a worn motel room, reindeers pulled Santa’s sleigh across the sky. It was the movie ‘A Year Without Santa Clause’.

The walls were cracked, left uncared for for years with filthy carpet to match. It smelt of mothballs and the takeout the boys had gotten since John left.

An eight-year-old Sam sat on the floor in front of the set, wrapping a gift in newspaper. Dean, no more than twelve-years-old, stood looking out the front window watching the snow fall.

The older brother noticed Sam and turned to ask, “what is that?”

“A present for Dad.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right. Where’d you get the money? Steal it?”

“No. Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to him--said it was real special.” As Sam continued to wrap his gift, Dean sat next to him on the couch and began to read a magazine. The little Winchester looked up with a face of worry. “Dad’s gonna be here, right? It’s Christmas.”

“He knows and he’ll be here. Promise.”

“Where is he anyway?” As young children do, Sam had so many questions. And with John gone, the only one to answer them was his big brother, Dean.

Dean hated when Sam got curious about their lives. Not because he found it annoying as much as he was running out of lies to tell him. “On business.”

“What kind of business?”

“You know that,” Dean replied with a worried look as he fumbled through the car magazine in his hands. “He sells stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff.”

“Nobody ever tells me anything,” Sam said sadly.

Rolling his eyes, Dean stood with a huff and walked back towards his bed. “Then quit asking.”

The bed was covered in garbage and food-wrappers and Dean shoved it off to make room for himself. He sat down and continued to browse the publication.

Sam kneeled on the couch to lean on the back of it and looked at his brother. “Is Dad a spy?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean snarked. “He’s James Bond.”

“Why do we move around so much?”

It was around that time that Dean was beginning to get frustrated with the barrage of questions. “’Cause everywhere we go, they get sick of your face.”

“I’m old enough, Dean. You can tell me the truth.”

Dean looked up to meet Sam’s gaze. ”You don’t wanna know the truth. Believe me.”

“Is that why we never talk about…Mom?” Sam asked meekly.

Dean immediately tossed the magazine away in anger and stood up before yelling. “Shut up! Don’t you ever talk about Mom, ever!” Grabbing his jacket, he went for the door.

Little Sam was scared to be alone and cried out, “wait, where are you going?”

“Out.” Slamming the door behind him, Dean disappeared into the snowy night.

Sam sat in silence with a look of brokenness in his eyes, Alone and confused, the young Winchester peered back at the holiday special on TV. He wondered if there would ever be a year that he could have a real Christmas like the other kids; one where he felt the magic of the holidays and not the loneliness of a dusty motel room.

-----

The memory had taken Sam back to a time he had long wished to forget. His childhood was painful, and it made him resentful of the holidays. Maybe, had John been around, things would have been different. Or maybe the drinking would have only made it worse. In the end, Sam realized it didn’t matter which way things had gone; he and Dean would always end up right where they were.

Dean had already looked around with Riley and they had made it back to where they had left Sam. “You’d think with the ten fuckin’ bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow.”

“Wait,” Riley interjected. “We spent thirty bucks to get into the saddest North Pole ever? What a ripoff.”

Sam pulled himself from his memories without hearing either of them. “What?”

Those feelings Riley was picking up on earlier were still there if not stronger. Her brother was hurting and she knew it, but there was no way he’d tell Dean. So, Riley reached out for Sam to whisper into his thoughts. “What’s going on, Sam? You okay?”

As he heard her voice in his mind, his eyes went for hers. “Yeah...I’m good.” His tone was sad and flat, only she decided not to push with Dean around.

“So, what are we looking for, again?” Dean asked, not knowing of their private conversation.

“Um…” Sam looked around the lot and tried to forget it all. “Lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets.”

“Great. So, we’re looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets?”

Riley gave Dean a knowing look. “Well, if you smell like candy, the kids will come flocking, ya know?”

“That’s creepy.” Dean’s comment brought out a chuckle from his partners. “How does this thing know who’s been naughty and who’s been nice?”

“No clue.”

The family had continued on only to see a man wearing a Santa costume sitting outside a small barn. It was poorly decorated to appear as if it belonged in the North Pole with nearly no children in line to meet Santa.

Sitting on a red chair, was ‘Santa’. His voice was gruff and he didn’t even wear the beard properly as it hung beneath his chin.

There was nothing about him that didn’t make the hunters feel uncomfortable and their faces showed it. Sam, Riley, and Dean watched as a little boy sat on Santa’s lap.

“You been a good boy this year? ‘Cause Santa’s got a special gift for you,” the man cackled creepily, causing the boy’s mom to grab his arm and pull him away from the disgusting Santa.

Riley scrunched her face feeling the discomfort in the air. “Ugh. Please don’t tell me that Pervy Santa isn’t our guy.”

An adorable young woman with brunette hair and dressed as an elf went to the hunters with a smile on her face. “Welcome to Santa’s court. Can I escort your child to Santa?”

“Uh…” Sam uttered awkwardly.

“No. No. Uh--but actually my brother here…” Dean smiled as he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “...it's been a lifelong dream of his.”

Riley could suddenly hear the girl’s thoughts and they made her chortle through her nose.

“What is wrong with this freak?” Finally speaking out loud, the elf turned to Sam with an uneasy look. “Uh--sorry. No kids over...uh--twelve.”

“No, he’s just kidding,” Sam tried to fix what his brother had done only to make it worse. “We only came here to watch.”

The elf looked at Dean who just shook his head and she hurried away. “Ew.”

Sam groaned to himself before he yelled out to her as she walked away. “I--I didn’t mean that we came here to wa--we--” He glared at Dean who was laughing. “Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that.”

“Really, Sam…” Riley teased. “They’re children.”

Dean high-fived her at her joke and Sam just rolled his eyes.

When she looked back up at the Santa, he was leaving his chair, walking with a bad limp. “Uh--you guys seeing this?”

The man slowly passed the hunters, their eyes never leaving him.

“A lot of people walk with limps, right?” Sam shrugged.

“Tell me you didn’t smell that. That was candy, man.”

Wafting the smell away from her face, Riley shook her head with a look of disgust. “Ugh. More like cherry schnapps...or Ripple.”

Dean chuckled as he replied, “well, you might be right. But we willing to take that chance?”

------

That night, inside the Impala, Riley and the Winchesters sat in front of a trailer near the woods. There was a small string of colored Christmas lights lining the roof with a fir tree directly next to the old car parked out front.

Leaning on the driver’s door, Dean yawned through his words. “What time is it?”

“Same as the last time you asked. Here…” Sam reached from the backseat to hand Dean a thermos. “Caffeinate.”

Dean took the canister from him and tried to pour coffee into his cup. The thermos was completely empty and the older brother groaned. “Wonderful.”

As she too yawned, Riley had been staring at the man’s house. Without looking away she asked, “kinda reminds you of the van you were told to stay away from as a kid, huh?”

Both of the Winchesters laughed before silence fell over the car.

Dean smiled and scoffed as he shifted to face Sam. “Hey, Sam. Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?”

“Dean…” Sam groaned under his breath.

“I mean, I admit it. You know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids…”

“Bumpy?”

“That was then. We’ll do it right this year.”

“Look, Dean. If you want to have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don’t involve me.”

Dean looked at his brother in disbelief before he glanced over to Riley. “Fine. Guess it’ll just me and Rye making the cranberry molds.”

Unsure of why Dean had been so adamant about having Christmas, Riley could only half smile at his offer.

As they returned to watching the house, the filthy Santa from earlier stood in his window. Still in his red cap, but in a dirty and stained white tank top, he looked outside before closing his curtains.

“What’s up with Saint Nicotine?” Dean asked.

The sound of a woman shouting came from inside the trailer and the three jumped out of the car. Running toward the house, they drew their guns and readied themselves at the door.

Sam let out a breathy chuckle making Dean turn to him. “What?”

“Nothing,” the young Winchester answered. “It’s just that, uh--well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa.”

Dean gave his brother an annoyed look while Riley tried to hide the smirk crawling up her face.

Quickly opening the door, they all went inside but stopped in their tracks as they looked around. Santa was sitting on the couch, holding a giant bong and a bottle of whiskey. He stood and the hunters quickly hid their guns.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the Santa slurred in his drunken stupor.

Their eyes all went to the old TV set that was playing a cheap Christmas porno.

“Why don’t you mistle my toe? Roast my chestnut--egg my nog…”

Trying to control their urge to laugh, Sam just shrugged at the man without an answer to his question.

Riley suddenly had an idea and began to sing. “Silent night, holy night…” She nudged the boys who began to sing terribly along. Neither knew the words and were completely tone deaf.

“All is well…all is dry. Round and round…” Sam and Dean tried to sing along and stumbled as they failed to match Riley’s lyrics. “...the table.”

Though they sounded like a train wreck, Santa sat down to watch them and grinned with amusement.

Riley’s hands both reached for the brothers’ jackets as she tugged them towards the door with a smile on her face. She kept singing as Sam and Dean stumbled out with her.

------

After another man had been taken from his home, the hunters had gone to the new victim’s house. It too was fully decorated and full of the Christmas spirit aside from the crying wife. Sam, Dean, and Riley were dressed in their suits as they interviewed the woman.

“So, that’s how your son described the attack?” Dean questioned. “Santa took daddy up the chimney?”

The woman had curly dirty-blonde hair with a large bruise over her right eye. “That’s what he says, yes.”

“And where were you?”

“I was asleep and all of a sudden…” she sniffled and her eyes were cast down as they darted back and forth at the memory. “I was being dragged out of bed, screaming.”

Trying not to get sucked into the emotions of yet another grieving wife, Riley focused on her breathing as she had trouble getting her question out. “Mrs.--Mrs. Caldwell, did, uh--did you happen to see your attacker?”

She shook her head and folded her arms. “It was dark and he hit me. He knocked me out.”

Riley swallowed hard, still fighting her empathic abilities. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mrs. Caldwell,” Sam started as he looked above her. “Where--where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?”

Dean and Riley turned to where he had pointed as did Mrs. Caldwell who stood dumbfounded.

“Excuse me?”

The others stared at Sam waiting for an answer but the Winchester just smiled and shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “Just curious, you know.”

After the interview had finished, the three walked through the overly decorated front yard of the home. There were twig shaped reindeer, lit up trees, and angels that glowed.

“Wreaths, huh?” Dean’s eyebrow hooked as he glanced to Sam. “Sure you didn’t want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer.”

Sam scoffed. “We’ve seen that wreath before, Dean.”

They had reached Baby when Riley stopped and turned to Sam. “You’re right.”

“He is?” Dean asked in surprise.

“Yeah. We saw the exact one at the Walshes’.”

Dean nodded, faking his knowledge of their findings. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course. I was just testing you guys.”

------

Riley was at the small kitchenette sink of their motel room making a pot of coffee while Dean went over more lore at the coffee table. Sam walked around the room with his phone to his ear as he wrapped up his call with Bobby.

“Yeah, alright. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby.” Sam hung up with a sigh and went back to the table to sit in front of his laptop. “Well…we’re not dealing with the anti-Claus.”

“Really?” Riley asked as she brought Sam a fresh cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “But, uh--yeah. Bobby says we’re fucking morons.” Sam chuckled and the others smirked knowing that was typical Bobby. “He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths.”

“Wow. Amazing,” Dean answered flatly and sarcastically. “What the fuck is meadowsweet?”

“It’s pretty rare and it’s probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore.”

Dean tilted his head up to kiss Riley as she gave him his mug. “So, pagan lore?”

“Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifice. It was kind of like a...chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they’d stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human.”

As Riley sat next to Dean, she blew to cool her hot beverage. “But with Christmas wreaths? Why?”

“It's not as crazy as it sounds. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan.”

“Christmas is Jesus’s birthday,” Dean rebutted.

With her boots kicked off, Riley sat crisscrossed as she sipped her coffee. She made a sound of disagreement through her drink. “Actually, Jesus was probably born during the fall. The winter solstice festival was co-opted by the Catholics and rebranded as ‘Christmas’. And it’s kind of the whole shebang--the Yule log, the tree, even the fat man’s red suit--all leftovers from pagan worship.”

Sam nodded with an impressed look and Dean appeared slightly taken back. “Sometimes I forget how fuckin’ smart you are. But, come on, what are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny’s Jewish?” Riley smiled as Dean scooted closer to put his hand on her thigh. “So, Sam, you think we’re gonna dealing with a pagan god?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Probably Hold Nickar, god of the winter solstice.”

“And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying ‘come kill us’.”

Still sipping at her drink, Riley’s brow hooked. “Damn. Not even your Christmas décor is safe.”

The younger brother scrolled through the webpage and scoffed a laugh under his breath. “Huh. When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return?”

“Lap dances, hopefully,” Dean joked as Riley smiled with a soft chuckle.

“Mild weather.”

Dean looked out the window saying, “like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan.”

“For instance.”

“Okay, so the question is how to the hell do we kill it?”

“Don’t know. Bobby’s working on that right now. We got to figure out where they’re selling those wreaths.”

Sitting up to look at Sam, Riley asked, “wait, do we think someone’s selling these on purpose? Basically feeding this thing?”

With a heavy exhale Sam shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

------

The bell above the door jingled as Sam, Riley, and Dean walked into a small Christmas shop. ‘Deck the Halls’ was playing and the entire store was covered from wall to wall in decorations. It smelt of wood and cinnamon with hints of pine.

An older gentleman in glasses and white hair stood behind a glass counter. “Can I help you, kids?”

“Uh--hope so,” Dean answered with a grin. “Uh--we were playing Jenga over at the Walshes’ the other night, and, uh--well,” the older brother gestured to Sam. “He hasn’t shut up since about this Christmas wreath, and…” Looking at Sam, he shot him a teasing look. “I don’t know, you tell him.”

Sam’s annoyance with his brother was hard to contain as he replied, “...sure.” He cleared his throat and turned to the shopkeeper before giving him a tight-lipped smile. “...it was yummy.”

“I sell a lot of wreaths, guys.” The man looked at the three while curious and unsure.

“Right, right, but--but you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh, it had, uh--green leaves, um...white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh…meadowsweet?”

The shopkeeper sighed. “Well, aren’t you a fussy one?”

Sam looked frustrated and embarrassed but Riley and Dean tried to control their laughter before Dean told the shopkeeper, “oh, he is…”

As he laughed, Sam’s eyes sat on his brother with frustration.

“Anyway, I know the one you’re talking about. I’m all out.”

Realizing that Dean was going to make the trip mostly about giving Sam a hard time, Riley butted in. “Isn’t meadowsweet pretty rare? I mean, it’s gotta be expensive. What made you want to make wreaths out of it?”

“Well, I didn't make them.”

“Oh, uh--who did?”

“Madge Carrigan--a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them to me for free.”

“Wait...she didn’t charge you for them?”

“Nope.”

Riley looked at the man with skepticism. “So...you gave them away?”

“Hell no,” the shopkeeper scoffed. “It’s Christmas. People pay a butt-load for this crap.”

With a smile and a nod, Dean added, “that’s the spirit.”

------

Dean flicked on the light of their room as the three walked back inside. “How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?”

“A couple hundred dollars, at least,” Sam answered.

The family all took off their jackets to put them on the couch before going to sit on their beds.

Riley leaned down and began to unlace her boots. “This lady is just handing out expensive wreaths like that? I mean, definitely sounds suspicious.”

With another happy memory hitting Dean, he smiled and turned to Sam. “Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?”

Sam’s brow scrunched not understanding Dean’s joy in the recollection. “You mean the one he stole from, like--a liquor store?”

“Yeah,” he beamed with a smile from ear to ear. “It was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it.”

Sighing to himself, Sam shook. “Alright. Dude…what’s going on with you?”

