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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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31. The One That I Get to Build With

Previous Word Count: 7608

Hazel was less irritated with Grace and Simon when they were honest with her and told her that they were going to be involved in a relationship, but not openly. They didn’t want anyone else to know, mostly because Grace was very secretive and didn’t want the same people who often intruded into her social media to find their way into this relationship, as they attempted to build it.

So, the simple rule was that if someone made a comment about the relationship not to respond to it and if someone asked about it, not to answer. They just moved the conversation right along, like the relationship had not been mentioned. Grace and Simon used to do that all of the time. Hazel, they worried might find it more difficult, but they were counting on the fact that most people who might ask her would be online, where she could easily ignore them.

Simon went to his parents’ for Thanksgiving. Apparently, his dad begged him to , because he was certain that this would be his mom’s last one… Simon guessed that Grace was making him soft, because he couldn’t say no. It felt wrong to just refuse. “You gonna be okay?” Grace asked, the night before his flight.

“Yeah,” he answered, sadly. “I’ll stop by to see your parents, while I’m out there.”

“They’ll probably be at a banquet or something. Hazel and I are going to do some charity and bring some people to shelters, then have dinner together and retire in our jammies to have movie night.”

Simon groaned, “Why do you have to rub that in my face?”

“Don’t complain.” He pouted silently. “You’ll be able to be around for Christmas, if you’re still playing your cards right.”

“I’m never gonna mess this up.”

“Awww. Well… see you when you get back.”

She made sure that was correct, because whenever Simon got back, the Monday after Thanksgiving, Grace was asleep in his bed. He’d given her a key almost as soon as they decided that they were going to give themselves a try, but she didn’t really use it. He was grateful that she had that night. Seeing his family had been enough to make him grateful for what he escaped from. After he washed up, he slid into bed and wrapped his arms around her. She stirred to ask him how it went, and when he said he didn’t want to talk about it, she simply rested her head on his chest, kissed his tattooed pec, and went back to sleep. The scent of her hair gave him a comfort that he had forgotten existed the previous few days. This was one of the things he was thankful for, wrapped up tightly in his arms, in his bed.

Simon and Hazel decorated his house for Christmas. Really, Simon decorated and Hazel critiqued, but it was “helpful,” for her to tell him everything that he seemed to be doing wrong… for a while. It was actually extremely cold and he didn’t usually spend that amount of time outside in such weather. Plus… the criticism. He wasn’t fond of being criticized, even after years of therapy. Eventually, he told her, “I think I can handle some lights, Hazel. I graduated from MIT.”

Hazel rolled her eyes and told him, “You say that to me and I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean any more than you know what you’re doing with these lights.”

“Hazel…” He said it then took a pause to catch his breath and realign his patience. That was what Grace called it. Realigning your patience. She’d take a look at him and ask, “Do you think maybe you need to realign your patience?” Not to calm down, and not accusing him of getting upset, but asking him to realign his patience and somehow, every time, he got soft and did exactly that. “Good job, Gray Eyes,” and a strum of his ponytail later, he’d be a cool pile of putty for her to mold… But Grace was inside of the house and her little Christmas slave-driver was not the model of invoking patience…

“Gra-a-a-ce!” Simon called out. “GRACE!” He said louder and more short.

She came running outside and immediately checked on Hazel. “What is it? Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“Please, get her cocoa or something,” Simon said. It was given like an order and gave Grace pause, to look at him like he was out of his mind. “Please?” He repeated, softer. “I need to realign my patience and it’s hard to focus in this cold…” She softened up too.

“Come on, Haze,” Grace wrapped an arm around Hazel’s shoulder and guided her inside. Simon got more done now, but he hoped that it looked okay. Hazel had caused some doubts. Eventually, Grace called him and told him to come inside and recalibrate. He groaned, but knew that it was a commandment, not a suggestion. Besides, he was freezing his balls off.

Whenever he walked in, it felt so refreshingly warm. The house smelled like pine, fire, and some sort of candles that Grace had lit all over the opening of the house. Hazel and Grace were in the kitchen. Hazel, seated at the island with an absurdly large mug that her GlamMother got her for winters in New York and a plate of something that smelled remarkable. Grace took his coat and hung it on the rack and gestured at his shoes. He set them on the rack next to the door and she led him to the kitchen. “Since Hazel is a great helper, she helped me to try out my first recipe from a recipe book that I got as an early Christmas present!” She cheered.

Simon didn’t look excited about it. Everyone knew that of Grace’s many talents, the only ones that happened in the kitchen were usually DIY natural beauty products. She gently forced him into the seat next to Hazel and began to excitedly prepare him something.

