#originally there were reindeers and sleigh rides

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

The Grand Tour - Chapter 4 (AO3)

(Cassian and Nesta are trapped inside by a snowstorm in the Winter Court, foiling Cassian's grand plans and forcing them to find other ways to pass the time)

Silence reigned, and there were so many things she wanted to say, too many— But everything eddied from her brain, everything but the one thing she needed more than anything, the one thing he had yet to give her.

“Cassian,” she said again. “Kiss me, you stupid bat.”

Cassian woke to a dream.

It was a dream to open his eyes and find Nesta beside him, to see the late morning sunlight drifting across her face. The warmth of the Dawn sun kissed his bare skin, and Cassian settled deeper into the pillows, wondering how long he could make this moment last. Forever. He wanted this to last forever.

He wondered if she even realised how much those seven little words - I don’t want to sleep alone anymore - had meant last night. How they had fractured and reformed his entire world, until all that was left was her. Until every thought eddied from his head, and all that was left was a ringing in his chest, a warmth that had burned and burned as he took her into his arms and closed his eyes.

Perfect. She was perfect. This was perfect.

Only once had Cassian woken that night. Nesta had murmured in her sleep, turning uneasily, and even whilst sleeping he’d known - somehow - that she needed him. He’d woken, wrapped his body around hers, and let his warmth seep into her. He hadn’t know what it was that haunted her, whether it was the war, or the Cauldron, or one of the traumas from her mortal life, the ones that she still hadn’t shared with him. All he could do was whisper to her that she was safe, and warm, and protected, a warrior watching over her whilst she slept. He’d held her tightly, until she relaxed into him and the crease between her brows smoothed. Although he’d lightened his grip on her, he hadn’t let go. He hadn’t let go once.

He needed her as much as she needed him, he supposed. He’d had his own dark dreams that night too— after Nesta’s terrors had subsided, he’d fallen back to sleep and been haunted by visions of broken Illyrian wings, his hands stained with blood, screams echoing in the mountains. A hundred pyres, a thousand, all of them filled with the bodies of soldiers he’d killed. He saw women and children mourning fathers and brothers, saw their grief driving them to their knees in snow stained crimson. He hadn’t woken, though, and distantly, he was aware of her, of how she curled into him, how her breathing helped steady his own. When he finally woke, the sun had been up for hours. His heart was beating like a war drum, but one look at Nesta, one glance at her face… his nightmare faded as quickly as hers had.

His chest was pressed against her back, his arm over her waist, their fingers separate but close to touching, as if they’d sought each other even in sleep. She stirred beneath him, but didn’t wake as Cassian rolled smoothly onto his back, spreading his weight so as to not crush his wings. He kept her tucked against his side, and began to consider how he might start waking her. A kiss to her temple, perhaps, or a series of soft touches, his fingers trailing down her shoulders and over her arms. Or maybe— 

Midnight talons brushed against the barriers of his mind.

Cassian stiffened, siphons flaring to life. Illyrian screams still echoed in his mind as he tore down his defences, heart thundering.

What is it? he demanded as he let Rhys in. What’s happened?

Rhys let out a soft chuckle. Calm down. Nothing’s wrong.

His siphons still flared, his heart still raced. Some of the tension eased out his muscles, but still, even as Cassian heard and recognised those words - nothing’s wrong - all he could see was the blood he’d dreamed of last night. He could still hear his sword singing as Illyrian blood stained its steel. 

Cass. It’s fine, Rhys insisted as he saw, too, what had haunted Cassian during the night. There was regret in his tone as he said, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.

A breath of relief eased out of Cassian as he huffed at his brother. Can you blame me for thinking the worst when you decide to check in this early in the morning?

It’s not that early, Rhys pointed out. You’ve usually been up for hours by now.

Cassian gave his brother a non-committal sound, and refused to think of how he’d slept for so long because, aside from that particularly nasty dream, Nesta’s warmth and presence had soothed a jagged edge inside him, one that had never really let him rest. Instead, he grimaced as he thought of the situation in Illyria again. Still nothing? he asked.

Nothing, Rhys replied grimly. Az has a couple more leads, but the rebels are covering their tracks well. All we can do is wait.

It could be months yet, Cassian thought bitterly. Rhys hummed.

It could, he answered. 

Cassian sighed again, and Nesta stirred in his arms, as if she could sense his unease.

I only came to check you were both alright, Rhys said. I’m sorry if I worried you.

Cassian knew his brother like the back of his hand, and when Rhys paused, he could sense the mischief coming from him in waves. He could practically feel the sly grin on Rhys’ face at the other end of that bond, and Cassian knew that whatever his High Lord was about to say, he’d probably want to punch him once he heard it.

I had a meeting with Helion the other day, Rhys began lightly, his words sparkling with bemusement. He had some…interesting things to say.

Cassian rolled his eyes. I bet he did. Fucking busybody.

Rhys hummed. Nesta’s well? he asked, and the tone of his voice told Cassian all he needed to know about what Helion had said, what he’d showed Rhys. The memory of dancing with Nesta in an empty ballroom, without music, so completely lost in her that he’d not noticed as Helion’s court retired around them brought a soft smile to his lips, and from the complete lack of surprise on Rhys’ end of the bond, it was something he’d seen before. Cassian made a mental note to tell the High Lord of Day to mind his own bloody business next time. 

Yes, Cassian answered mildly. We’re going to Winter today.

Be careful, Cass, Rhys said softly, all trace of teasing gone. Some of the fae in Winter still don’t trust us. They remember those twenty dead children.

There was grief in his brother’s voice— grief and regret that he couldn’t prevent those deaths. Cassian stilled, wrapping an arm tighter around Nesta’s waist instinctively. We all remember those children, he answered. Rhys’ silence was heavy with pain and guilt, and it was a long while before he spoke again.

Just be careful, he said at last. 

Always, Cassian promised.

He felt Rhys nod, and when silence fell once more, he assumed that was it. Assumed Rhys was gone and was about to carry on thinking up inventive ways of waking Nesta, when he felt his brother smirk down the mental channel between them, pushing back open the door that Cassian had started to close.

Oh and Cass?

Yes?

Am I telling Feyre that you and her sister share a bed now, or is that something you’re trying to keep secret?

Cassian mentally raised a middle finger, and Rhys’ answering laugh echoed inside his mind. 

Give Nesta my regards, he said with another midnight smirk. And my condolences, he added. I remember sharing a tent with you when we were boys, and you were a terrible bedmate. Always stole the duvet.

Cassian breathed a laugh. When I get home I’ll see you in the sparring ring, and then we’ll see how much you’ve got to say.

I don’t think so, Rhys answered. I fear what Nesta will do to me if I bruise that pretty face of yours.

Cassian snorted, and this time Nesta’s eyelids fluttered. She sighed in her sleep and turned, as if she were close to waking. Cassian went back to Rhys. I think you should get back to that mate of yours now, he suggested.

Rhys let out a wicked laugh. You’re right, he said with a sly, mischievous kind of shrug. I’ll let you get back to yours, too.

The door inside Cassian’s mind slammed as Rhys left, leaving Cassian all but banging his fists on it, a breathless, incredulous laugh stuck in his throat. None of them had ever acknowledged that Nesta was his mate before, and hearing Rhys say it— especially hearing him say it whilst Nesta slept in his arms… Mother above, that made it all feel suddenly, knee-tremblingly real, and Cassian had to grip her tighter just to convince himself he wasn’t dreaming.

Not that he planned on telling her yet. Not until he was certain it was something she was comfortable with. Not until the day he could look into her eyes and know that a mating bond wasn’t something that horrified her, wasn’t something that trapped her here. With the way she’d looked yesterday, he was starting to think that day might come sooner than he’d ever expected, but he refused to let the hope that blossomed in his chest find purchase. Not yet, he thought. Not yet.

Something deep within him became more aware of her breathing, and he felt, rather than saw, her wake. When he looked down, he saw her eyes were open, but glazed, as if she were still shaking off her slumber. Fucking adorable.

“Morning,” he said, letting his fingers drum lightly on her waist. 

She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like morning, but it was muffled as she turned her head into his chest. He felt her lips brush against his skin— he hadn’t bothered sleeping in a shirt, and Nesta certainly hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d watched her study him last night, watched her gaze track across his shoulders, his arms, his chest, right down to the waistband of the loose pants he’d pulled on. Everywhere her eyes lingered, his skin burned. He hadn’t paused as he’d crossed the floor to her bed, and when he slipped under the covers beside her, when he felt the warmth of her against him… it was an effort to keep a clear head. He thought he’d wanted her before, but this went beyond just wanting. This went beyond everything Cassian had ever known, a need so deep, so visceral, that he could hardly breathe. 

He raised a hand to stroke the back of her head, pressing her more firmly against him, and breathing deeply at how right it felt to be here with her, like this. The siphon on his hand glowed softly, pulsing just once. He had always taken that to mean, everything is fine. Everything is as it should be. With Nesta’s waist beneath his other arm, her cheek pressed against his heart, and his fingers in her hair, Cassian sighed softly. Yes, he thought to himself. Everything is as it should be.

***

She was trying to kill him.

There couldn’t be any other explanation, because although he’d told her as they finally rose from that bed to wear something warm today… he hadn’t expected this. This was going to thoroughly fucking destroy him, and from the small smirk tugging up the corners of the mouth he was desperate to kiss, from the tentative gleam in those blue-grey eyes, she fucking knew it, too.

Nesta… Nesta was wearing Illyrian leathers.

She smelled of the lavender soap the inn provided, and had braided her hair meticulously, so not a single strand was out of place. There was colour back in her cheeks at last, and with that gleam in her eyes— one that had been missing for so, so long… she was as beautiful as Cassian had ever seen her, but it was the leathers that knocked the breath right out of his lungs.

He hadn’t ever expected to see her in them again after the war. He’d even forgotten that he’d told her to pack them, that he’d rolled them up into her bag himself. He’d never expected her to so much as touch them, and even though she’d not protested when he packed them, she certainly hadn’t seemed inclined to ever put them on again. She was toying with him, little more than a cat with a mouse, and Cassian had never, never, been the mouse in a situation like this before. He was utterly at her mercy.

He dragged his gaze over her— over her hips, her waist, her calves. She was divine, everything he had ever wanted, ever dreamed of, standing right there in front of him. He was so busy trying to find a rational, sensible thought that he didn’t realise until far too late that those leathers were slightly looser than they had been the last time he’d seen her in them. She’d lost weight. Nothing too drastic— not enough for him to seriously worry, but still, it didn’t sit right with him when he realised it. She was still hurting, still battling her own demons, and it killed him that he couldn’t just fix it all for her. He could take her away from her troubles and he could show her a thousand wonders of the world, but in the end, he couldn’t click his fingers and take away her pain.

Nesta blinked flatly when she saw him rake his eyes over every inch of her, raised an eyebrow when she saw him frown, saw the concern flare in his eyes. She placed her hands on her hips, all fire and ferocity, and met his gaze, utterly fearless.

“Something wrong?” she asked archly. He almost hissed at the tone, at her smirk, at how she’d so blatantly worn those leathers to rile him. Torment him. 

“Not at all,” he replied with a saccharine smile, bitterly sweet. He kept his gaze on her face, because if he looked any lower— he didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from kissing her this time, and if he kissed her now, they’d never make it to Winter. So instead, he held out his hand. When her fingers slipped between his own, every muscle, every bone, within him tightened. His siphons flared once, just as they had that morning, and she looked at it curiously, as if she were going to ask what it meant. He tightened his fingers around hers and only said, “Let’s go.”

***

It took almost all day to fly from Dawn to Winter, and Nesta barely said a word whilst they were in the sky. It was cold, even with the leathers. She’d only worn them to taunt Cassian, but as she felt the bite of the wind against her cheeks, she was grateful for them. She couldn’t bear the thought of how freezing she’d have been had she chosen the blue dress and heavy cloak she was going to wear instead. The wind would have torn the cloak right open. 

They had been flying what felt like forever when she felt Cassian tense, felt his hands grip her even tighter. His siphons glared, too, and when she looked up at him, he was scanning the horizon, far more alert than he’d been all morning. She hadn’t seen him like this since— since the war. He glanced down, and when he brought his gaze back up, there was something unreadable there, something dangerous and chilling. She looked down, seeing a lake that was as black as the night sky, smooth as a mirror. Cassian flew faster, as if whatever it was down there, he didn’t want to be above it for long.

“What is it?” she asked. His hands gripped her more firmly, pulling her closer to his chest. “What’s down there?”

“The Middle,” he answered tightly. “It’s not— it’s not a place anyone likes go near.”

She could have sworn he shivered. She made to look down again, but he shook his head. She knew that if he’d had a hand free, he’d have pulled her chin up himself.

“Don’t,” he breathed into her ear. “Don’t look down. Every horror story you were told as a human, every monster you were ever afraid of… they live in the Middle.”

A chill went through her that had nothing to do with the cold. The dark, slumbering power inside her, the one she’d torn from the Cauldron with her bare hands, seemed to crack an eye open in the darkness, as if recognising something, as if waiting for something. That tendril of power within her seemed… alert somehow, and it made her blood turn to ice. It unsettled her, being above this place. She shivered, and Cassian’s arms wound around her even tighter still. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “We’re almost at the end of it.”

“Feyre went in there?” she asked, slightly breathless. Even so many hundreds of feet above the ground… she could feel it. She didn’t know what it was, whether it was unique to her or not, but she could feel something down there, a darkness, oppressive and heavy, a weight against all of her senses. Cassian nodded grimly.

“Some parts are worse than others, but still.” He looked down at her again. “I don’t think I’d sleep at night if I thought about you having to go in there.”

She shivered again, but this time, it wasn’t just from the horror below, or from the cold. No, this time it was from the tenderness in his eyes, the earnest look on his face as he looked at her like— like she was his entire world.

She said nothing, and soon enough, the sinking feeling in her stomach disappeared. At the same moment, Cassian relaxed, and she knew the danger had passed.

“We’re over the border,” he said into her ear. “Welcome to the Winter Court.”

***

It wasn’t like Nesta hadn’t expected Winter to be cold.

She’d expected snow and ice and freezing wind— but hadn’t anticipated being greeted by a veritable fucking blizzard, one that came with a wind so strong her hair had been ripped from its braid, and a cold front so savage she was certain a sheet of ice had formed on her skin. Even with her face tucked tightly against Cassian’s chest, the wind had ravaged her. Even with the shield his siphon conjured, the worst of the cold and the hail and the wind still made it through. It was bitter and brutal, and when Cassian finally landed and pulled her under the porch of an almost palatial chalet, Nesta couldn’t help but tremble with relief. 

“For what it’s worth,” Cassian said bitterly as he looked up at the sky, “I had something really, really worthwhile planned for tonight.”

She followed his gaze, to the clouds above that were thick and heavy, promising yet hours and hours of snowfall. Before her there was nothing but an expanse of grey and white, the horizon invisible as the land blended seamlessly into the sky. The snow was falling in thick flakes, larger than Nesta had ever seen before. There was so much of it that even with her fae eyesight, she could hardly see more than a few feet ahead.

Nesta had always hated being cold, but there was a kind of innate beauty in the snow that she had always respected, a kind of peace she had always enjoyed. She liked the way it muffled the world, liked the way it dulled everything at the edges. In that godforsaken cabin in the woods, the only days she ever felt so much as an ember of peace were the mornings when she’d look out of the thin glass window and see perfect, unmarred white— covering the mud, the dirt path leading to their door. Masking the poverty and the desperation with a glistening, shining, sheet of purest white. Like a blank canvas.

She wrapped her arms around herself as Cassian reached into a small wooden box nailed to the wall by the door, and pulled out an iron key.

“And that’s off the cards now?” she asked. “Whatever it was you had planned.”

He huffed. “Since it relied on the sky being clear, then yes.” He grimaced, glaring up at those clouds once again. His siphons winked, as if hoping to alter the weather with nothing but his own brute power.

“Huh,” Nesta said, fighting a shiver as he unlocked the door at last. The way he stared down the sky made her want to laugh, and that frown... She couldn’t help but want to tease him. “So you’re supposed  to be showing me the Winter Court and all I’m getting is the inside of this chalet?”

Cassian scowled. “Pretty much.”

Nesta shrugged and made to step inside, into the glorious warmth she could feel already, but he blocked her with an arm across the doorway. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, princess.”

“I’ve been stuck with you since the day I met you, you ridiculous beast.” Nesta folded her arms firmly over her chest, as much for warmth as it was her being stubborn. Cassian smirked.

“That’s true,” he shrugged, still refusing to let her pass. The snow began to fall even harder - something Nesta hadn’t thought was possible - and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw it completely engulf the landscape before the chalet. “I don’t think there’s been a single day since where I’ve been free of the thought of you,” he muttered, and though Nesta could hear the teasing in his tone, could see the glimmer in his eyes, she caught the honesty running beneath, caught the things he didn’t voice.

Her breath caught in her throat, and even though she was bloody freezing, even though darkness was falling swiftly and the light of the chalet looked so magnificently welcoming… she couldn’t stop herself as she reached out and laid a hand against his cheek. She brushed off the snow and the ice that lingered there, watching as he blinked slowly the second her skin whispered against his. 

“Your hands are cold,” he breathed, little more than a whisper. “We should get you some gloves.”

He rested one hand atop hers, letting the warmth from him - from the siphon that was glowing brightly - seep into her. She couldn’t remember what words were, not as she looked into his eyes and noticed - really noticed - just how beautiful they were, like hazel caught in amber. She scanned that beautiful, proud face, and Cassian leaned towards her just slightly— so slightly. She was almost flush against his chest, could feel it rising and falling far faster than it should. She wondered if his heart was hammering as quickly as her own, if his pulse was thundering through his veins, too. 

It was an effort to keep her eyes open, to stop them from fluttering closed. He moved, his lips inches from hers, and her hand fell away from his cheek to rest instead on his heart. She could feel it— even over his leathers, she could feel it beating, and yes, it was pounding, a direct echo of hers, as if even their heartbeats were attuned, synchronised. It was so much like how they’d been outside the inn in Dawn, when she’d thought he was going to kiss her, but only this time, he wasn’t doing it to tease her, or to get a reaction. No— this time, this time it was real, so Nesta tilted her face up as he closed the distance between them. 

She hadn’t kissed him properly since the war, since that final battle, and when she searched for a reason why, she came up blank.

She didn’t know why they’d spent months dancing around it, ignoring the confessions they’d both made that day. Distantly, she knew it was because she hadn’t been ready then. It had utterly terrified her, and Cassian knew it, wanted to give her the space she needed to figure it out… but now, with him so close, with his lips hovering above hers, she couldn’t think of any logical reason why she hadn’t been kissing him this entire time.

His lips touched hers in the briefest kiss, the most achingly light touch, little more than a ghost of a kiss— one that made her shiver and ache and crave every last inch of him. But barely a heartbeat later, Cassian was pulling away, as if he’d misread her shiver, thought it was a result of the cold and not the heartbreakingly gentle way he’d just kissed her. He pulled away, and Nesta was left reeling.

“You’re freezing,” he said softly. “Let’s get you inside.”

***

Nesta could think of no better place to be stuck inside by a snowstorm than Kallias and Viviane’s chalet. It was one of several that the High Lord and his wife owned— and, Cassian informed her, rarely used these days. The floor-to-ceiling windows in almost every room offered an unbroken view of the world outside, and Nesta watched the storm rage. Watched the snow be carried about on a furious wind, watched it settle and begin to climb up those windows, until it was lying inches thick on the ground. Cassian had told her to pick a bedroom, and she’d chosen one at the back of the chalet, with a plush blue carpet and pinewood furnishings, and the biggest bed in the entire place. Cassian hadn’t complained, but she’d noticed that the tips of his wings had hung off the edge of the mattress in that Dawn Court inn, and whilst he certainly hadn’t seemed uncomfortable… she’d still picked the largest bed after thoroughly inspecting all six bedrooms. All of them had a bathroom attached too, most with showers, but this one— this was had a walk-in shower large enough that Nesta suspected it might well double as a sauna. Wooden benches sat either side of the tiled shower, the spout in the centre of the ceiling directly above. 

She’d never had a shower like it. If there was anything that was going to make her change her mind about being fae, then that shower was a good place to start. She had the water scalding, to melt the chill from her bones, and she suspected some Dawn Court involvement in the way the water fell from that ceiling, massaging the knots in her back and soothing the ache in her shoulders. It took a long, long time standing under that stream before she could feel the tips of her fingers again, and she breathed a sigh of contentment as she let the water drip down her face, breathing in the steam. 

There was only one thing on her mind the entire time. All she could think about was that kiss. As she dressed in a pair of soft leggings and an oversized cotton shirt, still all she could think of was him, the way he’d kissed her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. As she dragged a brush through her wet hair, all she could think of was how she’d wanted to melt into him, how she’d wanted to haul him back to her after he’d pulled away. With every step she took as she headed for the large open living room, all she thought of was how it had been over before it really began and now, with every breath she took, all she wanted was to kiss him again. To kiss him properly.

She felt like she was losing her mind, completely and utterly overtaken by the thought of his lips against hers.

None of that disappeared when she rounded the corner and stepped into the lofty open space that served as living room, dining room, and kitchen. Cassian had taken a shower himself and had changed into a pair of loose pants, cuffed at the ankles, and a white shirt that clung to his every muscle as he moved. His hair had been pulled back into his usual bun, but it was damp, curling about his face and ears. He really was beautiful, Nesta thought as she crossed the white-carpeted floor to the black marble island that served as a barrier between the living space and the kitchen. Cassian was humming, opening cupboards and drawers, apparently looking for something.

“Do you need help?” Nesta asked dryly. Cassian turned to her and grinned, holding up two copper mugs.

“I’m making mulled wine,” he grinned. “You know, to take the chill off.”

Nesta was about to point out that there wasn’t really a chill to take off anymore, but she said nothing, only let him busy himself by the wine rack, plucking up various bottles before deciding on one suitable enough. It didn’t surprise her for a moment that he picked the oldest looking bottle, one with a thick wax seal around its neck.

“Should you really open that?” she asked, but he only scoffed, turning to the drawers to find a corkscrew.

“Why not?”

“Because it looks old, and therefore expensive?”

“If the High Lord of Winter takes issue with me raiding his wine rack, then I’ll happily reimburse him.” He shrugged. “Besides, if he didn’t want them to be drunk, then he shouldn’t have left them here in the first place.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And proud of it,” Cassian winked, letting out a soft a-ha when his search for a corkscrew became fruitful. “Go and sit,” he said, waving her towards the large white sofa that stretched across more than half of the living room.

It was ridiculous how comfortable this felt. How it felt so natural to be in such a… soft space with Cassian, with him herding her into the living room whilst he bustled about the kitchen. Nesta did as she was told and headed for the large white sofa, delighted already at the thought of sinking down into its cushions. Her bare feet sank into the carpeted floor as she walked and— strode right past a hearth so large Nesta wondered how she’d missed it before. There wasn’t a flicker or an ember in sight.

“Underfloor heating,” Cassian called from the kitchen, as if he could tell already what she was thinking. A second later he strode around that island, a mug in each hand, and caught up to her, nudging her with his shoulder as he pressed one of those mugs into her hand. “Keeps it warm without really needing a fire. There’s a hot spring nearby that runs under this entire place and warms it.”

“That’s—“ she said, breath catching, relief so potent it made her head spin crashing through her veins. She had been dreading Winter. She’d not told him, but it had been eating at her, the worry over whether she’d have to either shiver the entire time, or endure the sound of logs crackling, tearing her apart with each snap. “Good,” she breathed at last. 

“When Viviane asked if we would be alright in a chalet, I asked if there were any that could be heated without a traditional fire,” he said quietly. 

Nesta felt the earth tilt beneath her feet. No, she hadn’t told Cassian that she’d been dreading Winter— but he’d known anyway. She’d already noticed that everywhere they’d stayed so far had been fitted with showers. Their rooms in Helion’s palace, the bedroom at the inn. She hadn’t thought it was coincidence, but the heating here— knowing that Cassian had been specifically requesting the things she needed all along…  She’d have been lost without him, she realised. Ever since the war, she would have been utterly, utterly lost.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Cassian only shrugged, as if it were nothing. Instead of sitting on that beautifully plush sofa, he sat down before the low wooden coffee table that lay between the sofa and that great hearth. He let his wings spread out behind him and stretch along the carpeted floor, leaning back on his palms and shooting Nesta a look that said, well? Aren’t you going to sit down?

She blinked, and instead of lowering herself onto those white cushions, she sank to her knees at the other side of that coffee table, putting her wine gently down on the waiting coaster.

“Since we’re stuck here all night with nothing to do…” Cassian said with a grin, “What games do you know?”

“Games?” Nesta repeated, blinking in surprise.

“Yes,” Cassian said, rolling his eyes at the no doubt dumbfounded expression on her face. “Games. You know. Fun things people do to pass the time. You have heard of them, yes?”

“Of course I have,” she answered stiffly. “I don’t know any.”

“None?”

“None.”

Cassian raised his eyebrows and Nesta huffed. “You forget that whilst Elain and Feyre were allowed outside to play, I was inside, being turned into a miniature version of my mother. I never really played games.”

She could have sworn he winced. She’d never really gone into any of that with him before. He knew all about the horrors from the war, everything that haunted her after she’d gone inside that Cauldron. But she’d never told him much about what had happened before— never delved too deeply into those wounds, ones that still hadn’t healed. He offered her a small, almost apologetic, smile.

“Not even cards?” he asked, nodding to a set of cards that sat in the middle of the table, right next to an ornate cigar box. 

“Proper ladies aren’t taught cards,” Nesta shrugged. She remembered her mother’s lectures on such things. The way Mama had saw it, all card games were a form of gambling, and all gambling was utterly forbidden for such a proper young lady. Perhaps her mother should have spent just as much time and energy telling their father the same thing— maybe they wouldn’t have lost all their money if he’d been subject to so many speeches on taking stupid risks. Guilt coursed through Nesta at the thought. Her father had been a fool on so many occasions— but he’d still sailed into battle, to his death, on a ship bearing her name.

Cassian snorted, pulling her back from the brink of her guilt and her grief. “Do only the men play cards in the human realms?”

It was said sarcastically. Mockingly. Cassian didn’t realise that he was right.

“Yes,” Nesta said mildly. She thought back to everything her mother had ever taught her, every ball she’d ever been to, every formal dinner. “The men usually retire after dinner to smoke and drink and gamble. The women wait for them in the sitting room.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, reaching for the cards in their silver box. Nesta hummed her agreement. She’d never really understood the rules that governed the wealthy. Never understood why she couldn’t step into that room with her father, had to wait outside with her mother and the other ladies. It had never made sense that she had to be asked to dance before she could step foot on a dance floor. She’d followed such rules blindly, in the belief that - as senseless as they seemed - they made her civilised. Made her refined.

Only now did she realise that all they’d ever done was restrict her. 

It had taken living above the wall to figure it out. It had taken watching Hellion’s courtiers dance with whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted. It had taken watching the fae of the Dawn Court find joy in the smallest of things. It had taken Cassian asking her to play a game and realising she didn’t know how to. It was a sense of liberation that she hadn’t experienced once below the wall. Not once.

“How about I teach you?” Cassian suggested, drinking deeply from his wine. He slid the cards from their box edged with silver and began dealing them into two piles. He looked up at her and winked. “I might even let you win a round or two.”

***

He lost four games in a row.

The way to win, he’d explained, was to lie. The aim was to get rid of all of your cards by placing two in the middle at each turn, passing them off as a matching pair whether it was true or not. If you were caught in a lie, you took the entire pile. If you were telling the truth, then whoever accused you of lying took the cards. It was simple enough, since Nesta had been lying all of her life. To others, to herself, she’d become quite adept at it. She knew how to curve her lips to make Cassian suspect she was lying, knew how to make her face utterly blank when she put down a queen and a four of spades and claimed they were both hearts. 

Cassian though, was the single most honest and decent person Nesta had ever met. He wouldn’t look her in the eye when he tried to trick her, and Nesta called him on it every single time, without fail.

“And you said I was a terrible liar,” Nesta said smugly, throwing down her last two cards and claiming her fifth victory. Cassian still had half the deck in his hands, throwing them down onto the table with a glare. He said nothing as he reached for the wine bottle, refilling both of their copper mugs and using his siphons to heat them.

“I thought you said you were good at this game,” Nesta commented archly, smirking at he scowled.

“Usually I am,” he insisted. “I’ve beaten Rhys at this a thousand times, even though he looks in my mind and cheats.” He shook his head and shot her a glare. “It’s not my fault I can’t lie to you.”

Nesta shrugged. “Sounds like that’s exactly what it is.”

“Alright then smartarse,” he said flatly. “New game.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow with a smug little smirk as she began to reshuffle the cards.

“Question for a question.”

“That’s not a game,” she pointed out. “That’s just you being nosy.”

Cassian shrugged, the faelight glancing off his cheekbones as he grinned at her, stopping her heart dead in her chest. Azriel might have been the most conventionally attractive of the three, but it was Cassian who made her heart race. Whose eyes and cheekbones and jawline had her feeling lightheaded. That insufferable grin widened.

“Semantics.”

“You’re just afraid of losing again,” Nesta answered tartly, pulse racing as Cassian raised an eyebrow at her and blinked. His lips twisted into a daring smirk, eyes darkening.