“What?”

“I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?”

Riley scooted back to rest against the headboard with her knees bent. “You gonna tell us why you’ve been so against it, Sam? I’ve been feeling it ever since we got on this case. Did things just kinda suck during the holidays when you were a kid?”

“No, that has nothing to do with it.”

Digging even further, Dean questioned, “then what?

“I--I mean, I--I just...I don’t get it. You haven’t talked about Christmas in years.”

Dean paused before shrugging. “Well, yeah. This is my last year.”

Silence fell over the room as Sam and Riley’s hearts sank at the realization.

Riley wondered how she could have not remembered that Dean wouldn’t be around for any more of their Christmases It was then that Riley knew how deeply in denial she was over his time being nearly up. She could feel the tears forming and she cleared her throat before practically jumping off the bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Before Dean could say anything, Riley hurried off to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Quickly, she turned on the shower and began to cry. The hunter leaned against the wall before sliding down to the floor. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle her cries and began to sob.

That Christmas would just serve as a reminder that the memories they had already made, would be all they would ever get.

Sam and Dean sat in the quiet, not sure what to say.

That’s when Sam looked up to Dean as he tried to hide the pain he was in. “I know it’s your last, Dean. That’s why I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?”

The young hunter’s eyes grew red and welled. “I mean I can’t just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything’s okay when I know next Christmas you’ll be dead.” Dean only nodded at what Sam had said. “To be honest, I don’t know if Riley can either. Dean, I--I just can’t.”

Realizing the sadness in Sam’s voice, Dean nodded once again and dropped the subject. With no words left to say, Sam and Dean sat on their beds with their heads hung; Christmas lights twinkling through the window.

------

Christmas Eve 1991

Sam sat on the couch reading a comic book as the snow outside the window continued to fall. He turned to the sound of the door opening as Dean walked inside with a bag of groceries.

“Thought you went out.”

“Yeah, to get you dinner.” Dean tossed his little brother a bag of food. “Don’t forget your vegetables,” he added with a smile as he threw him a bag of Funyuns. Dean took off his jacket and sat down on his bed before opening a soda can.

Determined to be done with the secrets, Sam sat across from Dean. “I know why you keep a gun under your pillow.”

Dean lifted his pillow to make sure his little brother hadn’t taken his pistol to see it unmoved. “No, you don’t. Stay out of my stuff.”

“And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go.”

“No, you don’t.” Though Dean sounded angry, it was worry. Sam couldn’t know the truth yet, he wasn’t ready to know. “Shut up.”

Sam turned around and grabbed something from underneath his bed. It was a leather book and the Winchester tossed it onto the nightstand between their beds. It was John’s journal.

Standing up, almost in shock that Sam had the book, Dean stared down at his brother. “Where’d you get that? That’s Dad’s! He’s gonna kick your ass for reading that.”

The littlest Winchester met his brother’s gaze without fear. “Are monsters real?”

“What? You’re crazy.”

“Tell me.”

Dean bit his lip in uncertainty and hesitation. He glanced down at the book and then back to Sam. “I swear, if you ever tell Dad I told you any of this, I will end you.”

“Promise.”

As the older brother sat back down, he sighed and rubbed his thighs nervously. “Well, the first thing you have to know is we have the coolest dad in the world. He’s a superhero.”

“He is?” A small smile grew on Sam’s face.

“Yeah. Monsters are real--Dad fights them. He’s fighting them right now.”

“But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren’t real.”

Dean half-laughed at the thought. “That’s ’cause he had already checked under there. But, yeah, they’re real. Almost everything’s real.”

With the innocent eyes of an eight-year-old boy, Sam asked, “...is Santa real?”

Smiling and shaking his head, Dean replied, “no.”

There was a pause as Sam grew sad and his head fell. It was at that moment that Sam’s innocence was gone. Though he didn’t know it, in listening to his brother that night, Sam’s life changed forever. “If monsters are real, then they could get us. They could get me.”

“Dad’s not gonna let them get you.”

“But what if they get him?”

“They aren’t gonna get Dad. Dad’s, like...the best.”

“...I read in Dad’s book that they got Mom.”

Dean exhaled sharply not sure what to say. “It’s complicated, Sam.”

His little brother’s voice broke as his fear and anxiety grew. “If they got Mom, they can get Dad. And if they get Dad, they can get us.”

“It’s not like that.” Dean got up to sit next to Sam on his bed, trying to comfort him as best he could. “Okay? Dad’s fine. We’re fine. Trust me.” Still seeing the fear in his little brother’s eyes, Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered as he looked away to hide the tears growing in his eyes.

“Hey, Dad’s gonna be here for Christmas. Just like he always is.”

With his lip trembling, Sam refused to face his brother. ashamed of his tears. “I just want to go to sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean’s voice was soft with guilt. He had dreaded the day that he would have to ruin Sam’s childhood and it weighed heavily on him.

Sam laid down on the bed and cried quietly to himself but Dean never left his side. “It’ll all be better when you wake up.”

Trying to be quiet, Sam began to sob.

“You’ll see, Sam. ...promise.”

------

Cheery Christmas music played on the outside of a large white house with decorations everywhere. A lit up snowman, a sleigh, poinsettias, lights, and bells filled the yard and porch.

As the hunters got out of the Impala, they walked up the concrete path to the brick entrance.

“This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can’t you just feel the evil pagan vibe?” Dean snarked before using the brass knocker on the door. With every click, jingle bells clanked from the strip of bells hanging from the handle.

A woman most likely in her late 60’s opened the door with a cheerful grin on her face. “Yes?” She was in an old fashioned pink dress with a white cardigan and matching pearls. Her hair was curled and set, pinned from her face.

“Hi,” Riley began with a smile. “We were hoping you were the Madge Carrigan that made all those beautiful meadowsweet wreaths.”

“Why, yes I am.” Madge’s voice was sweet and full of high spirits.

“Oh, great! We actually were all admiring one of your wreaths at the Sylar’s place the other day.”

As Riley continued to sweet talk Mrs. Carrigan, Dean tried to peer into the home.

Inside looked like the Santa himself lived there. There were countless collectibles, adornments of holly, a large gingerbread house on the table, and garland up the staircase. The strong smell of evergreen and freshly baked cookies wafted out the door.

“You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?”

Sam nodded in agreeance. “It is, it sure is. But, the problem is, is that all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one.”

“Oh, fudge!”

“You wouldn’t have another one that we could buy from you, would you?” Dean asked.

“Oh, no, I’m afraid those were the only ones I had for this season.”

Riley glanced up at the boys with a look of disappointment. “Oh, darn it,” she feigned.

Mr. Carrigan came down the staircase in a cardigan with an old-fashioned pipe. He stood by his wife and smiled. The two of them looked far too picture-esque as if they had just time traveled from the 1950’s.

“What's going on, honey?” The man’s voice was just as upbeat and cheery as Madge’s.

She turned to him, her smile never falling. “Well, just some nice kids asking about my wreaths, dear.”

“Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?” Mr. Carrigan held out a small red tin filled with sweet treats.

As Dean reached out to take some, Riley slapped Dean’s hand away. “Thank you so much, but we’re okay.”

-------

Dean and Riley’s knives worked to sharpen wooden stakes as they sat on the beds. Five other wooden stakes sat at their feet and on the beds beside them.

In front of his laptop, Sam kept researching until he clapped his hands in a moment of excitement at what he found.

“I knew it! Something was way off with those two.”

“I’m assuming that means you found something.” Riley dusted the wood shavings off her pants and onto the carpet below.

“The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas shit in their house--that wasn’t boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint.”

She nodded. “Oof. That screams Pagan.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “‘Cause to me it sounds like the beginning of a well-seasoned recipe.”

“I gotta tell you guys, I wasn’t picking up on anything from them. Literally, nothing. That doesn’t usually happen unless we’re talking about something that isn’t human.”

“So, what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?”

“I don’t know. All I know is we gotta check them out.” Closing his laptop, Sam got up to inspect one of the stakes. “So, what about Bobby? He’s sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?

Blowing off the dust from her last wooden creation, Riley looked at the sharp end of the stake. “Yup. Time to put down Mr. and Mrs. Christmas with a Christmas tree. Huh,” she paused. “That’s a weird sentence.”

------

Outside the Carrigan house once again, that night, the family stood on the front porch as Dean picked the lock. Riley and Sam kept the lookout and took stakes out of the older brother’s bag as ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ played into the quiet neighborhood from the porch’s speakers.

Once inside, the hunters quietly moved through the house and into the family room. The Carrigan’s large tree sat in front of their main window;=, its lights lit as if waiting for Santa.

Dean pointed to the couch and whispered, “see? Plastic.” He shook his head disapprovingly and the others gave a judgmental look as well as they touched it.

Riley could hear Dean’s thought as Sam walked a little ahead. “Jesus. Can you imagine having sex on this couch?”

Trying not to giggle, Riley replied, “oh, yeah. Think of how much your ass would stick to that thing.”

There were times where Riley being in Dean’s head still took him by surprise. He turned in her direction with a shake of his head as he mouthed, ‘no thank you’.

In the hall, Sam tried to keep his heavy boots quiet. He was surrounded by ornaments and snow globes as he walked into the kitchen. Plates filled with cookies, cakes, and other sweets lined the table.

To his right, Sam saw a door that led out of the kitchen and most likely into the basement. He clicked on his flashlight to point it at the lock to look more closely. It was open.

“Guys…” he whispered.

Slowly, the hunters headed down the stairs, all with their flashlights shining in front of them. As Dean pointed his directly forward, he saw bones covered in blood sitting in a large bowl. Riley and the brothers looked around and realized the entire basement looked like a butchery room rather than a storage space. Blood, bones, and what looked like metal devices to inflict torture were strewn about the floor and countertops.

A pair of bloody Santa boots and the matching bag, smelt of death as they sat on a box in the corner.

Sam had stumbled upon what looked like an electric wood saw with pieces of cut bone left behind. He scrunched his face in disgust with a groan before moving on.

Nearby, Riley found a bag hanging from a hook on the wall. It was bloody and her curiosity drew her in. As she reached out to touch it, she gasped as the bag began to move with muffled cries. Someone was inside struggling to get free.

Riley jumped at the movement and sensed someone behind her. There was Madge. The woman grabbed Riley’s neck and lifted her off the ground. Softly yelping in surprise, Riley clutched at the hand around her throat.

“Riley!” Sam and Dean shouted in unison hearing her cry as they charged in her direction.

Pushing Riley up against a wall, Madge slammed Riley’s head hard into the brick, letting her drop to the ground. The evil woman slinked back into the shadows just as the brothers rushed around the large basement.

Their lights lit up the way ahead of them, showing Riley lying on the ground and not moving.

Before Sam and Dean could reach her, Mr. Carrigan grabbed Sam’s arm and knocked his head against the wall.

Dean turned at the sound, “Sam!”

At that same moment, a large 2x4 was swung at Dean’s head by Mrs. Carrigan.

With all the hunters down on the ground, the couple smiled.

------

The pagan’s kitchen was lit with candles next to several mortar bowls, knives, and hardware tools. Both Sam and Dean were tied to chairs back to back.

Once finally fully alert, but unable to see his siblings, Sam softly called, “Dean...Rye? You okay?”

Dean groaned as he pulled his head up. “I think so. Where’s Riley?”

“Over here…” Riley replied.

The two looked over toward the sound of her voice to see her to a chair as well that sat firmly against the wall.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“Aside from the pounding headache, yeah.” Her eyes squinted as she looked over to them.

Sam sighed. “So, I guess we’re dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God. Nice to know.”

Dressed in colorful Christmas-themed sweaters, the Carrigans walked into the kitchen practically beaming seeing the hunters awake.

“Speaking of the Yuletide douchebags…”

“Ooh, and here we thought you three lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff.” Madge giggled as she scurried across the floor to get things from the shelf.

Overly sarcastic no matter what the situation, Dean replied, “and miss all this? Nah, we’re partiers”.

“Isn’t he a kick in the pants, honey?” Mr. Carrigan stared down at them as he took a puff from his pipe. “You’re hunters, is what you are.”

“And you’re pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even, and go our separate ways?”

Mr. Carrigan laughed. “What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us? I don’t think so.”

Frustrated as he pulled against his restraints, Sam tried to look over his shoulder to leer at the couple. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh?”

“Oh now, don’t get all wet.”

Madge unfolded dinner napkins and began placing them in the hunters’ laps. “Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that’s a fact. Now, what do we take? What, two? Three?”

“Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew here make five.”

“Now, that’s not so bad, is it?”

Riley was still slightly spinning from the blow to the head but managed to keep her usual level of snark. “Wow, well we were just all wrong about you, weren’t we? I mean--you guys are practically Ward and June Cleaver.”

“You, little miss…” Mr. Carrigan said pointing his pipe at the blue-eyed hunter. “You better show us a little respect.”

“Or what? You’ll eat me?”

The husband laughed heartily as he looked back at Riley. “Well, you know, the missus and I have always felt it best to use men for the rituals. That’s just how it’s always been. But you…” Mr. Carrigan walked closer to Riley who had anger in her eyes. “We figured we might make an exception. Because you’re not completely human are you? No, you’re something special--something… what’s the word I’m looking for, dear?” he asked his wife.

Madge grinned as she continued to set up. “Well, she’s practically a rare delicacy isn’t she?”

“A delicacy. Spot on, dear.” Turning back to Riley, he still practically twinkled with joy. “And I’m betting what you would add to the mix would be just top notch, don’t you agree, honey?” He asked to his wife.

“Oh, absolutely. Might give it the extra kick we’ve needed to help us have it like we did in the good old days. We’re such sticklers for rituals though and have to do this right. And you know what kicks off the whole party?”

“Let me guess…” Dean said jumping in. “Meadowsweet.” Madge ran around the kitchen island with a squeal of excitement in response. “Oh shucks, you’re all out of wreaths. I guess we’ll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?”

“Oh, don’t be such a gloomy Gus.” She held three horseshoe-shaped wreaths and hung them all around their captives’ necks. “There. Ohh…don’t they just look darling?”

“Good enough to eat.” Mr. Carrigan smacked his lips as he whipped out a knife. “Alrighty-roo. Step number two.” Carrying a bowl and the blade, he walked to Sam. The man held the bowl under the Winchester’s arm and prepared to cut him with the knife.

Dean fought with all his strength to turn to his little brother, but to no avail. “Sammy?! Sammy?!”

“D-Don’t!” Sam’s demand almost sounded like a plea before it slowly turned to a scream as Mr. Carrigan tore into his flesh.

Both Riley and Dean shouted over each other with anger at Sam’s pain.

“Leave him alone, you son of a bitch! I swear to god, I’ll kill you!”

“This might pinch a bit, dear.” Mrs. Carrigan had gone to Riley and the hunter bore her eyes into the god.

“You hurt her and I’ll fucking rip you apart,” Dean growled.

Riley’s teeth gritted together through her scream and she squeezed her eyes shut as the blade cut into her forearm. Only a second later, another cry ripped from her throat as Mrs. Carrigan cut her other arm as well.

Dean’s rage boiled inside him and his chair only slightly moved at the force he fought against it with. His family was being tortured and it was driving him to the brink of insanity.

It was then Dean’s turn to have the blade cut into him and he too released a shout of pain. “You fucking bitch!”

“Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a couple of nickels to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? ‘Fudge’.”

Panting, Dean snarked, “I’ll try and remember that!” As she smiled at him, the woman brought the knife back down to his other side. “You fudging touch me again and I’ll fudging kill you!”

“Very good!” she exclaimed, cutting into the hunter once more as he groaned in pain.

Mr. Carrigan picked up a pair of pliers and walked back to Sam. “You kids have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are.”