Simon leaned towards Hazel and whispered, “I’m sorry about losing it out there. Level with me. Should I be worried?”

Hazel smirked and tilted her head, “Are you suggesting that Our Grace can’t follow the instructions in a recipe book, Simon?”

“No… Just… wondering if she can…” Hazel snorted. It didn’t escape his notice that she hadn’t devoured her gingerbread men.

“Okay, SO… Here is a cup of crock pot hot chocolate and…” she turned around with a mug and a plate and it looked vaguely familiar. “Gingerbread Man VS Snowman S’mores…” Simon gasped, recalling being with his Nana dad's mom, before she died and making an entire murder scene with her gingerbread man cookies and the marshmallow snowmen that she was going to melt into the cocoa… he then let out a hearty laugh about that situation.

“I wanted to try to be a good girlfriend for Christmas, so I called your dad while you were away and he shipped me your grandmother’s recipe book that she gave your mom when she passed away. He said that nobody has used it in years. It is SO descriptive! AND… She notated the stuff that each of her kids, grandkids, and their spouses and stuff loved. So… I found all the ones marked “Simon,” bookmarked them, and discovered that you helped her create one of her treats!”

“I can’t believe she recorded that!” He laughed, explaining, “What I did was ruin a bunch of her stuff and whenever they caught me, my dad was ready to give me a spanking, but Nana intervened and asked, “Don’t you see that the boy’s a genius? Why, he just created my new favorite treat!” We took the broken gingerbread cookies and the snowmen, made smores and pretended that it was the after effects of a warzone. She let me tell the story of how they were fighting, because she’d missed out on that part of my game… That was… actually my first creative story that I shared with anybody. So, you actually just gave me a really special gift, because I hadn't considered that historical memory in years.” Grace’s eyes were wide and glossy. Simon stopped laughing to come to hug her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Grace.”

“Don’t thank her yet, you haven’t tasted it,” Hazel teased. She bit off the head of one of the additional gingerbread man cookies that weren’t in the war. It was actually really good! Simon’s grandma must’ve left great instructions, or Hazel was to thank for Grace following through so well with them.

Simon put off the rest of the decorations until the next day. Whenever he finished, Hazel was actually awestruck. The scene? Elves taking the sleigh on a joyride, one of them hanging off of the rails, one on a reindeer's back, one controlling the sleigh and one ducking in it, peeking out.

“How did you do this? How did you do that?” She asked about various aspects of the scene.

“I graduated from MIT,” Simon said, taking a sip of a mug of cocoa with a melting snowman marshmallow in it. Hazel still didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but she now at least respected it.

Christmas Eve at Grace’s was everyone’s wildest dreams come true. At least the three of them. Grace had arranged matching jammies - they weren’t identical, but you know… the same designs/color pattern. They were reindeer themed and she had some for Samantha, as well. Samantha and Hazel had wearable antlers. Simon and Grace had hoodies that “turned them into” reindeer.

They worked on each other’s hair - Grace being exceptionally good at braids now gave Hazel an elaborate celtic braid that she had been wanting for a while, and Simon two French braids. Hazel and Simon bickered over who could be better at doing Grace’s hair and she wound up with one of them on each side, turning her into a lopsided headed hot mess. She took selfies of the act in progress and even went live to show people what she was doing with her Christmas Eve… just because sharing certain parts of her life was fun…

OF COURSE, she anticipated that she might accidentally get a shot of Simon’s face as she did this, but she was careful to try not to. Whenever she DID accidentally do so (or maybe someone heard his voice or Hazel say his name in the background or something), she had plenty of comments to ignore about the matter. But, someone within minutes had already created posts about Simon and Grace in family pajamas and doing each other’s hair.

When she turned it off, she reminded them that they weren’t saying anything about it. But, all of them had their own photos and people definitely were piecing together the matching pajamas, even though Simon wasn’t posting full photos of himself on his… he DID post photos of Hazel, Grace and Samantha. Eventually, Hazel, with her doe eyes told them that she wasn’t used to having a Christmas like this and she wanted an actual family photo. Simon made it happen, as the one who was best at it, and Hazel changed her profile pic to it. This was a Christmas dream come true for her, so Grace didn’t raise a fuss about the nosy people. Simon was grateful for that, too, as he wrapped himself around her, while Hazel laid her head on her lap for them to watch Christmas movies until Hazel fell asleep. Simon tucked her away in her bed, setting the atmosphere of the room the way that he had seen Grace do several times in the time that they had been spending time sleeping over at each others’ - the lighting, the diffuser, her Tuba stuffie, and Samantha had come into the room and curled around her feet. Simon gave Hazel’s hair a strumming and shut the door quietly behind him.