“What’s up Nes?” he asked, tilting his head as if it were challenge. “Afraid of what I’ll ask?” 

The smirk fell from her face at that. She straightened, pushing the cards away from her as Cassian’s eyes danced. There was no way she’d back down from a challenge like that, and the bastard knew it. His grin turned insufferable as she scowled, refusing to back down.

“Ask away then.”

He let out a breath of approval, and tapped his fingers on his chin, considering. After a minute he said, “You’ve really never played cards?”

Nesta scoffed. “That’s your first question?”

He hummed as he nodded. She shook her head and said, “No,” and even though she knew the game didn’t require an explanation, even though she knew he didn’t expect one, she felt compelled to give it anyway. “There were times in that cabin where we might have, just to fill the time and stop thinking about how destitute we were. To stop worrying for five minutes about if we’d survive the winter. But we could never have afforded a deck.”

Understanding simmered in his eyes, and something between them went taut as he hummed. “I used to plan great battles in my head,” he said softly. “When I was a boy, living in a half-torn tent on the slopes of a mountain. On the nights it was too cold to sleep, I’d huddle in the thin blankets I’d managed to find and pretend I was somewhere else. Pretend to be some great general-“ a wry smile crossed his face, “-commanding legions. I’d think of how I’d move them, how I’d cross the terrain if I were on foot. How I’d fly if it was an aerial battalion. I’d plan it all right down to the smallest detail just to pass the time. To get my mind off the cold.”

“Cassian,” Nesta breathed, heart breaking for the boy he’d been, lost in the snow. So similar. They had been so similar, but back then she would never - never - have expected to find solace in a fae warrior who also knew what it was to starve. Also knew what it was to cower in the cold.

Cassian shook his head. “Worked out though, didn’t it?” Another wry smile. “Maybe that’s why I’m so good at leading armies.”

“It’s horrible,” she countered, reaching a hand across that small table and resting it on his, right on top of the siphons he’d fought so hard to earn. It pulsed beneath her, and not for the first time, she longed to know what it meant.

“Your turn,” he said softly, and Nesta glanced at the siphon under her fingers.

“What does it mean?” she asked. “When it glows like that?”

Cassian turned his hand beneath her palm until his fingers weaved between hers. He shrugged. “It can mean a lot of things. When it flares, it generally means there’s either danger somewhere, or that they anticipate being used soon. When they glow slowly, like that, I usually take it to mean that everything is calm. That—“ he paused, glimpsing at how their fingers were interlaced. “That everything is as it should be,” he added quietly.

“They’re an extension of you, then?” Nesta asked, and he nodded.

“As much a part of me as anything else.”

Nesta took her hand from his and let her fingers roam the leather housing that ruby stone. Again, it pulsed once, slowly. Everything is as it should be, he’d said. As if her fingers tracing a path over the worn leather was what these stones had been waiting for, all these years. As if she was always meant to be here, always meant to find him. She could have sworn she felt his pulse stutter in his veins, as if he were thinking the exact same thing.

His other hand reached out and gripped hers, and when she met his gaze, she saw a tentative, almost nervous, look in his eyes.

“There’s one thing I’ve wanted to ask for a long time Nes,” he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. She watched his throat bob, watched his chest rise. “Something you can tell me to piss off for, if you want. Something you’d be fully justified in hitting me for if you felt like it.”

Her blood ran cold, but she said nothing as he swallowed. “What happened in that Cauldron?” he breathed. “How long were you in there?”

His question hung in the air unanswered for a long, torturous moment. Nesta took in a shaky breath, and the excuses were already on her tongue— her walls already rising. She almost feigned tiredness and went to bed to avoid the question, but his siphons pulsed in that slow, steady way again, and it gave her strength. She didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but somehow, it fortified her.

“It was… cold,” she began, her voice hoarse. “Like ice, spearing into me over and over. In my nose and in my throat, in my eyes and ears, I could feel it in every pore. It was the kind of cold that burns, searing every single inch of me, every piece it could reach. And then it worked it’s way inside, and it felt like it broke every bone, snapped every muscle, stole the breath from my lungs and forced its way in there, too.” She paused. “It felt like I was in there for hours.”

“It was seconds,” he murmured, his voice just as broken as hers. “Seconds, and I used every single one of them trying to get to you.”

“I know,” she whispered. She still remembered the sight of him— broken, bruised, and bloody, crawling over that stone floor. She’d hated him for it afterwards. In the aftermath of it all, she’d hated him. Never because of anything he’d done, she realised, but because it hurt too much to feel anything but hatred, and to feel any kind of warmth for him would only be to acknowledge that the changes wrought upon her - forced upon her - were real.

His heart was breaking, she could see it in his eyes. The pain, the regret, the guilt that he hadn’t made it, hadn’t been able to save her. Nesta couldn’t bear it. She shook her head.

“It’s not like I’m a stranger to things happening to me against my will,” she shrugged. She meant for it to come out airy, to make light of the trauma and despair of it all, but there was too much bitterness, and Cassian’s eyes turned hard, turned furious.

“You never told me,” he said quietly. His voice was soft, but there was a current of pure fury there, one that promised violence. “What he did to you.”

“Is that your next question?” Nesta asked wryly. 

“Yes,” he shrugged, eyes flat.

That night before the Cauldron, when he’d been trapped in their manor by a storm - the first time they’d kissed - he had gathered that someone had touched her before. He’d sworn to kill Tomas then and there, and Nesta had only asked him to make her forget, to make it all go away. She’d never given him the full story, never given him anything more than what he’d already guessed. Not a single other soul save Tomas knew what had happened in that barn.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I want a list of every hurt he inflicted. Every single one, and one day, I’ll pay him back for it tenfold. I want his life ended by my hand, and I want to know what he did to you— what he took from you, so I know exactly how painful I need to make it. Exactly how much he has to suffer.” His voice was colder than Nesta had ever heard it, wrathful in a way that might have made her tremble if it was directed at her. That voice promised retribution, and his siphons weren’t glowing now, but pulsing. 

“He didn’t— take anything from me,” she said quietly. “I didn’t give him chance to.”

“But he tried?”

“Yes, he tried. Tore my dress, held me against a wall. Called me a spiteful whore. Bruised my arm.” She paused as Cassian’s eyes darkened. “I bit his ear so hard I think he has half an earlobe missing now. I pushed him off and ran.”

A grim kind of smile settled on Cassian’s face, one of approval. “Good.” He paused and then lifted his gaze to hers. “You refused me once before, but the offer still stands. I’ll teach you to protect yourself if you’ll let me.”

“If memory serves I didn’t just refuse that offer once,” she said witheringly. He shot her a grin and leaned across to poke her in the ribs.

“True. You refused me so many times my poor heart shattered.”

Nesta’s face fell. Cassian realised that he might have been a shade too honest, and shook his head hurriedly. “When we’re back in Velaris, if you want me to teach you, then I’m all yours.”

She nodded mutely, but her attention was still too focused on what he’d just said. Just admitted.

“You still didn’t falter, did you. I refused you so many times and yet, during the war, when I asked you to come with me to face the king, you didn’t hesitate.”

Cassian shrugged. “Not for a second.”

“Why?” she managed. She’d never - never - had anyone care for her that way, the kind of love that left you desperate and reeling. 

“You were going to die, Nesta. I knew that. There was only a fool’s hope of any other outcome, and I knew I couldn’t talk you out of it. So my only option was to die right alongside you. To die first, and maybe give you the shot you needed.”

“You’d give up your life for mine that easily.”

He laughed, the sound low and rasping. “Sweetheart, I’d give up my life for yours much, much more easily than that.”

“Don’t say that,” she breathed. The thought of it— all she could see was him broken, bones shattered and so much blood— All she thought of was how he’d almost died, how she’d tried to save him.

Cassian pulled one knee up and rested his elbow atop it. He studied her carefully. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said at last. Nesta swallowed in response, the image his blood, his dying breaths, still too potent in her mind for her to form words.

“You nearly died for me too that day,” he said quietly, dragging a finger round the rim of his mug. 

In all the time since, this was the one thing they’d never broached. Never mentioned how she’d been so determined to die instead of live in a world without him in it.

“It seemed only fair,” she said lightly, deflecting. “You’d almost given your life first, after all. I wasn’t about to be outdone by a great overgrown bat.”

His eyes sparkled, but when he said, “Liar,” it came out gentle, heavy with meaning.

“What do you want me to say?”  Nesta asked, pinning him with her stare.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. That it meant something.”

“You think I’d have lay down and died for nothing?”

“No,” he acceded. “But it’s never exactly been clear what this is, Nes. Never exactly been clear what we are to each other.”

Nesta’s breath left her lungs in one exhale, his words landing like a physical blow. This was the one thing they’d successfully avoided like the plague, and even now, Nesta wasn’t convinced she could face it, couldn’t answer that question. But when she looked at him, when her heart thumped in her chest at just the sight of him… she wasn’t so afraid anymore. Wasn’t so terrified of loving him, even if she wasn’t quite ready to admit it out loud just yet.

“What is it you want from me Nesta?” Cassian pressed, his voice quiet, eyes pleading. Nesta placed her wine on the table and took a deep breath, watching as his siphons pulsed. 

Everything is as it should be.

She flicked her gaze to them, to that soft red glow, and then back to man they belonged to. The one person in this entire world that made her feel like she was home, no matter where she was.

“You,” she whispered at last. “I want you.” 

He was silent, so still that Nesta didn’t think he was breathing. 

“Cassian,” she whispered, his name feeling so perfectly right on her lips. He blinked, dragging his eyes up to hers, and she saw his answer there, too. That all he wanted was her, all he’d ever wanted was her. Nesta’s heart thundered in her chest as she waited for him to say something, to do something, but he only looked at her like she was the beginning and the end of everything, the answer to all the questions he’d ever asked in his long, long life. 

Silence reigned, and there were so many things she wanted to say, too many— But everything eddied from her brain, everything but the one thing she needed more than anything, the one thing he had yet to give her.

“Cassian,” she said again. “Kiss me, you stupid bat.”

The breath huffed out of him in something akin to a laugh, and then he was moving, pushing the table aside and coming closer, until their knees touched. He cradled her face between his palms, looking down at her with nothing but reverence in his eyes.

He waited for just one heartbeat before closing his lips over hers, the way she’d wanted him to do before. The way she’d been wanting him to for a long, long time— ever since that godforsaken battle. He was gentle, and soft, his lips meeting hers slowly, as if he were cherishing every single moment, as if he wanted it to last forever. His hands moved from her face, tracking a path down her neck, tracing her collarbone, until one wound itself in her hair, and the other rested on the floor by her hip. He braced his weight on that hand, pressing her closer to him with the other, deepening the kiss until Nesta was almost dizzy.

Her hands slipped through his silken hair, traced the curve of his rounded ear. She felt him shudder, and it wasn’t enough— he kissed her slowly, too slowly.

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him even further against her, and when that still didn’t break his restraint, she took his lip between her teeth and bit down. He hissed, and when he pulled away, panting, his eyes were frantic.

“Nes,” he breathed. She swallowed, and didn’t move away from him. There was a glint in his eyes as she smirked, an ember there that burst into flame. He reached for her again, pulling her into his lap, and when he kissed her next, it wasn’t slow, and it wasn’t gentle. His hands gripped her waist so tightly she wondered if she’d have bruises, and when she ran her fingers up his neck and tugged on his hair, she felt him smile against her.

“Witch,” he murmured, pulling his lips away from hers and kissing down her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. She shivered at his touch, and it only urged him on. He nipped at her collarbone the way she’d bitten his lip, and he looked up at her from underneath his eyelashes as he did so. She understood the words he didn’t say. Payback.

“Bastard,” she muttered as his hands roamed her waist.

“You need to tell me,” he murmured into her shoulder, “how far you want this to go.”

“Tonight, or in general?” she breathed, weaving her fingers through his hair. She felt him hesitate, and when he raised his head to look at her, there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

“Both,” he shrugged. “I meant tonight, but in general, too.”

Nesta nodded and let her hand drop from his hair. “Not— not much more than this. Not tonight,” she said quietly.

“How much more?” he asked, and though there was a wicked gleam in his eye, one that made her insides molten, there was a serious one, too. One that said he wanted to know her boundaries, so he could be sure not to cross them.

“How about I tell you when to stop?” she suggested, and Cassian let out a soft laugh as he nodded, pressing a kiss to her jaw. 

“Alright.” He paused a moment, and then met her gaze again, unfettered hope in his eyes. “And the rest?”

She pressed a palm against his cheek. “I’m not saying I want to do what Feyre did with Rhys and marry you after a handful of months but I want— I want it to be us,” she said. “That doesn’t make sense but—“

He cut her off with a kiss, soft and loving. “It makes perfect sense.” His nose grazed her cheek as he pulled her closer. “Us against the world, Nes.”

***

I love you.

That’s what he wanted to say, when she was sat in his lap, on the floor of a Winter Court chalet, mulled wine quickly cooling on the table. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He felt the truth of it in every fibre of his being, in every nerve and every bone. Nothing else mattered, nothing except the gravity and the weight of how much he felt for her— how hopelessly, desperately, madly in love with her he was. It was on the tip of his tongue, and he was so close to saying it— so, so close, but this thing between them was fragile, new and tender, like blown glass. He didn’t want to risk it by saying the words that could spook her, could send her running. He certainly couldn’t tell her what she was— what they were. 

You’re my mate, Nesta.

He wondered what would happen if he uttered those words. How quickly she’d bolt.

He wouldn’t risk it, not for the world. Instead, he swallowed down all of it, all those words he so desperately longed to say. Cassian stroked the hair back from Nesta’s face, marvelling at how right it felt to have her like this, in his arms. Her nose was still chapped from the wind, and he leaned forward to press a heartbreakingly gentle, chaste, kiss to its tip. She scrunched it beneath his lips, and he couldn’t help but laugh, couldn’t help but wrap an arm around her waist.

She was everything he had ever dreamed of, and tonight— tonight, he couldn’t quite believe was real. Nesta wanted him. Wanted to be with him. There had always been a push and pull between them, a current so strong it might as well have been a riptide, but he had never dared to hope that it could be something more, that the small kisses and innocent touches could grow into something real, something tangible. 

Nesta wound her arms around his neck tighter, pulling him back down to her, and he smiled into her neck, tasting her skin. His hands found their way under her shirt, skimming her ribs, and he didn’t imagine the way she gasped, the way her chest started to heave. He smirked, and when she reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted, he was all too happy to pull away from her— to stop kissing her for just long enough for her to pull the shirt over his head and around his wings. She threw it somewhere on the other side of the room.

She looked at him with a kind of hunger he’d only ever dreamed of seeing on her face. The kind that he’d never quite expected, never dared to hope for. She dragged her palms down his shoulders, over the plains of his chest, fingers tracing scars he’d one day tell her the stories of. She paused for a second over his heart, dragging her head away from his lips to lean down and kiss the skin there, right above where it thundered in his chest, beating out a rhythm made only for her. 

“Nes,” he breathed, something like a plea, as he wound a hand into her loose hair. She lifted her gaze, and Cassian claimed her lips once more, feeling himself shattering and fraying with every breath. Nesta shifted, placing a knee on either side of his hips. He leaned back on one palm, letting her decide how much she wanted to take— how much she wanted him to give to her. He felt her breathe a soft moan, and clutched her closer to him with the hand he took from her hair and placed on the small of her back. His fingers splayed across her spine, holding her as close as possible. At some point, he’d stopped kissing her— now Nesta was kissing him, and it was the most beautiful, perfect kind of destruction. He didn’t think he’d ever be whole again after, and that was just from a kiss. He didn’t dare think about what would happen if— when he got any further.

She came up for air, and he used the reprieve to put both of his hands on her waist, daring to slip under her shirt once more. He looked up at her, waiting for her to stop him, but she only grabbed his jaw and kissed him thoroughly. Cassian’s hands touched every inch of her as he tore his lips from hers and moved to her neck, her jaw, her ear. She shivered as he bit lightly on her ear again, when he scraped his teeth down her jawline. Gods above, he mused as he tasted the column of her throat, he wanted every inch of her. Every piece. He wanted to know every single part of her and have her know every part of him, too. His wings flared behind him as if in agreement, and Nesta shifted her head to glance at them. She flicked her eyes to him, that beautiful gaze rendering him mute. She blinked slowly.

“Your wings,” she whispered. She lifted a hand and he understood the question she hadn’t asked. He could only nod as she reached over his shoulder and grazed one fingertip down the inside of one wing.

Cassian saw stars.

He buried his head in her neck, gripping her so tightly he was certain he’d leave marks on her waist. He gasped as she skirted a particularly sensitive spot, and he felt her laugh, slow and wicked.

She was going to fucking kill him.

Breathing hard, he reached up to cradle her face in his palms. “You are magnificent,” he said, because he wanted to tell her he loved her, but couldn’t. Her fingers had stilled on his wings— which was a good thing, because he didn’t think he’d last long if she carried on. 

He kissed her softly, gently, watching the heat bank in her eyes, slowly seeping from the moment. Lust was swept aside by affection, and a different, softer, kind of warmth replaced the longing that had just been coursing through him. He still wanted her more than anything, but he wouldn’t take her to bed yet, not on this first night. He promised her on that battlefield that they’d have time. Now that they had it, he wasn’t going to rush it. He was going to savour every single moment.

She twisted in his embrace, until she was sitting across his lap rather than straddling his hips, and he let out a soft, contented, sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. He shifted until they leaned against the bottom of the sofa, and used his siphons to drift the wine over.

“Brave,” she said, “To drink red wine on a white sofa.”

“We’re not on the sofa,” he corrected, sipping from his mug.

“Against it then.”

He smirked. “Then I suppose we’ll have to be careful, won’t we?” He flicked her nose with his spare hand, setting her scowling. He loved that scowl. “So long as you give me some warning next time, before you throw yourself at me, I think I can get the wine away from the soft furnishings.”

“Throw myself at you?” she repeated flatly. “You kissed me first.”

“Because you asked, princess,” Cassian corrected, smirking. 

“I hate you,” she said, drinking from her wine. Despite her words, she relaxed against his chest.

“Liar.”

“Brute.”

“Witch.”

Silence, where they each stared down the other, wondering who would crack first. Neither, it turned out. Cassian’s lips tugged into a smile at the same moment Nesta’s did, as if they were nothing but two halves of the same whole.

“Cassian,” she said a moment later, her tone tentative. “Are we still doing question for a question?”

He grinned. “I can’t remember if it’s your turn or mine.”

“Well, I’m asking, my turn or not,” she said flatly, and Cassian grinned again, grazing her jaw with his nose. 

“Go ahead, then.”

“I want to know how these lands fit together. How the courts interact, their relations with one another.”

“Why, are you planning on becoming a courtier?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She frowned and shook her head.

“No, but I don’t like living somewhere I know absolutely nothing about. Besides, my mother raised me for a prince, you know,” she shrugged. “High politics did always interest me.”

“You want me to explain the politics of the courts to you?”

“Yes,” she answered flatly. Bluntly. He let out a huff of a laugh. Extraordinary, he thought. She really is extraordinary.

He spent the next hour explaining the delicate balance between the courts. How nobody ever trusted Beron and how Tarquin was still new but Summer was becoming more of an ally to Night than it had ever been before. He explained how they were separated, how each court was governed. When she asked for a map, he found one in a book on one of the bookshelves, and she asked him to point out to her the places he mentioned, the cities and the towns. The Night Court section was almost entirely blank, and he explained that too. How, until the war, not a single soul knew what lay beyond Night’s borders except Night’s own denizens. She traced a finger over the mountains of Illyria, one of the only details marked.

“What will you do with the rebellion?” she breathed. Cassian stilled.

“End it,” he answered bluntly. She twisted from where she was still in his lap until she could face him fully. 

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“That I’ll have to kill my own people? Of course it does.”

“Why does it have to be you? If it hurts you this much, why can’t—“

“They’re my people, Nes,” he said, dragging a hand down her spine. “If Rhys carries out punishment himself it will only make it worse, and Az would probably just burn all of Illyria to the ground. It has to be me. They’re my people and I am their General.” He found her gaze and held it. “It will haunt me, but for Rhys, and for this court, I’ll do it.”

“I wish I could take it away,” she whispered. “I wish I could stop it.”

Cassian’s heart splintered. Oh, how he knew that feeling. He felt it every time he looked at her and saw shadows in her eyes, every time she flinched before a fire. How he longed to make the world less painful, less cruel, just to save her an ounce of heartache. That she wanted to do the same for him… it killed him in the most exquisite way.

“I know, princess.” He offered her a weak smile. “I wish I could take away every little thing that has ever bothered you.”

She said nothing, only wrapped her arms around him and held him, offering him comfort the only way she knew how. 

Mother, Cassian didn’t know how he’d ever gotten so lucky. How he’d ever deserve her. 

“How do you sleep on your back?” she asked after a long silence. Cassian drew back from her, momentarily confused and more than a little bit stunned. 

She had asked so many questions tonight, as if the curiosity of the Dawn Court had woken a long-buried inquisitive trait within her, but this one… This one was perhaps one of the more idle questions, as if she were thinking aloud.

“…By lying down on my back?” Cassian answered, though it came out sounding more like a question than Nesta’s had. She rolled her eyes and nodded to his wings.

“With the wings.”

“Oh,” he said, ruffling his wings as he did so. “I suppose it’s not unlike sleeping with your hair down.” He tugged on her unbound hair for emphasis. “It can be uncomfortable if they get trapped under a shoulder or get pinned down another way but largely it’s fine.” He shrugged. “Most Illyrians sleep on their sides though, to avoid any damage.”

“Huh,” she said, tilting her head. The curiosity in her face set him on fire, and gave him such sparkling, glistening hope. When she’d first come out of the cauldron, she’d looked at him - looked at everything around her - with such dead, lifeless eyes. She hadn’t cared for anything, had never bothered to ask or pay attention. Now though, he could see her coming to life. Had watched her apathy slowly melt away, as if the Day and Dawn courts had started to chip away at the ice and grief surrounding her, and Winter had unleashed her curiosity completely. He’d go to the ends of the earth and back just to keep that light in her eyes.

“I wondered, you know,” she said with a shrug. “The first time we met. I thought the wings were horrific, such monstrous things— but then I thought, how do they sleep on their backs?”

Cassian laughed, his chin dropping to rest on her shoulder. “Rhys wanted to glamour us for that meeting.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” she said blandly. Cassian frowned, looking at her in silent question. “Glamours never worked on me,” she elaborated. “When Tamlin took Feyre, Elain and father were fully convinced she’d gone to stay with a long lost aunt but I remembered everything.”

Cassian was rendered speechless. He’d always known Nesta was special, but to resist a glamour? As a mortal? Mother above, she was a goddess, and whilst he’d willingly throw himself on the ground and worship at her feet… he wanted to do so much more than that. So, so much more.

“That’s why I tried to get her,” Nesta continued. “I tried to get above the wall-“

“You tried to get above the wall?” he cut in, his throat dry. The thought of her above the wall as a mortal, going after Feyre, stepping into fae lands whilst Amarantha reigned… it didn’t bear thinking about.

Nesta nodded, as though it were nothing, and Cassian’s arm tightened around her waist, as if to remind himself that she was here, she was safe.

“You’re insane,” he said after a moment.

“Evidently,” she countered dryly, glancing pointedly at the arms he had round her. He huffed a laugh and nipped at her earlobe, noting the shiver that ran down her spine. He tucked that away for later. She likes it when you bite her ear. 

“I don’t know why the glamour never worked,” she shrugged.

“You’re one of a kind, Nes. That’s why.”

She snorted, and reached over to place her wine back on the low table. Afterwards, she wound both arms around his neck. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her elbow, watching as that made her shiver, too.

Curiosity still burned in those bewitching eyes of hers, like a flame that couldn’t be put out once it had been kindled.

“The monsters in the Middle,” she said. “Tell me about the them.”

It wasn’t a question, but a demand, perhaps the only one she could make that Cassian wasn’t prepared to entertain. He shook his head.

“You won’t sleep tonight,” he said, kissing the curve of her neck in a vain attempt at distracting her.

“How bad can it be?” Nesta asked, eyebrow raised in a challenge that sent his blood racing. He kissed a path over her collarbones, fingers drifting over her hips.“Bad enough to haunt your dreams, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin.

“My dreams can’t get anymore haunted than they already are,” she countered. “And I’ll have a fearsome warrior beside me to scare off such monsters.”

He grinned. “Oh, the most fearsome.” He let his smile drop, let his eyes find hers, hold her stare. “But even I’m afraid of some of those creatures.” 

“What’s so awful it has a seasoned warrior trembling?” 

“I’m not trembling.” 

She raised one perfect eyebrow again, so imperious that Cassian growled, low and playful. She turned her head away from him, scrunching her nose once more. Cassian only nudged her cheek with the tip of his own nose. He refused to answer her question. Just the thought of some of those creatures, some of the ones he’d locked away in the Prison… No, he wasn’t about to let the memory of any of them ruin what was turning out to be an utterly perfect evening.

“Since when were you so curious?” he asked, dodging her question.

“Always,” Nesta shrugged. “You just never saw it. I never wanted to know anything about this land before. It was easier,” she said, “to keep that barrier up, to keep the separation between who I was before and who I am now.”

Cassian tilted his head. “And now?”

“Now… I don’t think that barrier is helping.”

It was a quiet, pained admission, one Cassian knew it killed her to make. He didn’t know what to say to that— didn’t know how to answer her.

Silence fell, thick and heavy as the snow outside. Nesta let her gaze linger on his lips, on his cheekbones.

“What do you want, Cassian?” Nesta asked after a long pause, and something in her voice trembled, as though she were almost afraid of his answer. Ridiculous, he thought. As if he could ever deny her. Ever reject her. 

“Tonight, or in general?” he asked lightly, echoing her words from earlier. It earned him a tentative smile, one that lit up her face and stopped his heart. 

“Both.”

“Tonight, I just want this,” he said. “You, and wine, and a mountain of snow outside, and the hundred questions I can tell you’ve still got left to ask.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth when she pouted, but he could tell by the look in her eyes, by the curiosity that had been ignited there, that she really did have a hundred questions. Possibly more. “As for the rest,” he continued with a shrug. “I have wanted you from the moment I met you Nesta. I want a future with you, whatever that looks like. Whatever form that takes. I have known for a long, long time that I wanted you in every capacity, in whatever way you would let me have you, for as long as you’d let me have you.”

She swallowed, letting his confession settle between them. “I told you in Dawn,” he said with a shrug. “You are my everything, Nesta.”

“And you are mine,” she echoed in a whisper, leaning her forehead against his, kissing him softly. He half thought he’d combust, that he’d never survive it, hearing those words fall from her lips, words he would crawl over broken glass to hear again.

And you are mine.

Mine.

#nessian #this was originally fluff but i scrapped it and went for angst instead #sorry not sorry #originally there were reindeers and sleigh rides #all gone in favour of a good old fashioned heart to heart

[mask131]

Cold winter: Jolnir, or Santa Odin

JOLNIR, or the “Wotan Claus” theory

Category: Norse mythology, European folklore

This article won’t be about a specific character so much as about a specific theory and folkloric hypothesis… Is Odin from Norse mythology the ancestor of today’s Santa Claus?

We can start with one of Odin’s NUMEROUS names. “Jolnir”. (Normally there’s an accent on the “o” but I can’t recreate it). Jolnir has been tied with the Norse word “Yule”, due to it being often written “Jule”, “Jul” or “Jol”. Yule (or Yuletide) was the “pagan” celebration in Norse countries that was replaced by the arrival of Christmas – thus many people read “Jolnir” as a name indicating that Odin was the god of Yule (another name of Odin, Jolfadr/Jolfudr, has also been interpreted as meaning “Yule Father” – thus hinting at a “Father Christmas” connection). Yule was indeed a time associated with Odin – Yule was considered a supernatural time of the year during which magic and ghosts were all over the place. Most notably, Yule was a traditional time for the “Wild Hunt”, a spectral and supernatural hunt party said to ride through the sky during (or causing) storms. And the Wild Hunt, or the Wild Host, was said in Germany to be led by the god Wodan/Woden… who is the German version of Odin. In fact, if we got a bit more north, the Scandinavian name of the Wild Hunt, “Oskoreia” is thought to be a deformation of the term “Odin’s Hunters” OR of “Asgard-reir” (the ride of Asgard). This would tie the undead riders and ghostly hunters to the Valkyries and afterlife warriors Odin was said to collect in his “warrior paradise” as a great army for Ragnarok.

So this is the first evidence: Odin was a god very active in Yule, and leader of a supernatural group of riders flying through the sky on this date. There are similarities to the Santa Claus myth, true, and it doesn’t help that one of the customs tied to the Wild Hunt was to leave some food outside as an offering to the riders to appease their wrath. So we have something here. Even though there is also a quite ridiculous theory that claims that if Santa Claus’ sleigh has eight reindeers, it is because Odin’s mythical horse Sleipnir (said to be able to ride onto all materials and cross the universes) had eight legs. It is a fun theory, I won’t lie, and it is quite a fascinating coincidence, but I do think that it is a big stretch to try to link the two (especially since the “reindeers of Santa” is a VERY recent and American tradition, so….).  