With panic in his voice, Sam’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “What do you think you’re doing with those? No. No. Don’t.”

The man took the pliers to Sam’s index finger and began to pull the nail off as Sam screamed.

In a state of distress, Riley couldn’t block her empathic abilities and began to wail along with him. It felt as though her own fingernail was being torn from her body.

The two gods turned to each other with astonishment and then back at her with Sam’s nail pinched in the pliers.

“Oh, my goodness, me…” Mrs. Carrigan exclaimed. “Darling, I think we’ve found ourselves an empath.”

After putting the nail into the bowl that was drenched in the hunters’ blood, he put down the pliers and clapped with excitement. “Well, hotdog! It’s officially a party!” Mr. Carrigan tapped his head ridiculously remembering something. “Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick…I forgot the tooth.”

Sam, Riley, and Dean were all panting hard trying to overcome their pain.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Dean uttered as the others groaned.

With the pliers in his hand once again, Carrigan grabbed Dean’s chin. “Open wide… and say, ‘aah’.” Just as he put the tool into Dean’s mouth, the doorbell rang.

“Somebody gonna get that?” Dean asked, his voice muffled with the pliers still in his mouth. “You should get that.”

Mr. Carrigan rolled his eyes and motioned for his wife. “Come on.”

As soon as the couple was out of the room, Dean looked over to Riley. “We gotta get out of here. I don’t wanna be this year’s Christmas turkey.”

“Yeah,” Riley agreed out of breath. “Can we kill them now, please?”

“Oh, yeah…” Sam muttered.

------

Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan came back into the kitchen with smiles on their faces. “Now, where were we?” Madge giggled.

Riley and the Winchesters were no longer in their chairs. The gods saw one of the doors close with a slam and they turned around to see the other door close as well.

Sam and Riley were standing against one as they tried to keep it shut and Dean did the same on his end.

The Carrigans pounded on the door, again and again, fighting the hunters attempt to lock them in.

Dean pulled a large drawer to hold his door closed and ran to help his partners. As soon as Dean was against the banging door, Riley let go and ran across the room only to shove the Christmas tree to the ground. The ornaments crashed on the hardwood and shattered as her hands went into the branches.

“Damn, Rye!” Sam yelled. “I know they were gonna eat us, but what did the tree do?”

She grunted as she yanked a branch off. “Stakes are in the basement. Luckily, we got some fresh evergreen right here.”

Dean grinned and shook his head. “You’re fucking brilliant, you know that?”

Riley nodded playfully as Dean looked to a large cabinet. “Sam! Help me get this.”

The brothers moved the cabinet in front of the tree and rushed to grab branches from the tree. They stripped them of their needles and prepared to fight.

It went silent as they approached the kitchen door. Suddenly, Mr. Carrigan tackled Dean to the ground and began punching him again and again.

Sam shouted, “Dean!” as he ran to his aid and fought to get the man off his brother.

A sound came from behind Riley and she turned to see Madge smiling back at her. “You little thing.” Her face distorted momentarily and swung violently in almost a blur. “I loved that tree.”

As Riley went to raise her stake, Madge hit her and the hunter crashed into the couch and onto the floor. She grabbed branches at her side as the god walked towards her and hit her as hard as she could.

Riley fought to keep the woman at arm's length as the Winchesters overpowered Mr. Carrigan. Sam pinned him to the ground as Dean shoved the stake into his chest.

Madge screamed as she watched her husband and froze in shock, giving Riley the perfect opportunity to stab her with her own stake. The hunter scrunched her face and grunted as she pushed the stake further in before Madge fell to the ground, dead.

The three struggled to catch their breaths as they looked at each other.

“Merry Christmas,” Sam said through ragged breath.

------

Christmas Eve 1991

All was quiet as the children of the world waited for Santa. The snow continued to fall over the motel housing the lonely Winchester boys as Sam slept soundly in his bed.

Dean went to his side and shook his brother to wake him. “Sam, wake up!”

Just as Sam’s eyes began to open, he turned towards Dean who had a smile on his face.

“Dad was here. Look what he brought.”

His gaze turned around to see a little Christmas tree, decorated with a few large and colorful lights. A few small presents sat beneath the small piece of chopped evergreen.

“Dad was here?” Sam asked groggily.

“Yeah. Look at this. We made a killing.”

Yawning, Sam mumbled, “why didn't he try to wake me up?”

Dean thought quickly on his feet with a playful scoff. “He tried to, like a thousand times.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Did I tell you he would give us Christmas, or what? Go on, dive in.”

Sam leaped from his bed and hurried over to the Christmas tree. He found two presents wrapped with themed wrapping paper; one even was adorned with a shiny green bow.

Sitting on the couch, he began to unwrap his first gift.

Dean sat on the arm of the couch and watched his little brother with excitement. “What is it?”

Baffled, Sam held up a pink box. “Sapphire Barbie?”

The older brother chuckled. “Dad probably thinks you’re a girl.”

“Shut up!” Sam tossed the Barbie to the ground.

“Open that one.”

As the youngest Winchester opened his second gift, he found a sparkling cheerleading stick.

John had broken his promise, again.

Sam held it in his hands sadly before looking to Dean. “Dad never showed, did he?”

“Yeah, he did, I swear.”

“Dean…where’d you get all this stuff?”

Realizing he couldn’t lie anymore, Dean’s eye cast down with a sigh. “Nice house up the block. I swear I didn’t know they were chick presents.” Dean watched his sad brother with a heavy heart, desperate to bring him comfort. “Look, I’m sure Dad would have been here if he could.”

“If he’s alive.”

“Don’t say that. Of course, he’s alive. He’s Dad.”

It was then that Sam noticed the heavy burden on Dean’s shoulders; that his big brother worried just as much as Sam did. Grabbing the present he had wrapped in newspaper earlier that night, he held it out to Dean. “Here, take this.”

“No. No, that’s for Dad.”

“Dad lied to me. I want you to have it.” Sam continued to hold out the gift to Dean with a small curl on his lip.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Trying to hide his moment of excitement, Dean finally took the gift and began to tear into it. Inside, was a necklace. It was a black cord that had an amulet hanging in from it. The piece was a metallic gold color and depicted the head of a humanoid being with horns and tribal adornment.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so genuinely as he held the amulet in his hand. “Thank you, Sam. I--I love it.” He proudly put the necklace on over his head and the boys sat in silence with an unspoken love between them.

Even if they were alone on Christmas, as long as they had each other, that would always be enough.

------

There wasn’t a day that had passed since that Christmas Eve, almost sixteen years before, that Dean hadn’t worn that necklace. It was practically a part of who he was.

Dean walked into their motel room and grinned with surprise. Riley and Sam had decorated the room with a small Christmas tree and a ‘Merry Christmas’ sign. Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played as Riley smiled in his direction, putting on the final ornament. Sam looked at his brother lovingly as Dean took it all in.

With amazement and joy in his eyes, Dean asked, “what’s all this?”

Riley stood next to Sam and shrugged playfully. “Looks like Christmas to me.”

Dean’s eyes met his brothers with a smirk. “What made you change your mind?”

Handing his big brother a glass of eggnog, Sam ignored his question. “Here, uh--try the eggnog. Let me know if it needs some more kick.”

With only a single sip, Dean coughed, looking surprised at the taste. “No, we’re good,” he practically wheezed through his cough.

“Good. Well, uh--have a seat. Let’s do…Christmas stuff, or whatever.”

Dean nodded happily as he took off his jacket. “Alright, first things first.” As Sam and Riley sat on the brown, worn couch, Dean pulled up a chair. He took out four packages wrapped in brown paper from a plastic bag and held them out to his family. “Merry Christmas, guys.”

The two smiled as they took them and Riley peered up at him. “Where’d you even go?”

“Someplace special,” Dean replied. The two looked at him waiting for a better answer. “The gas mart down the street.” His brother and girlfriend laughed at his response. “Open them up.”

Both Sam and his sister reached under the couch for four more packages, each all wrapped in newspaper. The two swapped gifts between them and Sam kissed Riley’s temple before they gave Dean his.

With surprise and excitement, Dean asked, “really?” before taking his gifts.

Sam opened his first gift and laughed as he held up two porn magazines. “Skin mags!” Dean nodded, satisfied with Sam’s reaction as his brother opened his next gift. “And…shaving cream.”

“You like?”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled from ear to ear. “Yeah.” Opening his next two from Riley, Sam found a bag of trail mix and a small bottle of lotion. “Lotion?” he asked with an uncertain smile.

Riley chuckled. “Well, it was supposed to be a joke, but now it goes perfectly with your new porn, brother!”

Dean threw his head back in laughter, practically grabbing his stomach.

Giving her a teasing middle finger, Sam smiled and feigned, “haha, very funny. But I’m about to bust into this trail mix as soon as we’re done. Thanks, sis.”

The Winchesters turned to Riley showing it was her turn to open hers and she giggled unwrapping her gifts. She laughed as she found two of her favorite chocolate candy bars, a bottle of gas station-brand scented soap, and a pair of fluffy blue socks. “Oh, boys...you spoil me,” she beamed. “Thank you, guys.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Dean said as Riley went to him to give him a kiss. He opened his arms allowing her to sit on his lap and he wrapped himself around her as he opened his. Sheer joy covered his face as he found a bottle of motor oi, and a candy bar. “Look at this. Fuel for me and fuel for my baby. These are awesome. Thanks.” Dean’s face looked like it was probably beginning to ache with a smile that couldn’t stop.

Opening his next gifts, he found a pair of sunglasses and a Christmas bow. “Uh--Rye, I think the bow goes on the gifts, sweetheart.”

“That is very true.” Riley took the bow, removed its sticker, and slapped it on her chest, right above her breasts. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Dean laughed as his face buried into her neck, holding her close. Riley squealed and his fingers pinched her chin before he kissed her, smiling against her lips. “Best gifts ever.” He picked up his eggnog and grinned as he held it out, “Merry Christmas, guys.”

Sam and Riley held their plastic glasses out as well and they toasted them together.

“Merry Christmas,” they all said.

The room fell quiet as spirits briefly fell. They all knew that Christmas would be the last they would spend together.

Riley was consumed by the Winchester’s heavy hearts and she exhaled hard trying to shut it out. If that was going to be their last Christmas, they were going to do it right. She got up and rushed to her bag before she ran back with a camera. The brothers groaned with a laugh as she sat on the couch and motioned for them.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop complaining and smile for our Christmas card,” she joked.

Dean wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close as Sam reluctantly scooted to her side. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Sam and Dean to smile along with her before the flash went off.

As they pulled apart, Dean took the camera from her. When she looked at him, he pulled her in for a kiss as he reached his arm far out to take a picture. Their lips were curled with contentment as he triggered the camera.

Sam opened his mouth to speak as the couple pulled apart and Dean looked to his brother with worry over what he would say.

“Hey, Dean, y–-” Sam looked sad as he fumbled for his words. He hesitated and then sighed before meeting his brother’s eyes. “Do you feel like watching the game?”

Dean smiled in relief. “Absolutely.”

“Alright.”

Standing up, Sam reached over to turn on the old TV set. The three sat on the couch together as they watched the winter football game. The brothers smirked at each other and Dean pulled Riley to his chest as he drank his eggnog.

In the silence, all that was left was the whistle of the referee and the voice of the announcer.

As Dean kissed the top of Riley’s head, he inhaled her scent and laced his fingers with hers.

Their night was perfect, and whatever would happen tomorrow, would be tomorrow. All that mattered was being with Sam and Riley. That night was all Dean needed to find the strength to keep going. He knew that all he would ever need was his family.

So, for the first time in eight months, Dean relaxed and felt contentment run through him. If there was a heaven, Dean was sure that it was what he had at that moment. And if Hell was what awaited him, that memory would be enough to keep his spirit alive.

Outside, snow began to gently fall to the ground. With all right once again on that Michigan night, there would be a white Christmas. It fluttered softly onto the Impala as lights twinkled in the shine of her hood.

And through the window, sat the three hunters, lost in what would become one of their favorite memories.

------

S3 Chapter 8: Dream a Little Dream of Me

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pinesconessecrets · 5 years

Text

Secret Santa 2018- Christmas Eve

((Secret Santa to lazyunproductiveme.tumblr.com Who asked for either Librarian au, confessing under the Mistletoe, or dorks sleeping together. I decided to do a combination of the two. Was going to do all three, but I like what I have so far. I hope you like your secret Santa gift. If not, just tell me how I can make it better.))

((Enjoy! And Happy Yuletide!!!))

—

The bells above the door jingled, and a blast of cold air came rushing in from the outside. A young man slipped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him. In the sudden warmth of the library, the man unwrapped his scarf and pulled off his tan bomber cap, freeing his messy brown curls. Stuffing the hat and scarf in his backpack, he unzipped his puffy vest and took another step inside. Towers and towers of books surrounded him on all sides; Dipper took a deep inhale, taking in the scent of old leaflets and even a slight cinnamon undertone.

Even since he’d moved here, Dipper found himself drawn to this homey library, tucked away in town. They had all kinds of books he could want. A section just for science fiction; favorites like Ender’s Game, A Wrinkle in Time, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and of course, Star Wars. Large, dusty tomes far in the back, recollecting all of ancient history. Classic literature, Gothic horror, whimsical fantasy. And most importantly, It’s own mystery section, ranging from murder mystery, to cryptic legends and findings. It was Dipper’s favorite place in the whole library.

Well, almost favorite.

The only place better than the mystery section, was the front desk, where a certain handsome Librarian worked.

A man in his late 20’s, the man wore a simple white button up, brown slacks, and (currently) dark green suspenders over his button up. Dipper upon entering, saw the man sitting at his front desk, flicking through a well loved copy of The Great Gatsby. Of course, when the little bell rung, he momentarily stopped and looked up, meeting eyes with the young adventurer. He gave Dipper a nervous smile, and mumbled a very timid, “Good tidings, Mr. Pines. Book hunting again, are we?”

Dipper felt his own face flush several shades of vermilion. He reached back into his backpack and pulled out three books, all finished and ready to be returned. He stepped up towards the counter and passed the handsome man his books, trying not to shiver when the man’s elegant fingers briefly brushed against his in the trade off. Glancing down at the laminated nameplate on the desk, the name read Wirt Fischer. Even his name was debonair. “I just finished another great set, and I couldn’t wait to come back for more.”

Couldn’t wait to come back and see your face!

“I’m surprised someone is as passionate about reading as I am. I thought I was the only crazy one, keeping a bookstore open on Christmas Eve. I didn’t expect someone equally crazy would want to check out books on Christmas Eve.” Wirt put his head in his hand, smirking.

Dipper shrugged, wondering if the librarian could hear his heart jackhammering in his chest. “What can I say, there’s thousand of books to read, and I only have a limited time on this earth. I gotta retain as much knowledge as I possibly can.” He shuffled towards the mystery section, as expected.

Wirt watched him, clearly amused, “Typical. Off to the mystery section, I see. I’d figure you’d at least check out a book tied with the holidays. You know, a little festive reading?”

Dipper snapped his fingers at the other, internally regretting such a cheesy action seconds after it was too late. Attempting to salvage some dignity, he quickly turned on his heel and disappeared into the aisles of literature. He did not catch, nor hear, Wirt’s breathy chuckle. And he completely missed the look of endearment in the librarian’s eyes.

Wirt returned to his copy of The Great Gatsby. He knew it took Dipper a while to decide what to check out, even if they were books checked out thousands of times before by said adventurer. Wirt knew not to bother him on his hunt, though he hoped the young man would make a reappearance soon, as he quite enjoyed Dipper’s eccentric company.

Not to mention a rugged build that Wirt also didn’t mind admiring.