Whenever he went back out, Grace wasn’t in the living room anymore and she’d turned off the TV, so he presumed she went to bed, as well. He picked up any clutter they left laying around and put things back where they belonged before he retired too. Grace was… awake… She wasn’t in her matching pajamas anymore. Instead, she had on a red nightie that hardly covered anything, with some fun stuff beneath. He froze, shut the door, locked it. She leaned back against the pillows and smirked, “It’s Christmas Eve. I believe that you have something to show me.”

“Permission to present, Ma’am?”

“I consent.” Simon smiled and removed his pajamas before approaching the bed and removing his boxers. “Bring it here, for further inspection,” she said, with a teasing smile. He climbed into bed, and saw that she had on pasties that read “Naughty” and “Nice” and her thong had a picture of a mistletoe on the front. He stared at it and looked up at her. “I consent,” she repeated, to answer his unasked question.

They still weren't going all the way. Grace wasn't sure when she might be ready for that and Simon wasn't pressing his luck by asking for more. Besides, there were things far more important than sex and while her using favors and acts as a means to keep him… in line, he was more than appreciative about the fact that he was invited to spend New Year's Eve with she and her friends.

Whenever Mr. and Mrs. Monroe came over for the opening of the presents, Grace was back into her pajamas again and nobody ever would have known just how naughty she had been the night before. Hazel got more presents than were even reasonable, and Grace was given a lot by her parents and Simon, as well. Simon was surprised that her parents had bought him gifts as well. He had expected ones from Grace (was unsure about Hazel, but glad to receive from her too). There was… a lot of love he was feeling. It reminded him of whenever he used to spend holidays with the Monroes and be treated at least like he mattered, if not like family. He cried about it, apologizing to the Monroes for everything he'd done. Mrs. Monroe brushed it off, but he and Mr. Monroe wound up talking at length about things men are supposed to do and not supposed to do, why he had been disgusted by Simon's decisions, etc. At the end of it, Simon did feel like Mr. Monroe forgave him. Mrs. Monroe was always going to feel how she felt, and that was alright. It had to be, just like it had to be, that Simon was always going to feel how he felt about his parents… who also sent gifts for him and Hazel with the Monroes. Hazel and him decided that they would video call them together to thank them. Faith looked terrible. She looked like a fading ghost. But, she was starting to be nicer. Probably the guilt and the fear of thinking that something was next.

For Simon? What was next was here on Earth. Christmas Day yielded him having to put together things for Hazel and Grace, finish making sure that dinner was right, and continually try to score brownie points with Grace. The Monroes were staying at an upscale hotel, but stayed at the townhouse well past nightfall. Grace had kept certain things steady - the candles, sometimes throwing a little handful of herbs she selected into the fireplace, everyone’s drink glasses, and check-ins with Simon, to make sure he was still feeling okay, as this was their first Christmas together and her family could be stressful, etc. He was great. He never wanted it to end. He felt needed and wanted. He felt cared for and acknowledged. He didn’t even have that anxious feeling that it was all going to go away.

He wound up having to carry Hazel to bed. She fell asleep on her grandparents’ laps, playing on a new device they got her, which he put away first and tucked her in, accordingly.

“He seems very comfortable here,” Mrs. Monroe said.

“We’re working on things, Mom,” Grace said, nodding. Her parents had about the same amount of information that everyone else had about this situation. The more that they knew was that Simon would be there for Christmas. They hadn’t expected him to have slept over, in matching pajamas, to be cooking the food, building the toys, and certainly not for him to be tucking their granddaughter into bed. “We’ve been working on things since maybe a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, give or take a few days.”

“So, he’s made this place a second home in a month’s time.” It was a statement.

“Mommy! Stop.”

Simon returned, just as cheerful as before and paused when he noticed the energy in the room. He pointed his thumb towards Hazel’s room and said, “I may have to add something in there to make storage more optimal, with all the new stuff..” Grace just smiled and nodded. “Did I interrupt something.”

“Just my reservations about you being here,” Mrs. Monroe said. Simon frowned and he nodded. “But, my daughter is an adult now. She makes her own decisions and if you tell her too much that she doesn’t like, she moves across the country and rarely calls…” Grace groaned, “SO! I guess my reservations will merely dissipate, like they’ve done in days past.”

“I think you should definitely feel how you feel…” He bit his lip and told Grace, “I’ll head home.”

“Head home? You’re not gonna stay?... and… help me clean up in the kitchen?” She asked… not wanting him to leave her alone with her parents and not wanting to say that either. But, he took the hint.