A more serious element to be brought to the “Santa Jolnir” discussion is how Odin was said to appear in the human world as an elderly man with a long white beard (it was one of his nicknames, “Langbardr”, long-beard), dressed in a cloak and wearing either a hood or a hat. This appearance does strike a resemblance with both Santa Claus and its many European ancestors, who all tend to be elderly men with long white beards and hoods/hats/cloaks. Some legends even described Odin as going under his elderly human disguise from home to home to test the hospitality and charity of families, rewarding the ones respecting traditions and honoring him as a guest, while punishing the others – another element that can play into the whole aesthetic of the “Christmas giver” who was originally known as both a gift-giver AND a punishment-giver.

And one last, even though more tenuous element, has been brought up to the table – this time related to the tradition of the Saint Nicholas figure. Indeed many people decided to analyze the figure of Saint Nicholas/Saint Nicolas as being also an inheritance of Odin, by invoking another name of Odin sounding similar to Nicolas… “Hnikar” (sometimes simplified as “Nikar” or with the double r of Hnikarr) which for some means “instigator”, for others “overthrower/thruster”.  So "Hnikar" would be the "missing link" between those two supernatural/divine, horse-riding, hat-wearing, bearded old men of the winter.

As you can see there are some solid elements to link the “Santa Claus” figure to old Odin… and there are also really stretchy or hilarious theories. A mixed bag – but an interesting mixed bag!

- - - - - -

The theory of “Odin is Santa Claus” was notably brought to light in modern fantasy fiction thanks to the Dresden Files series which (spoiler alert) has Odin being Santa Claus. While we meet in the series Odin as a god who survived into modern day as the owner of a big security-and-weaponry company, we also later learn that he also is the wearer of the “mantle of Winter King”: in the world of the fairies, trolls, goblins and other supernatural creatures, there are two main courts/queens/kings representing the two main forces of nature, Summer and Winter, led by a fairy Queen embodying the very essence of her season, and with the existence of a non-ruling “King” representing the polar opposite of the Queen, for questions of balance. Where the Winter Queen is a cold, bitter, cruel, manipulative and cynic entity embodying the darkest and harshest side of nature, the Winter King is supposed to be a more joyful, compassionate entity, a kinder ruler embodying the wonders and beauties of winter… And as it turns out this Winter King is named “Kris Kringle” and is another of the numerous entities of Odin – modern day Santa Claus being just a popular and watered-down version of the real Kris Kringle.

It should be noted however that in the “Dresden Files” series, the “fairy mantles” (such as royal titles) are more than just identities or legal masks. They are powerful magical functions that will reshape one’s very being. As such, when Odin puts on his “Winter King mantle”, while he keeps his knowledge, memory and skills, his appearance and behavior change drastically – as he explains, while Odin and Kris Kringle share a same essence, they are still two different beings. We also know that Odin wasn’t always the Winter King, and that it is just one of the many numerous identities that he adopted in recent days as a way of surviving the downfall of Norse religion. (In fact, it is a recurrent theme of modern media taking the “Odin is Santa” theory, presenting Santa Claus as a “modern evolution” of Odin for means of survival, or a “reincarnation” of an Odin that had to die alongside his original mythology).

#cold winter #odin #jolnir #norse mythology #santa claus #christmas folklore #saint nicholas

[grelleswife]

"BROTHER!" Amy cried, catching the butler alone one evening and stomping up to him as if she's on a serious mission.

"You must explain to me all these.. "Christmas" things, Brother. From what I've gathered so far, it-it's completely ridiculous!! And unnecessary!! one story about celebrating Jesus Christ, the other about.. Santa Clause.. am I to believe these humans are implying to still care about that.. BISHOP?! WHAT the hell is going on!!"

The little president of Hell finished by flapping her hands about in frustration. Clearly she's had a confusing time coming back here around Winter.

Sebastian gazed down at his sister with a condescending smirk.

“Surely you understand the importance of keeping abreast of human customs. How can we devils ensnare our prey’s souls without a thorough knowledge of their habits?”

Amy puffed out her cheeks and put her hands on her hips.

“Unlike a certain DUMB SIBLING of mine who’s stuck babysitting a puny mortal brat here on Earth, I have presidential duties to fulfill!” she snapped. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Her barbed retort wiped the deprecating grin off Sebastian’s face, and his eyebrow twitched in irritation at this affront. But he saw all too clearly the tongues of flame which were beginning to flicker ominously around Amy’s silhouette. If he didn’t satisfy her curiosity, his sister’s pique might reduce the manor to a funeral pyre. Between her volatile temper and Bardory’s perennial misadventures with his flamethrower, risk of a conflagration to rival that which destroyed the original estate seemed ever close at hand.

“How often must I remind you to control your hellfire on the young master’s grounds?” he scolded.

Amy rolled her eyes, but, after heaving an exaggerated sigh, quenched her flames, which shrank and retracted into the young demon’s form.

“Would you just get on with it, brother?”

Clearing his throat, he stiffly replied, “Ahem. As I was about to say, humans have devised numerous quaint and curious customs around the holiday in recent years. There are indeed a pious number who commemorate the birth of the holy infant in Bethlehem—only to disregard the season’s message of peace and goodwill towards their fellow men for the other 364 days of the year.”

His lips twitched into a disparaging sneer at the thought of mortals’ boundless hypocrisy.

“As for how they managed to turn St. Nicholas of Myra into a jolly old fellow clad in red who dispenses gifts and rides about in a sleigh drawn by reindeer…”

The butler’s voice took on a pedantic cadence, as though he were tutoring his young master on the fussy particulars of British history.

“Of course, human legends tend to warp and blur with time; unlike ours, their memories are neither as long nor as sharp as they would like to believe. The fiction of ‘Santa Claus’ can also serve as a means for parents to persuade naughty children to behave themselves. According to some versions of the tale, only well-mannered younglings may expect presents from Santa, while those inclined to mischief receive naught but a lump of coal in their stocking.”

“But if the parents are the ones actually buying those toys, don’t all the children get presents in the end?” blurted Amy, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Right you are, little sister,” he smoothly continued. “Which brings me to the reason why I believe Santa Claus has truly taken hold within the popular imagination—greed. Christmas presents must be bought from somewhere, and the vendor capable of supplying them can turn a handsome profit. My own young master lined his coffers with sales from a limited edition set of Funtom Rabbits exclusively produced for the holiday…”

Amy’s eyes had started to glaze over.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” she interrupted. “But what about other traditions? Like…hanging branches of mistletoe over doorways. Is that some idiotic human method for warding off evil spirits?”

#kuro rp #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #amy michaelis #other people’s ocs #kuroshitsuji oc #the demon siblings are back! #this was so much fun to write 🥰🎄

[maypoleman1]

25th December

Christmas Day

Merry Old Santa Claus by Thomas Nast. Sources: Harper’s Weekly (1881) and The German Way website

Today is Christmas Day, a day that held spiritual significance long before it was designated Jesus Christ’s birthday by the early Church. Christianity’s chief rival to become the official religion of the Roman Empire was Mithraism. The Persian sun-god Mithras, worshipped by large numbers of soldiers in the Roman army, was allegedly born of a virgin in lowly circumstances; rose from the dead; promoted fraternalism and good works amongst his devotees and was born on December 25th. Although the Church eventually decreed Mithraism to be a satanic cult, they first adopted many of the tenets of Mithras’ own character and rituals and incorporated them into their own, new, religion.

The modern Christmas also borrows from other, darker and northern roots. At the heart of this is the ambiguous figure of Father Christmas, who more recently became conflated with the Dutch gift-giving winter spirit, Santa Claus, who was himself a distant descendant of the Anatolian bishop, Saint Nicholas. Father Christmas was originally a character in the British Christmas medieval mumming plays, and with his crimson robe and long white beard, was the embodiment of a winter season that appeared completely dominant in late December. The parallel figure of Saint Nicholas, who via Dutch setters, became established in North America, fused with a much older pagan tradition of sky-travelling beneficence associated with the Germanic god Wotan, who rode the night sky during the feast of Yule, rewarding the good with gifts and good fortune on his six legged steed Sleipnir, and punishing the wicked. Followed by hordes of malevolent elves who visited ill on the undeserving, Wotan and St Nicholas merged into the slightly sinister chimney-descending gift giver, Santa Claus, in Northern Europe. Eventually, the homegrown figure of the British Father Christmas fused with his European cousin making all three characters almost indistinguishable. However formative nineteenth century contributions such as A Visit From St Nicholas (which portrayed the saint as a nocturnal elfin visitor, riding a small sleigh pulled by reindeer and entering houses via their chimneys) by Clement Clarke Moore in 1823; the Bacchus-like Father Christmas figure of the Ghost of Christmas Present in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, published in 1843, and the illustrations of Santa Claus in the 1860s by Thomas Nast all pulled together the essential elements of this rotund representation of seasonal jollity.

Festive greenery, originally a wish to remind people of the lost vegetation of summer, became ritualised within the Roman winter festival of Saturnalia. This household greenery later formed the basis of many Christmas decorations. These evergreens, who refused to die off in the winter, were thought to be endowed with magical powers, holly and ivy being viewed as particularly potent. Holly tended to be associated with male characteristics and ivy with the female: both were locked in timeless combat. The winter plant of greatest significance to the ancients was mistletoe, held by the Celts to hold the essence of the woodland gods in its berries. Mistletoe, unafraid of winter, was believed to be a cure-all, particularly if harvested at the time of the winter solstice. In the U.K., the most prevalent piece of greenery to be erected in family homes is the Christmas Tree - a relatively recent import from Germany thanks to Prince Albert, but which can probably trace its origins to the pagan Yule Log and the Norse Tree of Life, Yggdrasil.

#mithras #father christmas #santa claus #st nicholas #wotan #yule #sleipnir #holly #ivy #mistletoe #Christmas Trees #yggdrasil #christmas

[ghostlygallery]

Haunted Mansion Holiday

A Ghostly Holiday Tale

‘Twas the nightmare before Christmas and all through the house Not a creature was peaceful, not even a mouse The stockings, all hung by the chimney with care When opened that morning would cause such a scare! The children nestled all snug in their beds Would have nightmares of monsters and skeleton heads.

Jack Skellington came here from HalloweenTown You’ll notice his handiwork scattered around This year he’s decided to play “Sandy Claws” But when Halloween creates Christmas you might see some flaws And now a dark carriage will take you away Sit back, rest in peace in your black Christmas sleigh!

Yes, down through the chimney Jack flew like a bat Clutching his magical “Sandy Claws” sack He ripped open the sack and, in moments it seems, Created a Christmas you have in bad dreams! So hold on for your life, who knows what you’ll find In this Christmas created by Jack’s ghoulish mind!

More rapid than vultures the Mansion was changed All was soon covered, adorned and deranged Gravestones and coffins were “holiday-ized” Showing us Christmas as seen through Jack’s eyes And what to your wondering eyes disappears Is Jack’s little friend Zero - the Ghost Dog Reindeer!

Each room, as you see, has Jack’s own special flair See the bow made of bats? No doubt Jack has been there! Jack enjoyed being “Sandy” - he liked it so much Every inch of this Mansion shows his unique touch! Nothing here was forgotten, it all looks so pleasant A coffin, Jack says, makes a fine Christmas present

He decked every hallway and trimmed every tree It’s his gift this Christmas to you and to me! A man-eating plant makes a wonderful wreath... As long as you don’t get caught in its teeth Jack’s holiday vision was unlike no other So ring out the bells, there’s more cheer to uncover!

A holiday party reflects on its host And whether you’re living or “gave up the ghost” With some treats and some games, you can make a scene merry Why, even a gingerbread house could seem scary All at once, Jack’s true vision materialized Like a nightmarish painting by Currier & Ives

All through the house with a true sense of joy Jack happily strew little presents and toys All the vampire teddy bears gave us a fright And the drunken doll heads made a horrible sight A bag full of toys Jack had slung on his back They were strange and bizarre - and on the attack!

“Sandy Claws” worked his magic, both outside and in But one final touch made his bony face grin “Now what better gift on my friends to bestow Than a graveyard that’s covered in ghostly white snow!” And laying a finger aside of his nose And giving a nod, the whole graveyard he froze!

As Jack sprang to his sleigh, three hitchhikers he spied They said, “Sandy Claws, may we please have a ride?” But Jack waved good-bye, for he just could not stay He had much to deliver before Christmas Day! And they heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight “The world will not soon forget THIS Christmas Night!”

May Jack’s “ghostly presents” now follow you home And stay in your heart - where’er you may roam But on some midnight clear if your skin feels a chill Remember dear Jack was just spreading goodwill For now you know what happens when holidays meet You might get a trick... or a holiday treat!

Original text for the Haunted Mansion Holiday script - bolded portions were omitted from the final attraction. Recited by Corey Burton, channeling Paul Frees’ original Ghost Host.

#haunted mansion #nightmare before christmas #jack skellington #sandy claws #disneyland #haunted mansion holiday #nmbc #corey burton #paul frees #ghost host

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Creatures of Yuletide: The Jultomten

“Midwinter’s nightly frost is hard —

Brightly the stars are beaming;

Fast asleep is the lonely yard,

All, at midnight, are dreaming.

Clear is the moon, and the snow-drifts shine,

Glistening white, on fir and pine,

Covers on rooflets making.

None but the Tomte is waking.”

“Tomten”, Viktor Rydberg

We all know Christmas is a magical time. I’m not joking, Christmas is literally a time of magic. Because of the pagan Winter Solstice celebrations that Christians absorbed into their holiday, the holiday season is a time when multiple creatures, sprites and monsters can roam through the Earth into our homes. Some are peaceful, some are terrifying. Santa is the most popular and modern of these, having roots in the Yule Father himself, Odin. In my last post I talked about the Yule Goat and his connections to the older pagan traditions. Today, I will talk about some holiday sprites that used to travel with him during Christmas time, but later came to replace him almost entirely as a gift-giver in Scandinavian tradition. I’m talking about the Tomte and the Tomtar.

Quick note, these sprites have many names depending on the country, so for convenience sake, I will use the Swedish name and call them Tomte, singular, and Tomtar, plural.

The Tomtar are dwarf-like beings from Scandinavian lore. They are often described as little old men, three feet high, with a long white beard, wearing grey, brown or navy clothes with traditional boots and sporting a bright red cap on their heads.

The name Tomte derives from Swedish word “tomt,” or plot of land, and it means “homestead man”. This reflects their original role as household spirits, similar to the Roman Penates or Di Penates, household deities invoked most often in domestic rituals. The Tomtar were believed to be ancestral spirits of the first farmer to have worked on that plot of land. They were mischievous spirits, responsible for the protection and welfare of a farmstead. They acted more at night, where they were out of sight.

They protected and guarded the house, the properties of the house, the children and the farm animals, especially the much-valued horses. They would work hard to protect the farm, expecting only two things in return, respect, and a bowl of Christmas Porridge with a generous dollop of butter. They often slept under the floorboards during spring and summer and started waking up around the winter solstice. The Julgröt or Christmas porridge was an offer of trust and respect to the Tomte of the household, with butter being a luxury, consumed only on special occasions. It was their payment for the hard work.

As expected from any imp-like creature from European folklore, they can be quite dangerous if their demands are not met. A story tells of a servant girl, that jokingly, hid the butter at the bottom of the bowl. He didn’t kill the girl if this is what you’re thinking, but after not finding the butter, he became so enraged that he slaughtered their best cow. After learning his mistake, he stole a neighbor’s cow to give to the family, as an astonishment for his mistake. I very curious how this played out in the next day 😅

The Tomte is a mischievous spirit, and easily irritated. If you managed on offended him in any way, he could play all kinds of pranks such as binding all cows’ tails together, turning objects upside down or breaking things. Maids or farm workers swearing, dirty outhouses and stables, or not treating creatures well are all things that would incur his disapproval.

Having a Tomte in your farm was a good sign. Clean and orderly homes or farms were an indication that a Tomte spirit resided there. This was, until the Christians arrived and denounced them as demons and false gods. In a 14th century decree by Saint Birgitta of Vadstena warned against “tompta gudhi” or “Tomte gods”. All their worst characteristics were amplified, and instead of pleasing the Tomte, it became your duty as a Christian to lure these evil spirits out. If you were a farmer that was doing far better than the others, your competitors could accuse you of a having a Tomte on your farm, doing "ungodly" work and stealing from the neighbors. This could lead to accusations of witchcraft during the Inquisitions.

The once friendly dwarf-like sprites became evil heathen spirits. In "Tomten", a poem by swedish novelist Viktor Rydberg, describes well all the solitariness that these creatures must felt during these times. In the poem, a Tomte is alone and awake on Christmas night.

This poem along with illustrations from Jenny Nyström saved the public image from the Tomtar. What really captured the imagination were the accompanying illustrations. Nyström’s illustrations offered a new kind of Tomte, a mix between Tomte, Santa Claus and the Yule Goat, who traditionally delivered presents to children in Swedish folklore.

This resulted in a shift in Tomte’s persona. Influenced by the emerging Father Christmas and Santa Claus, a new gift-giver Tomte was born, the Jultomten in Sweden and Julenisse in Norway, who would visit children accompanied by the classic Yule Goat. Later he would steal the goat’s job as a Christmas gift-giver.

Jenny Nyström became one of Sweden’s most productive painters, producing hundreds of illustrations for Christmas cards and magazines. She was able to combine Swedish folklore with uplifting images that appealed to people of all ages. Her Jultomten had a family and nissar, helpers.

Thanks to commercialism, the Jultomten became more and more like the American Santa Claus over the years, as the Jultomten became a single jolly old men in a red suit delivering gifts to children. However, differences still exist between these two figures.

When children write to Father Christmas in Sweden they write to Tomte, not Santa.

The Jultomte lives in a forest nearby.

He doesn't come down the chimney at night, but through the front door, delivering the presents directly to the children, just like the Yule Goat did;

Before he hands over presents he asks, Finns det några snälla barn här? (Are there any good children here?),

He is not overweight;

If he rides a sleigh drawn by reindeer, instead of just walking around with his sack, his reindeers don't fly;

In Sweden, Denmark and Norway some still put out a bowl of porridge for him on Christmas Eve.

The use of the word Tomte in Swedish is now somewhat ambiguous. Often when one speaks of Jultomten (definite article) or Tomten (definite article) one is referring to the more modern version, while if one speaks of Tomtar (plural) or Tomtarna (plural, definite article) one could also likely be referring to the traditional domestic spirits.

In Christmas cards and decorations you still can found the little men from Jenny Nyström's illustrations.

#The Creatures of Yuletide #christmas #holiday season #tomten #tomte #jultomte #scandinavian folklore #swedish folklore #nisse #Scandinavia #Jultomten

[mc-lukanette]

Elf Preservation (continuation)

(original/first chapter)

[AO3] [FF.NET]

Luka was surprised when he was not only allowed to deliver presents again, but that there was no sort of punishment for the fact that he'd both been found by and interacted with a human. Apparently, Santa just hadn't told anyone, and was even the person to suggest that Luka go with him again next year for Christmas.

He didn't really get it, but didn't complain either. Most people rolled with whatever Santa said without question, and Luka supposed that he somehow managed to be a good enough assistant.

Besides, he had a promise to keep, and it kept ringing in his head since the take-off to go around the world: "If I can make it happen, it’ll happen."

He told Marinette that they'd meet again as long as it was in his power to do so. No matter what her reason was for wanting to see him again - whether genuine interest or mild curiosity - he wanted to see her too. He couldn't explain it, but she was special, and there was an allure to her that had him looking over the side of the sleigh to try and spot her house when they arrived in her city.

He considered what he might do if Santa refused to let him go into the house. Plead? Beg? Explain the promise? Offer not to tell anyone that he secretly feeds cookies to his reindeer if he lets him see Marinette?

As they landed on the familiar house, Luka's mind was still racing with options when he suddenly heard Santa ask, "Why don't you take this one again?"

Luka blinked, needing a moment to register that, then turned with a confused look on his face. "What?"

Santa didn't reply at first, though clearly noticed that Luka had a thousand questions playing in his head that he was resisting asking. Smiling at him, he finally answered, "Let's just say that I owe Marinette a favor and leave it at that, hm?"

Luka wasn't sure how to take that, but knew that Santa wouldn't lie to him. He was also reminded of what Marinette had implied when they first met, referring to how she was "used to magic." He was getting more and more interested in her by the second, hoping that it didn't look too apparent by how quickly he hopped off the sleigh.

"Thank you." It was really all he could say, not wanting to pry when he'd been told not to. Santa merely gave him a nod in return, leaning back to take a breather and relax.

Luka walked to the back of the sleigh, then opened his arms for the sack of presents to jump at him. Once it did and he had it slung securely over his shoulder, he navigated himself off the roof and through the window of the house.

He noticed immediately that Marinette had decorated the room differently the year before. The furniture had been moved and the tree had been put in a different spot. She'd even changed the color of the lights, though it didn't make things feel any less warm because of it.

He paused to take in the view, then headed for the tree to put the presents underneath, not wanting a repeat of last year where he'd delayed getting everything set up and got a non-verbal scolding from a sack of all things.

Taking out the gifts one by one, he began sliding them under the tree and making them look nice resting there. He hummed last year's melody while he worked, more for the happy memories it brought than any sort of need to fill the silence. Given that the Christmas tree's lights were on, he wasn't concerned that Marinette wouldn't be home.

Sure enough, he heard footsteps not too long after, and he may've hurried a little to finish setting all the presents under the tree. He checked them over once more, then stood and turned to greet, "Hey, Marinette."

"Hey!" She smiled, having just walked into the room. She approached with a wave, eyes unfairly bright and happy. "You really came back!" Then, dread washing over her face, she asked, "It wasn't hard, was it? Did you get in trouble?"

He smiled back, his heart warmed by her concern. He also noted idly that she was more dressed up than before, though it made sense given that she knew he might show up, so she sported casual wear instead of pajamas.

Answering her questions accordingly, he replied, "No and no. It was actually easy; Santa let me come back here."

"Wait—" She blinked a few times, processing that. "He let you? Do you mean—"

"He figured it out." Luka shrugged, then grinned sheepishly and turned his head to the side, reminding her of the earrings she'd given him.

Marinette gasped, then pounded her forehead lightly with the heel of her hand, whining, "Oh, Luka, I'm so sorry! I didn't even think about that!"

"I didn't either," he pointed out gently, amused when she sunk down to the floor in misery. It was probably the one time he'd feel taller than her. "But it's okay. He didn't tell anyone and he was the one who suggested that I come back."

She peeked up at him, surprised and wordlessly questioning the decision.

He rubbed the back of his head, simply explaining, "He said he owed you a favor?"

Her eyes lit up with recognition at that. She looked away, tugging at one of her earlobes, and he noticed that she still didn't have any earrings on. He'd originally presumed that she hadn't been wearing any last year due to being in pajamas, but now he could be sure that she either didn't have any or chose not to wear them.

"That—that makes sense," she replied. "I never said he had to pay me back, but—well—I'm glad you're here!"

He nodded in agreement. "I'm glad I am too."

She beamed, then pushed herself up and glanced back at the kitchen. "So, do you want any cookies again? I could do a different kind if you're afraid of it being boring."

"You don't have to make me anything," he gently insisted. "I didn't come back for that."

"I know." Though she said that, her smile widened significantly. "Still, it's a long sleigh ride, isn't it? And it must be hard bringing enough food for one person, much less two, and you need food. I don't want you to starve or even just be hungry, so I want to make you something—ah... well, I guess sweets actually wouldn't be that filling, but—"

He giggled. "Elves actually aren't that crazy about sweets anyway."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide like he'd just said something insane. "What? Really?"

"We don't mind eating sweets every now and then, but almost all the sweets are for Santa." He grinned playfully. "I guess it just became a note we play every time we cook that says we'd have to share with him if it's something sweet."

"Oh." She looked positively fascinated. Had he known that she'd get so enthused over a simple fact about his species, he would've spoken up about it last year. "So, how about something savory then? It doesn't have to be anything big, but..." She looked around, her eyes eventually settling on the TV. She brightened up, asking, "How about a movie?"

"A movie?" He promptly realized how dumb echoing her sounded. "That sounds great. I'd love to."

"Yes!" she exclaimed excitedly. "We could do sandwiches and popcorn! Oo, what would you like best?"

Her positivity was contagious. He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he followed her out into the kitchen, though he nearly bumped into her when she abruptly stopped to turn to him.

"Wait," she muttered, "so—those cookies I made for you last year..."

"Like I said, we do have sweets every now and then," he reminded her, "but I guess I didn't have them that much until a while ago."

She tilted her head, then turned to continue her walk around the kitchen. "What changed your mind?"

He watched as she pulled out a loaf of pre-sliced bread, which he thought was strange - considering that her parents were bakers - until he remembered her 'Safety Hazard' apron. He had to debate whether he really wanted to answer her question, but smiled when he acknowledged mentally that she deserved to hear it.

"...It was when you baked me some, Marinette."

The way her face heated up was both satisfying and left him feeling abnormally happy.

"W-wh—" She cleared her throat, fussing far too much with opening the clear bag covering the bread. "—t-then, was marshmallow even a flavor you thought you'd like?"

"Honestly," he began, reaching a hand up to ruffle his own hair, "it was just the first thing I thought of while I was looking at you... after you asked."

She turned away to stop looking at him, but he didn't have to see her face to know how she felt. Being as quiet as he was, it was rare for him to have such an effect on people.

It was nice, having someone who genuinely enjoyed his company and reacted in such a way when he spoke up.

As Marinette pulled out various ingredients for sandwiches, Luka removed his gloves and joined in to help her. He may've been shorter than her, but he was still tall enough to handle anything on the counter. It was also the least he could do since she was already letting him hang around her house.

If their arms brushed every now and then, they didn't make any mention of it, though he would've caught her blushing again had he looked up.

Given the sliced bread, it only made sense that she opted for bagged popcorn rather than making her own, though he didn't mind and wouldn't have wanted her to go so far out of the way anyway. They conversed on the way back to the couch upon the realization that they hadn't agreed on what to watch, and what started as a joking suggestion from Marinette to watch a movie featuring "his people" became very real very fast when Luka saw her scroll past a few strange-looking characters on the TV screen that clearly were supposed to be elves.

They started with just one, but it soon became a whole marathon, the two going through movie after movie while Luka was critiquing the whole way through about the things they'd gotten wrong. At first, it was just an easy way of telling Marinette more about elves, but as Marinette began to giggle at his more biting critiques, he took to being more dramatic about it. He'd gasp in offense when the movies "insulted" his elf kind, clutch his chest, and pretended to walk out at least once.

Marinette's laughter was easily his favorite part of the whole thing. It was warm and bubbly, and she'd even start giving off critiques of her own if she remembered something he'd said before about elves. By the time the last movie had hit, they were both at the movie's non-existent throat, and it was easily the most fun he'd had all year.

It made it all the more sad when Marinette went to look for another movie and noticed that their time was running low; they didn't have to part yet, but they definitely didn't have time for another movie.

Luka sat back, looking down at the empty box of popcorn and the empty plates that once contained their sandwiches. Glancing up, he said gratefully, "Thanks, Marinette."

She tilted her head at him. "For what?"

He shrugged. "Everything? Being you?" He stared back at the now-blank TV screen. "I'm just glad you're letting me be here and hang out with you."

"Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?" she asked, though began to blush after a few seconds. "I-I mean, unless that we just me assuming things, in which case—"

"No, we're definitely friends," he insisted, "as long as you want that too."

"Of course!" she replied immediately, the offended tone making him chuckle and reminding him of their Christmas movie roasts. "You're really nice, and funny, and you're so—I don't know—different? From everyone else I've met? Not in a bad way, obviously, just..."

She trailed off, and he imagined that his expression assured her that she didn't need to ramble. His words followed suit, "I feel the same way about you."

Her smile was soft, her eyes almost sparkling at him. They remained there for a moment, just enjoying each other's company and the warm Christmas lighting around them.

Then, Marinette's gaze drifted down over him, then just barely above his face. "...Hey, Luka?"

He went to ask her what was on her mind, but stilled as her hand seemed to - almost unconsciously - reach upwards to hold a strand of his hair. "Marinette?"

Her expression was a mixture of thoughtful and curious. "Do you mind if we do something before you go? It might be a little boring for you."

"I don't mind. What is it?"

"Well..." She smiled hopefully at him. "I'd like to take your measurements."

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

The third year Luka showed up at Marinette's house, she was already waiting for him in the living room, sitting on a chair a few meters away from the tree. His brows rose in surprise, but she just gave him a smile, waving her hand vaguely at the sack over his shoulder as if to say, don't worry, I'll wait.

He returned the smile, a small skip in his step as he made his way to the tree. He noted that she'd clearly been waiting for him for a while, a quarter-full mug of hot chocolate in her hands that definitely wasn't emitting any more steam. The delightful fuzziness in his chest he got every Christmas wasn't due to the holiday itself, and he was very much aware of it.

Kneeling down, he reached into the sack of presents, pulling out the first gift his fingers touched. He was suddenly conscious of his abilities to set down the gifts - considering Marinette was watching - but he knew she wouldn't judge him if it wasn’t perfect.

As he went to place the first gift down, he stilled, seeing that there was already a singular gift under the tree. He briefly wondered if maybe the sack had been messing with him and spit out one of the gifts itself, but then he noticed the sticker.