He waited and waited, forcing himself not to glance at his wrist watch. That would only make time move slower. No, no, he kept his eyes on the page, though after what felt like hours, he came to the realization that he had reread the same paragraph more than once. With a sigh, he closed his book, thoughts preoccupied.

Blissfully, Dipper returned, a new stack of books under his arm. He marched up to the counter, looking more confident than when he left and dropped the books in front of Wirt.

Curious, because he was always a bit snobby about what his patrons checked out, he subtly glanced at the titles of each book. “Yetis: The Arctic cousins of Bigfoot? The Christmas Heist of 1943? Table for one: True story of the Donner Party? And…Krampus, the Anti Claus.” Wirt glanced back at Dipper, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

Dipper grinned cheekily back at him, “You said check out something festive!”

Wirt rolled his eyes, but grinned affectionately, “Not exactly what I had in mind. Was thinking more along the lines of Charles Dickens, Chris Van Allsburg, O. Henry–heck, even Dr. Seuss would have worked.”

“What can I say, I live to exceed your expectations.”

Wirt’s cheeks turned a soft rosy hue, and Dipper realizing how that sounded, felt his own face heat up in embarrassment. “So, um, these books should be fine,” he mumbled.

Wirt nodded, swallowing the nervous lump quickly forming in his throat. Taking the books, he scanned each of them, signed them off, and then passed them back to Dipper.

As Dipper was putting them away, he kept going back and forth on whether or not he should continue talking. In fact, there was something on his mind, something he’d been meaning to say since he first entered. The trouble was actually gathering the confidence to ask the handsome man in front of him.

Fighting monsters, solving mysteries, and vanquishing demonic forces was nothing.

Talking to cute people was the real nightmare.

“Anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Pines.”

“You can just call me Dipper. I think I’ve been around enough times that we’re on a first name basis…I mean, of course, unless you don’t want to–”

“No, no! That’s…that’s perfectly fine, Mr. Pin–Um, Dipper. I think that’s a reasonable assessment.” Wirt nervously fiddled with the cover of his book, trying not to seem overly eager at being on first name basis with the adventurer.

“Great!–I mean, that’s good! Wonderful! Um, anyway, I um…there’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you, if that’s okay?” Oh dear god, he was flubbing, and badly.

“Of course, what can I do for you today?” Ugh, that sounded so robotic and work professional! Wirt tried not to openly cringe, his fingers nervously drumming on the cover of his book. When Dipper looked down, distracted by his drumming, he slammed his palm flat on his book to stop himself.

“Well, I was just wondering…do you have any plans for Christmas Eve?”

Wirt shook his head, “Not really. I’ll be working till five tonight–don’t want to be open too late– then I’ll close up, and head for home. Maybe pick up some take out for me and my brother on the way home? But other than that, nothing big planned. May I inquire why?”

He inquired, not asked. Dipper liked someone with a large vocabulary…oh god, he’d been single for too long, moving on. Fighting the hot blush off his face, Dipper continued, albeit with less enthusiasm, “Well, I was wondering. My family is having a little Christmas Eve get together, and it’s nothing big, but there will be food and good company, and I just, if you don’t have anything, maybe you’d like–if you’re interested–if it’s not too forward–” Dipper’s words stuttered off.

Wirt, thankfully, put him out of his misery, “Are you asking me to come? Is this the new way of asking people out? Are you asking me out?”

Dipper wanted to spontaneously combust on the spot, “M-maybe. It doesn’t have to be a date, just a simple hang out. It’s the holidays, holidays are nice to share with people.”

Wirt nodded in agreement, but he also seemed conflicted, “I wholeheartedly agree. Which is why I must politely decline.”

Dipper tried not to appear too disappointed, “Oh yes, alright. I’m sorry for bothering you about this–”

But Wirt was not finished, and quickly retreaded, “Oh please don’t think it’s anything against you. I would be more than happy to tag along. But like I said earlier, I’m spending Eve with my younger brother, and if I went with you, then he’d be all alone.”

The puzzle pieces were finally starting to fall into place. “OH! OHHH! Well of course he’s invited too.”

Wirt looked surprised, “Really? You’d let him come as well? You don’t even know him?”

Dipper nodded, relief washing over him now that he’d figured out the real reason for Wirt’s refusal. “Oh absolutely! The more the merrier. My wacky twin is hosting the party, and she loves meeting new faces, and making new friends. If you’re worried about your brother being alone, then there’s no need to fret, because of course he’s invited by extension. Both of your can come and enjoy yourself!”

Wirt pondered it for a moment. On one hand, it was a huge risk going to someone’s party, especially one you barely knew. Dipper, while being extremely cute to look at, was by all intents and purposes, a complete stranger. Who knew if he was actually who he said he was. Dipper could be an insane sociopath, and this party was just a guise to kidnap Wirt to do awful things to him! …Okay, maybe that was a stretch, he had to lay off the murder mystery section.

On the other hand, Wirt wasn’t getting many handsome suitors chatting him up or inviting him on outings. He didn’t meet many people who came into the library close to his age, and even if so, showing any desire towards him. Or have that desire be mutual. And he was definitely mutually attracted to this strange guy. Had been since he first saw him in his plaid button up, mud caked jeans, and bomber hat. Had been since Dipper had first awkwardly smiled back at him, then turned cherry red and disappeared into one of the aisles, muttering to himself. He was a nervous ball of energy: Exactly Wirt’s type.

Melting under Dipper’s charm–and to be perfectly candid, he wanted to come more than anything–he relented, “Then I’d be honored if you had us. Just send us the address and we’ll arrive around seven.”

Then in a stroke of confidence, he grabbed Dipper’s wrist, tender but firm, picked up his sharpie, uncapped it with his teeth, and neatly scrawled his number across Dipper’s skin. Satisfied, he released Dipper and recapped his marker. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

Dipper stared wide eyed at the number on his wrist, desperately trying to remain calm, when inside every nerve was humming vibrantly. “Yes, s-see you tonight!”

And with that, Dipper bolted for the door, waving back behind him. Once outside, and down the large cement steps, Dipper let out a loud whoop and holler, his spirits soaring. He almost skipped for home. He didn’t of course, but the sentiment was there. Tis the season.

Back inside, Wirt let out a hearty giggle, and danced awkwardly in his seat. Until he realized what he was doing, to which he calmed himself once more. Still, the one thing he could not tame, was the large, childlike grin on his face.

—

Dipper walked back and forth, stopped to stare at the front door, then resumed his circle trailing.

“Dipper you’ve been at the door for almost 40 minutes. What are you waiting for?” Mabel walked by, stopping to stare at her brother, incredulously.

Dipper stopped and turned to her, “Sorry. I just, I’m wondering if Wirt will actually show up.” Dipper looked down at his feet, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. He once more glanced at the door.

“That cute librarian you’ve been talking nonstop about?” Mabel placed her hand on her hips, smirking.

Dipper nodded, keeping his head down so Mabel wouldn’t tease him about the red flush on his cheeks, “Yeah, I invited him, and he said he was coming. Ugh, but what if he was just humoring me? What if he was never planning to come at all? Oh god, he probably thinks I’m a creep! I can’t even come back to that library again; he’ll probably call the cops on me as soon as he–”

“Dipper!” Mabel rushed forward, slapping her hands on his shoulders. Dipper’s rambling came to a halt. Mabel continued, “You’re freaking out. Calm down bro bro! He’s probably just running late. Or he had to do something first. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he’s not here yet. And hey, if he did decide to leave you high and dry, well he was an asshole to begin with and not worth your time!”

Despite her best efforts, Dipper groaned at the prospect that he had been stood up.

Mabel rolled her eyes, “Listen bro bro, you’ve seen me go through all my awful boy crushes, and now I’m here to help you through all your awful boy crushes!” She patted him none too lightly on the shoulder.

“Ouch!…but thanks, Mabel. I can always count on you.” He reached over to give his sister an appreciative hug.

Ding Dong!

The moment the buzzer sounded, Dipper pushed past Mabel at a lightning speed, nearly sending her toppling.

“UGH! THANKS A LOT!” She yelled at him as he rushed for the door.

He mouthed an apology, took a second to collect himself, and then opened the door to the mist of two men in the middle of a heated discussion.

“Now be on your best behavior, because we’re guest and I–”

“–I know! I know! I’m not a baby anymore Wirt–”

“–Well you’re certainly acting like on–”

“Ugh, you’re so high strung, it’s annoying! Is it because of your dat–”

“–GREG, Shuuuuu–”

“—No, you shuuuuuush–”

The two came to a dead halt upon noticing the twins staring at them in the doorway.

Wirt straightened up, while the teen slumped a little lower, both of them clearly embarrassed. “Um, good to see you again Mr. Pine–Um, errr, Dipper, I mean. Good to see you again, Dipper.”

“Nice to see you again, Wirt.” He hoped he wasn’t swooning. Judging by Mabel’s not so subtle eyebrow wiggle, he figured he was definitely swooning.

Wirt turned to Mabel next, offering her his hand, “And I assume you must be Dipper’s twin sister, the host of this celebration. I would like to thank you for offering your home to us and Greg during the holidays. I hope we’re not interrupting anything important!”

Greg added, “Home? More like a mansion, you must be loaded!” He gazed up at the manor with eyes the size of dinner plates. Wirt smacked him on the head. “Ow! Hey!”

Mabel chuckled at the brother’s antics; reminded of her own sibling quarreling. She waved Wirt’s earlier comment away, “I’m glad to have you two. And no trouble at all. It’s family and friends, so don’t think you’ve intruded on anything. Me and Pacifica love having guests. Well, I do, but Paz is coming around quickly. Also, pleasure to meet you, my name is Mabel Pines, the more beautiful and majestic of the twins!”

Dipper glared, but she pointedly ignored him.

Stepping back inside, she waved them in. Greg quickly ran inside, wanting to get a full glimpse of the place. Wirt once more apologized for their intrusion before stepping inside as well. Mabel glanced once more at Dipper, took the hint, and turned to Greg, “First of all, love your sweater. It’s cute–could use a little more pizazz, but I approve. Secondly, let me give you a tour of the place, you seem like you’d be very interested in touching all the silverware.”

Greg laughed, “I would like to see how a rich bitch lives,”

“Greg! Language!” Wirt snapped.

Greg replied by sticking his tongue out. Turning back to Mabel, who had looped her arm through his, replied, “Please show me the way, Miss Majestic Mabel. I’m Greg Campbell, Wirt’s ‘moody’ little brother!”

As they were leaving towards the dining room, the two young men heard Mabel reply, “Who wasn’t moody when they were your age?”

Now left to their own devices, Dipper and Wirt stood in the foyer, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. Sometimes Dipper would look at Wirt when he thought the other wasn’t look, and sometimes Wirt looked at Dipper when he thought the other wasn’t looking. This usually ended with them both looking at each other, and becoming more flustered.

“I’m…I’m glad you could make it,” Dipper coughed into his fist. God could he be anymore pathetically inept?

Wirt nodded, “Glad you invited us. Greg might not seem like it, but he was excited to come. He’s a sweet kid, and while he’s driving me nuts with his teenage rebellion, I can’t be too mad at him. I was a moody little shit–even worse, at his age.”

Dipper chuckled; he could listen to this librarian talk for hours. “No, no worries. I get it, we all were like that at one point. I’m just glad he has a cool older brother like you to help him through that awkward time.” Suddenly, a new thought entered his head, one that made his mood dampen. “I noticed that you didn’t mention your parents, are they not around or…” Dipper asked, treading lightly.

Wirt didn’t seem fazed by this questioning, “Oh no. My parents are just a two hour drive from here. Greg lives with me because there’s a liberal arts school nearby that Greg got into for his photography work. We’re actually going early tomorrow to visit them to celebrate Christmas, so don’t worry, they’re still very much alive. And as for that cool brother comment, I sadly have to refute such claims.”

Dipper internally sighed, glad to know he hadn’t brought up anything depressing. Changing tactics to something lighter, Dipper winked, “I don’t know, I think there’s merit. You look very cool to me.”

Wirt went as bright red as the stuffed Rudolph’s nose that was chilling in the foyer. “Well, thank you. It’s nice of you to think that. How are those books coming? I doubt you’ve started any, but I’d still thought I asked.”

“To be honest, I actually half way through one of the books,” Dipper said, a little too smuggly.

Wirt was, at least, impressed, “Really?”

“Yeah, probably would have finished it all if Mabel didn’t drag me into the kitchen to help her with the cooking.”

Wirt seemed even more impressed by this, “You cook?”

Dipper laughed, “Hardly. I can grill things up on the stove, but my sister is the amazing chef around here. Well, of course she’s the chef, this is her house. Well her’s and Paz’s, mostly Paz’s. Pacifica was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She’s cool though, like her a lot better now than when she was a spoiled rich kid. –I’m getting off topic, what were we talking about?”

“Cooking?”

“Yes cooking! But yeah. Most of the food in the kitchen was made by Mabel and Paz. I did help with the ham though, so not completely useless. What about you, do you cook?”

“I do. I make dinner for my brother all the time. I’m not five star, but I feed us every day, and he doesn’t complain, so that should say something.”

“I’d love to try it sometime.” Oh that was a little too forward!

Wirt smirked, “Sure, I’d love to have you over sometime. Consider it a second date, if this first one goes well.”

DATE! HE SAID DATE! DIPPER HAD A SHOT!

Dipper tried not to squeak when he spoke again, “Um, how bout I show you around, we can meet some of my friends and family.” He put his hand against Wirt’s back, gently guiding him into the living room. He tried not to think about it too much. He was just, being a helpful tour guide, that was all. Nothing weird about it. Wirt’s movements also seemed a little stiff after he did that, but Dipper pretended it was just because he was in an unfamiliar area. Yep, sounds good enough.

When he chanced a glance at Wirt’s face, Wirt didn’t seem displeased by Dipper’s touch, just uncertain. Dipper hoped that was a good sign, and not a bad one.

Upon entering, Two old men where lounging on the couch, fighting over the remote. A woman with fall red hair sat on the couch opposite them, face in her phone. Occasionally she looked at the two men and rolled her eyes, back to her phone. Next to her was a Latino man and woman in their late 30s chatting with each other. The man stopped and looked at the two young men as they entered. “Oh hey there dude! And um…other dude!” Soos tipped his hat to them.

“Hey Soos. Melody, Wendy, Grunkle Stan, and Great Uncle Ford. This is Wirt, I invited him to join us for the evening, hope that’s okay.”

Grunkle Stan glanced behind him, “That your boyfriend you keep blabbering about.”

Dipper sputtered. Wendy looked up and failed to mask her snicker. Great Uncle Ford smacked his twin upside the head, chiding him, “Stanley, what did we talk about!”

“Oh hush up, poindexter! It’s my job as his dilapidating uncle to shamelessly embarrass him in front of his crush.”

Dipper wondered if he could get away with senicide. Was that not festive enough? What if he strangled him with tinsel? That be holly jolly enough.

Dipper side eyed Wirt, wondering if his family had scared the librarian off yet. While Wirt did look flustered at their teasing, he had a fond smile on his face, like this was all familiar to him. God he was a trooper. And Dipper might have fallen even harder for him in that moment.

While Ford and Stan argued back and forth, Soos, Melody and Wendy got up out of their seats to introduce themselves.

“Hey dude, name’s Wendy. Nice to meet you!” Wendy pounded her fist against Wirt’s, even though he seemed reluctant.

“Sup dude, the names Soos. I’ve known Dipper since he was just a little dude, so like, be cool to him and you’ll be cool to me…dude.” Soos took Wirt’s hand and shook vigorously, shaking all of him.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Melody, Soos’s wife. It’s really nice to have you. And just ignore the two arguing on the couch, they always do this.” Melody patted his shoulder, giving him a ‘you’ll get used to it all’ look.