“Right! Sorry. Of course, I am.” He squeezed her hand and sat down beside her. There was some silence, then he broke it, “I know that everyone has reason not to believe me and I’m not going to beg anybody anymore… except for Grace, sometimes. At this point, it is out of everyone’s control whether or not I can be trusted, as Grace has decided to try to trust me. It’s now up to me to live up to that opportunity. Everyone is welcome to come to my house tomorrow and go through and see what I’ve been up to lately.”

They spent some time at his house the next day and now, Mrs. Monroe wondered, “Why didn’t you just host Christmas here?”

“Maybe next year,” Grace said, with a shrug. It was the best thing that Simon had heard. He smiled and blushed and puffed his chest out. She was considering that she hoped to still be with him next year. That was a perfect ending to his Christmas, and he prayed for New Year’s Eve to go well, too.

Shana fortunately was not going to be there. She and her girlfriend were in Cali for Christmas and New Year's. In fact, there were several other people that were there that hadn't been around for the birthday party Simon had sort of crashed. Tulip, Mikayla, and Julliard chick who he found out was named Chapa were there, along with the Black ginger dude, who they called Meta, and Damita, Grace's alleged best friend. There were about a dozen other people too. Among them, Ghairrisahn, and truth be told, seeing her again, and in close quarters, Simon was still a little bit smitten by her. But, he also kept looking at Grace, who had worn what was essentially sparkly jewelry out.

It was luminescent chain mail two piece, pleated like victory curtain swag that flowed like water and sparkles like embers whenever the light caught it. The cup only bra and seamless panty beneath was so customized to her skin tone, he'd thought that she was naked beneath and initially almost injured himself when she took off her fur coat.

Nobody in the room was as sexy… Though… he really had to admit… Her friends were all pretty sexy.

Someone offered him a beverage, and he declined, "I don't drink."

"Are you both straight edge?"

"No. I take a lot of meds and have a partially functioning liver and less than stellar spleen. Couldn’t afford to drink, if I was even tempted to."

"Jesus! A medical condition?"

"Ummm… the meds, yes. I've got delusional tendencies, ummm… not heavy, but enough that I need the additional assistance. The organs were the consequences to one of my many, many aggravated episodes."

"Which… were not actually related to his psychosis," Grace offered and threw him a look, wondering why he was divulging the information this way.

"Not directly. I have some struggles, but I also can be an asshole," he chuckled. "A little childhood trauma, poor early development resources and a personality disorder that I've been working through, with a lot of help…" he looked at Grace and she cupped his chin and smiled at him. That was enough to help him relax.

"You don't have to tell people all of that, Gray Eyes. “I’m on medication” is enough, or even, just “I don’t drink."

"It's… fine." He smiled back, his heart uncontrollable as he looked her way. God, she was beautiful and precious. He loved her so much. He loved that she was with him again, and that it was more than it had ever been before.

"How bout a virgin daiquiri?"

"Sure, thanks."

The night mellowed out after a while. Grace went to call in with the nanny to check on Hazel when it was her bedtime. Simon watched her as she stepped out of the room, sparkling and waited to see her strut back inside. "Hazel just went to bed," she told him.

A few moments later, Meta asked Simon, "Have you heard Grace freestyle?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Freestyle."

"Freestyle?"

"Rap…?"

"Rap…???" Simon immediately thought about when they were younger and Grace tried to rap. She was probably 13 he was sure not 14 yet, and it was both miserable to hear but the absolute best thing because it was so comical. That thought alone steered him from the surrounding conversation that followed onto laughing uncontrollably.

Grace and Ghairrisahn stared at him and others tried not to laugh at his response. Grace simply thought, ‘So, you’re just gonna sit here and laugh in my face like this?’ Tears were streaming from his eyes! When he finally composed himself he took a few moments trying to breathe again and asked, "Hmm?" he repeated, “Rap? Like… rap music?” He got up to find some tissue and Grace folded her arms, smirking. “I’M GONNA PEEE!!!” Simon called out, rushing to the bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later, seemingly composed, but muttered the word, “Rap,” and laughed again, though not as hard, this time.

Ghairrisahn suggested, "Let him listen to her Fat P**** verse."

Simon choked and his eyes were wide, "Her what?"

"Oh my God, you guys! That was so long ago!" Grace said. "Please, nobody have that! I already had to sit here and watch this man laugh harder than he ever has in all the years that I’ve known him."

"I have it," Damita said. “I still jam Fat P***y. Salty that they never made and released that. That was dope. We can always use more p***y songs, in my opinion.”