To Luka, From Marinette

He paused, rereading the words twice before turning to Marinette. She was glancing away, smiling innocently, but he could see the way she tried to hold herself together even with her legs very subtly vibrating in excitement. He turned back to the gift, then debated with himself before setting it off to the side, trying to get Marinette's presents under the tree first.

He'd never be able to focus otherwise. Their conversations from last year were already replaying in his head as he wondered what she could've gotten him, or...

"I'd like to take your measurements."

what she could've made him?

Once he'd finished placing all of her presents in a nice-looking order, he picked up his gift, hesitating at how beautifully Marinette had wrapped it. He tore quickly but carefully - not wanting the clean-up to cause any problems - then opened the box that was inside.

Before he could even ask, her voice confirmed, "I made them for you," and his heart skipped a beat.

Clothes. She'd really designed and made him an entire outfit. The color was different than he was used to wearing - elves usually wore specific colors depending on where they were working - but that didn't make it bad; in fact, he loved her choices. He probably spent a good minute just looking and feeling at the fabric, moving everything around to see every bit of them while trying not to disturb Marinette's expert folding.

"You really like them?"

He looked up at her. It was obvious that she already knew his answer - her smile was far too wide for her to think anything else - but wanted to hear him say it anyway. Knowing that it'd be answer enough for her, he asked eagerly in reply, "Can I try them on?"

She beamed, immediately directing him to the nearest room that he could use to change. He knew from the past times he'd been there that she had a full-body mirror in her bedroom, so he avoided getting too lost in admiring the clothes as he put them on so he could be properly surprised in front of her.

After he was fully dressed, he set his other clothes off to the side and left to join Marinette outside the room. She nearly squealed at the sight of him, then hurried for her bedroom, apparently having the same idea that he did with how she encouraged him to follow. They went into her room together, the full-body mirror blatantly moved so that he could see himself as soon as possible. He approached it, Marinette looking him over while tilting the mirror appropriately.

He had no idea how she'd done it. The clothes were comfortable, both in warmth and in how they fit him, and the combination of blue, white, and black was something that felt strangely right. He knew nothing about fashion, but he knew he looked good and that any person would find it hard to come up with any critique on it.

"This—Marinette, I don't know what to say." He shook his head, realizing that wasn't entirely correct. "I mean, it's amazing, I love it, but I haven't done anything. I wouldn't even know how to accept this."

She giggled, walking over to stand next to him and smile at his reflection. "Wearing it is already a good start."

He nearly pouted at her - he knew that she knew that wasn't what he meant - but settled for smiling back and turned back to the image reflected in the mirror of them standing next to each other. He was already used to the height difference, though now he could actually see himself standing next to her using the mirror. He wasn't dense enough to ignore the slight pang in his chest that he wasn't taller than her like what one might expect from what was "conventional," but...

he also noted that both of them looked really happy despite it, and it made him feel weirdly lucky.

As he cherished the thought, his mind registered a familiar shape off to the side of the mirror. He glanced over, eyes widening at the actual guitar resting against the wall.

Marinette looked at the mirror, noticing his shifted gaze, then followed it to the guitar. "...Oh." She laughed, wandering over and kneeling to point at the signature along the base. "Jagged Stone gave that to me. Apparently it's the something-something anniversary of me working for him - I'm pretty sure he made it up as an excuse - and he insisted that I have it. I told him over and over that I had no idea how to play it, but—" She gestured to the guitar for emphasis, as if it were showcasing Jagged's complete refusal to back down.

Luka could only nod, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he couldn't provide any commentary on the matter. He shifted in place as he stared at the guitar, trying not to be obvious about admiring the intricate design and professional quality of the build.

"Do you play guitar, Luka?" Marinette suddenly questioned.

Okay, maybe he wasn't as subtle as he thought. "Hm?"

"The first Christmas we met," she began, "you said that you didn't have any instruments with you when I asked you to play your tune for me, so I thought that meant that you played a few but just didn't have them on you?"

He was surprised she remembered something so insignificant, but answered anyway, "Yeah, I only make instruments I know how to play." He added with a smile, "Guitar's my specialty though."

"Would you like to play this one then?" she asked with a big grin, clearly trying to suppress any excitement and failing spectacularly.

"Really?" He approached, tilting his head at the fancy guitar. "Would that be okay?"

"Oh, absolutely!" She took care in picking the instrument up - despite her haste - then offered it to him. "Jagged would be so sad if this just sat here and collected dust!" She paused, considering, then corrected, "Plus, even if he didn't, it's mine now since he gave it to me and I'm saying that you can play it."

He chuckled, reaching out to take and settle the guitar into his arms. "Hard to argue with that."

She moved around him to sit on her chaise lounge, staring at him expectantly. It was cute, and he followed suit by sitting down next to her, only turning enough attention to the guitar to make sure it was tuned.

He was confident enough in his abilities that he didn't feel nervous playing in front of her. Music was his element, and she already seemed to like his style when he was simply humming, which was more than enough reason not to worry. Even just having a guitar in his hands brought a certain sense of familiarity and comfort, though it wasn't the same kind of feeling he got with Marinette.

As he tested the strings once more to confirm the sound was correct, he caught sight of the signature again and admitted quietly, "I... actually don't know who Jagged Stone is."

He didn't know why he said it; Marinette had spoken the name so casually as if he should be expected to know it. There was just something about her that made him want to tell her whatever came to mind.

"Wh—really?" she asked. Catching herself, she held her hands up and insisted, "N-not that there's anything wrong with that! I'm just—"

"Surprised," he supplied. "It's alright. Santa makes sure we have stuff to do in our spare time but it's from all over. We all speak English since that's the original Claus language, but we get to learn two or three more depending on where we are in the workshop." He figured it went without saying that one of his was French. Stroking along the guitar, he played a quick melody and added, "Anyway, we only get a few notes from everywhere, and we don't always have time to listen to the whole song. We're kept really busy and—" He hesitated, debating on if it sounded like he was complaining. Deciding he didn’t want to stop short and leave her wondering, he continued, "—there are a lot of elves. It's why I'm glad I don't make things like toys."

"It's a lot to deal with?" she guessed.

"Yeah."

It felt strange to say it out loud; he'd never done so before. It was easy to forget such thoughts when he was with Marinette because he was so far away from the workshop, but that was only for a day (excluding all the timewarping). Even while riding with Santa in the sleigh, he was still reminded that it wasn't forever and he'd eventually have to return.

He didn't hate working there, but getting to make and test out instruments was the only part he liked. There was no such thing as "peace and quiet" when it was Santa's workshop, and almost all the elves were lively and social with each other, chatting while they worked to keep themselves energized. Luka was glad for them, but it meant constantly hearing a bunch of songs that didn't go together. When everyone tried to be close with everyone else, no one was truly close, and Luka preferred a smaller, tighter group of friends; not that he had any as an example though.

His family had always been different, he supposed, but he was just the right amount of different for it to be inconvenient. His mother actually enjoyed all the chaos, always moving and having more energy than probably any other elf in the whole workshop. Juleka, his sister, while not actively engaging with the other elves, enjoyed that she was never the center of attention and could be quiet without anyone caring, as they believed her to be invested in her work and respected that.

He didn't have such luck, and meditating was the only way to gain any sort of temporary silence; the book that taught him how to do it had been in a different language, but it had pictures and he'd figured out the rest eventually. It was just the life of an elf, and he imagined that he'd used to it eventually.

Maybe.

"...Anyway," he said suddenly, flashing Marinette a hopefully-reassuring look. Getting his hands in place to place to play, he added, "Any requests? I don't know that many songs, but if you can play one for me first, I can—"

His voice choked off with a gasp as Marinette threw her arms around him, his body going stiff in surprise. His left hand's grip on the guitar slipped, causing the neck to drop awkwardly against his chelidon. He didn't even notice, too focused on the warmth and gesture that'd caught him entirely off guard.

"M-marinette?"

"Sorry," she whispered. "You... you looked so sad."

Had he? It'd shown on his face? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Don't apologize." She squeezed him in reassurance. "I—I'd just never thought of it like that."

"Like what?"

He heard her breathe like she was about to speak, but then she hesitated. "...Promise not to laugh?"

"I—"

"No, I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry."

She sighed, but her voice was lighter when she spoke again. "...I actually wished I could be an elf when I was younger. Getting gifts on Christmas always made me so happy, and I wanted to be able to give that same happiness to all the other kids my age." She hugged him tighter, the lightness fading into sorrow. "I never thought about how elves must live, trapped on the North Pole with so much of the world being a mystery to them, being non-existent to people who don't believe in them. Santa and Mrs. Claus could go out if they wanted by traveling, but it's not that easy for someone like you, working with other elves because you have to and not being able to leave even if you want to."

Luka couldn't bring himself to react, barely managing to do so much as breathe. He'd never had someone so easily able to feel out his worries like that, and she'd voiced things that he'd always thought about but never said.

Despite being surrounded by people, he was lonely. He didn't want the company of dozens of others that he could barely put care to remember the names of; he wanted a connection.

He wanted Marinette.

That thought in particular struck him harder than anything else had that day, though he knew he'd prodded at the idea in his head for a long time. Even beyond filling a void, he'd fallen hard for her and couldn't deny it even with all of the obvious problems it presented.

He also wished the atmosphere hadn't been so sad so he would've been able to properly enjoy the concept of her actually being an elf and growing up with him, but that wasn't as important at the moment.

Realizing he'd been quiet too long, he managed to get a grip on himself, shifting and finally letting the headstock of the guitar fall onto the chaise lounge so he could turn more easily towards Marinette. He had too many words in his head for her, but managed to settle on a quiet, "Thank you. I'm sorry I brought the mood down."

She stiffened, then pulled away and put her hands on his shoulders. "You don't have to apologize for that; you can't help how you live or what you think about it. Besides, I want you to feel like you can rely on me whether you need it or not."

He smiled fondly at her, hoping his look wasn't too intense. "I definitely feel like that now."

She smiled back. "I'm glad." Her hands lingered on his shoulders until she seemingly noticed that they were still there. She pulled away, blushing in embarrassment and adding hurriedly, "A-and sorry for hugging you out of the blue like that."

He giggled. That was the third time she apologized in the past five minutes, and the second time she'd apologized specifically for hugging him.

"I don't mind at all," he assured. Still riding the emotional high from her hug, he insisted, "You can hug me whenever you want."

She blinked rapidly, raising a hand to her mouth in thought. "R-really?"

He nodded. "Really."

She looked him up and down, as if to check that he really meant it. Just to make sure she understood, he turned further towards her, though it was slightly awkward with the guitar on his lap.

He wasn't expecting her to hug him right away, but his body reacted even while his mind froze. He finally set the guitar aside, leaving him free to turn towards Marinette completely and hug her back. They took a few seconds to fully adjust, but it was total and complete comfort the whole way through. Part of him almost thought it was for the best that he wasn't with her for the whole year; he'd never get anything done otherwise.

Then, Marinette suddenly gasped, breaking the hug with an, "Ah, I know!"

Luka watched as she got off the chaise lounge and hurried over to her table, a small set of drawers resting on it. She searched it from top to bottom, then checked the middle drawer again and brightened, seeming to find whatever she was looking for. She also picked up a sanitary wipe and scrubbed at something that was attached to it, though she was turned too far away for him to see clearly. When she finally did walk back to him, he could only see a hint of white peeking out from her closed fingers and that the object seemed to be rectangular.

"Here," she said, holding it out and opening her fingers for him to see. "It's an MP3 player. I know it won't block out everything, but it's full of songs, and there are a lot of Jagged Stone ones in here already."

He was familiar enough with the concept of an MP3 player; it wasn't where he worked, but there were more tech-savvy elves who made them. He just couldn't believe that she—

"Oh, and don't worry!" she told him with a wave of her free hand. "I was planning on getting a new one anyway, so you'd be doing me a favor! Besides, I figured you probably couldn't take those clothes, but an MP3 player is more subtle, so you'll still have something of mine to keep with you!"

He simply sat there, staring at her and probably looking silly doing so.

She seemed to realize something, pulling back and hiding the device in her hand again. "U-um, gosh, that makes me sound really selfish, doesn't it? Like I'm only doing it so you'll remember me more, or like I'm only giving it to you because it's used? I swear I'm not, it's just—"

He stood up, walking over and placing his hands over hers. "Only you would worry about sounding 'selfish' when you're giving me a gift." He laughed, positive that it was too warm not to be noticeable. "I'll take it. I'll carry it with me wherever I go."

She beamed, though acknowledged a moment later, "Oops, that's right! You'll need both chargers; one for the MP3 player and one for the wireless earbuds. Um, give me a moment." She hesitantly pulled back from his grip on her hands, then gestured at the guitar as she assured, "I swear I still want to hear you play if you don't mind—um—setting up again?"

He smiled to assure her that he didn't, already walking back to the chaise lounge to sit down and get the guitar back in his lap. He could only hope that his playing didn't come out too much like a love song, or at least that Marinette wouldn't notice if it did.

She was too much; sweet, thoughtful, and extremely adorable. He loathed the very concept of time itself, wishing he could stay in the moment with her forever. He didn't care whether she returned his feelings or not; they were both smiling and happy, and he wanted it to stay that way. She'd done so much for him, giving him gift after gift, and he—

Luka paused, no longer paying as much attention as Marinette pulled out a small drawstring bag and began slipping the objects inside. He realized just how much she'd done for him, or more specifically, how much he hadn't done for her. He didn't doubt that she enjoyed having him around - they wouldn't be here if she didn't - but...

“They’re Santa’s gifts for you, not mine.”

His brows furrowed with concern at the memory. Marinette had given him multiple gifts and he hadn't done anything in return. They were supposed to be friends, yet he'd missed two of her birthdays without making up for it, never even giving her a Christmas present that wasn't from someone else. Playing her music was a start - he'd already hummed her a melody the first time they met too - but it wasn't enough and couldn't make up for what she'd already given him.

Already musing over the matter, he decided that he'd definitely get her something next time. He didn't know what, but it'd be something meaningful and full of thought.

She deserved that and so much more, but he'd settle on the gift for now.

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

For their fourth time meeting up, Marinette greeted Luka with a full-on hug that he eagerly returned. Despite the chill from the window behind him, it was too warm in her arms to care; she was even wearing extra layers than usual.

When he pulled away, he noticed a smile on her face that he immediately recognized. Grinning, he noted, "You look like you have an idea."

She somehow smiled even wider, replying, "I left your clothes where you changed last time. Get changed and meet me in my room?"

Her voice shook slightly at the last sentence, a mixture of anticipation and nerves. Whatever she was planning, he figured it must be different actually telling him about it, regardless of how eager she was in planning it.

He smiled back, hoping it was enough to assure her that it'd be okay no matter what. "I'll see you there."

She hurried to her bedroom after that, Luka having to force himself not to rush putting her gifts under the tree. Her excitement was too contagious and he didn't want his work to come out sloppy because of it. Still, he ran to change the second he was done, cherishing the feeling of the clothes made by Marinette's hand for him and him alone.

Needless to say, he missed it over the entire year, though didn't miss how the outfit was noticeably warmer than he'd remembered, as if it'd been just taken out of a dryer before he got there.

Once he'd tucked away the little gift box he'd brought into the deep pocket of his outfit, he left the room to meet Marinette in hers. He saw her sitting on her chaise lounge, some type of clothing held tightly in her hands as she practically bounced in place.

She stood up as they made eye contact. "Hey," she greeted.

He was very curious now. "Hey."

She walked over to stand across from the mirror, holding up the fabric while looking at him expectantly. He approached, getting in front of her and watching her reflection to see what she was doing. The fabric in her hands matched colors with his outfit, and his only guess as to what that meant was confirmed as she slipped it onto his head; it was yet another gift for him.

Regardless, she had to be excited over something specific about it, so he let her put it on him without a word. He noted that it was a beanie, loose but comfortable, Marinette leaning to his side and hunching over to get a closer look at it, struggling a bit at first due to wearing gloves.

Though he was briefly distracted by the way her tongue stuck out in her focus, he felt and saw the fabric slipping partially over his ears. "Marinette?"

"That's not uncomfortable, is it?" she asked, voice filled with hope.

He shook his head, then turned his head to the side so he could see the effect through the mirror; the pointed part of his ears was completely covered, making him look as if he were just a short human.

"You can go out with me now," she said softly.

Luka whipped his head back to look at her, eyes wide. She blushed in realization, then flailed her arms in reassurance.

"Outside! You can go outside with me!" she corrected. "See, it was just—um—"

She took a moment to breathe and he let her, his heart still pounding too hard from what he'd thought she'd meant.

Now calmed, she explained, "I... I couldn't stop thinking about what happened last time we talked. I know I can't magically fix everything—" There was a brief shift in her expression that made him feel like there was something deeper to what she'd said. "—but I wanted to give you the chance."

"The chance?" he echoed questioningly.

"Yeah." She smiled sheepishly. "To get out; to be somewhere that's not here or the North Pole. It's late, the entirety of Paris is basically asleep, and even if someone saw you, the elf part of your ears are covered. You don't have to if you'd rather just stay inside, but... I thought that—maybe—just knowing you had the option is nice."

She was making it impossible for him not to fall harder for her, and he really liked it. He couldn't imagine what luck he must have, or maybe it was all of his bad luck finally leaving him instead. He didn't really care; he was happy and she looked happy to be there with him.

"That sounds incredible," he admitted. "Could you lead me around? Can we go right now?"

"Yes!" She paused, then added quickly, "Um—to both of those."

He chuckled, but realized belatedly, "Oh, I should probably ask Santa—"

"No!" she protested. She pouted, insisting, "You want this, don't you? Consider it your Christmas present."

"Elves don't get Christmas presents. We get birthday presents, but—"

"Details." She waved dismissively. "Anyway, if Santa wants to go on about owing me a favor, then fine, this is part of the favor."

Brimming with twice as much confidence as before, likely since he'd answered positively to going with her, she strolled up, pulling a set of gloves out of her pocket and handing them to him. He was smiling too much at her energy to argue, slipping on the gloves and wondering if she'd made them for him as well.

Scratch that, he was sure she had.

The moment he had both hands gloved and they were ready to go, she took one of his hands in hers, gently tugging him along to lead him to the front door. He happily let her lead him, feeling almost childish for how excited he was at the prospect of just going outside, but...

It was Marinette. He knew she wouldn't judge, so he let himself smile.

They didn't let go of each other's hands even after they were out the door.

—————

It took Luka a full minute or so to fully take in the sights while they walked. He'd only ever seen Paris and its Christmas scenery from up in the sleigh or from a rooftop, and while both views were nice, it was something completely different to be actually down on the ground, seeing it from the point of a normal person. All the Christmas lights were on, contrasting the dark sky, and decorations were hung just about everywhere they could be placed. Mrs. Claus changed decorations at the North Pole every month, but it was different seeing a whole city decorated.

He didn't realize how long he was staring at everything until he saw Marinette staring fondly at him in his peripheral vision. She seemed embarrassed to be caught, blushing and turning her head away from him.

"I-it's a nice night," she commented weakly.

He chuckled at the attempt of distracting him. "Yeah." He glanced down their hands, still linked together. "It is."

Looking at anything except him, the blush still on her cheeks, she observed thoughtfully, "There really aren't any people around tonight." She dared a glance at him, a slight smirk on her face. "Maybe you don't need that beanie after all?"

She pretended to reach for it with her free hand. Luka ducked out of the way in dramatic fashion, placing his free hand protectively on the beanie to keep it on his head. She laughed, dazzling him once again with the sound.

He continued walking with her, feeling the beanie a moment longer to make sure he hadn't accidentally shifted it, then followed up on what she'd said. "You were right about Paris being asleep. It's like the whole city is, except for you." He raised a brow at her, curious but also teasing, "Are you nocturnal, Marinette?"

She pursed her lips in thought, eyes drifting up to look at the night sky. The former shyness she showed slowly turned into a bout of playfulness. "Not really. At least—I didn't use to be. I wasn't a morning person, but I wasn't a night owl either; the only time I stayed up late before was by accident, like if I got lost working on something or got really inspired."

He tilted his head at her, now even more curious. "What changed?"

A soft hum sounded at the question, Marinette raising her free hand to rub her chin in a gesture that was clearly her pretending to think. He squinted, half-suspicious, then leaned forward so she was in his peripheral view.

She peeked down at him, then turned her head fully towards him, answering, "...It was when you visited me for the first time."

He straightened in surprise, his hand accidentally slipping from hers as he earned another laugh out of her. The words not only struck him, but felt weirdly familiar in a way that took him a few seconds to realize: she was echoing his words from when he'd told her that he didn't have many sweets until he had her cookies.

He wasn't sure what his face looked like - though it felt plenty warm at the thought that they'd done similar things while he was crushing on her - but she must've enjoyed it with the way her smile widened.

"You're blushing," she teased, as if she had a right to do so despite earlier.

"So what?" he challenged shamelessly, not bothering to deny it.

She nudged his arm with hers, her hand slipping back into his slowly enough so that he could pull away if he wanted to. He wasn't so daring as to consider it romantic on her part, but knowing that she was that comfortable around him was heartwarming enough for him.

"You're so refreshing, you know?" she asked, leaning over slightly to meet his gaze better. They were about to cross the street when she looked off to the side and gently pulled him to a stop, pointing down the sidewalk. "Hey, can we go this way instead?"

He glanced down the way, half-suspecting that she had some sort of plan. "Sure, I trust you." He waited until they'd turned and headed down the path she'd suggested to continue their conversation. "So... refreshing, huh? No, I didn't know."

"Because you're different from the other elves so they've never said anything?" She stretched the words out dryly. "Classic case of jealousy."

"You're spoiling me, Marinette," he accused fondly.

"Good. Feel spoiled." She squeezed his hand for emphasis. "It's your Christmas present."

He dug his free hand into his pocket at the mention of Christmas presents, pressing the gloved tips of his fingers and thumb into the corners of the box inside. "And the gloves and beanie weren't?"

"Your second Christmas present then," she corrected. "I count clothes as one full gift." Leaning over, she added with a hint of concern, "By the way, the MP3 player I gave you still works and everything, right?"

"Yeah, it's great," he answered immediately, jumping at the chance to compliment her back. "You have amazing taste."

"I know~"

He had to convince himself that he was just imagining that she gave him a once over when she said that.

They walked a little longer, Marinette's gaze occasionally flicking up to the buildings they were passing. He kept feeling tempted to look, but forced himself not to in case it would ruin whatever she was thinking about.

When she glanced up once last time, she brightened and finally came to a stop, tilting her head at the building behind him. "Have you ever seen a music shop before?"

"Hm?" He caught onto what she was getting at and turned, needing to take a step back to properly look over the building next to him. He knew what a music shop was - even if he didn't, the words said more than enough - but he'd only ever been able to glimpse the symbols in the shop titles if he leaned off the sleigh and squinted.

Marinette released his hand, walking over and leaning against the glass. "What do you think? Selling CD, instruments, and other music-y things? Would you want a place like this, if you could?" He blanked, and she grew sheepish in response, adding, "S-sorry, is it weird? I thought maybe it'd be nice to think about, but if it just makes things more sad—"

"No, I mean—it isn't weird, or sad," he assured, just happy to be thought of. Since the opportunity to think had presented itself, he took a few more steps back, careful of the sidewalk's edge as he did so. He let his mind wander as he took in the shop, trying to piece it all together even with its lights off and figuring that a little fantasizing wouldn't hurt.

After a moment of thought, he explained, "I'd still want to make instruments at least. I don't know if it'd be everything I do, but... I'm good at it. I enjoy it." He shrugged. "I've never really gotten the chance to try anything else."

She nodded in understanding, and it was hard not to include her in his little fantasy when she was posed in front of the shop like she wanted to be. It was almost cruel, asking him to dream and then standing there like the absolute beauty she was.

He took a few more minutes to stare at the building, admiring the way the owner - or whoever had decorated - had hung the lights like staff lines. Candy canes and wreaths were a poor substitute for notes, but he nevertheless appreciated the effort.

Once he was satisfied, he turned his attention back to Marinette and considered how to approach their walk again. He debated on whether it'd be appropriate to take her hand again when he remembered that she'd happily slid her hand back into his earlier. Given that, he had no problem doing the same, offering his hand out and smiling when she graciously took it.

"I don't have a lot of experience with music myself," she admitted as they continued walking. "I just know a lot of people who are into music." She paused, then glanced at him curiously. "Do you play the drums?"

"A little." It wasn't one of his favorites, but he could play it decently enough if he was in the mood.

"Well, a friend of mine plays the drums. He always wanted to be in a band, but couldn't find all the members he needed for it." She raised her free hand above her head. "Big guy, but kind of that looks can be deceiving type; he's a total softie. I bet he'd like you."

Luka was half-tempted to imply that she was trying to set him up with someone, but settled for joking, "If he doesn't accidentally step on me first."

Marinette gasped in offense, then pouted and pushed against him just enough to make him stumble. "You are not that short!"

He laughed, quickly regaining his balance and giving a one-armed shrug. "To him, I'd probably seem like it."

"Still." She huffed. "You're not allowed to joke about that. I like your height."

That caught him off-guard, and he stumbled without Marinette giving him any sort of push. She was already holding his hand, so she helped steady him.

"Luka?" she called with concern.

He looked up at her, blurting out immediately, "You mean it?"

She blushed at his directness. "Y-yes? Why, did you not expect me to?"

"It's not like that. I know you enough by now, but—" He frowned, eyes darting around as he struggled to find a way to explain how he felt.

She smiled sympathetically, gently tugging on his hand to bring him back to reality. He let her, and they continued walking down the path.

"Since I'm a fashion designer, I deal with models all the time," she began, "because they're always the one who have to wear the clothes I make. They're basically the spitting image of perfection: tall, hair that never tangles, camera-ready smile, the works. It's not like they're all bad, but I know they're not all angels either. I'm polite enough to all of them since it's my job, but I still think things that I just never say out loud." She glanced up at the sky, seeming to reminisce. "My parents always raised me not to judge people based on appearance or where they came from, and to judge them based on how they act instead. I've always believed in and followed that." She laughed, adding, "I mean, that's kind of standard, isn't it? It's one of those things that just sounds right."

He looked at nothing else but her as she talked, anticipation building in his chest while he wondered what she was leading up to.

She paused for a minute, rubbing her face with her free hand while she gathered her words. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but no less genuine.

"I... guess I cheat in a way," she admitted. "Because I do judge people on appearances, but only the appearance I've built up in my head after I really got to really know them. There are some really stuck-up models that I can't stand, and I think they're some of the ugliest people in the world, but then there are friends I have who I've heard people snidely whisper about behind their backs, and then I don't get it because I look at my friends and think they should be the ones modeling my clothes instead."

His gaze briefly flickered down to the clothes he was wearing, then up to the scenery around them. He didn't know exactly where they were, but they'd apparently left all of the buildings behind at some point, now standing near the center of a large area with small Christmas trees all around it. The lights were all gentle shades of white and yellow, strung around everywhere to the point where it was almost too bright for him to handle. Still, it brought a sense of calm to the atmosphere, with the bonus effect of making Marinette almost seem to glow.

She brought them to a stop, her hand releasing his and then raising up to rest on the top of his head. He looked up at her, noting how she wasn't condescending to him, but rather admiring him.

"Maybe it's a visual thing for me, because I see patterns and design wherever I go," she supposed, "but no matter what it is, it doesn't make it any less true." Her gaze turned soft, smile widening. "I meant what I said during movie night, Luka. I think you're really unique, and only in all of the best ways. I guess it's a little weird to say that I like your height, but... it's a part of you, so I like it. Too many people carry the traits or posture or designs of other people because they're not comfortable with themselves, but you are. You're 100% Luka and it's obvious in everything you do. You carry everything about yourself like it's really yours. I love that." Apparently, she couldn't make eye contact anymore and averted his gaze, dropping her hand from his head but remained smiling. "P-plus, your size is perfect for hugging, or maybe that's just me?"

"...It's... it's not," Luka replied, his voice was perhaps too quiet for her to make out; judging from how she blushed though, she must've heard it or at least felt it in his reaction.

She was too much, and his heart was doing flips in his chest. It wasn't like being around the other elves where they were playing a bunch of songs that didn't go together; with Marinette, it was only one song, and it was loud without being piercing, blocking out everything else so all he could hear was her. It occurred to him belatedly how they could've not met so easily had he just not delivered presents to her house, or left before she'd seen him, and the thought was painful. Maybe it was the high-intensity emotions that always came with Christmas speeding things up, or maybe it was just her being as amazing as she was, or maybe it was a combination of both.

It didn't matter to him either way. He was in love with her, and he was certain of it. Factor that in with the lighting and mood, and he knew the moment was perfect.

He dug his hand back into the pocket, the box still comfortably waiting there. Gripping it gently, he looked up and called out, "Marinette?"

She tilted her head at him, then glanced at his hand in his pocket, curiosity joining with the fondness in her expression. He pulled the present from his pocket and held it out to her, opening his hand fully to let it rest in his palm.

She stiffened in surprise, blinking a few times before pointing at the little box. "For me?"

He nodded, smiling because of course it was for her; not because she was the only one there, but because the gift was specifically designed with her in mind.

Her hand raised, hesitated, then slowly came down to rest on the box. Luka brought his hand up and set it down over hers, briefly making eye contact as he insisted gently, "I couldn't ask you why without ruining the surprise, so just know that you don't have to wear them if you can't, or even if you just don't want to, okay?"