Wirt was polite in his introduction back.

As Wirt was chatting with Soos and Melody, Wendy whispered in Dipper’s ear when she was sure only he could hear, “You really like them older, don’t you?”

Dipper thought he would die, “H-he’s not that much older. I don’t think. I’m pretty sure we’re closer in age than you and I are!”

Wendy chuckled, “Okay, true. He looks maybe a year or two older. Could just be his height, too. You’ve always liked them freakishly tall.” She shot Dipper another knowing smirk. He whimpered, trying not to cover his face with his hands and draw Wirt’s attention to them.

Having successfully embarrassed him, she eased up, “I think you have a good shot with this one. He’s dorky like you. You guys will look cute together, and I mean that.”

Dipper still wanted to die. But a part of him was relieved to have Wendy’s blessing. She was always cool like that.

From the kitchen they heard, “Wirt! Holy shit! Come look at all this food!”

Wirt sighed. He shot Dipper an apologetic look, and called back, trying not to shout even though they were rooms apart, “Greg, language!”

Dipper was at least thankfully to know he wasn’t the only one a little embarrassed by their family. He wouldn’t change them for the world, but it felt nice not too be the only one suffering. This might not be such a bad night after all, and if it was, being mortified by your family was a bonding moment, wasn’t it?

At the mention of food, everyone started crowding towards the kitchen, ready for dinner.

It was going to be lively, to say the least.

—

“Tonight was good. I know I’ve said it enough, and you’re probably sick of it, but thank you for inviting us.” Wirt said, bending down to tie his shoes.

Dipper rocked back and forth, smiling, “Glad you had fun. Hopefully my family wasn’t too crazy.”

Wirt glanced up, smirking, “I’m used to odd families. It was fun, nostalgic even.” He stood, dusting off his pants of any dirt he had collected. He looked back, and for a moment, just watched his brother giving Mabel’s potbelly pig tummy rubs. There was a large grin on his brother’s face. “It’s really nice to see Greg smiling more. Don’t tell him, but I’ve missed it.”

Dipper put a finger to his lips, “Your secrets safe with me.”

In the afterglow of good food, light conversation, and plenty of awkward merriment, the two just stood, looking at each other, not sure what to do next, but not feeling like anything else needed to happen. The silence was warm, and strangely, comfortable.

“I should probably get going.” Wirt rubbed the back of his neck. He made no effort to move.

Dipper nodded, “Yeah, it’s getting late, and the road’s will get icy. It be safe to head off now.” He also made no attempt to move away from the moment they had created.

A lone, loud whistle drew them attention upwards. Leaning over the stairs, smirking wickedly at the two was Pacifica. Holding a mistletoe suspended over their heads.

Dipper wanted to die. “Pacifica! What the fuck! How could you betray me like this? I thought we were friends.”

Pacifica shrugged, “Mabel promised me she’d stop singing Christmas carols for the rest of the holidays if I did this. And girlfriends outweigh best friends. Sorry, Dipstick!” She was clearly not sorry.

Seconds later Mabel was down the steps, squeezing next to Pacifica, camera in hand, “I didn’t miss it, did I?” She looked between the two, eagerly.

Wirt smirked, unusually cool. Perhaps it was that single cup of eggnog that had loosened him up. “We were just heading out, so no, you haven’t missed saying goodbye to us.”

Mabel frowned, “Not exactly what I was talking about. You do know what’s hanging over you, right?”

“Mabel~” Dipper growled in warning.

Wirt nodded, “It’s Mistletoe. It’s a Christmas tradition that if you stand under a mistletoe with someone, you have to kiss them. Am I correct?”

Mabel smirked, “Then you know you have to kiss him.”

Wirt shook his head, “It’s a Christmas tradition. Sad to say, I celebrate Yule, which is the old pagan tradition. While very similar to Christmas, there are a few things that differ from the Christian holiday. Such as that little plant you’re holding over us now. Mistletoe back then was used as a way to honor the Winter Celestes, as Paganism is all about appreciating nature. Mistletoe was a way to let the sun know that we appreciated and valued all it had done for us, and even in these harsher environments, it’s love still made life bloom, even under all that freezing snow. So to me, mistletoe has no meaning other than a way to honor the nature of the old pagan holiday, and give thanks to the season of winter.”

Mabel’s mouth fell open in shock. Dipper stared at him with wide eyes. Greg was snickering behind his hands. And Pacifica looked unperturbed by the whole thing. She shrugged once more, then rested a hand on Mabel’s slumped shoulders.

“It’s okay darling, we can enjoy mistletoe the Christmas way,” she coaxed, lifting the mistletoe over their heads and planting a loving kiss on the top of her girlfriend’s bushy head. Mabel smiled, a little more heartened.

Wirt once more thanked the trio, then headed for the door, Greg a few steps ahead. Dipper followed him to the door, closing the door behind him so not to be interrupted.

“I can’t believe you intellectually sassed my sister into silence,” Dipper chuckled at the memory.

Wirt seemed a little guilty, even as he smiled alongside Dipper, “Perhaps that was a bit harsh, but I didn’t like the idea of being filmed on camera. No matter how sweet she seems, I’m not very fond of having my privacy invaded.”

Dipper agreed, “Trust me, I know more than anything. Mabel can be kind intrusive and a little nosy. She means well, always has, but even I get more than a little frustrated with her match making skills.”

“Sad, I don’t think she needs to play matchmaker. I think you’re doing just fine on your own.”

Dipper felt his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?”

A small part of him, really wished Wirt had kissed him. Humiliating as it would be to have his sister and her girlfriend watching, and photographed evidence, the reward of getting to feel Wirt’s lips against his would have been worth it.

Greg, who had been silently watching the two for awhile, had finally had enough. He rolled his eyes and snatched the keys out of Wirt’s hands, “Gross! I’ll meet you at the car. Don’t take too long flirting!” He took two steps and paused. He looked at Dipper, his expression softening, “This was really fun. I hope I’ll see you around more.” And with that, he took off, leaving the two alone.

Dipper could see that Greg meant well; he was even reminded of Mabel in some ways. “Your brother’s sweet.”

Wirt chuckled, “I know. Under his bratty phase, he’s got a real heart of gold. I know he really enjoyed your sister and her house. I hope he made a good impression with her–”

Dipper already knew he had. “Don’t worry, my sister loved him. I’m sure you guys will be invited back.” He made sure to emphasize the both of them; he wanted Wirt to know he was welcomed. Dipper really wanted to welcome him back to his house, but that was for another time.

“I shouldn’t keep Greg waiting,” Wirt replied, clearly reluctant to go.

Dipper tried not to keep him. “Yeah. I wish you could stay longer, but I know I’ll see you again soon. I got library books to return, after all.”

Wirt perked up, “That you do.”

Then, because he was a bit curious, Dipper asked one last thing that had been on his mind since Wirt had mentioned it, “What you said about the mistletoe. Is that really what it means for Yule?”

Wirt smirked, “No.”

Then he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Dipper’s cheek. When he pulled back, he was blushing hotly, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes, “Mistletoe was always about friendship and love. That old tradition hasn’t changed.”

Dipper felt like his heart was going to jump right out of his throat. “Oh…”

“Goodnight Dipper. Have a happy holidays!”

As he turned, Dipper leaned over and pressed his lips against Wirt’s cheek. Wirt looked back, stunned, “Have a happy holidays, Wirt.” He repeated, mischief dancing in his eyes, the same way Wirt’s had.

Wirt felt like he might float off on happiness alone.

The two boys parted, spirits high after their farewell. Hearts filled with hope that their relationship would only grow stronger from here. The holidays certainly were a magical time.

Have yourself a Merry little Christmas,

Make the Yuletide Gay!

#pinescone #pinescone secret Santa #pinescone Secret santa 2018 #Wirt #Dipper #OTGW #GF #dipper pines #colorfullyminded #submission

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howtosurvivebeingsingle · 2 years

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It's been a while and since beginning this blog, I happened to go on hiatus shortly afterward. I have lived with my folks since childhood and had only just moved out last October. Seeing as my lease end was coming up soon among many other life changes, it became rather hard to blog. I moved from my first apartment and had gone through two roommates in the process making me realize that perhaps living alone wasn't so bad. Despite the glorious pocket change I accumulated from paying half the rent, things weren't all that good around my friends. There were certain things that one misunderstands upon living with friends. Hidden secrets that are best left far, far away from you pertaining to housekeeping that I wish I had never learned. In summary, we're eating takeout when I go to visit.

There was also the issue of the neighbors, if you follow my other social media accounts, you'll understand why and I am grateful that I now live upstairs so those "noises" will no longer be above my head. My new apartment has neighbors that are noisy here too as you will find in many places alike, but your regular stomping and door slamming compared to the weekend marathon of 10 seconds as we named him. My only wish is for a pantry as these units were previously dorms, so they're small and inexpensive, the area is relatively quiet. I did manage to buy a small shelving unit to place on my counter that separates the living from the kitchen. My next purchase will be glass containers to give a chic look to my dried goods. I have some gold wire baskets that will give a pop of color and compliment it well. Moved uptown recently and the lack of gas mileage is quite the pro in my defense. I had spent nearly $100 a month driving to and from work since it was square on the other side of town. Seeing as I prefer to cook meals, the budget expense for takeout wouldn't be a problem. Saving money is always a plus.

That being said, I'll have to pinch every penny if I want to buy Christmas presents. My family does an annual Secret Santa Giveaway to make things easier on everyone. The amount of guests for the holidays seems to multiply yearly and buying a gift per guest can be quite the hassle. My family isn't the largest per se, but since my sister's new boyfriend has a rather large family, the amount of chair space will have to be a vast one this time. There is no budget since the members are family, friends and significant others. It is nearly Mid November as you all know and the moving expenses are settling in, so there is a chance that I will focus less on finishing my apartment layout and side projects so that I can afford not only gifts, but travel expenses. The years seem to be getting worse as they progress, so here's to hoping that the dawn of 2022 will be the end of it. Let's hope this trail of bad luck will bring a little bit of good luck in the romance department. Kind of crazy that my star sign is ruled by Venus and my luck on love hasn't been all that great.

Still there is hope for a better year and a less lonely valentines for me and my friends even though some of us aren't in good terms as of late. For now I will promise more frequent updates and as we ease into the holiday season, I'll sit back and relax with a cup of cocoa with wine and some holiday films to watch in my new living space. I'll leave you with some of my picks below. A good portion of these are animated, but we're all children about this time of year so cheers, and Much Love Your Way Darlings!

Christmas Movie Picks:

Santa Clause Is Coming To Town

Frosty The Snowman

Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer

The Year Without A Santa Clause

The Little Drummer Boy

Twas The Night Before Christmas

Unaccompanied Minors

Annabelle's Wish

A Christmas Carol animated 1971

The Holidate

Home Alone 1 & 2

The Nutcracker 1990

A Charlie Brown Christmas

Elf

A Miracle On 34th Street 1947

Deck the Halls

Krampus

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Buster and Chauncey's Silent Night

Mrs. Miracle

The Polar Express

White Christmas

Going My Way

This Christmas

While You Were Sleeping

#how to be single #singles #sex and the city #blog post #2021 #dating #much love #beauty #christmas #movies #films #favorite movies #love this movie

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lfthinkerwrites · 6 years

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Regarding Jonathan Crane, pt. 2

Title: Regarding Jonathan Crane

Fandom: Batman

Rating: T

Warning: Mentioned Character Death

Summary: The different threads of Edward’s life, past and present, finally meet.

Previous Chapters: 1

AO3 Link

Saturday, February 3rd.

12:00 pm

Ra ra Rasputin, lover of the Russian Queen! There was a cat that really was gone! Ra ra Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine! It was a shame how he carried on...

Ellen tapped her colored pencil to the beat of the song on her sketchbook as the bus continued down 24th Street. She'd gotten just about all the sketching she was going to get done on this trip, considering how empty the bus was. Apart from herself and the driver, the only other people on board were a mother and baby in the back of the bus, a group of high schoolers up front, and an annoyed looking middle aged man sitting in the seat across from her, glaring at the music coming from Ellen's earphones. Ellen ignored him, after she had added him to her collection of caricatures she drew of people she saw on the bus. She thought the Old Man would appreciate it. He usually did, as long as he wasn't getting caricatured.

Ellen felt the bus come to a stop and she looked up. This was her stop, 24th and Fleet street. She shoved her sketchbook into her bag, hopped out of her seat and darted out the side door as soon as it opened. She didn't usually come out by herself to this part of town, preferring to stick closer to home or going into the glitzier parts of downtown Gotham, but today was special. The Old Man said when she'd had dinner with him Wednesday night that she could come by his apartment to hang out with him today. Ellen quickened her pace as her father's apartment building came into view. She'd never admit it to the Old Man, but she did like getting to spend time with him, even if there were super villains involved. Actually, especially if there were super villains involved. Seeing him in action against Tut and that weirdo dressed as the Krampus had been pretty awesome.

She walked into the building and up the three flights of stairs that led to his apartment. From just outside, she could hear the sound of his TV. Ellen smiled. Gramma was working a double shift and wouldn't be home until late. Maybe she could convince the Old Man to let her stay long enough to watch Prime Minister's Question Time with him. She took off her headphones, raised her fist and rapped on the door. "Pops!" she called out. "I'm here!" There was no sound other than the TV. Ellen knocked again. "Wakey wakey Old Man!" Still no response. Ellen frowned. Was he in the bathroom or something? She turned the handle on the door and it opened. Well, he had to be home, didn't he? Why else would his door be unlocked? Ellen walked in, shutting the door behind her. The TV was on, and there was a box and newspapers on the coffee table, but there was no sign of the Old Man. "Pops?" Ellen called out again. "Where are you?" Ellen crossed the living room and went down the hallway to his bedroom. It was empty. There was no one in the apartment but her. Ellen began to pout as she walked back to the living room. "You better not have ditched me Old Man!" She muttered. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag and dialed her father's number. "This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

Straight to voicemail? That was a little odd. The Old Man never had his phone off. "I'm here Pops," she said into the answering machine. "Where are you?" She hung up and flopped down on the couch. She looked at the scattered papers on the coffee table and began to go through them. Ellen soon realized that they were all articles about the Scarecrow. She shuddered a bit. She'd never liked that guy. He was a complete creep. She'd never heard the Old Man talk about him though. He'd mentioned a lot of the other Rogues when she'd asked, but he never talked about Scarecrow. Ellen figured he must have really hated him, but if that was the case, why did he have a whole box of stuff about him? And why was it out on his table? Wasn't the guy dead? Was the Old Man investigating something about him? Was that where he was?

Ellen leaned back and grabbed the remote. Dumb Old Man had probably gone to his office for something. He'd be back. And then she'd ask about all this stuff he had.

2:30 PM

Ellen had eaten through the meager snacks the Old Man had in his kitchen and was now getting very irritated. She pulled out her phone and dialed his number again. "This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

"You're a real piece of work Old Man," Ellen hissed. "Can't you call me back at least?" She hung up and continued to surf through the television channels. Where the Hell was the Old Man? Whatever he was working on, she sulked, it better be worth making her wait.

4:30 PM

"This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

Ellen swallowed thickly. "Pops, it's been over four hours. You're starting to scare me. Please call me back." Ellen hung up and took her face into her hands. It had been four and a half hours and no word from the Old Man. This wasn't like him. Something was wrong. Ellen looked down at her phone. She needed to do something, call someone. Who though? She couldn't call the cops, not after what happened with that Tut guy. Ellen's eyes flashed. Selina! She should call Selina! Maybe she knew where the Old Man was! She dialed the number he father had given her a month ago. Her heart beat faster each time she heard the phone ring. Please pick up, please please please...If Selina didn't pick up, Ellen didn't know what'd she'd do. Finally, she heard a familiar voice pick up. "Hello?"