Simon was definitely on board to keep hearing pretty women casually say the P word, but his face must have shown his confusion, because Grace explained, "Whenever I first tried to make my mark in the New York music scene, they were wondering if I could rap, and I had been practicing…" Simon started laughing again, but she talked over him, "BECAUSE, I didn't like the way I used to sound. So I was trying to tap into like the hot girl aesthetic and when Sahn called to ask me if I wanted to write some songs for her and maybe work on demos with her, one of my more risque songs that was all singing of course, they asked, can you throw in a rap verse?"

“Here’s the verse,” Damita said and turned it up:

“Ever since I was a baby sucking on my mama teet, everybody realized, wasn't nobody hot as me.

I was born with it, true, I got it from my mama. Grew up, glowed up, now these b****** want drama.

Can't be mad at me cuz your men keep flocking. Girl I don't want them n****s, I tell them to keep walking.

Why do she? Act like she all that, stuntin hard, swear to God on all them alleycats.

Why she never shook when every other bitch would be?

I got too much of my own to ever act like a groupie. Every real n**** know that girl so bougie.

Why so many high rollers be wanting her to choose he?

Maybe that's because they know she got that good coochie.

That's right, fat p***y on my stat sheet. They wanna hit, but I only let ‘em eat me.

Pucker up, work that tongue until they can't breathe -

And only if they got the energy to please me… Fat P***y…”

The song went on to soulfully and smoothly sing about fat P, and there were whispers and ad libs that he knew were Grace. By the end, he wondered where her rap was. "What happened?"

"I practiced and got better at rapping, so my verse sounded good, but they didn’t like it. They felt like it was too much.”

He laughed. "That wasn't you!" They played it again and she rapped and sang along. Simon had a look in his eyes as he was forced to admit, "Well… you definitely got better than the rapping I remember."

Then, he was once again thinking about how she sounded way back when. It caused another fit of laughter. “Boy, fuck you!” Grace said and playfully kicked him. Even still, he couldn’t stop laughing.

What made matters worse was whenever Damita asked, “Was your rapping as bad as the freestyle you did on Tuba’s show?”

“WHAT???” Simon asked and howled at the sky. “PLEASE! PLEASE… Do you have that?”

“It’s online,” Damita said.

“Woooooow. You are such a fake friend,” Grace said.

“You… did it in a studio audience…”

Simon found the clip and it wasn’t actually bad. It was definitely of the Kids’ Bop variety, but he loved it. “You’re good at rapping now. Because, I mean… do YOU remember when you first tried?”

She shook her head, “No, that sounds made up. I think you imagined it.” Simon stopped smiling and stopped to think, with an anxious look on his face. Grace caught her mistake and winced. She climbed onto his lap and said, “No, no, no… I'm sorry. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t mean that. You didn’t imagine it. I definitely tried to rap and sounded like somebody’s suburban Becky with a struggle blaccent.” He took a deep breath and nodded. She took his chin in her hand and forced his lips to pucker for her to kiss. “Sorry about that. I promise, I didn’t mean to make you panic.”

“S’ok.” He smiled.

Ultimately he had Damita to send him the audio of the demo. As funny as the idea of her wrapping had been before, he couldn't deny that there was something very appealing about getting to hear her say that word over and over.

Ringing in a new year kissing her lips in front of other people felt like a tremendous accomplishment. Appearing in several of the photos with her and her friends that were circulating social media, and then leaving with her on his arm, in that goddamn bracelet from Tiffany's and the fur coat. Ghairrisahn gave him a kiss on the cheek goodnight. He and Tulip exchanged contact info for a possible work project later. Nobody punched him. He was able to get some friction action from Grace, to the point of losing control in his pants, and he had a new catchy song to sing and rap about.

Every time he brings it up, it's either him laughing about how he remembered her old rap, or him rapping sporadically about having a fat P… which.. also gave him a little chuckle. Neither of them knew at that time that he would walk around the house rapping it for a few weeks, every few months, for quite a while.

"For someone with little compact titties and a tight little petite butt, you do have a pretty fat pu-"

"I will definitely react in displeasure if you finish that statement…" They gave each other wincing smiles. He punctuated his by kissing her on the nose real quick.

Whenever Valentines Day rolled around, she told him that she didn’t really want to do anything… which he HATED, because he loved that day! But, she wanted to be lowkey and she didn’t think that he could manage lowkey. She decided to make him one of his beloved ASMR videos, of her eating chocolate covered fruit and sucking on ice cubes with edible flowers in them. “This is gonna help smooth me over for a long time,” he said watching it. “I made you a video too.”

“Send it to me!” she said.