Her brows arched up in surprise, but she nodded, now seeming even more curious than before. He let his hand drop back to his side so she could properly take the box, and she turned it around a few times to really take in the gift. She even smiled at him, as if to thank him preemptively for the present.

He found himself holding his breath, trying not to hope or set any expectations and reminding himself that she might not like it.

Then, the lid came off, and she immediately dropped it as she saw the contents of the box. Luka hurried and caught the lid before it hit the ground, his eyes darting up to search her expression, noting the wide eyes and parted lips.

Inside the box was a pair of rose gold earrings, shaped and with the pink flower he'd occasionally seen in the clothes she wore painted right in the center. Only able to stand there and wait for her to say something, he took the time to explain, "That flower always seemed special to you, so I... wanted to get you a different way of wearing it." He gestured to it, grinning sheepishly at her. "I know it might not be perfect; I had to draw it when I got home and then pass it to one of the jewelers to make. We're allowed to ask other elves for specific gifts and it's considered impolite for them to ask questions, so they just got right to work." He turned his hand up to look at his gloved palm, chuckling as he added, "I felt bad making them do all the work when you always put your whole heart into making me gifts, so I tried to help where I could even if I wasn't great at it."

She gasped, finally tearing her gaze away from the gift to look at him. "Y-you did?" she asked breathlessly. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

"A little, but—" He stopped when she grabbed the edge of his glove with her free hand, pulling it off and putting it in her pocket so she could inspect his hand and fingertips; she’d even removed her glove to be as precise as possible. He smiled like a fool, continuing, "I'm alright now. It healed up pretty quickly, and I was just happy that I could do a little bit of the work."

Despite him saying that he was okay, she didn't release his hand. Her eyes were misty, her hand turning his palm back down so she could grab his hand by its fingers. She took a step towards him, closing a distance that was already lovingly close, then leaned forward and brought his hand so close to her face that she could've kissed it if she made the effort to.

She exhaled, and he blushed at her warm breath against his fingers. After a few seconds of relaxed silence, she told him, "I ended up having to give up my old earrings. There... wasn't as much use for them anymore." She shut her eyes, clearly overwhelmed. "But I couldn't just replace them; they had too many memories to replace with any old earrings. My friends offered to buy me new ones a long time ago since it seemed like a shame to not have earrings while my ears were still pierced, but I always rejected them."

She stared at him meaningfully. He swallowed.

"Thank you, Luka," she whispered. "I-I love them. They're perfect. Of course I'll wear them."

His heart leaped in his chest. "Really?"

She nodded eagerly. Though, despite saying that, neither of them moved from their positions, Marinette still holding his hand in hers and him never pulling away from it. They were in a trance of sorts, lost in each other's gaze and the intensity of the moment.

Then, Marinette dropped his hand, though only to take the one that still held the lid of the box. She guided it to her other hand, Luka sliding the lid back on to keep the earrings protected.

Neither of them knew who moved first. Someone must've had to, or maybe it was both of them, but the result was that they were suddenly kissing each other, with Luka raised up on his tip toes and Marinette leaned down to meet him halfway. She had the present clutched delicately against her chest, her other arm snaking around his waist while he had his hands on her shoulders.

He never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined being able to kiss her, yet they were there and the lingering taste of hot chocolate and marshmallows from her lips confirmed that it was real. As close as they were and for as long as it was, he realized that she had a strong scent, like she'd made sure to shower, dry, and dress for the cold weather just before he'd gotten there.

It only made him kiss her more, and she responded just as fervently. It was as if they'd both wanted it for the longest time and didn't think they'd get it, now taking advantage of the opportunity as much as possible.

Luka shuddered as he felt Marinette's hand move slowly up his back. He responded eagerly, slipping his hands past her shoulders so he could wrap his arms around her neck. She hummed contentedly, her hand leaving his back so she could slip her fingers underneath his beanie, her nails briefly tracing along the outside of his ear. He whined into the kiss, though certainly not protesting, then relaxed as her fingers went further to run themselves through his hair.

He was cherishing the feeling, far too happy to care about anything else, when the kiss suddenly broke with a soft click, followed by Marinette gasping.

"A-ah, I... I'm sorry!"

He opened his eyes, blinking dazedly at her. He worried briefly that she was apologizing for kissing him, but then he felt the beanie being pulled back over one of his ears; he could only guess it'd shifted when her hand drew further back into his hair. His head and heart were pounding from the thrill of the kiss, and he noticed that Marinette's cheeks were flushed red even as she looked around to make sure there hadn't been anyone around to see him.

"M...marinette," he managed, still a little out of breath.

She met his gaze, her blush reddening further. She brought her free hand to her face, her lips pressed together in contemplation before turning into a nervous yet silly smile. "I-I guess... we should go home and talk?"

He could only nod. Their conversations had already been personal, but it only made sense to talk about that back at her house, especially because he was still waiting for his brain to start working again.

Marinette turned away, paused, then looked back at him and shyly extended her hand out, her other hand still holding his gift to her chest. He reached out, paused, then switched his gloves around and took the hand offered to him with his ungloved one so they could start the walk back.

Naturally, they held hands the whole way.

—————

Luka sat back on the couch, taking a deep breath as he waited for Marinette to finish making hot chocolate. He'd offered to help, but she'd insisted that he sit and relax for a while.

"B-besides, your smile is really distracting."

He grinned to himself, reaching up and removing the beanie from his head so he could admire it. They'd ditched their gloves and shoes earlier for the sake of comfort, so he could properly feel along the fabric and appreciate Marinette's talent. He knew they had a serious talk coming up, but he couldn't help feeling as calm and content as he did, even sighing in delight at the memory of their kiss.

He looked over as he heard footsteps and saw Marinette emerge from the kitchen, two cups of hot chocolate in her hands. As she headed towards him, he noticed a shine on her ear caused by caught light from the Christmas tree, his breath briefly catching as he realized what it meant.

She was really wearing the earrings.

She sat down on the couch slowly so as to not spill the drinks, then offered him one. He gratefully took it with one hand and set the beanie onto the table with the other, positively beaming at the sight of her earrings. His big smile must've made her grow sheepish, what with the way she averted her gaze, so he cupped both hands around his cup to steady himself with the intense heat.

It didn't take long for Marinette to speak, "So, what do we do now? I really like you, Luka, but... I mean..." She looked over at him, more easily maintaining eye contact this time. "Have you ever heard of a relationship between a human and an elf?"

He racked his brain, trying to think of anything even close to that, but came up empty. "No. Maybe it happened a long time ago, but I guess elves don't interact with humans enough. I just got lucky because I was helping Santa out." He stared into the hot chocolate, watching the marshmallows idly float around. "And I can't - I wouldn't - ask you to give up your life for me."

"I wouldn't ask you to give up yours either!" she countered. "I know you don't have it as nice, but it's still uprooting your entire life. You'd still have to learn how to live here and constantly hide your ears."

"I wouldn't mind doing any of that," he argued. When she stared at him in surprise, he added, "But I wouldn't want you to have to deal with that."

"What?" She tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You having to teach me everything," he explained, "and supporting me until I'd figure out how to live like a human would. We'd have to think up a fake story for how we met if anyone asks, and I know you don't care about my height, but—"

"You've thought about this a lot," she said, though fondly rather than accusingly.

He shrugged, taking a larger sip of his drink and swallowing one of the marshmallows in the process. "It was the only thing I could think about on the way back."

It was a half-truth; he'd been wondering about it for a while, even before they'd kissed. There was a part of him that'd fantasized about staying with her, even if it was strictly friendly on her end, and the requirements were similar regardless.

Marinette giggled. "You're too sweet." Despite her happy tone, she was frowning and staring off at the wall not even a minute later. "What about rules?"

"Rules?" he echoed.

"Of the North Pole. Are there... rules to elves deciding they want to leave?"

"I—" He paused to think. "...probably not, but only because we can't really leave in the first place."

"Because it's the North Pole," she supplied.

"Yeah."

Troubled, Marinette looked down at her cup, slowly moving it in a circle to watch the liquid swirl around. She took a thoughtful sip, then sighed, admitting softly, "I know you were worried, but... I wouldn't have minded dealing with all that."

"Huh? You—" He cut himself off, remembering what he'd said earlier about not wanting her to deal with all the problems that came with staying with her. He still didn't want to trouble her, but it made him happy knowing that she'd accept him even with all the troubles that came with it. "...Thank you." Then, recalling that he too had something he hadn't properly responded to, he told her fondly, "I really like you too, Marinette."

He knew that she already knew that, but he could tell that the words filled her with emotions regardless. She gripped her pants with her free hand, taking a shaky breath, then seemed to consider finishing off her hot chocolate before simply setting it down on the table.

"I guess we're both bad at being selfish," she admitted.

He could only nod. At the very least, he couldn't stay now without having said good-bye to his limited family. He tried to imagine explaining the situation to them, but his sister would probably call him a fool for bothering coming back in the first place and not prioritizing his happiness, whereas his mother would roll her eyes and chide him for not stealing a reindeer to make it back to Marinette (how would it make it back without him anyway?).

It was his fourth year knowing Marinette, but their meetings were annual and he couldn't predict what could happen in her future. It may’ve not be against the rules for him to stay, but more because it hadn't been something anyone had really thought of; not technically against the rules, but not allowed either.

He eventually settled on saying, "I wish I could stay," knowing that said enough without saying much at all. He set his hot chocolate down beside hers, staring at the two cups before looking over at Marinette. "I can't ask you to..." He stopped short. "Marinette, if you find someone else—"

A flash of hurt flickered across her expression. "Luka."

He winced, but she took his arm before he could respond, pulling and guiding him onto her lap. She took his face in her hands, then brought him in for a quick kiss.

The hot chocolate tasted so much better from her lips.

She held the kiss for a few fleeting seconds before breaking away, promptly pouting at him. "I could say the same thing to you."

He felt the same flash of hurt that she had, immediately regretting what he'd blurted out. "I'm sorry."

"No, I know you just..." She stroked his face with a thumb, smiling sadly. "I know you care. That's what I love about you. I get that you don't want me waiting on a yearly meeting for my—" She blushed, dropping her gaze. "—boyfriend."

He broke out of the sad mood enough to blush as well.

Marinette shook her head, quickly getting back on track. "But I want you, okay? I'll wait, and maybe we'll figure something out eventually, but—well—" She took his hands in hers, peeking up at him shyly. "I can't imagine not kissing you when you come back next year."

Getting emotional himself, Luka let out a breathy chuckle. "I can't imagine breaking up with you when we just got together."

She nodded vigorously in agreement, arms raising for a hug that he immediately accepted. They squeezed each other, their remaining time suddenly seeming so short.

"I'll do whatever I can, Marinette," he told her. "I want more of this; more than just Christmas."

"If you can make it happen, it’ll happen?" she asked softly, echoing their first meeting together.

He smiled. "Yeah."

Once they’d properly cherished the moment, she placed her hands on his shoulders. He obeyed the wordless order by pulling away, but she kept him firmly in her lap.

"For now, there's still some time left," she reminded him, bringing a hand back up to his face. Brushing the back of her fingers along his cheek, she added, "I don't know how much I'll need from you to hold me over for a year."

Her voice was still sad, but there was a playfulness there that made him feel like he could smile more genuinely. He leaned in, reflecting her earlier actions by taking her face in his hands. "I planned on giving you everything anyway, Marinette."

Hours later, he'd leave for the sleigh with her love in his heart and a bittersweet smile shaped by kiss-bruised lips.

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

Luka spent a year looking for answers and ultimately found nothing. He'd searched for everything he and Marinette had talked about - an elf having a relationship with a human, and any rules on elves leaving - but there weren't any records about such things. He wondered if maybe a relationship between an elf and a human had happened, but no record had been made or it'd been purposefully kept under wraps. He also figured he might've been overthinking it, as it was like every relationship between elves were carefully cataloged; it wouldn't have been fair to the ones who chose not to get together with anyone at all. As for rules, he couldn't find any; he knew his mom would've known all the rules since you have to know them to break them, but she'd never heard of a rule saying that elves specifically couldn't leave. Still, Luka imagined it was an unspoken rule, and he was also the best instrument-making elf the workshop had, so would they really be willing to part with him anyway?

He wasn't sure. The days leading up to Christmas were chaos while he searched further for anything confirming that he could leave and be with Marinette. Even his sister and mother had been acting strange, though he knew he hadn't told them anything about Marinette.

Still, they'd hugged him before he'd gotten on the sleigh with Santa.

The ride around the world felt both long and short at the same time; short because he was dreading telling Marinette that he hadn't found anything useful, and long because Santa was taking a different route. The latter was something Santa did every year, but it was particularly strange this time around.

Luka used the MP3 player Marinette had given him to pass the time while he gathered his thoughts. He supposed that no one could technically do anything if he just chose not to go back; he was important, but certainly not needed. It was selfish, but it was also very in-character for someone who was "Anarka's son" and he was living a life he never asked for otherwise.

Of course, he also had no way of contacting Marinette from the North Pole, and thus no way to ask her if that would really be okay. What if someone came back to look for him and tangled her up in his troubles? He'd hate that more than only getting to visit her once a year.

He wasn't any closer to coming to a conclusion by the time they got to Marinette's house, and he quickly realized that it was their last stop of the whole trip.

Luka glanced at Santa with a raised brow, then down at the roof.

He could hear the shrug in Santa's response, "Might as well save the best for last, hm?" With a pat on the back so forceful that it nearly knocked Luka off the sled, he added quickly, "Good luck, Luka!"

Luka mentally dismissed the idea of questioning it, his mind already having too many thoughts to deal with. He got the sack of presents as always, then descended down from the roof and through the window, climbing in with care.

Marinette had rearranged the tree and decorations, as always, though Marinette herself was nowhere to be found. He knew he was technically late due to the different route, so perhaps she'd gone off to occupy herself until he arrived? Hoping that was the case, he walked over to the tree and knelt down, setting the sack to his side like always. Once he'd opened it up, he reached inside to grab the first present.

His fingers touched nothing.

He stiffened in shock, then tried again, outstretching his arm as far as it would go. Maybe the sack was just messing with him?

Yet, he still couldn't find a single present, and patting at the sack - in hindsight, he probably should've done in the first place - revealed that there was definitely nothing inside. He didn't understand; why would Marinette not get him any gifts, and why would they stop there in the first place if there wasn't?

His thoughts were cut off as he heard a sharp gasp from behind him. He shot up - half in surprise, half in excitement at the voice's familiarity - and spun around to see Marinette standing there. She was dressed in some mix of casual and nightwear while her hands were clasped over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared at him.

He blinked, thoroughly confused at the reaction, then searched nearby to see if maybe something was wrong. He couldn't see anything off, though the sack had apparently made itself scarce while he wasn't looking.

Regaining some of her composure, Marinette moved one hand away from her mouth and silently pointed to her back. He tried to look at his back over his shoulder, but when that failed, he reached behind himself and blindly moved his hand around.

He jumped a bit when he felt something that definitely wasn't fabric. He struggled to grab hold of it, as it had apparently been stuck to the fabric somehow, but he eventually managed to snag a corner and slowly peel it off.

He held it out in front of himself, needing to rotate and flip it in order to properly read what it said.

His heart skipped a beat.

To Marinette, From Santa

He glanced up at Marinette, his mouth agape, and was now able to see the beaming smile on her face. She couldn't hold back anymore, rushing towards him, and he quickly threw the note aside so he could spread his arms out for her. She hugged him tight, spinning him around before leaning down to bury her face in his shoulder.

"I asked for you this year," she whispered.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Santa knew that he'd wanted to leave. His family knew because they'd been told. Marinette hadn't received any other presents because she'd wanted nothing else but him.

He shook, overwhelmed with emotion. How was she the solution to everything for him, all the time?

Marinette pulled away from the hug after a solid minute, though that still wasn't long enough for him. She blushed, embarrassed as she explained, "S-sorry that I look like this, by the way. We're b-boyfriend and girlfriend, so I thought that maybe I should dress up, but then I thought that it might be romantic if I dressed up like I did when we first met, or like I did when we watched our first movie together, but then I heard the window and—"

"Marinette..."

She paused to look at him attentively, stopping her talking just long enough for him to reach up and pulled her down to his level. He kissed her, slowly at first and then more greedily as he realized that he was finally with her for the whole year and not just Christmas. Marinette was surprised at first, but it didn't take her long to start kissing him back.

Their height difference seemed so small when they were kissing, and once their legs started getting tired, they simply moved to the couch to continue. They both knew there were serious things to think about, like fake backstories, different headwear to hide Luka's ears, and what their living situation was going to be like...

But for now, it was enough for them to just enjoy the moment.

#type: story #story: multi chapter #event: Christmas #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Elf Luka Couffaine #Short Luka Couffaine #((Sit in for the long haul on this one because it's over 10000 words.)) #((Not a ''triple threat'' like last year but it's longer than all of them combined so--)) #((yeah I wasn't gonna do another one lol.)) #((I know I left the original open-ended but it bothered me that I didn't give these two a resolution~)) #((Enjoy your human/elf whirlwind romance.)) #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Where Do We Go From Here?

Chapter Ten, George’s miscalculation 

 read on AO3 here

I do realise this is is the third thing I have put out in as many days and that kind of production level is unheard of for me haha.

This has a little bit of NSFW stuff right at the beginning of the chapter so I’m going to put it all under the read more line.

Warnings, NSFW and Overdose.

Bill slid a hand through his wife’s long silky hair as she continued to use her mouth to pleasure him. They had always enjoyed making love in the mornings, but lately Fleur had been unhappy with him and not been so receptive. But this morning she had chosen to take the initiative, and Bill was in no position to stop her, not that he ever wanted to stop his incredible witch.

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, concentrating hard, it was almost a relief when she sat up gracefully and mounted him, sliding down his girth and gasping at the sensation, massaging him from the inside, he raised his hands to her breasts her ivory skin almost luminous in the pre-dawn light, sliding his roughened hands down her body to stimulate her more. She swore elegantly in French as his fingers swirled around her sweet spot, riding him a little harder. He could always tell when she was completely lost in the moment when she reverted back to her native language. He wanted control and went to flip them over but she shook her head pushing him back down stopping him. He growled a little and she laughed deeply and throatily, then gasped and swore again as he twisted his hips slightly increasing the pressure on her body. When she wanted to take charge he just had to lie back and take it and do his best to control himself so her pleasure did not end too quickly. He was having more trouble than he normally did keeping his body calm, her soft moans were getting stronger, he could feel his body winding up despite his efforts to keep control. 

“Fleur.” He gasped, letting her know he would not be able to last much longer.

“J’suis proche.” She breathed back to him, he grabbed one of her breasts roughly tweaking the nipple and he knew she was there as her hips moved with less control. “Mon amour, oh mon dieu!” The feel of her climax tipped him over the edge and he could no longer hold on, he gripped her hips in his hands as he emptied himself. She collapsed onto his chest breathing heavily.

Bill kissed the top of her head as they later rested together, her head in the crook of his shoulder, one leg lying over his.

“Not that I am complaining,” he started gently rubbing a hand along her back. “But what did I do to stop you from being cross with me?” She moved slightly so she could look up at him, her deep blue eyes sparkling.

“I have been thinking about family, about why you want to have children now. I am happy you did not tell your mother the truth about why we were having the argument”

“It’s none of their business.” He replied simply running a hand through her silvery tresses, her hair felt like liquid as it slipped quickly through his fingers.

“As you say,” She agreed. “perhaps I have been selfish to think that a baby would spoil what we have. I love our house. The life we have together. I do not want to stop being me, just yet.”

“You made that clear to me my love, and I understand. I was being unreasonable to expect you to stop working and start a family straight away. If you want to wait I am okay with that.”

“Merci my love, but I am not sure that I do want to wait for much longer. When I saw Teddy my heart just melted for that sweet child.”

“You really want us to start trying?” His heart leapt at the thought but he tried to keep the hope out of his voice. Her reasons to wait had been perfectly valid, and his assumptions had been more than a little behind the times. When she had stormed off to Hogwarts to see her friend, leaving him angry and confused, and more than a little bit jealous. It had been a bit of a wake-up call for him. He remembered his siblings as children, had helped his mother with looking after them, and he had always assumed that all witches wanted to have children as soon as they were married. Of course, they had not wanted to while there was such darkness in the world, but when they were finally free to live again it had been top on his list of priorities. It had been until he told his wife this.

“Perhaps not trying. Perhaps no longer preventing?” He understood her meaning and felt it was something he definitely could be on board with. He loved the time he had to spend just the two of them, but he also missed the joy and madness of a house full of children. He kissed her deeply letting her know how happy he was that she had changed her mind. 

 *

  Harry and Ron had been so busy the last few months leading up to christmas, actually being told to stop and take a break had been quite a shock for them. Keeping busy had been something they could both focus on, but it was nice to have Hermione and Ginny home for a while.

They all knew how difficult Christmas was going to be this year, difficult in completely different ways for each of them. Harry and Hermione hadn’t even had a Christmas last year, they had both been rather shaken up from their visit to Godric’s Hollow to even care what day it was. Ron himself had been too filled with guilt and remorse that day to think about anything past his missing friends, until he had heard his name from the deluminator and found another level of determination and purpose. He wanted to make this one a bit more special for all of them. 

He was planning to leave Hermione’s house early on the Monday before Christmas, they had got up and had breakfast together but he insisted he needed to go to Diagon Alley alone. There had been no point pretending he was doing anything other than Christmas shopping, it wouldn’t have taken Hermione’s brains to figure that out. 

“So do I get any clues as to what you are buying me this year?” Hermione asked as they sat at the kitchen table at her parent’s house, she was wearing casual muggle trousers she had called leggings with a giant jumper that was almost as long as a dress, and thick fluffy knitted socks. One foot was resting on the seat of her chair and she was half hugging her leg as she read the profit. He had glanced at the headline when the owl had delivered it, but knew if there was anything significant he needed to know, his girlfriend would tell him. He was already wrapped up against the cold December air, his Gryffindor scarf wound tightly around his neck and party obscuring his face. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head fondly. 

“And spoil the surprise?” He chuckled. “Let me know something my girlfriend doesn’t for a little while longer.” She pulled his head down to give him a proper kiss, moving his scarf out of the way. 

“Don’t be all day, I will miss you.” He cleared his throat at her suggestive tone, and considered shopping another day, but he had made arrangements with and he couldn't change them now. 

What she didn’t know was that his Christmas shopping was already done and he was planning on spending the day organising something special for the family with George. He had been trying his best to spend more time with his closest brother. George was working too hard, and drinking too much, especially now that Angelina had started her new job and was spending a lot of her time away from him. George kept trying to play down his relationship but Ron knew how much he missed her when she was not around. Ron had been helping in the shop when his Auror training would allow it, he could now create many of the products that sat on the shelves without any trouble at all. George had actually been impressed with how quickly he had picked up the somewhat tricky recipes. He had told him without any hint of sarcasm.

The air was crisp and cold as Ron made his way towards the joke shop from the leaky caldron, frost still clung to the fabric awnings and shaded corners of the cobbled street, his breath fogging the air. It had taken him longer to leave Hermione’s house than he had originally planned. They had showered together for an exquisitely long time that morning. 

As he walked along the colourfully decorated streets still thinking about how wonderful his girlfriend was, he stopped at a little bakery and bought a couple of bacon rolls for himself and his brother, who no doubt was still asleep and would have nothing in his kitchen apart from coffee and fire whiskey. Biting into his own snack he continued on his short journey.

The brightly painted shop caught the eye from a distance and Father Christmas in his reindeer pulled sleigh was still whizzing around the shop window. Snow was falling from the roof of the building and disappearing as soon as it landed on the pavement. The effect of the whole thing was brilliant. Portable snow was another new product that George had perfected. Ron suppressed a slight agitation as the lock did not open as he placed his hand on the doorknob. George had said he would add him to the building security, but not yet it seemed. Taking his wand he muttered the password at the lock and heard it click. The door chimed Ho Ho Ho as he entered but apart from that the shop was eerily quiet without the noise of customers. Snow fell inside too but only on the large Christmas tree that dominated the centre of the shop it’s branches decorated with an array of products. Remembering to lock the door behind him he took the stairs two at a time. 

“George!” He yelled opening the flat’s front door. “Hey, George get up you lazy arse I’ve got you some breakfast.” The paper bag dropped to the floor as he saw the body of his brother lying face down behind the sofa. 

  *

                   Harry was enjoying himself this morning, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks, due to the positive influence of Ginny. He was sitting on his new broom wrapped up against the cold watching her fly. It had been so long since he had flown, the long summer they had spent together seemed ages ago. Of course then they had been able to fly in just shorts and t-shirt but now it was definitely warm jumpers hats and scarves weather and the bulky clothing was restricting his movement. He had been tempted to take off his coat more than once but he was not working hard enough to stay warm without it, and a warming charm would more than likely overheat him the way he was feeling right now. He had only stopped to grab a drink, but he couldn’t take his eyes from watching Ginny. She always looked amazing on a broomstick, she was fast, confident, and graceful. He knew he had flying skills of his own but he had not been practicing like she had. She was flying rings around him today, literally. She was laughing as she pulled her broomstick up beside him and deftly caught the water bottle he threw at her. They were hovering over the paddock at the back of the Burrow. The air was crisp but still, a hard frost still covered the ground, the winter sun was barely above the horizon. He manoeuvred his broom a little closer so he could wrap his arm around her. 

“You are flying brilliantly,” He told her honestly, kissing her temple. “I was struggling to keep up with you. I am so out of practice.”

“And here I was thinking you were going easy on me.” She laughed. “Hopefully we can convince everyone else to play when they are all here later.” He nodded his agreement, then before she was ready shot off towards the other side of the paddock. Before he was even half way there she had caught up, her hair streaming behind her as she beamed at him. He considered his options for a split second before Ginny decided for him and turned her broom sharply cutting his path, he barely managed to change his direction in time. He was about to give chase again when a silver flash and Ron’s jack Russell was running around his head. 

“George is at St Mungo’s please come, bring mum, tell everyone!” Ron’s voice had sounded calm but his agitation was evident by the behaviour of his patronus before it vanished. They wasted no time in discussing with each other what could have happened, they both dived for the ground, Ginny running into the house while Harry put their brooms away quickly. He rushed inside when he heard Mrs Weasley cry out in shock. Ginny had an arm around her mother’s shoulders and was leading them to the fireplace. 

“Can you go get Dad from work? I will call everyone else from the hospital.” He nodded at her and watched them walk into the green flames before running back outside and apparating to the ministry. 

  *

  Angelina stumbled out of the floo at St Mungo’s and would have fallen on the floor if not for a strong hand grabbing her elbow until she could catch her balance. 

“Thanks.” she said politely then recognised the green eyes staring back at her and pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back a little awkward with this rather tactile greeting. She usually enjoyed putting her old teammate off balance but this was not the time, she just needed a hug. “I came as soon as I could. I've been worried sick. What happened? Can I see him?” Harry opened his mouth to answer but stepped aside as he spotted someone else approaching.

“Angelina!” Ginny yelled and barrelled into her hugging her fiercely. “Come on he was asking for you.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her towards one of the wards walking quickly. Harry took her bag and followed without a word. “The bloody idiot’s been taking the draft of peace to help him sleep, he mixed it with fire whiskey last night. If Ron hadn’t been going to see him I don’t know what would have happened.” She explained then started grumbling under her breath muttering more insults to her brother’s intelligence, anger flushing her cheeks. If Ginny was this angry with her brother it was doubtful he was still seriously hurt. “They revived him and pumped his stomach. The healers say he will have to stay in for a few days until his levels are properly balanced, whatever that means.” She stopped for a moment and turned her attention on Angelina. “Did you know he was self medicating? He brewed his own potion, it’s supposed to be taken under medical advice. He made it far too strong.” She closed her eyes for a moment, the fear for her brother coming to the surface. “Why could I not see? I should have helped him more.” 

 “I didn’t know he was taking it, I promise. We enjoy a few drinks when we spend evenings together but it is never to the point of passing out, nothing stronger than beer.” She looked at her friends kindly. Harry was now holding Ginny as if she would fall if he didn’t, she accepted his embrace without comment resting her head on his chest. Angelina suppressed a pang of jealousy for their relationship, they were so openly in love it was sweet. However it was hard to watch when you were desperately in love yourself and having to hold it back for fear of rejection. “You didn’t see it, because he didn’t want you to. He is stubborn with his grief.” She didn’t add that every Weasley she knew was equally stubborn but catching Harry’s eye she knew he had caught the unsaid sentiment.

Angelina saw the crowd of redheads up ahead and knew that George would be behind the one door on this stretch of corridor. They were all looking towards it in concern as they huddled together. Ron was sitting on a flimsy hospital chair, his hands laced behind his bowed head. Hermione sat beside him rubbing his back in a way that said she had been trying to comfort him for a while with little success. Everyone else was standing around, Fleur was comforting Molly in a very role reversal way holding her close and rubbing her back. Arthur was off to one side speaking with a tall wizard dressed in the unmistakable robes of a healer, Percy stood by his father's side paying close attention to what was being said. Bill stood as if on guard by the door his arms crossed his wand in his hand. Ginny walked her past them all. 

