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#misteltoe
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Merry Christmas to my two TMNT ships that I love with my whole heart.
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dorliart · 1 year
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Crowley had been rambling about mistletoes, too excited to do anything about it. Like kiss Aziraphale.
Luckily for him, Aziraphale took the initiative this time.
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gifs-of-puppets · 1 year
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Merry Christmas!
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doriana-gray-games · 1 year
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✨Holiday Mistletoe 🎄✨
So, because of Discord discussions and popular demand, here is Watson under the mistletoe—
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The trees outside were white from frost, and a thin layer of snow coated the sidewalks. Inside, you and company were warm and very content from heated drinks of spice and sugar and rum.
“What say you, Sherlock?” Watson spoke loudly over the rumble of merriment and chatter.
The fire hummed its soft sound.
“I say nothing until I know what I agree to, my good companion.” You were smiling from nothing. Contentment, perhaps. 
May it last forever.
The bright-eyed doctor, without escaping your gaze, left their chair at the table and joined you at the chaise, and dipped their form to your ear. “I said—would you care to join me in grabbing the wine from the cellar?”
There was something in their tone. Unspoken words. You felt compelled to act as they asked, but just as much, you felt you might escape out of a window. Nervous, and you did not know—
“Why…?” you whispered.
“I wish for it to be you,” they said in yet another new tone.
You swallowed hard. Half excitement, half worry. “Yes. Yes, of course. Anything else would be nonsensical. Would it not?” 
Watson did not reply with more than a smile. Always with the one that reaches the corner of their bright eyes.
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The moments as you stepped down to the kitchen and through to the cellar were most ordinary. Filled with nothing but words of already-eaten food and newly uncovered pieces of gossip. 
You had gleaned a mistletoe as you passed through the kitchen—and you had wondered who had put it there. Perhaps the young maid, the ever-romantic Anne?
Watson told you to wait by the cold threshold of the wine and cheese (and a few experiments). Perhaps because of the smell emitting from beyond the cellar. It was a stench of its very own. Something quite disgusting, intriguing, and with a hint of mould. And so, when your friend returned with two—then four bottles of wine, you weren’t thinking much beyond how that stench had tickled your senses so.
Mayhaps you would have noticed before it was too late—if that was truly a worry you held—that carrying the bottles and walking side by side in the narrowing space meant you almost crashed into one another through the doorway. The doorway, which, at the top of the frame, held a sprig of green with a bright red ribbon around it.
“Sherlock…”
“I swear I did not put it there, Watson.” 
“I did not say you did—“
“Watson—you have to believe me.”
“I do—”
“Really, I would not do something so foolish as to—“
“Sherlock, I have to tell you that I—“
“It was probably Anne, she’s always doing silly things such as—“
“It was I,” the confession came out of their lips, and you replayed it over and over until you accepted the words but yet could not catch the meaning.
“You?”
“Foolishly. I thought—I thought wrong. You would not, with me. And so I think it best if—“
You wanted them to know they were wrong. Oh, so wrong. In haste, you wrapped an arm around Watson’s neck and pulled them in. A quick touch of lip upon lip as a lul filled the room. Followed by an echo that appeared in your ears as blood rushed there and everywhere. You cursed the shortness in length and in breath as the moment ended.
Much too soon.
—Pure cruelty—really, if it is like this, perhaps it should not have existed at all, for the promise was too sweet to be taken away now—
“… Sherlock…”
What have I done—
Before they manage to shake off their stunned expression and get their wits returned, you skip up the stairs and deliver the bottles of wine to a cheering crowd.
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A few of the guests had left hours past, Adler had sworn they were not yet beginning, and Mrs Hudson was sleeping in the chaise lounge.
All was as it should be.
Except…
It was snowing again. And beginning with your fears of planting an unwelcome kiss—ending in your untimely escape—Watson and you had been avoiding each other the rest of the night. 
And, again, you felt a need to correct the misunderstanding. But, this time, for reasons unknown to you, Watson was not there to ease your mind as they always did.
So when you saw them going outside in the cold with one of the bottles of wine, you followed. After a few minutes of summoning the courage. Wanting needing to end this confusion—
Once and for all—
Come what may.
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You found them by the small tree behind the house. Wine neck in hand, lips to the lip.
“You might run hot, but is this not testing it to its limit?” You tried to make the sound light, but it came out quite as worried as you were. Besides, their lack of proper winter attire bothered you. They should know better. 
“I needed the air. Besides.”  With Watson’s back still to you, above them, the condensation of their hot breath disappeared. “You never wear the scarf nor the mittens.”
“…”
“…”
“Are you really bringing that up right now, Watson, you are ridic—”
“I need to tell you something, Sherlock.” There is one last swig, and then the empty bottle clinked as it was carefully placed by the tree. Like an offering. A prayer.
Watson’s shape turned, and you saw their ice-blue eyes framed by lashes like the tree’s frost-covered branches. You moved without thinking to be by their side, felt their cheek and the cold touch of it. They—in turn—placed their hand firmly on yours. Warm, despite the chill. 
“I care for you. Madly, lovingly—romantically.” 
“Watson… I…” The word felt trapped in your soul. You looked away, but now their hand guided you to meet the gaze yet again. Then the words spilt, “I care for you too.” 
Watson had this uncanny ability to make you more unsteady and yet more steadied than any. Your legs were of jelly, and yet they held you in place with a soft touch. 
“I—it’s a tradition,” you say, digging in your pocket and holding up the bundle of twigs from before. “Kissing under the mistletoe. Silly little habit, but… Perhaps worth another attempt?” you say, right as they kiss you. This time for longer. For what feels like an eternity. As the snow melts away, and the cold is nothing to their warmth. 
---
Stitched to your heart, forever on your mind, ever by your side. 
Always.
The detective and their doctor.
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✨HAPPY HOLIDAYS!✨
Love you all ❤️ 
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reptilian-angel · 1 year
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“Gotta give this bird some Yuletide cheer or else he’ll never shut up. Definitely NOT because I WANT to or anything.”
Merry Christmas to all you Saints & Sinners out there, stay warm & safe this winter!
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floridaboiler · 1 year
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MY FRIENDS IT’S THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN
AS I SEEM TO YELL EVERY YEAR INTO THE VOID.
MISTLETOE IS WHITE
HOLLY IS RED
ONE’S FOR SMOOCHIN’
ONE’S FOR LOOKIN’ NICE
BOTH OF THEM ARE POISONOUS
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nordicchristmas · 1 year
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cpahlow · 1 year
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Had to share this @WeHeartIt
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Commissions | Ko-Fi
merry christmas yall!
another year of happiness!
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joshiedoodles · 1 year
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the forth 4 days of Christmas countdown!!!
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hwajin · 4 months
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being a hopeless romantic and single on christmas is a different kinda pain
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speakswords · 1 year
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lance is the kind of guy who would put a temporary tattoo of mistletoe on his forehead before going to a Christmas party
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deathbypufferfish · 1 year
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New Beaned Babes! I would have gotten way more if they were cheaper 😔
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gunslinginnhogtyin · 3 months
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Speaking of, do you still have that mistletoe on your tail?
"I sure do~!"
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"Last call fer anyone who wants a holiday cowboy smooch~"
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comfymoth · 3 months
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merry crisis *bites u* ^w^
merry christmas bugsy!!! CHOMP
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