Whenever she opened the video and it was a fanvid compilation of her dancing in music videos or her social media posts, played to match up with Fat P***y, she cackled, then shook her head, “I am so tired of your ass,” she joked.

That was around the time that the revised second book of Esmoroth: The Idol Princess Falls was released.

Hazel decided that she would read them to Grace, because it had become obvious that Grace was never going to read them for herself and things were always easier to hear when they came from Hazel. She loved Hazel’s voice. She was able to get both books read to Grace by the end of Spring Break that year. Grace frequently texted Simon her complaints with this Idol Princess and how she was depicted. He was working a lot of the time and grateful of that fact. She wasn’t cool with most of the first book. She warmed up with the second one, EVEN THOUGH the Idol Princess died near the end. Correction: The Future King KILLED her! KILLED HER. He tried to explain that he couldn’t change that portion. That it was important to the plot of the third book, where the Future King would be hunted down because of this murder and go on a journey to bring the Idol Princess back!

It was extremely important.

“Okay, but how does she ever forgive this motherfucker after the way that he turned on her for something that was a misunderstanding?? HE KILLED HER, SIMON!” He knew that most of her emotions were because of who those characters represented. That book sold more than the first one and she found herself in the Esmoroth fandom… at least incognito, seeing that the Idol Princess was actually quite hated and many were relieved of her death. They didn’t know yet that she would be back and it took a lot out of her not to tell those punks! Did they even read the same book?? Simon found her on the porch swing, with her phone, crying.

“Grace…”

“It’s the exile from the Apex all over again.” He kneeled beside her. “They’re treating her exactly like they treated me and what am I gonna do? Get upset over a fictional character? No. I’m upset over the fact that whether she’s fictional, or whether she’s real, this is what people always do. We can’t do anything right.” She wiped her tears. “She tried really hard to make everyone happy and she died trying to help him. Trying to SAVE him, and he purposefully killed her, and they STILL see her as the bad guy. It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the Apex and I’m sorry for the Esmoroth fandom…”

She sighed and shook her head, “Fuck them nerds, Man.” She said. But, she was still hurt. Mostly, because it felt so much like reopening wounds that she thought she had healed from. It got so bad to the point that Simon almost backed out of publishing the last one, but he HAD to publish that one! That was the story of how the Future King was willing to go through every trial and tribulation, face every danger and fear just to get his friend back. What he hadn’t told her was that the character ultimately has to be willing to die, himself in order to awaken her. He had a few different possible endings and he wasn’t sure which one was most sufficient. He figured that might be because his future with Grace wasn’t always very clear. Particularly after he awakened that pain of betrayal inside of her.

The couple’s and group therapy was especially helpful during this time, because she honestly felt unreasonable in how upset this story made her, and had to remember and realize that her feelings weren’t necessarily towards the book’s feedback, but her own unaddressed hurt for the way that she had been treated. Sure, she had forgiven Simon, but at Simon’s initial harm, she had been subjected to thousands of hurtful opinions and harassment. She had spoken to a few people and rectified things - Shana, Simon, her parents… but what about the general public? What about her former “friends” and “followers” online? The people who she didn’t know before who appeared simply to speak on how much they hated a 16 year old girl. The people who made her life hell by forcing their way into her mentions, and into her mind… and once again… Simon, because he KNEW that they would and he KNEW it would hurt, because she had been very open with him at the time that such things were hurting her.

How was she supposed to build with someone who she would apparently for at least a long time, if not forever, she would think about how he tore her down. How he learned everything about her when they loved each other only to use things against her when he thought they didn’t.

Once upon a time, Simon was convinced that he had never done anything wrong in his life and that every time something happened that was wrong in his world, it was because of the people around him doing things to him, which was true in certain cases, but certainly not in every case, and definitely not in Grace’s case… But, once he felt attacked, all bets were off and he wasn’t letting up on her. It reached the point where she wondered if it was her fault and while she suffered her breakdown, before he was ever forced to get help of his own… she had attackers from all sides. Strangers. Associates. Fake friends… And they all rose against her, despite the fact that she was already down and the fact of the matter was and always would be that she was already down because Simon KNOCKED her down.

And… she had loved him through it. She’d always loved him. It was something that she felt so stiupid about for so long, while she was recovering, and for a time, she didn’t feel that way. In fact, as of the moment, Simon had done absolutely nothing to make her recall the hurt. She might have been offset by reading those books, and escalated it by checking out the fandom, but while he would always have a fear of abandonment from his mom or whatever… she was starting to feel like she would always have the fear of his betrayal. She was willing to hear him out, to work on establishing boundaries and rebuilding trust, rebuilding love, but there would probably always be the underlying torment, “I didn’t know how much he hated me, before. How can I ever know that I haven’t made one of his hard to determine mistakes and that he isn’t in the process of making me pay for it?” She asked, crying. “I just… have to trust him… but… I thought I did, then suddenly… I realize out of nowhere, maybe I don’t. Maybe I can’t. Maybe I never will.”