“He kicked us all out.” Bill stated going to stop their progress, Ginny just glared up at her oldest brother who actually shyed back slightly at her look. Angelina was always amazed at how easily the tiny form of Ginny could overpower her brothers with nothing more than her presence and a glare. Bill seemed to be weighing his options before he shrugged and stood aside, “Well don’t blame me if he throws things at you, I gave you fair warning.” 

“He won’t kick me out.” Angelina said confidently. “If he tries I will kill him myself.” Ginny gave her another hug and opened the door, letting her go on alone.

The room she entered was quiet, George’s was the only occupied bed, the other was stripped to the bare mattress. He was propped up on pillows with a tube running from his arm up to a bag containing clear liquid. His eyes were closed but she knew he was awake, his right hand would occasionally move or twitch with his constant nervous energy. The only time she knew he was ever completely still was when he was sleeping. She moved to stand at the foot of his bed. He looked pale under his freckles, his cheekbones were more prominent than she remembered the last time she had seen him. His hair was getting long and it looked unwashed, she wondered if he had eaten a proper meal since she had left.

“You know there are less dangerous ways to get my attention. If you wanted to see me you should have just Owled.” She told him firmly placing hands on hips. 

“Angie?” He croaked, his voice a bare whisper, his eyes staying closed. “Are you really there? I have been dreaming of you. You can’t be here, you should be in Montrose. I am not worth losing your new job. This is nothing, just a little miscalculation.”

“I always knew you were a fool but I did not think you were a bloody idiot too.” She had not taken a step closer to the bed, her feet felt like lead. She disliked hospitals greatly, unfortunately it was an inevitable part of Quidditch, and hospitals always reminded her of her mother’s battle and its eventual inevitable end. She had been only thirteen when she lost her mum, a difficult time for her and her dad, especially trying to cope with a confused girl going through puberty. Fred and George had cheered her up without ever knowing they were doing it, their friendship had been so important to her growing up. It had meant the most that first September after her mother’s passing.

Fred had always been the more confident twin, although few had ever bothered to notice, he had asked her out for the Yule ball. They’d had a great time together and had shared a few kisses, but the rest of the time he spent it telling her how great George would be for her, and she had silently agreed with him. George had never asked her out, he had just watched her with his big puppy dog eyes when he thought she was not paying attention. Any time she thought he would finally ask her, Fred would start to flirt outrageously, making her laugh, and his brother would back off with a sigh. It had been like that the whole time they were at school. Then one day last April, when everything was getting really frightening he had turned up at her door and they had connected in a way they never had before and started snogging right there without the need for words. Perhaps it was the fear of possibly dying tomorrow that they had ended up in bed perhaps that had just been an excuse, either way she would never regret it. “I thought we were just casual anyway, just a bit of fun you said.” She didn’t want him to know how deeply her feelings truly ran. She was terrified he would back off and shut her out. She alone fully knew how much he was hurting, how much he was refusing to admit to even himself that he was. She hoped that this would be a wakeup call for him to accept the help of his amazing family, to admit to himself he was not okay. 

“Oh Angie, if only you knew how much you mean to me. I’ve liked you for so long. Fred said I should not waste a day, if I liked you I should tell you. Why can’t I do that?” She went to answer him and convince him she really was standing right there but he continued to speak. “It’s not me you want, not really. Fred’s gone so I am the runner up prize.” The bitterness in that statement was unquestionable. 

“Blind as well as stupid.” She murmured, finally moving to his bedside. “I like you, I have always liked you. I miss Fred too, but he was my friend. It’s you I want to be with.” She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. His eyes fluttered open as she did so, the arm without a tube in it tried to hug her.

“You really are here?” He breathed. “I love you.” She could not stop the grin that spread over her face at his words. 

“You have a funny way of showing it.” She scolded mildly before kissing him again. “I love you too and if you ever try to kill your self again I will kill you.” 

“It was a mistake, I don’t want to kill myself.” He slid the back of his hand against her cheek. “Why is it so difficult to be taken seriously? I try so hard to be okay, it’s exhausting. When I go to bed I don’t sleep, not without a little help, I thought it couldn’t hurt. Instead I have hurt everyone, including myself.” 

“You had me worried sick you bastard.”

“The healer who treated me wants me to come in regularly. I am going to do it. Fred would be very upset if I worked myself to death, even if it was to keep our dream alive.”

“Fred would want you to be happy.”

“I know, but I never thought I would have to be happy without him.” She kissed him again more gentle this time, and pressed her forehead to his. 

“When my mum died so many people would say to me. She’s not really gone as long as you continue to love and remember her. I tried to believe it but most of the time I thought it was bullshit. But then when we won the house cup in fifth year and everyone was so happy. I thought I felt her there with me, for just a moment. It will never go away, but it gets easier to carry, and sometimes you have to let others help you too.”

“I will, I promise.” His eyes were a little bloodshot but they looked at her with such sincerity she knew it was true. They were going to be better together, there was a long way to go but he was definitely headed down a better path. 

 *

  Charlie floo’d home from the international port key department to find an empty house. 

“Mum? Dad?” He called to no reply. His concerns started to grow as he saw the abandoned mugs of tea still sitting on the kitchen table. His mother would never leave dishes unwashed. He walked to his mother’s clock, every hand apart from his own was pointing at St Mungo’s. “Fuck.”

Dropping his bag in the middle of the kitchen he Apparated right there. He rushed over to the welcome witch who gave him a practiced smile. “My family is here. Where are they?”

“Do you know the patient's name sir?”

“Weasley.” He yelled

“Charlie?” Bill strode over to his brother and pulled him into a hug. “Sorry, with all the commotion, I forgot you were getting in today.”

                  “Who is it? What’s happened?” Charlie asked, still panicked despite how calm Bill appeared to be. Bill always appeared calm.

“It’s George but he’s okay, more embarrassed about it all if I’m honest” the taller brother laid his arm across the shorter’s broad shoulders and led him to a set of chairs. “We have all been busy with our own shit we didn’t notice how much he’s been struggling to cope. He overdosed on a very potent brewing of the draft of peace. Ron found him, he’s been keeping a closer eye on George and helping him out in the shop as much as he can. It could’ve been worse, he was only comatose for a few hours.”

“At least one of us is looking out for the rest.” Charlie stated glumly. Bill looked at him sharply.

“Hey! That’s not fair. He has been very good at pretending to be okay, and it’s not like any of us are coping much better. Losing Fred, I still can’t believe he is actually gone, I half expect him to appear one day claiming it was all an elaborate prank.” Charlie snorted at that. 

“Pretty poor taste.” Was all he said and Bill nodded his agreement. They sat in silence for a moment. Charlie wanted to go see George and the rest of the family but something about Bill’s body language made him stay and wait. Bill and Charlie had always kept in close communication, the only person he perhaps conversed with more with was Ginny because she always had all the news from everybody else, and she never criticised his life choices like he knew their mother would. Bill had always been his confidant, his adviser, the first time he’d ever got drunk it had been with his big brother, true it had been Bill's fault. Likewise it had been him who had first heard about Fleur and his nerves about introducing her to the family.

“It’s so good to see you, I miss you.” Bill spoke up eventually, Charlie just nodded. They were not the type to delve into deep and emotional conversations, for them this was the equivalent of holding on each other and weeping.

“It is not easy to be so far away from you all, especially right now, but I love my work, and I know I would not be any help if I hung around at home. I just don’t feel like I fit there anymore.”

“I admit I found it difficult living there when I came back from Egypt. Even more so when Fleur moved in too. Having our own space has really helped. Don’t guilt yourself into coming back. George is as fine as he can be considering. We are all going to take better care in looking out for him, and he has promised to get professional help. Your heart is in Romania, with your dragons, even mum and dad know that. Come on, I will take you to see everyone else, I have been hogging your company for too long.”

Everyone was pleased to see Charlie. They crowded around him like the long lost relative he was, even George managed to brighten up at his brother’s arrival. Everyone apart from Ron who was still sitting with his head in his hands when Charlie sat beside him. 

“Cheer up Ronnie, you didn’t put him here.” Charlie said as brightly as he could muster.

“Didn’t I?” Ron stated glumly. “If I hadn’t been selfish last night and stayed over at George’s instead of my…” He paused looking around for their mother, seeing she was out of earshot he continued but still kept his voice low. “My girlfriend’s. He wouldn't be here now.”

“True he wouldn't be now. But who’s to say what would have happened another day? Unfortunately this was bound to happen eventually and what if it was a day nobody visited? You were there to save him Ron, he’s going to get the help he needs.”

“I suppose you are right.” He agreed glumly.

“Of course I am. Now go and see Georgie so he can say thank you for saving his life.” Ron managed a weak smile at that and got up to speak to George.                  

#hinny #hinny fanfic #hinny fanfiction #bleur #romione #post war hinny #my continuation of HP story #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #bill weasley #fleur weasley #Ron Weasley #hermione granger #charlie weasley #george weasley #Angelina Johnstone #georgina

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 6)

Summary: Logan goes for help. It doesn’t go well, but help (?) arrives anyway. Meanwhile, Patton makes a discovery.

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: There are some pretty hairy descriptions of violence in this chapter--brief, but potentially vivid. Also, Remus is finally involved, so watch out for that.

Word Count: 4,445

Read on AO3: here

People often underestimate how fast bears can run. They're so bulky, and most of the time are content to lumber along in an unhurried fashion. The best way to stop underestimating them is surely to be chased by one—anyone who experiences that will remember bears as the speedy animals that they actually are for however long the rest of their life might be.

The second-best way, though, might just be to ride one at a full gallop over miles of Narnian countryside.

Logan wondered just how fast they were going—he estimated between 35 and 40 kilometers per hour. With visual cues, he could have pinpointed their average speed more precisely, but he was clinging to Stoutpaws's back with his head down to minimize air resistance and his eyes closed to keep the freezing wind out of them. The bear's fur was unpleasantly coarse and smelled of a cloying mixture of dirt, honey, and wild animal, but Logan pushed all that to the back of his mind. This was necessary.

It was hours before they paused, and then only so Stoutpaws could shuffle to the top of a small bluff and confirm their destination. “That wood there,” he said, pointing with one paw. “Lantern Waste. That's where you came from, right, sir?”

“If the word 'Lantern' in the name refers to an antique lamppost stationed in the woods and inexplicably in operation, then yes. I believe the door we came through is just beyond it.”

“You use a lot of big words, don't you, sir?”

“I value precision in communication.”

They continued. Another hour brought them to the edge of Lantern Waste, and Stoutpaws slowed and let Logan dismount so that they could navigate more carefully. “Thus far, I do not recognize any specific landmarks,” the Logical Side noted after a time. “But it occurs to me that the lamppost is a unique feature in this forest, composed primarily of cast iron in contrast to the natural wood and stone that surrounds us. And I am given to understand that bears have an exceptionally keen olfactory sense. Perhaps you could locate it by scent?”

“I can certainly try, sir.” Stoutpaws reared up on his hind paws and turned his head from side to side with great nostril-flaring sniffs.

“As long as we are conversing, I would like to mention that there is no need to address me with an honorific. If you wish, you may call me by my name: Logan.”

“Oh no, sir, I couldn't do that. You're to be King, after all. And a fine one you'll make with your careful way of speaking, if I do say so myself.”

Logan found that he had no response to that. He recalled that the original book ended with the four children being crowned as monarchs of Narnia, but he couldn't say the prospect appealed to him. Neither did it pall, however. Still, he was pretty sure Stoutpaws had just complimented him, so he offered a nod of appreciation when he next met the beast's eye.

“No iron yet,” Stoutpaws was saying, “but I think the wind is against me. And there's something else...” He awkwardly pivoted on his paws, smelling to the northeast. “Hang on, that's the scent of reindeer! And lacquered wood! It's a sleigh! It's him—the White Warlock! He's after us!” He dropped back down to all fours and began pacing in a tight circle. “What shall we do, sir?”

“Let me up,” said Logan. “Head deeper into the wood and keep trying to smell out the lamppost.”

“I can't outpace the Warlock's sleigh!”

“Do your best, then, to buy us some time, and I'll work out a plan in the meantime.”

“Yes, sir!”

Stoutpaws took off at a dead gallop through the wood. They hadn't gone far when his nostrils flared wide and he declared, “I smell iron! ( puff, puff ) At least we're heading ( puff ) the right way!”

But just as they came within sight of the incongruous fixture, they began to hear, from somewhere behind them, the jingle of sleigh harness. “Oh, sir, he's coming ! He'll catch us for sure!”

Logan found himself wincing at the young bear's plaintive tone. “Let me down here.” Stoutpaws skidded to a halt and Logan dismounted once again. The sound of the sleigh was not as close as they had feared; Roman must have had to slow down among the trees. “I'll make it the rest of the way to the wardrobe on my own. You find a place to hide, and if anything should go wrong...please return to the others and let them know.”

“Nothing doing, sir! I-I promised to protect you with my life!”

“The best way for you to protect any of us right now is with information. Remember that, Stoutpaws. Knowledge is far more precious than strength or speed or even magic. Get yourself behind cover. Protect what you know.”

Stoutpaws's eyes were wide under his ears, half-flattened with fear. “Yes, sir,” he said meekly, before loping away toward denser brush. Logan stooped to pick up a pebble as the sound of the sleigh drew nearer and turned to sprint toward the lamppost just as it broke through the closest layer of trees and he heard Roman's bark of triumph.

Logan's turn of speed surprised even him, but he supposed it was only to be expected with the combination of adrenaline and fresh, unpolluted air. He had nothing on a reindeer-drawn sleigh, however, and with the grove of the wardrobe mere yards away, he felt a whiff of animal breath on the back of his head. In the next instant, he hurled the pebble as hard as he could into the grove and flung himself to one side in order to avoid being run down, losing his coat in the process. He landed hard, half-winded, the chill of the snow biting into his suddenly unprotected forearms, and wasn't able to pick himself up as quickly as he liked. He had only managed to raise himself up to his knees before Roman stood over him, looking every bit as menacing as he had that morning.

“I would have thought Virgil would be the one to try and escape. Did you really think I'd let any of you just leave?”

“Roman,” Logan panted, “this is highly uncharacteristic behavior for you. I would adv—”

“Spare me, Pointdexter, you're not my guidance counselor!” He reached out, and Logan found his chin forcibly tipped up by the end of what seemed to be an ornately carved icicle. “What was that you threw just then, Logan?”

Logan met his gaze with rock-steadiness. “A message.”

Roman's eyes widened and he turned to shout at his Dwarf attendant. “Hurry up! Get in there and intercept it!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Roman watched him scamper off before turning back to Logan. “It must suck to get so close to your goal and then fail at the last minute.”

Now that it was just the two of them, Logan noted, Roman had reverted to a more colloquial mode of speech. He carefully said nothing, balanced precariously between the desire to keep Roman talking and perhaps obtain clues to his precise mental state and how it had come about...and the need to avoid angering him further.

“Well? Don't you have anything to say?”

So much for remaining quiet... “I regret this course of events.”

“Funnily enough, I don't. Strike a pose, nerd.” Roman raised the icicle over his head, and Logan realized, just too late to defend himself, that it was actually a magic wand. He reflexively cringed away, taking whatever small comfort he could from the fact that he had succeeded at every part of his plan that was under his direct control...

  Patton decided to go for a walk. He'd had no luck at all cheering the Narnians up—if anything, their sadness was piling up on him, worsening his own—and he had reached the point where it was either get some fresh air and solitude, or have a breakdown in front of everyone.

Virgil insisted upon making sure it was safe first. They sent out a Talking Dog called Scuffer and a Raven by the name of Sallowpad out to scout the area by land and air, respectively, and make sure none of the enemy were nearby. Then one of the Fauns loaned Patton his pipes, so that he could blow an alert in case of any surprises. Thus equipped, Patton bundled into his fur coat and scrambled out of the shelter just ahead of the tears that were threatening to fall. The cold, clean air helped him gulp them back for the time being, and once he got farther from the camp, farther from all those forlorn faces and despondent voices, the space under the trees, with only his own quietly crunching footsteps and misty breaths for companions, helped to dissipate the horrid feelings.

Everything was going wrong. He couldn't deny that. The story wasn't going the way it should, not at all, and he and Virgil and Logan weren't familiar enough with it to figure out what the problem was and nudge it back on track, and he'd tried talking to the Narnians about the White Witch but their responses were always about the White Warlock as if whatever was going on with Roman had overwritten her, and...and...and...

And if Patton understood the situation with the Dryads correctly, Roman had just ordered someone killed in cold blood. She was just a figment of the Imagination, but it was still a cruel, vicious, tyrannical act! He just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of Roman, the noble fairy tale prince, doing something like that. But he knew he had to fix it, but how could he, when he couldn't figure out how it had come about?

How could he, when he couldn't even inject a little cheer into a ragtag group of talking animals and fantasy creatures?

He came to a small clearing—well, more of a space between large trunks. The branches of the trees arched overhead, nearly meeting in the middle, so that in the summer, with everything in full leaf, the ground beneath would be too shaded to let anything other than ferns and moss grow. Right now, of course, there was nothing but a thick layer of snow covering a slightly thinner layer of dead leaves...except in one spot, where there was a patch of sun that seemed to have built up just enough warmth to let the snow melt and reveal the musty earth.

And sitting in that patch of sun was a cat.

Despite everything, Patton almost laughed out loud—probably the only outdoor spot in all of Narnia that was even a little warm, and a cat had found it. The stifled laugh came out as more of a snort, and the cat—which had been lying down in a semi-circle with its back to him—twisted its head to see where the noise had come from. “Hiya, kitty,” Patton said shyly. “I didn't mean to bother you.”

The cat stood up, yawned, stretched, and sat. Now facing Patton, it looked up at him with intensely golden eyes. It was a handsome creature, with long, tawny-colored hair that didn't seem to have picked up any mats or burrs.

“I sure wish I could pet you,” Patton went on. “I think I could use some furry snuggles right now, but I'm afraid you'd set off my allergies.”

The cat hopped to its feet and walked up to the Moral Side, turning its body sideways as it approached. It stopped about a foot shy of making contact with his legs and gazed up at him, as if asking permission. “Well...” Patton said, “...I guess a minute or two can't hurt. If anyone asks I can blame my symptoms on the cold air.” He stooped and held out his hand, and the cat rammed itself against his legs before half-rearing up to rub its head against his outstretched knuckles. “Heh, listen to me, planning to tell a fib. I must be hanging out with Janus too much. Wow, you sure are friendly, aren't you? Do you talk at all? No? I guess even here, not everything can talk.”

He slouched until he was sitting with his back against one of the trees and shifted from letting the cat rub his hand to actively running his fingers through the fur of its head. “I just don't want Virgil to think I'm not being careful. I don't think I could stand disappointing anyone else today, you know?” He sniffed a few times and couldn't tell whether it was hay fever or his emotions starting to spill over again. “I don't understand what's happening , kitty. One of my best friends is acting like the bad guy! And he's always been so idealistic! He hates evil! What could possibly make someone do a one-eighty like that?”

He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. The sun must have been hitting the wood too, because it felt incongruously warm against his scalp. He continued to card his fingers through the cat's thick fur as fat tears finally began to leak from between his eyelids. Not hay fever, then. He didn't bother holding them back anymore. No one was around to be annoyed or to make a fuss over poor, sensitive, fragile Patton. It was just him and this startlingly affectionate feral cat. For a few minutes, he let the tears flow. They didn't freeze on his face—it wasn't quite that cold—so that was all right. They did make his cheeks burn a little from the salt and the chill of evaporation, but that was all part of the cleansing process. There was no better short-term therapy for icky feelings than a good cry.

The faucet gradually shut itself off. He suddenly envisioned Roman, the White Warlock, with his too-pale coloration and his huge ermine train and his icy crown with that monster diamond on it and his retinue of horror creatures. The image was unusually clear in his mind (Patton's imagination had always worked more based on how things made him feel, not how they looked), almost as if it were a painting that he could scrutinize at his leisure. For some reason, his attention kept getting drawn back to that diamond. Patton grew very pensive. If the diamond was drawing his notice, then maybe his gut had picked up on something important about it, and Patton was not in the habit of ignoring his gut. Not when it craved chocolate chip cookies, and not in situations like this.

He had to file the thought away for later, because the cat was suddenly pawing at his leg. “What is it, buddy? Are we done with pets?”

The cat ran a short distance away, stopped, and looked back over its shoulder at him, blinking meaningfully.

“You want me to follow you? Okay, gimme a sec to get up.” He braced against the tree and heaved himself to his feet, then let the cat lead him out of the clearing.

(He completely failed to notice that the snow dwindled away under its paws, only to return as it passed.)

He followed his guide for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, to a small grove of evergreens, like a forgotten Christmas tree farm. He hadn't know what to expect, but he was surprised anyway by the sight of none other than Ailim, kneeling near the center of the grove, her posture slumped. Directly in front of her was the stump of a pine tree that had been sawn off about two feet above the ground. The cut looked quite fresh, and—oh. Oh. Oh...heck.

“Ailim?” he said.

“Oh!” she responded, startled. “It's Patton, isn't it? What are you doing here?”

“My new fuzzy friend brought me.”

She just looked perplexed. “What friend?”

Patton looked around, but the cat was suddenly nowhere to be seen. “Well, he was here...I guess he led me here for a reason.”

“I apologize for appearing in this unseemly state.”

“No, please don't! You have every right to be out of sorts! Do you...maybe...want to talk about it?”

She looked downcast again. “There is little enough to talk about. The Hags divined the whereabouts of Muricata's tree and the party dragged us both here. She could barely keep her feet, so they made me hold her up. They used a saw. I felt her agony as her trunk was gouged apart.”

Patton flinched. His gorge rose slightly.

“When the tree fell, I felt the life leave her. Then she vanished from my arms. My sister...she is gone from the world. It is as if she had never sprouted.”

Patton rushed forward, shrugged out of his coat, and draped it over the miserable Dryad. She wasn't crying, but she evidently had been earlier; twin trails of hardened yellow resin ran from her eyes down to her chin. “I'm so sorry,” he murmured. Beyond that, he was at a loss. He wanted to promise her to make it better, but...her sister was gone . Murdered. Cut down in her prime (literally).

They hadn't even been neat about it. The stump was scarred with a shallow cut well below where it had eventually been felled. Patton ran his fingers over it, his heart squeezing in vicarious anguish. It seemed they had tortured Muricata first...but Ailim hadn't mentioned torture in her brief description of the execution.

As if she could tell what he was thinking, she said, “They started there, but the Warlock told them to do it higher up instead. I don't know why.”

Patton's heart was suddenly hammering against his ribs. This felt important . What was he looking for? What was the difference between the lower cut and the upper one, that Roman would make that call? Did he just want a convenient place to sit down in the forest? No, that was silly. Patton wished he were smart like Logan so he could figure out this sort of thing. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again they refocused of their own accord at the farther edge of the cut stump, where there was a sprig of greenery...

Patton walked around and peered closely at a few sprouts of fresh green needles growing directly out of the side of the trunk, as happens on pine trees. “Um...Ailim?,” he said, his voice wobbling with uncertainty, “I don't know if this helps at all, but this tree isn't totally dead. They left a growing part.”

“What?” Ailim said breathlessly, letting the coat fall from her shoulders as she sprang up. She leaned over the stump without touching it, peering at the needles. “You speak the truth. There is life left in the tree; it may yet regrow.” She gathered an armload of snow from the forest floor and spread it over the top of the stump. “In the meantime, this will protect it.”

“Does that mean your sister would come back?”

“I cannot say. The tree might acquire a new spirit, or Muricata might emerge again but without her previous memories. Or it might remain an unawakened tree, alive but with no sentient soul. But it seems that for all his wickedness, the White Warlock chose to leave this door open.”

“Yeah...” Patton said. “He made sure they cut above the growth. And he let you go. Ailim, will you come back to the camp with me? Everyone will be glad to see you're okay, and I think we should all sit down and try to figure out what it means that Roman did this. My head's starting to hurt from trying to solve these puzzles on my own.”

“Nevertheless,” said Ailim, fetching Patton's coat and offering it back to him, “you spotted this sign. You have given me a measure of hope, however slim. Thank you, Patton.”

And as they started back toward the Hill of the Stone Table, Patton began to feel like a few things were going right after all.

Halfway there, it suddenly occurred to him that the cat hadn't set off his allergies in the slightest.

Huh. That was weird.

Anything can happen in the Mindscape. Expect, as they say, the unexpected.

But Janus was of the opinion that there was no excuse for him to be walking along the upstairs hallway simply minding Thomas's business and suddenly get jumped out of nowhere. One instant everything was normal, the next he was flat on his back, struggling to hold a knife away from his face while the wielder of the knife, who had bulbous features and a shocking quantity of beard, was snarling at him. He caught something about a message and a warlock, but his attacker seemed to have worked himself up into a lather long before encountering Janus and was, in the main, unintelligible.

This left Janus with no clue what the fellow wanted, and when you don't know what someone wants you can't give it to them (or convince them that you've given it to them and pocket the difference) and get them to stop trying to stick a knife in your eye. Add to that the fact that he'd been completely unprepared for this, and that his attacker was noticeably stronger than himself, and Janus was well and truly up [Censored for indelicate language] Creek, sans paddle.

If there was one thing he hated, it was not being in quiet control of a situation. If there was one thing he utterly despised, it was having to adapt on the fly.

Well, if anyone in the Mindscape knew how to cope with [Censored] Creek...besides, this was probably his fault anyway.

“REMUSSSSSS!!!” Janus hissed, even though he was trying not to. High stress had that effect on him.

He heard, in the following order: rapidly approaching footsteps, “What's u—WOW!”, a sickening crunch as Remus's morningstar made contact, and the heavy thump of a body hitting the wall. Then Janus was free. He sat up to take stock.

His attacker was definitely dead, given the shape of his head, and he was a lot shorter than Janus would have assumed given his strength—a fantasy dwarf, then. That was all he was able to discern before the being evaporated into sparkling motes of light that dissipated: proof positive that he had been a figment. “Mind explaining what that was all about, Your Disgrace?” he said.

Remus was pouting at his weapon, probably because the victim's blood had also vanished. “Your guess is as good as mine, my favorite phallic symbol. Must have been one of my brother's.”

That gave Janus pause. He'd assumed, once Roman barged in on the morning's assemblage and then the entire cadre vanished for the day, that he had taken them on a jaunt in the Imagination...but to let a mayhem-oriented figment out unsupervised? That suggested...difficulties. And when he considered the dwarf's vague reference to a message...hm.

“Purely in the interest of maintaining order in this psyche,” he said in the most chipper tone he could manage, “I am going to get to the bottom of this.” He stood up, dusted himself off, and headed for Roman's room.

Remus, unsurprisingly, was right behind him. “Sounds like a blast! There's always plenty to maim when Roman gets into adventure mode! I'm coming too!”

“I'd be simply delighted to have your company,” said Janus. Remus, bless him, either missed the sarcasm or didn't care.

Roman's room was a mess, which was nothing out of the ordinary. This mess appeared to be the result of a deliberate ransacking, which was. Presumably the dwarf was the culprit; perhaps he'd been looking for the “message.”

The doorway to the Imagination, which had taken the form of a large wooden double-doored cupboard, stood wide open. One door actually hung askew from a single hinge, befitting the overall atmosphere of the room. Janus summoned his crook as a precaution before stepping inside.

About a minute later, he was already having regrets. Roman had made some sort of winter wonderland, and Janus's semi-reptilian biology was already starting to protest being made to function in the low temperatures. He turned up his collar, pulled down his hat, and tucked his free hand into his capelet, but he was going to have to find more layers somewhere. Maybe he could get Remus to create him a nice wool coat. Or some longjohns. (Although he was hesitant to ask, as he wouldn't put it past the Duke to instead grant him a yak pelt so fresh that it was still bleeding.)

“Hey, look, someone made an ice sculpture of the buzzkill!”

Janus looked up from his ruminations. Remus had indeed discovered a life-sized, transparent statue of Logan, but upon closer inspection, it proved to be not ice but rock crystal (silicon dioxide, as Logan himself would specify). The Logical Side was depicted kneeling, leaning back on one hand and flinging the other one up and out as if in self-defense. His expression was decidedly alarmed, and taken as a whole, the presentation made Janus distinctly uneasy. And the more he inspected the sculpture, the more that feeling grew. The thing was unreasonably detailed. He could make out the knit texture of his polo shirt and individual strands of hair...and because it was transparent, he could see that the carving went layers deep—Logan's necktie ran completely around underneath his shirt collar, and his eyes were engraved behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Welp!” Remus was saying, raising his morningstar. “Smashy smashy!”

The horrible truth dawned on Janus just in time. He lashed out with his crook to snag Remus's ankle and pull him off-balance before he could bring the weapon down.

“Awwwww! What did you do that for, J-Anus?”

Janus found himself trembling, and no longer could he blame it entirely on the cold. “Speaking purely as a hypothetical,” he said with an embarrassing creak in his voice, “what if that weren't, by the strictest definition, a sculpture?”

Remus tilted his head in confusion. “Well, what else would it...” His kohl-rimmed eyes widened in some chaotic hybrid of shock and glee. “Nooo! You mean someone's gone and put the ol' Medusa whammy on Geekboy?”

“Obviously.” Janus looked around the snowy forest, wary of everything. “I think,” he said, choosing his words with the utmost of care, because they were the truth, “that there is a great deal of trouble afoot here.”