Ellen nearly shrieked in relief. "Selina? It's Ellen. Remember me? Edward's kid?"

"Ellen? Hey kiddo, what's up?"

"Is the Old Man with you?"

"No, why?"

Ellen took a deep breath. "We were supposed to meet up at his apartment today, but he wasn't there, and he's not pickin' up his phone, and I know he's a jerk, but he wouldn't just ditch me like-"

"Whoa kiddo, slow down. What time were you supposed to meet up with him?"

"Noon," Ellen said. "I got here and his TV was on, but he wasn't here! I've tried calling him three times and it goes straight to voicemail."

"Wait. How did you get in?"

"His door was unlocked."

"Did it look like anything had happened? Is the place ransacked?"

"No," Ellen answered. "There's a bunch of papers on his coffee table, but other than that, everything looks normal."

"Are you there now?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause before Selina spoke in a hard tone, "Stay there. Lock the door and don't open it until I get there. I'm on my way."

Selina hung up before Ellen could respond. She quickly got up and put the deadbolt on the door, and sat back against the couch, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something bad was going on. She knew it. Ellen sat in the apartment for about half an hour until she heard a knock on the door. "Kiddo?"

Ellen got up and looked out of the peephole. Sure enough, Selina was standing outside the door, in her catsuit. Ellen opened the door to let the older woman in. Selina walked into the apartment. "Hey Ellen," she said, giving her a look over. "You OK?"

Ellen nodded, rubbing her arm. "I'm getting kinda freaked. It's not like the Old Man to just up and disappear like this."

"I know," Selina said. "Believe me, I know." Her green eyes caught the papers on the coffee table. Ellen watched as Selina crossed the room and leaned over to pick one up. Ellen saw her eyes soften as she read the contents. "Spooky?" Ellen heard her whisper. "Oh Eddie..."

There was something someone hadn't told Ellen. "Selina, what's going on?" she asked. "Do you know where my Dad is?"

Selina put the paper down and shook her head. "No," she said. "Come on. We need to talk to Dr. Young."

Ellen frowned a bit. "Who's Dr. Young?"

Selina looked a bit surprised. "Your Dad hasn't told you about Dr. Young?" She shook her head. "Anyway. She's a friend of your Dad's. They meet up on Friday mornings to talk about cases they work on. She might know where your Dad is."

Ellen nodded, then followed Selina out the door. She took one last look at the apartment before shutting the door behind her. You'd better be OK, Old Man. You'd better be.

...While Charlotte has made a great deal of progress in maintaining boundaries with her family as we discussed in our last session, Andrew is becoming increasingly impatient during our sessions. I've had to remind him that while seeking counseling is an important first step, it is just that: a first step. He cannot expect all of his problems to be solved after only three sessions. I'm beginning to suspect however that he only sees our sessions as an opportunity to air his grievances against his former wife and his employer, instead of as an opportunity to do anything constructive. It's times like this that I wonder why I didn't decide to go into pure research, as my former undergraduate adviser suggested. Penelope chewed the top of her pen for a moment before she continued to write, Then I recall who my undergraduate adviser was, and realize it probably was for the best I didn't take his advice.

Penelope shut her journal, put down her pen and checked her watch. It was 6:00 pm. That was enough about work for now. She got up out of her lounge chair and walked towards her kitchen. Just a quick dinner, and then she'd pick up where she'd left off in her latest Psychology journal. A fairly typical Saturday evening for her. After she'd placed her soup container in the microwave, she pulled out her phone. Edward still had made no attempt to contact her after she'd called him yesterday, like she suspected he wouldn't. Penelope sighed. She'd really thought that after what happened with Victor Goodman, that they had made real progress. He freely shared information with her, he listened to her opinions, even if he was vocal about when he disagreed and he'd actually followed her advice and kept a lower profile in the month since Sharp assumed office. He was still combative and arrogant, but Penelope had begun to accept that as just a part of who he was. He was doing a better job of keeping those aspects of himself toned down in her presence at least. And yet, it felt like after yesterday, they were back at square one.

The microwave beeped and Penelope waited a moment before carefully removing her soup. She sat down at her kitchen table and idly stirred it. Alright, she conceded. It was first and foremost a work relationship. He'd never pried into her personal life and she never volunteered any information, so perhaps she couldn't expect him to talk about everything that was going on in his. Frankly, she wasn't sure she wanted to know some of it. Whatever was going on though was serious, potentially compromising. As she took a few sips, Penelope thought about what Joan had told her a few weeks ago and what she'd seen in Tetch's hideout last summer. Whatever personal issue Edward wasn't dealing with, it was connected to what he'd said. 'The person I needed the most....' Who had that been? Where were they? Penelope shook her head. If he wasn't willing to talk about it, she couldn't force him. All she could do was wait until he trusted her enough to open up about it. If he ever did.

A frantic knocking at her door almost made Penelope jump out of her seat. "Doc! Are you there?"

Penelope's eyebrows raised. That was Selina Kyle. What was she doing here? The last time she's been here had been-oh no. Not again. She should have pushed Edward harder, she should have gone by his home, she should have called Joan-Penelope rushed over to the door and opened it. Selina Kyle barely waited until the door was open before she came in. Penelope's heart sank when she realized the other woman was wearing her catsuit. "What is it?" she asked, following Selina into her living room. "What's happened?"

Selina looked at her with a serious look on her face. "Eddie's gone," she said and Penelope felt her stomach drop. "He wasn't in his apartment and he's not picking up his phone."

"Excuse me?"

Penelope sharply turned at the new voice and realized she'd left her front door open. There was a red-haired girl standing in the open doorway, her large green eyes looking beseechingly at her. Penelope's jaw dropped as she looked at the girl's face. It was like looking into Edward Nigma's face twenty years ago. The girl, dressed in an old turquoise coat, awkwardly rubbed her elbow. "Selina said you know my Dad?"

Dad? Penelope gasped, grateful she wasn't holding anything for she would have dropped it. This girl was Edward's daughter? He had a daughter? Why hadn't he told her? Realizing the girl was still standing in the doorway, Penelope awkwardly waved her in. The girl shut the door behind her and joined the other women in the living room. Selina looked at the two of them with a raised eyebrow. "Eddie never told you about her?" she asked.

Penelope shook her head. "No...we don't really talk about our personal lives."

Selina shook her head. "Well," she whispered. "This is a bit awkward."

That was an understatement. Penelope directed the girl to sit in her lounge chair. She did so, continuing to look at her. "What's your name?" Penelope asked.

"Ellen," she answered. "Ellen Dixon."

There were so many questions Penelope wanted to ask this girl, but she quickly realized she needed to stay focused on the matter at hand. "Ellen, what happened?"

Ellen took a deep breath. "I was supposed to meet up with my Old Man this afternoon, but when I got to his apartment, he wasn't there. His door was unlocked, the TV was on and he had a bunch of papers out, but he was gone."

"Papers?" Penelope asked. "What kind of papers?" Had Edward been abducted again or was this about a case?

"It was bunch of articles about Scarecrow," Selina answered. "Doc," she asked in an almost desperate tone. "You saw Eddie yesterday right? Was there any case he was working on that he told you about?"

Penelope shook her head. "No. He was preoccupied about something though. He wouldn't talk about. He left my office when I tried to ask about it. I tried calling him twice yesterday, but he didn't pick up."

"Yesterday!?" Ellen cried out. "You mean he's been gone for a whole day!?"

"We don't know that Ellen," Penelope tried to reassure her. Ellen's face remained stricken, while a dark look came over Selina's.

"He wouldn't..." Penelope heard her murmur. "He didn't..."

Penelope walked up to her. "Selina," she whispered. "Do you know what's going on?"

Selina shook her head. "Not here," she whispered, gesturing back to where Ellen was sitting, watching the two of them with narrow eyes. "I don't want to freak out the kid."

"I'm not stupid you know!" Ellen shouted. "And I'm 15 years old! I'm not a little kid! If you know where my Dad is, tell me!"

Selina looked from Penelope to Ellen, then she sighed. "I think Eddie might have gone after Croc."

Penelope gasped. "Croc? Waylon Jones? Why would-"

Selina pushed past Penelope and walked towards the door. "We need to tell Ozzie. Come on. We'll drop Ellen off and-"

"No!" Ellen shouted. She sprang out of her chair and glared at the older women, the look on her face leaving no doubts in Penelope's mind that she was indeed Edward's child. "I'm coming too!" She stomped her foot for emphasis.

"Ellen," Penelope said carefully. "This is an extremely dangerous situation. I'm sure your father wouldn't want you to get involved-"

"He's my Dad! I already am involved! And I'm not just gonna sit around at home by myself waiting for you guys to call me!"

By herself? "Where is your-"

"My Mom's dead," Ellen cut her off, anticipating the question. "My Gramma's always at work and I hate my aunt." She looked up Penelope then and her eyes were glassy. "I'm not a stupid little kid. I know who my Dad was. I know he's into a lot of dangerous stuff. But he's my Dad. I can't just do nothing."

Penelope wasn't a child psychologist, but she could see how much there was to unpack in whatever relationship there was between Edward and Ellen. She couldn't think about that now though. They needed to find Edward first and they couldn't leave his daughter alone. If she were anything like her father, she'd try to look for him herself. "Alright," she said. "You can come with us to the Iceberg Lounge, but that is as far as you go. No matter what we find out. Understand?"

Ellen nodded. "Yeah, I get it."

Selina nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

The three women had passed the car ride in silence, Penelope driving, Selina looking forward, occupied by her thoughts, and Ellen looking wistfully out the car window. When they'd arrived at the Iceberg Lounge, Penelope and Selina were ushered into the backroom, while Ellen was kept in a waiting room, to her loud protests. Selina and Penelope recounted what they'd learned the past day to Cobblepot. As Selina mentioned the newspapers articles that Edward had out, Oswald's face darkened.

"Selina dear," he said. "Are you implying what I think you're implying?"

"Ozzie, there's no other explanation I can think of. Eddie went after Croc."

Cobblepot groaned and took his face into his hands. "Edward, you fool."

Something was going on that Penelope wasn't aware of. She hated that feeling. "What is going on?" she demanded. "Edward doesn't go after other Rogues. Why would he go after Jones?"

Cobblepot looked up at her with surprise. "You-you really don't know?"

Penelope furrowed her brow. "Know what? What aren't you and Selina telling me?"

Selina and Cobblepot exchanged a long look. "I assumed, given how closely you and Edward have been working together, that you already knew," Cobblepot continued. "But if Edward hasn't told you, I don't know that it's our place to-"

"Listen," Penelope interrupted harshly. "It might not be any of my business, but Edward's daughter is sitting outside this room, almost out of her mind with worry. She deserves to know what's happened to her father!"

Selina and Cobblepot exchanged another look. Finally, Selina sighed. "Doc," she said. "You remember last year at Tetch's hideout? When Eddie and I were talking? When Eddie was going on about 'the person he needed the most'?"

Penelope felt her heart begin to pound and nodded. "Yes."

Selina took a hand through her short black hair. "That person was Jonathan Crane."

For the second time that evening, Penelope's jaw dropped. "Edward and Professor Crane? They were lovers?"

Selina look wide eyed at her. "Professor-Wait. Don't tell me. Crane was your professor!?"

Penelope nodded, barely registering the question. "He was. Briefly." It had been her sophomore year at Gotham University. Crane's class on Fear and Phobias was considered by most other students in the psychology program as the most difficult and disturbing class the school had to offer. She hadn't been able to resist the challenge. She'd known the man before he was a Rogue. She'd even respected him. She'd felt regretful when she'd heard what had happened to him during the riot- She sank into a chair in front of Oswald's desk as the realization dawned on her. Edward and Crane had been lovers. Crane had died while Edward was in a coma. Edward had woken up in a hostile world, with little to no memories of his past, and his lover was dead. That was the past event that Joan had noted. Everything about his distant behavior made a horrible sense to her now. It was a Delayed Grief Response. He'd been using his work as an excuse to not deal with his emotions about Crane, and hearing the news about Jones' escape must have been the spark that had set him off. "We have to find him," she said. She looked up at Cobblepot and Selina. "We have to find Edward. He's not behaving rationally. If he confronts Jones in the state he's in, he'll get killed!"

"Not that I don't agree Dr. Young, but that's easier said then done," Cobblepot said. "Croc could be anywhere underneath Gotham. I'll certainly send my men out, but it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Ozzie," Selina said, giving him a sharp look. "You and I both know there's only one person who has any chance of finding Eddie in time."

Cooblepot scowled and Penelope knew who Selina was referring to. "Batman?" she asked.

Selina nodded. "I know you don't like it Ozzie, but we really don't have any other choice."

Penelope agreed. Edward would be furious, but that was better than him being dead. For a long moment, Penelope sat deep in thought, her mind going over every interaction she'd had with Edward over the past year, now that she had this new information. She was a trained psychiatrist. Why hadn't she seen this? She remembered too back at the Asylum, before the riot. After Edward had fallen into his coma, there had been a period of time when Crane had been even more uncooperative in his sessions with his doctors. He'd even physically attacked an orderly before being put into solitary. It had passed after a few weeks and no one thought any more about it. Had he been in mourning for Edward? He must have been, the timing fit. Why had no one made the connection? No one had thought Crane or Edward capable of being in a romantic relationship probably, let alone be in one with each other. Penelope sighed. Between this and the discovery of Ellen's existence, one thing was becoming clear to her. For all the time she'd spent with him in sessions at Arkham and working with him now, she really didn't know Edward at all.

The sound of the door opening drew her out of her thoughts. One of the restaurant managers poked his head inside the office. "Mr. Cobblepot? The kid's having a fit about being in the waiting room. She says she's going to walk out. What do you want us to do with her?"

Penelope got up out of her chair and answered before Cobblepot could respond. "I'll talk to her." She turned to Selina. "Do what you need to do. Call me as soon as you find out anything."

Selina nodded. "Will do."

Penelope walked out of the office and followed the manager down the hallway towards the waiting room Ellen had been left in. She heard Ellen arguing with another manager as she approached. "I don't care what that fat ass said, I'm outta here! I'm gonna go find my Dad with or without you morons!"

Penelope reached the room just as the other manager stormed out. "You here for that brat?" he asked as he passed her. "Good luck!"

Penelope ignored him and almost walked right into Ellen. Ellen calmed down only slightly when she saw her. "Well?" she asked. "What's going on? Are we going to go find my Dad?"

Penelope sighed. "No," she said. "Selina's going to call Batman. He'll find your father, I promise."

Ellen's eyes widened at the mention of Batman, then she finally relaxed. "OK," she nodded. "OK. "

Penelope felt relieved. At least Ellen wouldn't be tempted to run after her father now, she hoped. Ellen looked quizzically at her. "I still don't get it," she said. "Why would Pops go after Croc?"

Penelope bit her lip. "Ellen," she asked. "How much does your father talk about his past with you?"

Ellen shrugged. "Not much." She scoffed. "He doesn't really talk to me about his cases either. He thinks I'm 'too young' to hear about it."

It seemed Edward kept a fair degree of separation between Ellen and his work. Penelope didn't think she'd do any differently in his place, but it would make this conversation awkward. "Ellen," she said. "We think your father went after Jones because of what he did to Jonathan Crane."

Ellen looked confused for a moment. "Scarecrow? Why would he-" Then she seemed to make the same realization Penelope had earlier. "No way. Pops and Scarecrow-That's why he's got a box of stuff about him? They used to date?"