Simon started crying but he put one hand over his face and tried to suck it up. “The worst part is that he’s done nothing to provoke this wave of distrust… so it feels like there's not really anything that he could do to reassure me. He was already in the process of reassuring me and this just arose…" Simon sobbed. "Simon…" he shook his head. "This is what happens. When something comes up, he feels responsible, then I feel bad."

"I AM responsible. It doesn't matter if it was years ago. The damage was done and I'm the one who did it."

"Have you to tried taking some space apart to just be able to find each of your bearings without leaning on how each other makes you feel?"

They hadn't. But, now that the counselor suggested it,they would. Grace worried about Simon… that he might… react. She spent the first few days paranoid, checking behind her and being startled by every surprise sound at home.

During that time, one of her music videos released and the internet was abuzz with the racy nature of her single Lovedrunk Country and certain scenes in the video, including her choreography which included pole dancing, a peepshow setting, and at least one lapdance in which she is seen dancing with her thighs open in the recipient's face.

Someone (many someones) asked Simon what he thought about the video and he said, "It's an incredibly sexy video with awesome costume design and chorography. Who doesn't want to be the guy in the chair?"

She'd warned him whenever they were filming of some of the stuff in the video, but she had forgotten by the time it aired and worried that he might have too.

Grace: Heyyy… How is everything?

Simon: Confusing.

Grace: How do you mean?

Simon: I'm on so much meds right now.

Grace: For what?

Simon: The usual + I'm sick. ☹️

Grace: Do you need some help?

Simon: I don't want to trouble anybody.

Grace: Ummm. Who is "anybody?" Your concerned lovelady is worried! I'm coming over.

Simon: You don't have to do that. I need you to feel safe.

Grace: Are you contagious?

Simon: It's an infection. But… I meant because of therapy…

Grace: It's passed. I miss you, Fool.

Simon: 🥺 I've been miserable.

That happened from time to time. They'd be flourishing. They'd be fine. Then, they'd be frustrated and need to give each other a little room (technically, it was almost always Grace), as Simon really did seem as though he was willing to go through anything just to make sure he was always near her. Sometimes that meant going through time apart from her. But they didn't put their relationship on hold. Whenever they were taking space it was literally just that. Going to their own homes for a little bit until everybody was comfortable again.

By May, Hazel's 11th birthday, they threw the party at Simon's house. That June, Grace's album came out. That July, Mrs. Monroe said that she was looking for a surrogate, so that she and Mr. Monroe could try again at another child. Simon's 24th birthday, he announced that a major studio made a deal with him for the Book of Esmoroth. By Grace's 24th, the Monroes had found their surrogate. That Halloween, Simon and Hazel had dressed as some characters from some sci fi or fantasy world of theirs and Grace was dressed down, in a hoodie and some yoga pants with her fro pulled forward. Because, she was always dressing up and having to look amazing. Halloween was a day that she dressed up by not dressing up at all. Four days later, Simon's dad called to tell him that his mother had "Gone to be with the Lord."

Simon didn't want to go back to her services if Grace wasn't going to be with him. So, her parents kept Hazel while she went along for emotional support… and Simon needed more than he thought he would for losing his mom..

She was "dead to him" long ago. Even in her last days, it was like staring at a corpse that was making groaning noises. She'd lived past when they thought, but she never actually told Simon that she forgave him, and people's insistence on saying that now Faith and Hope were together just made him furious.

He took a leave of absence from work and saw the grief counselor a little more frequently. Grace made recipes she had bookmarked, hoping that might make him feel better on the home front. He wasn't coming out of the house, so she and Hazel spent Thanksgiving week at his.

Hazel wondered, "Are you going to be well enough to cook for Thanksgiving? You might not remember, but you said that you'd make turducken… if you don't… Grace will try… three birds will have died in vain…" Simon snorted and tousled her hair. "She's really worried about you."

"I'm trying really hard to get better for you two…"

"No. That's not what you need to be doing. You need to be trying to get better for you."

"My therapist has told me that before."

"And what? You pay him to not listen to him?"

Simon shook his head, "I don't understand why I'm so sad. She was a bad person who was bad to me. She hurt me and made me as bad as her, maybe worse. Why would I care that she's gone?"