#sanders sides #fanfiction #lamp/calm #Platonic LAMP/CALM #dlampr #platonic dlampr #narnia #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #villainous roman

[spaceschool]

🎄That’s right! It’s time to start getting ready for Space School’s 7th annual 12 DAYS OF GUESTMAS! 🎄

It’s that time of year again! Time to start getting ready for this year’s Spacemas!

BASIC INFO:

I need to fill about 10 guest comic slots.

Comics should be at least 1 single page. (Max 4 pages)

Comics should be in full color.

Comics need to be X-mas/Winter themed!

I also accept illustrations, but they must have a clear narrative or dialogue!

Tone can be humorous, serious, anything like that. As long as it’s Space School and X-mas/Winter themed all at once.

DEADLINE IS DECEMBER 13TH FOR ALL FINISHED ART!

HOW TO APPLY:

DON’T send me any completed art, instead just send your idea/pitch for what you’d like to do for said comic.

Link or attach example of your art or portfolio!

Send all of this to my e-mail [email protected]

Label e-mail “Space School Guest Comic Pitch”

And  that’s about it! It’s pretty flexible and this is all in good fun! I  would be honored if some of you applied to make a guest comic this year!(If you applied last year, feel free to apply again this year if you’re feeling up to it. I loved all the artists I worked with last year and would love to work with ya’ll again.)

This full post on Tumblr has more info about Space School and Christmas/Guestmas in general in case you're curious!

Below is more info about Guestmas and Christmas time in Space School:

Space School Christmas Illustrations by year:

2011

2012

2013

2014

2015

2016 (PART 2)

2017

2018

2019

Original 12 Days of Spacemas announcement image

12 DAYS OF GUESTMAS 2014

12 DAYS OF GUESTMAS 2015

12 DAYS OF GUESTMAS 2016

12 DAYS OF GUESTMAS 2017

12 DAYS OF GUESTMAS 2018

12 DAYS OF GUESTMAS 2019

I would love to see some of these past outfits re-created in any comics but new ones or just general winter themed outfits are fine too. Zeggy should most always be Santa though, unless joke calls for otherwise. BUT! Jokes trump everything– if it’s funny, I want it.

SPACE SCHOOL AND THE HOLIDAYS:

Because Winter-time has always been a time of hoilday-stuffs for lots of places and planets (especially those who were colonized by Earth or Nubia) Space School most often gives the whole school lots of time off in December from school-life.

All holidays are accepted to celebrated within the walls as long as everyone is being respectful of each other– as with most things in Space School. The School decorates mostly with lights and tries to stay away from leaning one way or the other. Students are allowed to decorate inside their dorms as they please, obviously.

Most students leave home to their respective planets for the holidays but some students and teachers stay at the school thru the whole month– sometimes celebrating together!

It’s an exciting and peaceful time for everyone~

Alkaline, Zeggy, and Toggy usually go home for the holidays (sometimes together) and Joe stays at the school. Sometimes Joe joins Toggy, Terrago, and Omnivera at their homes.

Dude, Maleena, and Vava either see their separate families alone or all stay together in their home near the school.

Dennis and Booker spend the holiday cooped up alone at Booker’s apartment avoiding everyone but each other.

ZEGGY AND HIS PLANET’S CULTURE:

Zeggy is canonically the most all about Christmas out of the whole group.

X-mas was an adopted holiday by Ollce when Earth colonized the planet and as such, it resembles Christmas as we known it with some key differences.

As far as the tree goes, it starts out as a sculpted pile of dirt resembling a tree or other X-mas object that is watered thru the month with various glowing mushrooms and other fun alien-glowy-bits appearing as it’s watered– so by the time Christmas rolls around the tree will have grown it’s own ornaments to light up the room!

You buy bags of seed/spores each year for the tree, these bags make great gifts and are often put in stockings!!!

Otherwise, a lot of the traditions are the same with either having different looking aesthetics. They do stockings, presents under the tree, and Santa– who instead of having a sleigh– instead rides a single giant mole (which is a creature from purple planet, I can provide reference for) and is of course, purple himself. He rides this mole– who is named Rudolf, around all the underground cities of Ollce delivering presents to all the kids.

Zeggy gets into the holiday spirit way too early and way too fast. He decorates his whole dorm room as well as wearing as much X-mas accessories as he’s allowed over his school uniform.

He’s the type of person to put everything non-Christmas away and replace it with Christmas themed things.

He absolutely spoils Alkaline with tons and tons and way too many gifts– all of which are extremely personalized.

Otherwise, he only buys presents for his parents/grandparents, Joe, Toggy, and gives cards to his teachers. Most of his efforts go towards Alkaline.

He eats a billion food, sings a billion songs, and is fucking obnoxious. It’s beautiful.

ALKALINE AND HIS TRADITIONS:

Alkaline likes Christmas just as much as everyone else and is definitely not as hype as Zeggy because who could match Zeggy’s energy, honestly. But, he definitely gets into the spirits! Enjoys the food, drink, songs, presents– etc.

Christmas on Earth is very similar to what we think of it now which some differences– many of which haven’t totally been decided upon so feel free to have some fun interpretations.

Christmas has most definitely become a non-religious holiday in most all senses on Earth. It’s more just about the aesthetics and being with family members, buying fits, eating food, etc.

Alkaline is either with Zeggy in his home on Ollce or has Zeggy over on Earth. He stays with his Mom and Sister, visiting extended family on Christmas Day for dinner.

Alkaline buys everyone he knows presents– even if it’s just something small!

I usually draw Alkaline as a reindeer because Alkaline with antlers is super cute.

JOE’S ‘CHRISTMAS’:

Christmas isn’t celebrated where Joe is from– they have other traditions. However; Christmas Day is actually Joe’s birthday– which he usually chooses to spend alone or with Dennis or Lorna (his girlfriend)– depending on the age.

As such, Joe doesn’t care too much about Christmas and see’s it more of just as “his birthday” but starts to appreciate the holiday more when Zeggy’s festive spirit invades him. And, he likes the presents.

I’m sure Zeggy and Joe have some special X-mas moments together with Zeggy trying to show Joe all about “The Christmas Spirit”!

TOGGY’S TRADITIONS:

On Nubia, they don’t really have a Christmas but rather a big celebration of a New Year like holiday where they begin the new calendar year.  Like Christmas, it’s a time to celebrate with family and loved ones.  

Typically people travel long distances to spend the two days reunited with family, and everything shuts down.  The most important part of the festivities is to tell stories about the year–letting out stress or frustration while also reliving good moments and bonding with family members.  

This is always accompanied by large amounts of alcoholic beverages, which are enjoyed by all ages.  

Oftentimes everyone gets really smashed the first day and then sleeps it off the next.   Food varies from region to region but typically includes mostly unprocessed foods such as berries and vegetables, or dried lizard or fish jerky. As the festivities mark the beginning of the new year, many Nubians will dye their hair to a different color or get a new piercing around this time. Presents aren’t really a thing on Nubia, though it is common for parents and grandparents to give their children small sums of money to encourage them to have new adventures in the new year.  

Toggy’s family is a bit more accustomed to Earth traditions though, and so he tries to buy his close friends gifts for “Christ-mass” but they are always strange and often food.

DUDE, MALEENA, VAVA:

The 3’s traditions are similar to Alkaline’s since they’re all from Earth– so not much to say there.

Dude spends a lot of time in an apron baking cookies, cakes, etc as presents for everyone he knows and Vava and Maleena definitely gain some weight this time of year.

They all get drunk a lot and laugh a lot and just have a good time together BEING A LIL FAMILY.

Dude always makes sure to exchange presents with students he’s helped thru the year; since he often takes troubled students under his wing.

DENNIS AND BOOKER:

Booker nicely decorates his apartment and spends a lot of time with Dennis on the couch eating food and talking. They frick a lot too.

It’s chill.

OMNIVERA AND TERRAGO:

As the resident “gays into roleplays”, Omnivera and Terrago do a lot of dressing up for X-mas.

There’s a lot of time Terrago will be with Toggy’s family with them– and so I’m sure Omnivera is there sometimes as well. In a billion, expensive outfits.

The two of them absolutely spoil each other and nobody else in presents– except for Toggy who they buy something for– OF COURSE.

NOTE ABOUT REX: Due to some wild stuff happening with the creator of Rex, Rex will no longer be appearing in Space School and therefore should not be appearing in any Guest Comics! Sorry!

AND PLEASE, FEEL FREE TO ADD NEW HEAD-CANONS OR INTERPRETATIONS FOR FUTURE HOLIDAYS!! REALLY, THIS STUFF IS JUST HERE TO GET YOU STARTED SO GO HAVE LOTS AND LOTS OF FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#guestmas #comic #spacemas #xmas #open call #christmas #chrimbus #holiday #holidays #festive #space school #2020 #darkchibishadow

[amplesalty]

Christmas 2020: Day 5 - Rudolph and Frosty's Christmas in July (1979)

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

FIVE EVIL KINGS!

“Christmas...in July?!” I hear you scoff “What a preposterous idea.” Well, maybe not. After such an unprecedented year as 2020 has been, governments around the world find themselves in the delicate position of trying to further the public health whilst trying to stimulate their economies that are circling the drain. Plus, do you want to be seen as the Grinch figure who cancelled Christmas? That’s going to look real good come next election season, isn’t it? Well, what if we didn’t cancel Christmas..just postpone it instead. Did you know that the retail industry does 50% of its business between December 1st and December 25? That’s half a year’s business in just one month’s time. But with the inherent risk of everyone piling into stores and the already lost time from all these lockdowns, why not delay things slightly to allow us all time to get this new vaccination. Seems to me that Boris Johnson would be wise to legislate a second such gift giving holiday. Create, say, a Christmas 2 next Summer to stimulate growth.

Thank you, Danny Trejo. I’m just surprised it took me this long to mention COVID-19. It took me like the very first sentence of the October marathon. I suppose the Christmas season doesn’t really lend itself to it as much, though Kevin McCallister was doing pioneering work in that whole social distancing thing back in the day.

But yes, Rudolph and Frosty. After seeing both their specials over the past couple of years, why not watch them together in some sort of superstar tag team in their own feature length motion picture epic? I’m jumping ahead slightly in the Rankin/Bass cinematic universe which apparently was a little unwise as I missed a couple of important plot points.

Like, apparently Frosty had kids at some point? How does that work? Do snowmen fuck? I mean, Frosty was always a little dim so it kinda feels a bit weird like Buddy the Elf having kids by the end of Elf. Did kids build him a wife, bring her to life and then their combined magic allows them to have sentient children? Or do they have to be built and brought to life too? How many magic hats to these kids have access to? Is there just a factory somewhere pumping these things out? I can’t believe I have so many questions about an anthropomorphic snowman.

Nevermind that shit though, there’s a whole backstory going on that we need to dive into full of evil wizards and deities appearing on Earth in human form. Many years ago the wicked King Winterbolt ruled over the land with an iron first and a frosty sceptre capable of great magic. But against him stood Lady Boreal.

Queen of the Northern Lights! Oh for God’s sake, first It’s a Wonderful Life comes back to haunt me and now this. Why do so many Christmas movies have so many instances of the goddamn aurora borealis?! Anyway, she rocks up and is like “Stop all this evil tyranny business.” and he’s like “lol, no” and tries to shoot her with his magic missile, to which she’s like “Bitch, please.” and puts him into a deep slumber. But nothing lasts forever and eventually Winterbolt awakens and finds like the North land has a much more jolly leader in the form of Santa and vows to overthrow him with a rather longwinded scheme involving him winning the love of all the children of the world by making Santa get lost in a great snow storm. Then, Winterbolt can emerge with his own supply of toys and become the new Santa!

But with her last ounce of strength, Lady Boreal transfers her remaining magic into baby Rudolph’s shiny nose. Or maybe this is some Biblical level shit and she put Rudolph upon the Earth to be the saviour of Christmas, that he might grow up to lead Santa’s sleigh through the dark and stormy night. Where was this angle in the original Rudolph?! Kinda re-writes that whole part about him being shunned by Santa and his own Father too. Does kinda take that whole ‘embrace who you are’ thing to a new level when you were pretty much created by a God to have this one seemingly life altering feature about you that actually means you’re destined for greatness. Bit of a test of these other reindeer too, this is how you treat he I have delivered unto you?!

So, now that we have some meddlesome reindeer getting in the way, Winterbolt sets off on some longwinded and convoluted plan that involves Rudolph and Frosty going to a 4th of July circus in order to trick Rudolph into committing an evil act that will void Lady Boreal’s magic. Plus, he gives Frosty and family some amulets that will prevent them from melting but only up until the last firework fades. And to do all this he uses some sort of magic snow which can implant ideas in peoples heads? So he gets this ice cream guy to encourage Rudolph and Frosty to be in the show to boost ticket sales and help his girlfriend. This guy by the way rides around in a hot air balloon and keeps a supply of ice cream at the North Pole. Dude, it’s called a freezer.

I love how they make this big thing about what an attraction Rudolph will be but his act is literally him standing in the middle of the tent, they use a fog machine on him and he uses his nose to shine through the fog. Then he just flies away. I mean, I suppose just having a flying reindeer is pretty spectacular in and of itself but give them a little more for their money, tell a joke or something.

This whole middle portion of the movie is a bit of a drag though. Just really boring and full of filler songs about the circus. I don’t know why this movie is as long as it is at like 98 mins. If you trimmed it down you’d have something a lot more solid. I’d say the one highlight in this portion is when Winterbolt goes to what seems to be this movies equivalent of a doss house and finds this really shady reindeer he can use to trick Rudolph. Just seeing this evil genius in Winterbolt interacting with this scuzzy landlord and finding this bum reindeer is just really weird.

There’s a neat version of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree too. Has this slight country, Dolly Parton feel to it and is a bit more uptempo than the original.

I was pretty disappointed during this whole section and was worried that it would end up like Frosty but it won me back again in the end by tapping into some of that uncharacteristic dark Christmas feel that Rudolph had. Where that was more cynical, this gets oddly morbid.

Like, the plan is for Santa to swing by and pick up Frosty and family in order to take them back to the North Pole before the fireworks finish so they don’t melt. Frosty is still really antsy though and is keen to duck out, even if that means missing the fireworks. Bizarrely, his kids question him on this and ask him what kind of patriot he is. I guess I never really thought of Frosty being American like that but I guess they did refer to him as having just being born when they put that hat on him. Plus he’s always saying ‘Happy birthday!’ when he wakes up so you could say he was born in America. Only trouble is, Winterbolt has whipped up a ferocious storm that means Santa is heavily delayed.

So you get these scenes of Frosty, his wife and kids all coming to terms with their own fragile mortality as they watch these 100 fireworks going off one by one, with each rocket flying into the sky acting like another grain of sand in the egg timer of their life, another second ticking away toward their impending doom. Just these kids looking up to their mother and telling her that they promise they’ll be brave...oh my God.

Or Rudolph having to give a false confession to stealing the takings from the circus in exchange for Winterbolt keeping the amulets powers going so that Frosty wont melt. Only Frosty knows the real truth, so everyone just shuns Rudolph. His friends turn their back on him, the crowd boo him and his nose wont light up anymore. Cue a mournful Rudolph solo which culminates in him crying as he sticks his nose in some glitter trying to replicate the beaming light it once gave off. Poor little guy.

But apparently not everyone has given up on Rudolph becomes he comes... a whale with a clock on it?! Apparently this guy was in one of the Rudolph films that came before this, just what in the hell did I miss?

Even after a showdown between Rudolph and Winterbolt where Rudolph gets Frosty’s hat back, Winterbolt is still out for vengeance and comes to the circus for a final showdown. To which the lady that runs the circus has the most appropriate response possible...

Reach for the skies, pilgrim! Only, her guns are just props that fire blanks so she just hurls the guns at Winterbolt and they promptly shatter his magic staff and he turns into a tree. Ooooooookay then.

I feel like Lady Boreal could have saved us a lot of hassle if she’d put Winterbolt to sleep and then took his staff away rather than just leaving it laying around for him to use again when he finally awoke.

For a second there in the middle I thought that this would be more of a Frosty than a Rudolph but it redeemed itself a bit by the end. Probably not quite to the levels of Rudolph but I enjoyed the bookends of it. If they’d cut some of the middle out and kept it under an hour, I’d be a lot happier with it. Apparently there’s another Rudolph movie that came out in the early 2000’s that revists a lot of those characters from the first one so I’m really tempted to watch that as well but I feel like I already rode my luck here and I’d really tarnish my positive memories of the original by watching a cheap cash in. I probably will just watch it anyway though so I guess we’ll find out next year.

#Christmas 2020 #Rudolph #Frosty #Rudolph and Frosty's Christmas in July

[shortskirtsandsarcasm]

The Raven and the Reindeer Review

The Raven and the Reindeer is the November-December Mythtake book club read. I haven’t taken part in this book club before, but The Snow Queen, on which this book is based, is one of my favorite fairytales, so I decided to go along for the ride. The rough storyline is that two best friends, Gerta and Kay, live next door to each other, but Kay has a shard of cold, enchanted glass from a magical mirror embedded in his heart, which primes him to be susceptible to temptation from the Snow Queen. Kay follows the Snow Queen to her palace, and the community gives him up for dead, but Gerta is certain she can save him. She completes a hero’s journey style adventure to get Kay back from the Snow Queen and encounters various eccentric characters and challenges, including a talking raven. This review contains “spoilers” for the original story — don’t @ me, you have had 176 years to read it.

In preparation for reading this book, I reread The Snow Queen story in my Amazon Classics edition of Hans Christian Andersen’s stories. I think this is edition is either done by a different translator or is an abridged version, because The Snow Queen story and others in the collection were missing details that I remember from my well-loved edition that is currently residing in my parents’ garage in California. For example, the witch Gerta encounters at the beginning of her journey shrinks the rose bushes in her garden back into the ground, so that Gerta will not remember her quest to find her friend Kay, or that the rose bushes grow back, watered by Gerta’s tears when she cries about not being able to remember something important.

Similarly, the Robber Maiden character does not “tickle” Gerta with her knife, nor are there snowflake soldiers guarding the Snow Queen’s palace. The snowflake soldiers are my favorite detail from the story, and I am very sad they were not included in either this edition of Andersen’s stories or The Raven and the Reindeer. Where are the snowflake soldiers??? Bring these bad boys back.

Kingfisher takes several liberties with her retelling and the story is better for it. Gerta still believes that Kay is her soulmate, but also engages in a female-female romance somewhere along the way. The talking raven makes an appearance as well (duh, it’s in the title), and in this version, helps Gerta shape-shift. Exciting.

By expanding the parameters of the original story, Kingfisher can give the characters more depth and development. For example, in this version, Gerta thinks critically about her relationship with Kay, and how he displays toxic behavior (because of the evil glass in his heart, definitely not because of toxic masculinity and the patriarchy).

This makes Gerta reevaluate why she wants to save him in the first place, and if that will be worth it for her (and him). When they eventually do come back together, they will have a lot to talk through for their relationship going forward.

Kay is the only male character in the entire book, and he is a very passive character, so the narrative is female-driven. The exploration of old women is also a big part of the story and shows the different paths ahead for Gerta herself as she ages. The first witch she comes across (the one with, or rather without, the rosebushes) is obsessed with holding onto her relationship with Gerta and preventing her from leaving, much the way Gerta views her relationship with Kay.

Next on her adventure, Gerta meets a storyteller who agrees to help her in exchange for her story, so she can entertain her community. Gerta relays her adventure so far but warns that it is so bizarre that no one will believe it. The storyteller assures her it does not matter; that people are less interested in facts as much as feelings.

“No one wants true stories. They want stories with truth dusted over them, like sugar on a bun.”

Gerta’s entire motivation for her trek to the Snow Queen’s palace is her feelings for Kay, without regard for the realities of their relationship, including how Kay does not appreciate her as much as she deserves.

The next woman she encounters is the Robber Maidens grandmother, a grumpy woman who brags about her cannibalism like a totally normal person.

“Stop it,” said Janna, annoyed. “You ate a man once fifty years ago, and you relive it like it was your glory days.” “Everybody should eat somebody once,” said Nan. “Changes your mind about a lot of things. Aaha!”

Gerta views Nan as a “bad” person — possibly because of the cannibalism thing? Who can say — and projects her fears about her own future onto Nan. Gerta is worried she will grow to be lonely and embittered like Nan if she does not find her #soulmate Kay.

The last old woman Gerta encounters is Livli, a woman living presumably near or north of the Arctic Circle, whose secret knowledge of magic helps Gerta shapeshift. Livli is a morally neutral character who shows Gerta how to be self-reliant without being embittered, and by facilitating her literal shape-shifting, helps her “shape-shift” from childhood to adulthood. After this, Gerta can finally be comfortable with herself.

The addition of the characters of the otters who pull the Snow Queens sleigh was charming. It was almost enough to displace my displeasure about losing the snowflake soldiers…almost. The otter herd was cute and funny and was both an interesting obstacle, and eventually a helping influence. The portrayal of the otters as a single entity with many bodies enriched the “herd” vibe and enhanced the surreal comedy. Otters also sound very cute and I would love to have an otter herd as pets and travel everywhere by sleigh. Maybe “Snow Queen” is my dream job? Highly doubt I will be promoted in this economy, though.

To conclude, T Kingfisher’s acknowledgments section is possibly the best I have ever seen. I snort-laughed at the “Hans Christian Andersen was a weird dude,” opener. In continues

“Hans Christian Andersen. Wow. His idea of a happy ending is that everybody dies attended by angels (or if you are very very fortunate, in church with your feet cut off)…I have not the least doubt in the world that he would be utterly horrified at what I have done to the Snow Queen.”

LOL. I was delighted.

#the raven and the reindeer #the snow queen #t kingfisher #hans christen anderson #fairytale #fairytale retelling #mythtakereads #mythtakebookclub #book #books #books and libraries #books and writing #retelling #booklr #book review #book rec

[captain-kingliamsqueen]

IT’S CHRISTMMMASSSS Liam x Riley

Pairing: Liam x MC

Word Count: 1,940

Masterlist

 ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance! 

Tags aren’t working so I will be tagging in the comments.

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Riley smiled as she felt the arms of her husband snake around her waist as he nuzzled his chin into the crevice between her neck and shoulder after placing the softest kiss on her skin. “Merry Christmas Beautiful” he whispered “Merry Christmas, Liam” Riley smiled as she fell into his chest with a content sigh allowing him to hold her a little tighter. the couple stood in front of the floor to ceiling hotel window that looked over New York city. Riley and Liam had finally managed to get some free time, they had a couple of weeks over Christmas free from any obligations, so they had decided to take a trip with their friends to New York.

“what are you doing up? It’s still early”

“it’s snowing” she grinned “it looks beautiful out there”

“it does doesn’t it” he smirked

“why don’t we go back to bed, it’s a little cold” Riley pulled her blanket a little tighter around her.

“I would love that” 

The two made their way over to the queen-sized bed. Riley pulled the duvet tight around her as she cuddled into Liam's chest, his hands gently running up and down her back.

“its nice…just getting to lie here and be with you and not have a timeline to stick to” Riley whispered

“if only we could do this every morning” Liam replied in the same tone.

“maybe one day”

“did Maxwell tell you he’s taking us to a karaoke bar tonight after dinner?” she chuckled

“no he did not…isn’t there anywhere else we can go, I hate karaoke”

“yes, but you’ve never been to karaoke with me!”

“don’t get any ideas…you have that look in your eyes” he chuckled.

“what look?” Riley smirked

“you know exactly what look I’m talking about”

“what time is everyone coming for breakfast?” Riley asked as she gently ran her finger over Liam's torso.

“about nine thirty/tenish”

“I have something for you”

“you do?”

“yeah” Riley turned and reached into the bedside drawer, she lifted a small box then turned to face Liam again with a smile. The two sat up to lean against the headboard as Riley passed Liam the box.

“Riley, you didn’t have to get me anything, I have everything I could ever want, I have you”

“as sweet as that is…shut up and open it” she grinned

Liam carefully opened the box to see two red diamond cufflinks.

“is that?” he asked taken back.

“yes” she grinned “you didn’t want you’re mothers favourite earrings thrown away…you gave them to me for me to wear, but I thought it would be nice if you could wear them, so I had the red diamonds made into cufflinks. I know how much your mother meant to you Liam, I hope you’re not mad I just thought it would be nice for you to be able to keep a piece of your mother close” she smiled, she seen a small tear roll down the side of Liam's face, he gently reached up to wipe it away.

“Riley, I could never be mad at you, this is the nicest thing anyone could have ever done, I wish you knew how much this means to me” he smiled he gently placed the box on his bedside table before facing Riley, he placed his hand gently on her check then leaned in giving her the most loving kiss.

“I love you Riley, so much, so so much”

“I love you too, Liam” she whispered as she gave him a gentle peck. The couple stayed in bed for a further fifteen minutes then they got up to get ready for the day ahead of them, they showered and done their usual hygiene routines, Riley dressed in a red cozy jumper, black jeans and brown boots, whilst Liam dressed in some casual jeans and a grey jumper, blue jeans and a pair of brown boots.

By the time nine forty-five hit, there was a knock at the door. Liam opened the door letting everyone in.

“Merry Christmas, Man” Drake gave Liam's shoulder a pat as he walked in

“Merry Christmas drake”

“Merry Christmas Your Majesty” Hana smiled as she gently curtseyed

“Hana…how many times do I have to tell you…just Liam is fine and you don’t need to curtsey we’re friends Hana”

Hana grinned as she nodded then hugged him before walking in just as Hana let go another set of arms wrapped around Liam

“MERRY CHRISTMAS LIAM!!”

“yes, merry Christmas to you to max” Liam laughed as he patted Maxwell’s back

“Maxwell! Come on move!” Olivia barked as she stood behind him trying to get by.

“she’s uh a little uptight today” Maxwell pulled a face to Liam which resulted in a light tap to the back of the head from Olivia.

“Merry Christmas Olivia” Liam smirked

“Merry Christmas, Liam” she smiled as she walked in. Liam and Riley had arranged for the hotel to send up a whole buffet of breakfast foods for everyone which had arrived just shortly before everyone had arrived.

Liam shut the door after Olivia then made his way to the living room part of the suite where everyone sat. Just as Liam entered the room, Riley appeared from the bedroom.

“you’re all here! Merry Christmas Everyone!” she done her rounds, giving everyone a hug and wishing them well. The group spent the morning tucking into their breakfasts and laughing away. once everyone had finished their food Riley stood from her seat at the table.

“alright seeing as everyone’s finished eating, I think its time for gifts!” she wondered off to the Christmas tree that sat on the other side of the room and started looking through the few gifts underneath it.    

“gifts?” Olivia asked as she got up and made her way over towards where Riley sat on the floor.

“yes, Olivia that’s what people do on Christmas” Drake huffed as he followed close by.

“ha well, I don’t do gifts so…don’t expect anything”

“don’t worry…we weren’t” He laughed”

Everyone else followed shortly after.

Liam sat with Riley between his legs, resting his head on her shoulder as she sorted through the gifts.

“okay this one’s for drake” she smiled as it was passed over to him.

“you guys didn’t need to get me anything” he mumbled

“just open it!”

“alright alright!” he laughed as he unwrapped the gift, revealing a wooden box.

“Glenkinie malt”

“we got it whilst we were in Edinburgh”

“thank you, guys,”

“next we have Hana banana” Riley grinned as she handed Hana an envelope.

“thank you so much” Hana opened the envelope.

“what’s this?” she asked as she unfolded the piece of paper

“well Hana…we struggled to find something that you would love…so I thought you know what Hana would love…something to keep her occupied…you’re staying in Valtoria most of the week. I thought maybe you would like a little company, so that in your hand is an invitation from Liam and I to you, for when we get back to go to the animal rescue shelter and pick out any pet f your choosing! I know it’s a HUGE responsibility and if you don’t want to that’s totally fine, we can get you something else”

“Riley…Liam…that’s the best gift I could ask for, thank you so much!” she grinned as she hugged the two of them.

“Olivia…you’re up next” Liam handed the long box to her.

“thank you” she replied as she opened the box revealing a dagger with a large red ruby on the handle.

“I found this in the armoury a few weeks ago, it originally belonged to your father and I thought it should be returned to its rightful owner”

“thank you, you guys, this means a lot!”

“and last but certainly not least we have Maxwell!” Liam laughed as he handed the large box over to him.

“I can’t wait to see what it is!” Maxwell gasped as he got the first glimpse of what was inside.

“IS THAT THE NEW ALTA FREEFLY 8 CAMCORDER DRONE?!?! YOU GUYS!!!” Maxwell ripped the box open and took the drone out. “it’s so beautiful!!”

“now max you have to promise…no spying on anyone!” Riley laughed

“if I see that thing peeking in my window…you’re a dead man” Liam laughed

“I can’t wait to try it!”

That evening everyone got dressed to go out for dinner, then headed out. Once they reached the restaurant and got seated, they were served their drinks, not long after they we’re served their long-waited Christmas dinner, it’s all they had spoken about all day…the festive meal that everyone looked forward to every year.

“alright before everyone digs in, we should make a toast” Riley smiled as everyone lifted their glasses.

“Here’s to the year past, and the family that have left us, here’s to the present and the friends and family who are here. Heres to the new year ahead and the new friends that may join us. I wouldn’t wish to spend Christmas with anyone but you guys, I love you so much…cheers!”

Everyone raised their glasses to each other then took a sip of their drinks before they all dug into their food.