"That's a conversation you'll have to have with your father when Batman finds him." Batman would find him. Penelope had to believe that.

Ellen's face fell. "Pops ran off to try to kill Croc, didn't he?"

Penelope didn't know. She wasn't sure if Edward had gone after Jones for information, or for vengeance. She hoped it was the former, but..."It's almost eight. I should take you back home."

Ellen nodded. Penelope went to lead her out of the restaurant and back to her car when Ellen suddenly said, "My Gramma's not getting back until really late." She looked up at her plaintively. "Will you stay with me for a bit? I don't wanna be alone."

Penelope didn't need to think about her answer. "Yes." She owed Edward that much.

#pi verse #regarding jonathan crane #riddler's daughter

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alloftimeandspacetosee · 3 years

Text

The Krampus

So this one’s long, folks! And is also another request or smth from my co-writer, who... either painted the comic page mock up of this before I wrote a thing, or after. I think it was before, and I wrote this in retaliation. That seems likely.

Anyway, co-writer wanted to put the Krampus into pokemon, I guess? it was part of the “hey, what if not only pokemon” thing she did for a while

The day was clear when they arrived in Snowpoint, but that wasn’t odd in and of itself; it had gone Ciris’ Day and while the snow was still thick on the ground, such things were allowed. The dock was busy, but again; not strange.

No, there was something… off, and Jay couldn’t quite place it. Which was disconcerting.

Soise dropped the anchor – more a formality, for the enjoyment of the kids than anything else – as two of her crew (John and Steve, she thought, but honestly she always did get them mixed up) did the actual work of tossing the ropes to Brith and Jayden, who had flown ahead to make sure there was a berth waiting for them.

The sails were rolled and stowed safely below decks, and so they coasted gently to a halt between the weight of the anchor and the strain of the ropes.

“Permission to land, Captain?” Arlette must have run the length of the ship to reach the top of the stairs, but she was barely out of breath and seemed to have done it in the blink of an eye.

Aurora landed on the railing moments later, having swung in across the ship on a series of ropes.

Jay studied the both of them, and then glanced at the harbour. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t place it.

Probably just a nagging sensation that nothing untoward had happened recently, so like as not she was due for something. Karma being a little shit and all.

“Aye,” she said briefly. “Soise, you and Aria are on babysitting.”

“Aye, Cap’n!” Soise called, from where she was pushing out the plank with… that was Clark.

“Captain,” Arlette whined, pouting.

“Sorry.” Jay grinned, somewhat crookedly. “You’re part of the lead exploratory expedition. That better?”

The twins conferred, then nodded together. “Thanks!”

They raced back down the stairs to where Soise and Aria were already waiting, and the four of them were away down the plank and into the town, pausing only briefly to talk to Jayden, interrupting him where he stood talking with passing dockworkers.

“Blue.” Brith met Jay at the bottom of the stairs.

“What’s the news?” Jay nodded at the harbour as she entered the main cabin.

“Someone’s gone missing in the forest.”

“A tourist?”

“Jayden’s just finding out.”

Jay nodded, checking her onshore bag was ready with what she needed. Pokéballs, basic exorcism kit, a book, her phone, keys, wallet.

Sesser flitted across from her perch to Jay’s shoulder, tucking in against her neck, inside the collar of her heavy coat.

Jay smiled fondly as she felt the bird get comfortable, and tapped the table as she looked around for Vulp.

The vulpix pulled herself free from Glace – who picked herself up from the pile of cushions, too – and padded across to Jay’s side.

Jayden met them at the door to the cabin, still in his thick jacket and gloves, goggles hanging around his neck. “It’s Caitlin.”

Jay stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “Who is…?”

“Arlette and Aurora’s friend. She’s gone missing in the forest.”

“She’s… she’s the same age as them?” Jay narrowed her eyes.

“Yes.”

Jay spun on her heel and yanked open a drawer, sorting through it. “Ok, we’re joining the search effort. Make sure the kids don’t find out.”

Jayden nodded. “Who will be coordinating?”

“Alyss, probably. She’ll be at the temple, but if you take to the skies – thank fuck they’re clear, right? – and watch everyone from up there, you can… make sure no one gets lost. More lost.”

“And you?” Jayden watched as she pulled hunting daggers from a drawer, bringing them up to admire them. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking the woods aren’t safe and it’s good to be protected.” Jay dropped the daggers into her bag and shut it again.

“I’ll let Alyss know we’re on the case,” Jayden replied, kissing Jay’s forehead before he stepped backwards out of the door before her.

Jay smiled as she tugged at the flight goggles about his neck. “Be careful. Take Lap and Gar’aq, too.”

“You – don’t do anything… too stupid. Or dangerous.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Jay pulled her heavy snow boots from their locked compartment and sat on the floor to change her sea boots for them.

Jayden kept her gaze for a moment longer. Then he nodded and whistled for Sayri, stepping up to the bridge to give her more room.

Jay cleared her throat, and the whole of her hired crew was at her attention. She grinned. “Well done for making Snowpoint. You’ve all done good, and if this is where you leave us, then – well, it’s been a pleasure.” She half-saluted them. “Let the harbourmaster know, and I’ll write the relevant references for you before we leave. If you’re sticking with us longer, then – let the harbourmaster know anyway, he’s got your pay. The town is yours for a week. See the sights, don’t get too drunk, don’t get frostbite. Don’t go skinny dipping, whatever Hawthorn promises.”

Scattered laughter, probably from those who had been here before and knew Hawthorn. She saw Brith out of the corner of her eye, hiding a slight grin.

“We have… business to attend to. If you feel like getting involved, head up to the temple and ask for Alyss, and she’ll set you to work. I’d advise getting your land legs back first, before trying to help with anything. Any questions?”

Dick held up a hand, that characteristic smirk on his face. “You’re a real strange Captain, you know that?”

“I revel in it.” Jay nodded in agreement. “Any relevant questions?”

Tim laughed. “No, Cap. Good luck with your business.”

“Appreciated.” Jay looped her snow goggles about her neck and pulled her coat tighter. “Dismissed. Good luck in all your endeavours, etcetera, etcetera.”

As the crew broke up, Jay strode past them and to the plank down onto the dock, Vulp and Glace not far from her feet.

“Who are we taking?” Brith asked, following.

“You take Yen and Glace,” Jay replied, tying her hair back into a loose plait and tucking it down the back of her coat. “That… should cover everything. I’ll take Arc and Vulp and Sesser.”

“We’re splitting up.” Brith did not sound impressed. As much as she ever sounded anything.

“Yeah. Covering more ground.” Jay nodded, whistling for her pack to join them. “If you want to start at the lake and work out from there. Uxie might be more helpful to you.”

“As opposed to you, who they have a vested interest in.”

“Had. Past tense. I’ve played my part.” Jay shook her head.

“Jay.” Brith clamped a paw on Jay’s shoulder.

“Brith.” Jay spun to face her.

Arc and Yen came racing down the plank to join them. Vulp scrambled up onto Arc’s back and sat between her ears.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Brith said eventually.

Jay grinned crookedly and swung up onto Arc’s back. “I’ll see you this evening.”

“Don’t stay out too late!” Brith yelled after her.

Jay raised a hand in acknowledgement as Arc padded down the pier.

Yen let out a chilling howl and raced past them. Glace and Brith bounded past them next, and the three of them cleared a path through the dock.

Jay grinned and leant close to Arc’s back, flipping her hood up. “Let’s find us a missing kid.”

Arc let out a bark and surged forward, into the path that hadn’t quite closed up behind Yen, Brith and Glace.

She left their path as they reached the treeline, and with a gentle pat at Arc’s neck, Jay guided them away from the lake and north into the forest.

Beneath the trees, the snow was still thick, though cleared away from the wooden paths. The sound of the town – though they could still see it, through only two lines of trees on one side – was oddly muted, as if they’d entered another world.

Which, Jay supposed, they sort of had. Although the paths were here, and they were cleared, people rarely used them. Rangers, people on path clearing duty, the aurorus keepers… and her.

No one else had any call to be using the paths that went north. Not past the temple, at any rate.

Still, she saw signs that other people had passed by; vibrant red ribbons, tied to the trees. Classic searching technique, to let anyone coming after know that a party had gone this way. If Caitlin found her way back to a path, she could follow the ribbons in either direction and find people looking for her.

At the splitting of the path behind the lake – one went back around its other side, one turned towards the temple, and the last headed on north towards where the aurorus made their summer den and further on to the empoleon sanctuary (and beyond, again, but the path didn’t lead that far) – Jay nudged Arc to the north one without any hesitation. There would be enough people combing the lower reaches.

“Sesser, flit up – yes, I know it’s cold – flit up and see if there’s anything… coming.”

The swablu complained but left the warmth of Jay’s shoulder and sped between the branches and into the clear sky.

The snow was hard under Arc’s paws; they didn’t ever manage to clear away the bottom layer, and it had hardened to ice after the long winter. Arc let out a huff of steamy air, and Jay felt her core temperature rise by several degrees.

“Careful,” Jay warned, looking back to see Arc’s latest footprints turned to water.

There was a trumpeting call from up ahead, one that cut through the whole of the quiet forest.

And it had been quiet. No birds – that was normal, for birds rarely came this far north and left the harbour – but also no sneasel. No snover.

Jay tightened her hands in Arc’s fur, and the arcanine put on even more speed. Jay felt the wind cold against her cheeks, and Vulp scrambled down from Arc’s head to sit in the shelter of Jay’s lap.

Laughter. Laughter and howls and another trumpeting call.

Jay frowned, sitting up.

They reached the first of the aurorus dens, where the amaura were kept. It was a hollow between the trees, a natural clearing that stretched a long way.

The amaura weren’t alone; Jay saw a streak of black, and then fire pluming in the middle of the tight herd, fire that shaped itself into pokémon and ships and-

“Soise?”

Arc stopped at the edge of the clearing and Jay pushed her hood down.

“Mam!” Aurora scrambled up onto the back of an amaura and waved at her. “Aria is showing us fancy fire, you should come see!”

Jay sighed and cleared her throat.

Soise slipped out from amongst the amaura, grinning somewhat guiltily.

“It was my idea!” Åaron burst out, bulling past Soise. “I thought – Caitlin might hear us and come back – she always liked the amaura, maybe she was near them!”

Jay swung off Arc’s back and stepped towards them. “Is Arlette there as well?”

“’M here, ma.” She stood between two of the amaura, a gloved hand on one of them. “Something bad’s happening, isn’t it?”

Jay frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Sesser came diving back to her shoulder, trilling wildly.

The wind – there had always been a wind, but it had been soft amongst the trees – picked up, tugging strands loose from Jay’s hasty plait.

Jay frowned as Sesser huddled against her neck, and put a hand up to cup the shivering bird.

“I can hear it. Or see it.”

Jay frowned and shook her head as the spectral sound of chains clanking reached her faintly. “It’s just ice bound trees. You shouldn’t be out this far, all the adults are looking for Caitlin.” She pinned Soise with a sharp glare.

“It’s not her fault!” Aurora said quickly. “She had to come along. Couldn’t keep an eye on both of us else.”

Aria stood up beside Soise, slipping her paw into the taller zoroark’s.

“I was planning on keeping them here and out of trouble,” Soise said, nodding. “Keep ‘em distracted ‘til we heard she’d been found.”

Aurora hit Soise. “You said we’d help look for her!”

“We are helping. None of you are lost, and-” Soise rubbed her arm.

Jay held up a hand to cut them off. There was… snow on the air, which shouldn’t have been possible. Articuno had left to travel. The harbour was open and the sky was clear.

But to the north, storm clouds were massing.

“Soise, take them back to town.” Jay shifted the bag on her back.

“But-!” Arlette protested.

“Now.” Before that storm front hit them.

It had sprung up out of nowhere, it wasn’t natural… Arlette was right. Bad things were going to happen.

The amaura bunched together, lowing uneasily as they started towards the south end of the clearing.

Soise and Aria pulled the three kids with them, although Arlette resisted.

“Mam-”

Jay pulled one of the hunting daggers from her bag. “It’ll be fine, Arlette.”

“I know – but what’s coming – he’s trapped, too.”

“What?” Jay twitched her head to stare at Arlette.

Arlette gulped and stood straighter. “He’s trapped. I can see it.”

Jay squinted into her daughter’s eyes and saw the glassy metallic gleam to them, the one that meant she wasn’t all here. She nodded slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind. But you – have to stay safe. Please, go with Soise and Aria.”

Vulp darted across the snow to stand at Jay’s side, her hackles raising as she faced the north and whatever was coming.

The clanking of chains was only getting louder, and Jay didn’t think it was only in her head.

The rising wind pulled her hair free of its plait, and was accompanied by snow and hard ice. She pulled her snow goggles up from around her neck and on over her eyes – partly to keep her hair out of them, and partly so that she could see through the darkening day and the snow that threatened to obscure everything.

“Arc, cover them.”

The arcanine huffed and padded past her to stand as a shield between the amaura herd and Jay, and whatever was coming from the north.

“Get out of here!” Jay called back.

Sesser cheeped in her ear, huddling back against her neck; at her feet, Vulp hadn’t stopped growling.

She wouldn’t look back to see if they’d followed her order; actually couldn’t, because whatever was coming… it stirred something. Memories.

Chains upon chains upon chains and ice and cold and stabbing pain and-

Jay shook her head, focusing on the here and now.

There was a dark shape coming towards her, a strange lurching gait that told her it wasn’t an aurorus, it wasn’t Articuno on a surprise visit (her storms had never felt so ominous) and it wasn’t… wasn’t anything else Jay knew.

But it felt so, so familiar. The stirrings of a memory, almost.

Jay set her stand, readied her hunting dagger in her left hand. In the palm of her right, she summoned weak fire to dance above her glove.

The trees were cracking, bending out of the way.

Sesser cheeped against her neck, shrill and still almost lost in the wind.

A figure cloaked in blackness loomed out of the trees and into the clearing, and stopped short at the sight of Jay standing in the snow.

Its head was – according to the odd bulkiness of the darkness it wore like a cloak – oddly misshapen and bulky to the sides. A tail swung out beside it, coiling up and rimmed in spiked ice at the tip.

It let out a warning growl and hunched forward, still towering far above her. It was grey-brown with fur, and there were chains wrapped about its paws.

Jay tilted her head to see where they ran to, but she couldn’t track them. They trailed off into the distance, merged into snow and trees and… seemed almost to not be attached to anything concretely physical that she could see.

She’d heard stories, they all had. This beast was a warning to the children of Snowpoint, to keep them sweet and behaving.

It loomed over her, even crouched as it was.

Vulp let out a bark and a burst of flames, and it didn’t flinch back.

“I’ve heard of you. Child thief,” Jay said. “Soul stealer.”

The wind whipped about them, and the cloak it wore like a shroud seemed to shred about its head and fade to reveal a massive head, furred and... Jay couldn't tell what it was like, exactly, but it was a mix of too many ideas and mismanaged beastly features to be clear. The misshapenness of its head was horns, curved ram's horns that pointed level with its eyes. Or eye. It only seemed to have one; the other was sealed shut, with what seemed like a fresh wound.

“Krampus,” Jay said, naming it.

It rose to its full height before her, holding one of the chains in its right paw. The chain rattled as it tugged it tight.

“I’m Jay.” She tilted her head only slightly to meet its eye. “The NightGale, Arceus’ trainer, Chosen by Articuno, Rayquaza’s Own. You may have heard of me.”

The Krampus seemed to consider her after that.

The wind whistled about them, whipping Jay's hair – forcibly loosened from the plait she'd pushed it back into – across her face and around her head, tossed with the snow.

It wasn't fresh snow, she realised. It was old snow, torn up from the ground.

Nothing about this beast was new.

The wind didn’t seem to touch it – or its cloak – at all. It loomed above her as an impenetrable mass. Perhaps judging the possible outcomes.

It was supposed to just be a story. It was supposed not to be real.

But then, she’d thought demons weren’t real. There was room for everything in this world, apparently.

It stepped forward with a growl, and Jay pulled her dagger up to bear, making sure the Krampus knew she had it. It was small, compared to the cloaked bulk of the Krampus, but – lethal, in her hands.

Fire wreathed her right arm – weak fire, striped with shadow, but fire all the same – and she lifted her head. "These are my children. You will not harm them. And you will give back what you've taken."

It punched its paws into the ground before her and roared, and its breath fogged Jay’s goggles.

Sesser cheeped shrill in Jay’s ear, pulling back so far she was almost falling down the back of Jay’s coat. Vulp was back up against her ankles, but still growling fierce, despite that Jay could feel her trembling even through her thick snow boots.

Jay waited for it to finish. “Are you done?”

Its jaw clicked shut with an audible snap. It was very close, now, and Jay wrinkled her nose at the smell of its breath. Its eye was demonic red, but dull. And there was… was that tears beading about its eye, already freezing to a spiky rim of ice?

It opened its mouth again, and Jay saw spiked chains running against its gums like a bit, cutting tight and pulled back around the curve of its horns.

“You’re trapped,” Jay murmured. Like Arlette had said.

Its eyes streaked with tendrils of black, and the Krampus growled and shook its head from side to side, closing its eye tight as if it were in pain.

Its near horn caught her and Jay went tumbling into the snow.

“Mam!”

“Get them out of here!” Jay roared, spitting out snow.

The Krampus lunged past her, forepaws hitting the ground with massive thuds that seemed to shake the clearing.

Jay stabbed her dagger through the link of a chain as it rushed by her, and into the ground below.

The chain snapped tight and the Krampus lurched over onto its side.

Jay got to her feet and glared over the Krampus to where Soise stood before the huddle of amaura and the kids. “I told you to go!”

“But-” Arlette started.

The Krampus clawed its way back mostly upright, still on all fours and tugging at the chain that Jay had pinned to the ground by the dagger she had one foot on. It growled again, turning to face her.

Its concealing cloak hadn’t so much as shifted to reveal anything, but its tail whipped high in the air behind it.

Jay threw her bag to the side, nudging Sesser from her shoulder.

Vulp stepped up beside her and let out a series of yaps.

Jay crouched down to lift the chain in her gloved hand. Even through the glove, it was cold and not quite there, like it was keeping the Krampus chained to something… not in this world.

Beyond it, she saw – finally! – Soise and Aria pull the three kids back out of the clearing and into the forest. The amaura had already fled, the threat of this beast too much for them.

Jay couldn’t entirely blame them, but it didn’t make for a great feeling.

The Krampus snarled at her.

Jay left the dagger where it was in the chain and stepped away, circling it. “Give me back Caitlin and you won’t hurt more.”

It was hiding something under its cloak, she was sure. Maybe Caitlin. Maybe the lock of the chains.

“Vulp,” she murmured, as the vulpix caught up with her. “See if you can’t… burn it away.”

Vulp leapt forward and caught her teeth on the cloak, and fire raced between her jaws and along the blackness of it.

It didn’t seem to catch – maybe because it was ice, or not so much a shroud as it was just shadow, just a clinging shred of darkness rather than actual, physical material.

Jay’s hands were empty. The fire had died out and she hadn’t noticed.

The Krampus turned to face her and Vulp, still clinging to its cloak, was swung up and about in the snow torn air.

It seemed… not quite hesitant to attack – Jay jumped backwards as it snapped at her – but it wasn’t trying as hard as it could.

Which was-

Jay tripped over its tail as the Krampus swept it against her legs, knocking her to the ground.

Then it was over her and its jaws were open, and blood mixed with saliva was dripping into the snow about her.

Jay stared the Krampus in the jaws and grinned. Power flooded through her, not quite of her own volition. Someone else was helping her, someone who didn’t… normally help her.

She reached hands that were coated in silver gauntlets, dark ice blue feathers about the wrists, and grabbed at the chain that ran through the Krampus’ mouth.

She could feel the power that ran through it, feel the – not quite there-ness of it. It wasn’t of this world.

And she broke it.

Ice flooded from her left arm and fire from her right, and where they met and blended along the chain it became brittle enough for Jay to twist and break between her hands.

The Krampus reeled back from her, clawing at its mouth.

Jay pushed herself to her feet and stood tall, ice sword shimmering in her left hand. Not quite the knight that Dialga and Palkia had always tried to make her, their pawn on the battlefield. This was Arceus’ Defender, the one Articuno had chosen as her champion. She was unadorned but for the gauntlets and a slight golden crest of feathers and spines about her head, almost a halo. Her snow goggles shone with an unearthly light, and feathers marked the edges of their rims and the lines of her face. The sword she held wasn’t the sabre that she chose, nor the sword that Dialga would form for her. This was Arceus’ two-hander, a great sword, reminiscent of the one from the legends, the one that his first Defender created the Coronet range with.

Jay remembered it now, the Krampus. She remembered the snow, and the sneasel, and then the warmth of that cloak and the fur and the chains–

The crystalline ice baubles that hung almost like weighted decorations along the chains were souls, of the other children that had gone missing over the years. The long, long years.

Jay threw the broken chain into the snow at her feet, and watched as it oozed away like sludge. The baubles still lay, scattered and unbroken.

She had almost been one of them, but for Articuno’s interference on that long-ago day.

The Krampus clawed at its mouth and let out a far more convincing whimper this time.

Jay reached the next chain and raised her sword.

The Krampus puilled the chain taut, not even attempting to look like it was resisting the breaking of them.

Jay glanced at it, then swung the sword down two handed, and fire raced along from her right hand to the ice blade and then to the chain.

The chain shattered and oozed away, and when the Krampus stood, it was no longer so pulled down by them and the bulk under the shroud was lesser.

Vulp came limping back to Jay’s side, tails flattened to the ground and ears drooping.

“Who has you tied down, dear Krampus?” The voice was Jay’s, but the words weren’t. “Who has turned you from your purpose?”

Her right hand, of its own accord, stretched out to stroke the Krampus’ matted jaw.

The Krampus closed its one undamaged eye and leant into the touch.

It didn’t feel like being controlled by Dialga and Palkia. They were rough, overriding everything without a care for what she thought or felt or wanted. This was a gentle question, a suggestion of kindness. Someone who knew what they had to do. He was kindness and understanding and gently, oh so gently, nudging to the right way.

This was the difference between the AllFather, who cared for all his children, and his oldest two, who felt that they needed to make no allowances and explanations for those beneath them.

The shroud folded away like ash on the wind. There was one last chain that wound about the body of the Krampus, and it was thicker than the last two, and longer; it was almost like armour, although it constricted the beast’s movement. On its chest was a half-formed crystal bauble, not quite as thick or patterned as the others that lay scattered about the clearing.

In it, Jay could see a curled-up child, dressed in little more than leggings, a dress, boots, and a cardigan. Caitlin.

The Krampus pulled its neck to the side, and Jay saw the chain tight across its neck.

“I can – anywhere else.” She pointed her sword to where the chain wrapped its torso. “Surely, I don’t…”

The Krampus shook its head and forced its wounded eye slightly open to gaze at her.

<All will be well, little one> Arceus’ voice was soft and warm and almost golden in her mind. <Strike, and free him>

Jay nodded and raised her sword above her head, holding it in both hands once again.

The Krampus turned its head to stretch out the chain, to give her more access to it.

Jay licked her lips and steadied her hands on the sword.

The Krampus closed its eye.

The wind whipped fierce and the snow whirled, blocking out all else. Only the baubles gleamed through the darkness, like stars to light the way.

Jay brought the sword down, and her fire and ice flared along her arms to meet on the sword’s blade just as it hit the chain.

It shattered into pieces and the baubles went flying across the clearing, bouncing amongst the others.

The wind stopped, and the snow froze in the air about them.

The chain became black ooze like the others had and clung to the Krampus’ bristled fur.

The Krampus curled a hand up to catch the largest one, the one that held Caitlin, so that it didn’t hit the ground with as much force as the others did. It blinked and shook its head, and pulled back to crouch on its haunches, still cradling the orb.

Jay lowered the sword to the side, holding it just in one hand now.

The Krampus looked up to meet her eyes, and its gaze – while still dull red – was no longer quite as… threatening. “Thank you.” Its voice was a low growl, musty and disused.

“Oh my child,” Arceus said, through Jay. “You have been used badly, and I am sorry.”

“I was weak, and I could not fight them.”

“He is tricksome. And you fought back, in the end.” Jay’s hand caressed the Krampus’ torn snout.

“When your champion came.” The Krampus considered Jay. “This one is good.” With every word it spoke, its voice became less hoarse, though no less a rumbling growl.

Arceus’ pleasure and pride thrummed through Jay. Not Jay’s pride but Arceus’. “She has done well in all that has been asked of her.”

Jay smiled, and that wasn’t a movement from Arceus. He was proud of her, in a way that… no one else ever had been. She felt it in her, like the pride that she felt for her children or her pokémon, but this time directed at her. No other legendary, certainly, had ever cared for her in quite the same way.

Vulp purred and rubbed up against her leg.

His leaving left her cold and empty, but only of his presence. Like the leaving of a dear friend or family member. It was not a physical cold, but she felt it all the same. A hollow, in her chest, that would fill in with time. The trappings of his honour – the great sword, the gauntlets, the feather markings of her goggles and about her face – disappeared with him.

Jay tugged at her nondescript gloves and stared at the Krampus. “What happens now?”

The Krampus carefully broke the crystal bauble and cradled Caitlin gently against his chest. “She will need to warm up a little.”

“But she’ll be alright?”

The Krampus nodded. “Better than the others.”

Jay glanced at the crystalline baubles. “Are they…” She didn’t want to say it, in case that made it true. As stupid as the thought was.

“It is too late.” The Krampus dipped his head. “You cannot help them.”

“But you…?” Jay raised an eyebrow, pulling her goggles up onto her forehead to keep her hair back. “You can?” What sort of help would it be, at this point?

The Krampus got slowly to his feet. “My original task – the one I was Called for – was to help the ones such as these.” His tail swept all the crystal baubles to his side, a movement that he shouldn’t have been able to catch all of them with.

Jay scanned the clearing for any that he might have missed – like the ones on his other side, for example – but there were no other glows but those at the Krampus’ side.

“This one is yours.”

Jay took Caitlin as the Krampus offered her, and awkwardly pulled off her jacket one-handed to wrap the child in.

The Krampus gathered all the baubles to his chest and stood.

Jay stepped back from his height, to give him some more room to do… whatever it was that the Krampus did.

The Krampus’ shroud swept about him again, although it didn’t cover his head, and he closed his eyes. His form gleamed – as softly as the baubles within his cloak – and then changed, becoming softer. Friendlier, somehow; fewer scars, less prominent teeth. Face less like an inbred houndour. Smaller, the horns taking less of a curve and a rounder point.

He seemed of a size with Jay now, feet like hooves. The cloak wasn’t as much a shroud, though no less ragged.

In her arms, Caitlin stirred.

The Krampus brushed a furry, three-fingered hand against Caitlin’s cheek. “I am sorry, little one.” He looked up to meet Jay’s gaze. “Another child of Snowpoint who has been in my grasp and survived.”

Jay gave him a small smile.

“If you ever need my help,” the Krampus said. “Just call.”

“I’ll bare that in mind,” she replied.

The Krampus smiled in reply, and turned to the clearing.

The wind whipped up again, though gentler than before, and the Krampus started to run with it, through the trees as they seemed to fade away before it.

As Jay watched – the flying snow making it hard to truly see – the Krampus disappeared from view and the trees were firm and solid in their place. The wind softened again, and Caitlin stirred in her arms once more, blinking.

“You’re… Roarer’s mam,” she murmured.

“That’s right.” Jay smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold.” Caitlin frowned. “And – and my head…” she touched her forehead with Jay’s coat sleeve, which overlapped her arms quite significantly. “What happened?”

“You… got lost.” Jay glanced at Vulp. “And now we’re taking you home.”

Vulp leapt for a tree and scrambled up into its branches, high enough that when she spat fire into the sky she could blur it into a beacon and set it above the treetops.

“Oh. Sorry.” Caitlin yawned. “Did I – cause a bother?”

“Not at all.”

There was a roar, and then a shriek.

“What’s that?”

“Our ride home, that’s all.”

Lap landed in the clearing, following by Sayri, with Jayden on her back.

“You found her.” Jayden stepped down from Sayri’s back.

“Yes. Can you take her on Sayri?”

Jayden beckoned Caitlin over to him, and she went, still wearing Jay’s coat. Although Jay knew the kids, Jayden was the one they all preferred. The one they were all comfortable with.

Vulp leapt down onto Jay’s shoulders, draping about her neck.

“Thank you.”

“Are you alright?” Jayden studied her over Caitlin’s head.

Jay nodded. “Take her back to the temple. I’ll round up my pack.”

“And our children, I assume.” Jayden flickered a smile.

“How did you…”

Jayden laughed. “They’re yours. Of course I knew.”

Jay grinned. “They probably haven’t gone too far.”

Caitlin sneezed, catching their attention.

Jay gestured at her. “You’d better go.”

Jayden gathered Caitlin onto Sayri’s back and knelt behind her, holding her close as the braviary took off.

She wasn’t alone in the clearing for long; Brith stepped out first, Yen and Glace at her side. Then Arc, with the twins on her back, and Aria and Soise not far behind.

“At least you got Áaron back with sensible adults,” Jay said, stroking Sesser as the swablu flitted back to her shoulder from Brith’s.

Soise grinned. “You beat it back, then?”

“Not… precisely.” Jay studied the twins. “Caitlin’s headed back to town with your dad.”

Arlette nodded. “And did you help him? Is he free?”

“He is.” Jay smiled. “Thank you for the warning.”

“What happened, exactly?” Brith narrowed her eyes, glancing between them.

Lap grunted from behind Jay, coming forward to nudge her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you about it when we get somewhere warm?” Jay suggested, rubbing at her arms for emphasis.

“Race you back to town,” Soise offered, grinning.

“Aye, and if you’d gone when I said, you’d’ve won already,” Jay replied as she swung up onto Lap’s back.

“Where’d be the fun in that?”

“She doesn’t need that much of a handicap.” Brith smirked.

“Rude.”

The twins giggled.

“Go on,” Jay said, gesturing them. “Back to the temple.”

Arc and Yen took off first, then Soise and Aria.

Brith waited by the trees for a moment longer. “Uxie did speak.”

“I thought they might.”

“They said something interesting.” Brith considered Jay.

“For your ears only, I assume.”

“No. At least – for the moment, yes. But not always.”

“When the time comes, then.”

Brith dipped her head. “When the time comes.”

“Would you like a lift?” Jay shifted slightly on Lap’s back. “There is room.”

Brith grinned. “I think I’ll beat Soise by foot.”

“Have at it.”

Jay watched Brith race from the clearing. For a moment, all was quiet. “Take us up, Lap,” she said softly.

The dragonite lifted them into the air.

Jay leant over her side to look down into the forest, as if she might see the path of the Krampus.

There was nothing but what looked to be a fresh layer of snow streaked across trees, and even as she watched, that was melting to drip through to the ground, leaving only the green.

But the forest felt different. No longer so forbidding.

“We’re going to have to rewrite some kid’s tales,” she murmured, as Lap turned to the South and for Snowpoint.

She had her priorities.

#pokemon #sinnoh #snowpoint #oc #Jay nightgale #1st gen #mainverse #writing

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