By the time their 3-course meal was done, they had consumed a few drinks and were getting to that jolly stage. They all left the restaurant and followed Maxwell’s directions to take them to the karaoke bar he was taking them to.

By the time the early hours of boxing day hit, not one soul was sober.

“Maxwell!!!!!” Hana called from right beside him, louder than needed.

“HANNAAA BANANNNAAAA” he called back

Riley was talking to Drake when she seen his face fall as he looked behind her.

“what is it? do I have something on my face?” she asked

“uhhh maybe don’t turn around and see what your husband is doing?”

“what’s he do-”

Are you hanging up you’re stocking on your wall?

It’s the time when every Santa has a baaaalllll

“no” she smirked as she turned around and there on the stage was the king of Cordonia…absolutely obliterated, he was too far gone.

“SOMEONE VIDEO IT NOW!” Riley squealed with a laugh.

Does he ride a red nosed reindeer?

Does he turn up on his sleigh

Do the fairies keep him sober for a daaayyyyyyy

“TAKE IT AWAY BABYYY!!!” Riley called as she jumped up from her seat

SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS Liam bellowed out as the rest of the room joined in

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

 ARE YOU WAITING FOR THE FAMILY TO ARRIVE?

ARE YOU SURE YOU GOT THE ROOM TO SPARE INSIIIDDEEE?

DOES YOUR GRANNY ALWAYS TELL YA

THAT THE OLD SONGS ARE THE BEST

THEN SHES UP AND ROCK ‘N’ ROLLIN WITH THE RESSTTT

 SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

 WHAT WILL YOUR DADDY DO WHEN HE SEES YOUR MAMA KISSING SANTA CLAUS  A-HHAAAA

 ARE YOU HANGING UP YOUR STOCKING ON YOUR WALL

ARE YOU HOPING THAT THE SNOW WILL START TO FALLL

DO YOU RIDE ON DOWN THE HILLSIDE

ON THE BUGGY YOU HAVE MADE

WHEN YOU LAND UPON YOU HEAD

THEN YOU’VE BEEN SLAYED!

 SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

 SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

 SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS

EVERYBODY’S HAVING FUN

ITTTTSSSS CHRIISTTTMASSSSSSS Riley and Maxwell called as loud as they possibly could

LOOK TO THE FUTURE NOW 

IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUUUNNN

#king liam #Liam x OC #riley x liam #mc x liam #liam x riley #king Liam x mc #king liam x riley #king liam of cordonia #queen riley #the royal romance #the royal heir #choices the royal romance #choices #choices fanfiction #choices app #trh #trr #trr3

[lurafita]

Avenging Santa Claus

Got this prompt some time ago, that I was really rushing to get written before Christmas. I hope you like it! 

Original prompt: here

There are Alphas and Omegas, but there is NO gender oppression whatsoever. Children call their Omega parent Mom/Mother/Mommy, and their Alpha parent Dad/Father/Pops, you get it. 

Avenging Santa Claus

 The shopping mall was a bad place to be at the 21 of December. Christmas songs that were sure to get stuck in your head for hours on end, were blaring everywhere; stressed people were running around in a perpetual sour mood, to get the last of their gift shopping done; the smell of gingerbread was inescapable, and it was crowded enough to make anyone feel claustrophobic.

One had to be absolutely mad to be in such a place, at such a time.

Or married to the most wonderful Omega in the world, who had given him the most precious son in the world, who had used all his four years of experience in being cute, to convince his parents to take him to the mall to see Santa.

Tony and Peter Stark, together with their little son Ben, had been standing in line for a full 45 minutes now. Any attempts made by the billionaire to bribe their way forward, had been met with a reprimanding glare from his husband, and so Tony had grudgingly stopped reaching for his wallet, and instead joined Peter's efforts to answer all of their overly excited son's questions.

“Do you think Santa's sleigh is invisible? I didn't see it in the parking lot. Oh no! What if another car drives into it because they can't see it?!”

“I'm pretty sure he parked his sleigh on the roof, buddy. More space for Rudolph and his friends up there.”

“Those two elves with Santa are so tall, I thought elves were s'pposed to be smaller.”

“Scott lent them some of his tech so that they can help Santa better while they are here.”

“Can Santa's sleigh go faster than you, Daddy?”

“Pft. As if some magical reindeer could-” cue Peter's pointed elbow jabbing him in the ribs. “hrmh, I mean, his reindeer are magic, right? And Santa has to make it all around the world in only one night. So his sleigh could probably out fly Iron Man.”

“How does he get all over the world in one night?”

“Google maps and stardust propulsion.”

“We don't have a chimney! How will Santa get in, Mommy?”

“Don't worry. He has magic portals.”

“Like Dr. Wizard?”

“Yeah, exactly like those. Just that Santa's portals look like snow and ice crystals, instead of Stephen's gold ones.”

“How does Santa know if I have been good? Is he a super spy like auntie Nat?”

“He is the one who trained auntie Nat.”

“Whoa!”

Finally it was Ben's turn, and the four year old didn't hesitate for a second to run up to the sitting Santa Claus and scramble into his lap. Peter and Tony, like all the parents before, waited patiently at the side, as they watched their son tell the bearded man all about every item on his list.

Tony was just happy that they would be out of the place soon, when he caught the deepening frown on Peter's handsome face.

“Something the matter, sweetheart?”

“Ben is reciting his entire wish list.”

“Yeah, so? Isn't that what kids are supposed to do when they meet Chris Kringle?”

But Peter shook his head.

“He said he was gonna tell Santa his super secret Christmas wish first, to make sure he would put it on the top of his list. I was hoping to listen in, so we could get it for him. Unless it's a pony.”

“I mean, it's not like we don't have the space-”

“He is not getting a pony, Tony.”

“Oh my god, that rhymed. I'm gonna have that stuck in my head for the rest of the day now. Pony Tony, Tony pony.”

Peter muffled a laugh, and Tony pat himself on the back for having managed to relax his husband a little bit. While Tony was definitely annoyed by all the smells and noise of the mall, he couldn't imagine how much worse it was on Peter's enhanced senses. The omegan superhero had incredible control over his abilities, but maintaining that in such a stressful environment could not be easy, and even Peter slipped now and then.

He took the shorter man's hand and brought it up to his lips to press a loving kiss to his knuckles.

“You good, Pete?”

“I'm good,” Peter gave him a quick peck to the corner of his lips, then suddenly smirked up at him, “Tony Pony.”

The Alpha smirked right back.

“If this becomes a pet name, I expect you to ride me every time you use it.”

It was astounding, that after 8 years of being in a relationship, 5 of which they have been married, and having a child together, Peter still blushed so prettily whenever Tony mentioned their sex life.

The swift whack to his chest in reprimand was worth seeing his husband so flustered.

“Insatiable.”

Tony smirked wider and winked at the omega.

“You love it. So, how's eavesdropping on our son and the Coca Cola mascot going? I bet Benny wants a cool Iron Man suit like his dad.”

Peter shook his head, eyes locked on their son.

“He hasn't said anything so far that we didn't know about and haven't already gotten him. For the record, I still think you went overboard. No four year old needs that many toys.”

“Ah, come one. I'm allowed to spoil you and Ben on Christmas. It was in our vows.”

This earned him a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“You spoil us all the time.”

The billionaire looked down into the beloved, brown eyes.

“Not nearly enough.”

Tony had never thought of himself as someone so disgustingly mushy and besotted, but Peter just brought it out in him. Peter and Ben. The two most precious people in his life.

God, he was a sap.

He was just about to lean down and give his omega a deep, toe curling kiss, when Ben jumped off Santa's lap and came running up to them.

“Mommy, Daddy, quick, come quick, this way!”

The little boy grabbed both his parents hands and pulled them with him as fast as his short legs could carry him. More than a little surprised, Tony and Peter stumbled along.

“Whoa there, what's up, buddy?”

“Ben, is something wrong?”

When the four year old had dragged his parents a sufficient distance away from the winter wonder land, he released his grip on their hands and turned around to stare at them with big, frantic eyes.

“That Santa has a fake beard, and he doesn't smell like milk and chocolate cookies like he's s'pposed to! He is an inpo.. interpolter... imposter! He must have kidnapped the real Santa! But there won't be Christmas without the real Santa! Quick! You have to call the other Avengers and assemble and save Santa!”

As the two super heroes looked first into the gleaming with unshed tears eyes of their son, and then at each other, only one thought ran through their minds.

Oh boy.

-- 

 "I'm sorry, you want us to what?"

Tony rolled his eyes heavenward. One would think from Sam's incredulous tone and expression that he was asking something completely ridiculous from his friends.

"Could you please not be so dramatic? All I'm asking is that you all get into gear, get out to the north pole, stage a battle against some kind of evil scoundrel, save Santa Claus in the process, and watch your language while doing it, because Benny will be watching via Friday's live stream. I don't see which part of this you have a problem with."

Unbelievably, this earned him even more disbelieving stares from everyone currently in the living room. (Which was Steve, Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Scott, Bruce Rhodey and Hope. Thor was currently traveling with the Guardians of the galaxy, but had promised to be back by the 25th.)

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes, as if he was dealing with someone unreasonable... which was just uncalled for.

"Tony, you know we love Ben. But don't you think it would be better to tell him the truth, instead of all these theatrics?"

"Sure I do. But unless you manage to convince Peter of that, we are going to the freaking north pole and save Santa."

Hope's eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait. This is Peter's idea?"

Peter was usually the one to reign in Tony, whenever the genius came up with something completely ridiculous. But Tony only nodded solemnly.

"He said, and I quote: 'My baby is going to believe in the magic that is Christmas and all it encompasses for as long as super-humanly possible. And anyone who so much as breathes a word that might destroy his beliefs before he is ready to let go of them, will find themselves in a web cocoon hanging outside the tower.' End quote. Ben being in a constant state of almost crying ever since he discovered the 'fake' Santa, until Peter finally got him into bed with the promise that the Avengers would free the 'real' Santa as soon as we found out where he is being held captive, certainly didn't help. After that, Pete told me to get you all up to speed, and left for the Sanctum, to see if he could convince Wong and Stephen to help."

This left everyone in a little bit of shock, but far more willing to go along with Tony's request. There were few things scarier than Mama bear Peter.

Rhodey just shook his head, bemoaning the fact that he had chosen to get to the tower early, instead of on Christmas eve, as he had the previous years.

Bucky got up, grumbling about finding warm socks to go play make believe in the fucking arctic.

Scott grinned, trying to entice Hope into building a snow castle and taking pictures for Cassie while they were there.

Clint asked if his kids (the oldest of which was 8 and didn't believe in Santa Claus anymore, but would play along for the younger children's sakes), could watch the stream with Ben, because saving Santa Claus two days before Christmas was sure to get him 'Best Father of the Year' award.

Bruce was questioning whether the Hulk would even be needed for this, which Tony quickly shut down "You know Hulk is Ben's favorite, Brucie. He can't not be there to give Santa's kidnapper hell."

Steve sighed the sigh of the beaten, and went to inform Fury of tomorrows 'mission'. Sam followed as moral support.

Natasha, unflappable super spy that she was, just nodded.

"Well, I guess it's not the worst mission I have been on. I'm in."

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, a self satisfied smile on his lips.

"You better be in. Ben would be very disappointed if his auntie Nat didn't come to her super-spy teacher's rescue."

"... my What?!"

  --

 The next day, after Peter had distracted Ben long enough from his worry about Santa to get some breakfast into the boy, Natasha came striding into the room to inform them that they had found the whereabouts of Santa and his kidnapper. Ben gave her a big hug for being the best super-spy (after Santa), in the world. She was smug about it.

Clint followed shortly after with his pregnant wife, fellow four year old daughter and eight year old son. The kids and Laura would join Ben in watching the life stream of the Avengers heroically saving Santa Claus. Lilah was just as anxious as Ben was, Cooper, who had been told about what was going on, just smirked as he watched all the grown ups running around to get ready for their mission.

Scott and Hope had roped teenaged Cassie in to help the highly pregnant Laura keep an eye on the three younger kids (though Cooper would loudly disagree that he needed a babysitter), and help sell the whole thing to Ben and Lilah. (Neither May nor Pepper had been able to change their working schedules on this short notice to lend a helping hand, and Happy had taken his first vacation in forever and fled the cold weather to spend two weeks on a tropical beach)

Both Stephen and Wong (though the older monk would already be waiting for them at the destination) had thankfully been scared into agreed to help the Avengers with their mission, which made getting to the north pole a lot easier.

When Stephen arrived through one of his portals, everyone was fully suited up and ready to go. All the adults quickly hugged the children (Steve even saluted them, the dork), and to the encouraging shouts of "Kick evil butt and save Santa!" (and the barely repressed snickers from Laura, Cooper and Cassie), earth's mightiest heroes stepped through the magical portal into the blazing cold of the north pole.

Antman wrapped his arms around himself immediately.

"Why exactly isn't Santa being held captive in Florida?"

Iron Man and Spiderman quickly looked at each other, a little stunned.

"Oops."

  --

 The rescue mission had, unsurprisingly, been a complete success. Wong and Stephen had created some truly fantastical illusions of shadow creatures for the Avengers to fight, and Hulk to smash. (Nothing too scary looking though. Peter would web them up if Ben came out of this with nightmares about dark, red eyed monsters)

Spiderman and Iron Man had then taken on the evil kidnapper himself (One of Stephen's clones, that had been transformed to look like that Pitch Black dude from that pixar movie Ben couldn't get enough of)

It was Natasha who had broken Santa Claus (a magically disguised Wong), from his iron cage not far from the battle field. She had even bowed to her former 'teacher', and teased him about eating too many cookies and losing his edge in his old days. 'Santa' had shook the hands of all of the Avengers and then waved into Iron Man's suit camera to the kids at home, and promised to deliver all their presents on time. He thanked Ben especially, for figuring out his fake doppelganger. Back in the tower's penthouse in New York, little Ben was screeching with joy.

  --

 It was six a.m. on the 25th of December, and Tony and Peter Stark were enjoying what would surely be the last few minutes of peace and quiet they would have that day. The team and their assorted friends and family were scheduled to come to the penthouse for Christmas brunch and gift exchanges in a few hours, and Ben was sure to wake up any minute now. Rather than have their overly excited son jump onto their bed to wake them up because "It's Christmas, it's Christmas, wake up wake up wake up!", the two had gotten up a little earlier, had made each other their favorite coffee (dark roast for Tony, and a latte for Peter), and cuddled up together on the couch.

The room was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the brightly and colorfully decorated Christmas tree in the center. It was rather beautiful, and even the early hour couldn't mar the contentment the couple felt right then, lying in each others arms. 

"How much time do you think we have left?" Peter asked, taking a sip from his cup.

Tony squeezed the arm he had wound around his husband a bit, and planted a soft kiss on Peter's temple.

"Probably not much longer. I'm actually surprised Ben hasn't-" Which was the exact moment that a joyfully shrill, childish scream echoed through the floor. Tony chuckled. "-woken up yet. You ready, sweetheart."

Peter looked up at his husband with a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Merry Christmas, Peter."

They shared a sweet kiss, just before their little bundle of joy came running into the room.

"Mommy, Daddy, look, look! Santa brought me my super secret wish, even though I didn't get to tell him! Look, look!"

And right there, cradled clumsily in his arms, Ben was holding a little puppy. An actual, life, puppy. As in, tail wagging, tongue lolling, alive. Peter was just able to hide his surprise and pull his son plus wiggling puppy dog into a warm hug. 

"That's great, Benny. Do you have a name for him?"

Ben nodded with so much enthusiasm, that the brunette worried for a moment he would get dizzy.

"Imma call him Ninja. Cause Santa got him for me, and Santa taught auntie Nat how to be a super-spy. And Ninja's are like the greatest super-spies."

Tony grinned and scooped up both the four year old and puppy to give Ben a loving hug and ruffle his hair.

"That's a great name, bud. How about you and Ninja take a look at all the gifts lying under the tree, while your mom and I make some breakfast and find something for your dog to eat."

Ben couldn't shimmy out of his father's lap fast enough, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, he sat down the puppy and the both of them ran to the large Christmas tree.

"Remember that you can only open one before breakfast, young man."

"Okay!"

Then the two adults quickly got up and walked into the adjacent kitchen. Peter pinned Tony with a scolding look.

"I thought we had decided that Ben is too young for a dog."

Tony scoffed.

"Yes, we did. So why did you get him one?"

Peter faltered.

"I didn't... I thought you did."

But Tony shook his head.

"Not me... Wait. If you didn't get him a dog, and I didn't get him a dog..."

Peter's eyes widened.

"Friday, show us the footage of Ben's room. Who brought in the puppy?"

A small holographic window appeared before the couple, showing Ben sleeping in his bed. Then it looked like little ice crystals glittered in the air, and formed the shape of a tall, slightly round, person. When the glitter disappeared, a man in a red coat, with a white, but rather short beard, and likewise short and white hair was standing before little Ben's bed. He did not have the figure of the classic Santa Claus from the story books. No big, round belly, for one. The clothes fit, and he certainly looked old enough, but he was wearing big sun glasses? (Actually, the man reminded Tony of Hugh Hefner) In his hands was a sleeping little puppy (Ninja), that he carefully deposited next to the sleeping boy. Then the man stepped back from the bed, and closer to the camera in the corner of the ceiling, and looked right into it. 

"Thank you, Peter and Tony, for everything you have done for the people of this world. And for working so hard to keep your son's faith alive for a little longer. You know, my friends call me Stan. Merry Christmas."

Then the man (Santa? Stan?) was enveloped in the little ice crystals again, and vanished in the next second. The hologram continued showing a sleeping Ben and an equally sleeping puppy.

Peter gaped. 

"Was... was that..."

"Friday? Why the hell didn't you wake us when some stranger entered our son's room?"

"My sensors have not detected any foreign presence in the young masters room. I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about, boss."

Now Tony was gaping.

The sound of their son's happy exclamation when he unpacked one of his many gifts brought both parent's out of their stupor, and they looked first back to Ben, then at each other, still not quite willing to believe what they had just seen.

"... So, Stan, huh? Do you think that puppy is magical?"

Peter couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Tony joined in soon after. 

God how he loved them. His husband and his son. And his (possibly magical) puppy. 

____________________________________________________________

The End

 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! 

(Okay, I know it's still quite a few days until Christmas, but I hope you will all have a wonderful and magical time with all your loved ones!)

#starker #starker fanfic #christmas fanfic #Ben Stark #Son of Tony and Peter Stark #married Starker #Ben is four #Avengers team dynamics and friendship #Stan Lee cameo #omega!Peter #Alpha!Tony #NOT usual a/b/o dynamics #adult!peter #adult!tony #NO gender oppression #peter parker #tony stark #other avengers characters #domestic #soft #spiderman!peter #iron man!Tony #op lurafita

[fiiimbulvetr-a]

@goofymuses​ said:  If North were being honest, he felt he had many lost years from Elsa's youth to make up for. And he would start this very Christmas, leaving Elsa a gift a little more magical in nature than most received. He had worked for hours, slicing through solid ice, carving the hard and sharp angles into smooth curves and curls. When he left the final product waiting for her in Ahtohallan, he had to smile proudly. It was the finest ice sleigh he had ever made. In fact, the only one!

She was stunned. Truly. The blankets and soft furnishings she’d carried in her arms across the water from the mainland dropped at her feet in a pile as she stared. Slack jawed at what she found waiting for her inside the icy caves of Ahtohallan. A place where no non-magical being could have ever ventured to leave such a thing.

Elsa slowly approached, almost unsure if what she was seeing was real at first. One of Ahtohallan’s memories? But as her fingertips reached out and brushed over the smooth, lovingly carved ice she found this gift- this remarkable sleigh was carved by hand not magically conjured. So much care and detail etched into every surface. The Snow Queen brought her hands up to cover her mouth in awe as she circled it. A rare kind of delight filling her at the beautiful gift. It was amazing! She couldn’t suppress the grin that found its way onto her face. It was... Perfect! She loved it!

.. But how was she going to move it? What creature would pull this sleigh? Of course there was the Nokk.. But he was her friend and companion, not her servant. An occasional ride was one thing, but he was no pet. There were also the reindeer the Northuldra tended... But Elsa wouldn’t weaken their herd for her benefit. No, no. Such a beautiful and magical gift called for something special. Something just as new and spectacular. 

The woman thought a moment. Came up with something that was original. Something that would be her own. Inspiration struck and she set her magic to work. With gentle waves and bursts of powerful snowy magic she created two great animals. Powerful, strong creatures with mighty paws to race across water, ice and land, imposing but beautiful faces to intimidate but also enchant. A pair of larger than life white wolves of snow and ice. Each with a crystalline harness to tie them to the sleigh to guide it. 

“Perfect!” Elsa bounced excitedly, clasping her hands together before hopping forward to climb into her new gift. Taking up the reins for the first of many times to come. “What do you say we test this baby out and go say thank you to our jolly neighbor?”

#Elsa creating her wolf pack while also getting a sWEET NEW RIDE #north you are the BEST #goofymuses #;North #ic #ask #v; legend of the snow queen

[dukereviewsmovies]

Duke Reviews: Olaf's Frozen Adventure And Frozen Fever

Hi, Everyone, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews Where We Are Continuing Duke's Yultide Reviews..,

And By That Music, You Probably Think We're Looking At Frozen Well, We're Not...But...We Are Looking At Olaf's Frozen Adventure...

This Christmas Special (That Was Originally Released With Coco To People's Dismay) Follows Our Favorite Snowman Olaf And Kristoff's Reindeer, Sven As They Set Out On A Mission To Save Christmas For Anna And Elsa When They Discover That They Have No Christmas Traditions Of Their Own Due To Elsa Being Confined To Her Room For Most Of Her Life, Will They Succeed And Find Traditions For Anna And Elsa To Do Over The Holidays?...

Let's Find Out As We Watch Olaf's Frozen Adventure...

The Movie Starts In The Village Of Arendelle, Where Olaf Waits For The Surprise Holiday Party That'll Begin After The Yule Bell Rings That Will Ring In The First Christmas In Arendelle Since Forever. With People Arriving In The Courtyard We Get Our First Song...

But When Anna And Elsa Invite Everyone In, Everyone Leaves To Do Their Own Holiday Traditions...

Wait A Minute! I Know That Voice...

Q! What Are You Doing In Arendelle?

(Q) Well, I Thought I'd Give Picard A Break From My Antics And Bug These 2 With The Fact That Unlike Most People They Have No Holiday Traditions..

So, You Created Your Own Family Out Of Anti-Matter To Make Anna And Elsa Sad Over That Fact...

(Q) Exactly!

Get Out Of Here!

(Q) All Right, All Right, I'm Gone...

(Q Disappears)

With Kristoff Believing That It's Their Loss, He Tries To Cheer Anna And Elsa Up With One His Traditions He Got From The Rock Trolls When They Celebrate The Holidays By Singing The Ballad Of Flemmingrad, Which Is Probably The Only Song In This That I Don't Like...

Saying No Thanks To Kristoff's Tradition As It's Kind Of Gross...

Anna, Elsa And Olaf Go Inside As Olaf And Anna Ask Elsa What Holiday Traditions Do They Have Which Leads To Our Next Song As Elsa Remembers....

But After The Gates Were Closed, They Were Never Together As A Family Again Which Leads Elsa To Blame Herself For The Fact That They Don't Have Any Christmas Traditions...

Coming Up With An Idea, Olaf Recruits Sven To Help Him Find The Best Holiday Tradition And Bring It Back To The Castle For Anna And Elsa To Use Which Leads Us Into The Next And Probably My Second Favorite Song In This Special...

(Start At 0:35, End At 3:32)

However When He Visits Oaken...

Olaf Discovers Oaken's Christmas Traditions As He Takes Him Into His Spa, But Don't Worry He Doesn't Melt As Olaf Reforms When Oaken Brings What's Left Of Him Outside...

Giving Olaf A Spa Of His Own To Give To Anna And Elsa, Olaf And Sven Ride Off Only For The Spa To Open Up Causing One Of The Hot Coals To Fall Out And Onto Olaf's Traditions, Causing Them And The Sleigh To Catch On Fire...

With The Sleigh Going Out Of Control, The Sleigh Falls Over A Cliff With Olaf Of The Canyon And Sven On The Other Side As They Watch The Sled Explode...

Back At The Castle, Elsa Visits Anna In Her Room To Apologize For Earlier Only To Find Her Not There But In The Attic Where They Find Some Of Their Old Childhood Items Before Coming Across A Box To Which They Discover...

Something We See Later Back At The Canyon, Olaf Discovers That While None Of The Traditions They Got Survived One Managed To In The Form Of A Fruitcake...

Attempting To Find A Way Around The Cliff, Olaf Goes Through A Wolf Infested Forest While Sven Rides For Help, Though He's Unable To Get Through To Kristoff, Anna And Elsa Arrive And Understand Everything The Reindeer Is Trying To Tell Kristoff...

Losing The Wolves In The Forest, Olaf Manages To Save The Fruitcake From The Wolves Only To Lose It To A Hungry Bird...

Saddened By The Loss Of All His Traditions, Olaf Is Sad And Sings This...

Eventually Finding The Sad Olaf In A Snowbank, Anna And Elsa Tell Olaf That He Didn't Let Them Down As They Finally Show Him And Us What's Inside Of The Box: It's Their Christmas Tradition And It's Olaf...

As When They First Made Him Years Ago, He Was The One That Brought Them Together And Kept Them Connected When They Were Apart As Every Christmas Anna Made Elsa A Gift To Remind Them Of Their Childhood And How Much They Still Loved Each Other Which Leads To The Final And Best Song Of The Entire Special...

And Of Course Once The Song Is Over The Fruitcake Lands On Olaf As If The Bird Was Saying...

(Bird) Eh, Don't You Know, Pal That Everyone Hates Fruitcake...

And That's Olaf's Frozen Adventure And What Did I Think Of It? Well, Before I Give You My Answer, I Think I Might Give You Guys A Christmas Gift Of An Extra Review As I Don't Know When I'm Going To Be Talking About Frozen Again So, What The Hell, Let's Talk About Frozen Fever...

The Short Starts In Spring As Elsa, Olaf, Kristoff And Sven Get Ready For Anna's Birthday And Elsa Acting Like A Perfectionist Doesn't Want Anything To Go Wrong...

Ew! Snowman Cooties!...

Going To Wake The Birthday Girl, We Get Our Song For The Short That Plays Throughout Nearly The Entire Short..

But As Elsa And Anna Sing I'll Point Out What's Going On...

As Anna Dresses Up, Elsa Sneezes Which Gives Birth To The Little Bundles Of Snow Known As The Snowgies Everytime She Does, Believing Elsa May Have A Cold, We Get A Let It Go Callback Before Elsa Hands Anna A String Which Will Take Her To Her Presents...

Following The String, Anna Discovers All Of Her Presents While Elsa Keeps Sneezing Out Snowgies That Cause Trouble For Kristoff And Sven While Olaf Is Absolutely In Love With The Little Guys To The Point That He Believes That They're His Little Brothers...

Still Believing Elsa Has A Cold, Anna Gets A Cold Remedy From Oaken While They Find Anna's Presents. Eventually Reaching A Clock In Town, Anna Tells Elsa To Take It Easy As She's Starting To Act (Well To Put It Mildly) Drunk...

Nearly Falling Off The Clock Tower, Anna Gets Elsa Before She Does And Touches Her Head To Discover That She's Burning Up And That Maybe They Should Put Anna's Birthday On Hold Which Is When Elsa Finally Admits That She Has A Cold...

Walking Elsa Back To The Castle, She's Upset That She Ruined Anna's Birthday Again But Anna Doesn't Blame Elsa And Just Wants To Get Her To Bed But When They Open The Door They Find The Surprise Party...

Blowing The Birthday Bugle Horn, Elsa Sneezes Into It Which Fires A Gigantic Snowball To Prince Hans On The Southern Isles...

(Hans) You Realize I'll Get Revenge Against On You On Once Upon A Time!

(Elsa) Don't Care, You're A Bad Guy And As The Old Saying Goes Good Guys Rule And Bad Guys Drool!

But Despite The Birthday Party, Anna Got The Best Birthday Present Ever By Taking Care Of Her Sister, Elsa...

Visiting The Ice Palace, Marshmallow Lets Kristoff, Sven And Olaf In As They Drop Off All The Snowgies That Elsa Sneezed Out...

And That's Frozen Fever And What Do I Think Of Both Of These Frozen Outings, Well Let's Start With Frozen Fever As That Came Out First...

The Short Was Good, But I Realize Now That It Was Just Made To Tide Everyone Over Until Frozen 2 Came Out By Giving Everyone A New Song Which Is A Good Song But You Can't Hide That Fact, Still Though It Was A Good Short And I Do Say See It...

Now As For Olaf's Frozen Adventure...

I Honestly Have No Clue Why Everyone Complained About This When It Was In Theatres, This Is A Great Christmas Special And Short, The Story Was Sweet The Songs Aside From The Flemminggrad Song (Which I Felt Didn't Belong Among The Other Songs In The Special And Wasn't In The Same Caliber As Those) Were Pretty Good And I Say Ignore The Haters And See It Now!

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off...

#Frozen #Olafs Frozen Adventure #Disney Shorts #Anna #Elsa #Olaf #merry christmas #christmas specials #Frozen Fever