"It doesn't matter why. You do, and that's gotta be okay, because you obviously can't control it. Let yourself feel whatever you need to and try to get better for you. In the meantime, I wasn't playing about that turducken. You… can't let Grace try to take on something like that. She just started making edible food like… this year…"

He cackled and Grace peeked in, "Hey Ho Whoa! Is my loveman feeling better?" He caught her eye and forced a smile. She knew it was fake, but it was the first he'd tried in weeks, so she felt better. Simon forced himself into the kitchen that week to make Thanksgiving happen. Grace and Hazel followed whatever instructions he gave for additional help, and after he was actually up and about making himself useful and spending time with his favorite two people, he felt better too.

This year, he was thankful for another year with them… "Oh God… I let our first anniversary slip by!"

"Simon… I don't know what day that was even."

"November 5th," Simon said. "Because that remember, remember the 5th of November rhyme was in my head…"

"Ohhhh." Grace winced and she bit her lip. "I mean… it makes sense you forgot… the day started with your mom…" Simon frowned. That was the same day?

"SHE. RUINS. EVERYTHING!" he roared. Hazel squealed and fell to the floor. Simon got up and stormed out of the back door. Grace heard him screaming and hitting things and it had been a really long time since he did anything like that. Hazel was crying… so she wasn't a turtle. Grace helped her up and brought her to her room then went to check on Simon.

He was bound to snap, the way that he had been holding everything in all month. He was pacing and she stayed on the porch and observed. "Simon?"

He shook his head, "No. No, I'm not coming back inside like this. "She just… with her last breath had to take something else away from me…"

"She took nothing but her last breath, Si."

"That day can't be special without me having to think about her dying!"

Grace came down off the porch, "That day can be whatever we say it is, because we're still here. She's dead. Her power should be gone, Simon." She offered a smile, then asked, "Did I ever tell you about the first ceremony that Hazel and I ever attended together?" She explained meeting Hazel, and the way that she put everything to rest for her… "I think one of the main reasons that you can't get past this is because you felt like you were supposed to be giving her tribute. You felt like because you were sad and morning that that meant that you had to pay your respects. But when you tried you didn't find any. That's okay Simon. You don't have to pay respects. You could simply send her off with your truth. Whatever that is you've got to face it. you can't bottle everything in and then just explode like that in front of Hazel. She was terrified."

He looked guilty and sad as he rushed back in to apologize. Hazel took it well. And when he mentioned that ceremony of theirs, Hazel and Grace went back outside with him so that he could have his own. It was mostly accusations, frustrations, and some yelling… but he got it all off of his chest, the way that couldn't be done at a proper funeral. After that, he honestly and truly started feeling like his good self again.

By Christmas, as was hoped the previous year, Grace still had him in her life. They did Christmas at his house that year.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #editing later

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years

Note

Hey, so for the drabble challenge, can you do "Stay awake" and "It's Christmas, don't be mad at me," for a young (like when they were kids) Chance and Faith. Like they're waiting up for Santa or something. You said you wanted platonic at, and it would just be so cute, but if not, I entirely understand, and you do not have to

Alright this was a brilliant idea so thank you for the suggestion please enjoy young Chance, Faith, and his family!

“So how did Christmas go for you this year?” Chance asked as he picked up rock tossing them into the river, “Did you get anything cool?”

Rachel jumped back some of the water splashing in her direction, “We didn’t get a Christmas. Santa didn’t come this year.”

Chance looked at her eyebrows raised, eyes wide, “What?! He comes to everyone! How did he miss you guys?”

She shrugged her small shoulders, “Maybe I wasn’t good enough.” The two looked up at the sound of Rachel’s name being called from the house. “I should get going. I’ll see you in a few days Chance!” She called out rushing up the hill. Chance stood at the bottom rubbing his chin with his thumb as his dad would. It didn’t seem fair that Chance got a Christmas and she didn’t. But it was May and he didn’t come up for Christmas normally so there went that plan…..unless.

Chance gasped running back to his house barreling through the front door, “Dad! Dad!”

Ray took the stairs two at a time, panic in his deep blue eyes, “Chance! Are you okay?”

Chance was catching his breath, “Yeah I’m fine. And Rachel’s fine but dad!” He stood up straighter, “We need to make Christmas!”

Ray’s face went from panicked to confused as he ran a hand through his greying black hair, “You want to make….Christmas….in May?”

Chance rolled his eyes, “Uh yeah. I have to.”

Ray shook his head pinching the bridge of his nose, “Does this have to do with Rachel?”

“Yeah. Dad, Santa did visit her this past year and it’s not fair!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down, son,” Ray took a deep breath looking around the house. ”I think I have some ideas on how we could do that,” he placed a hand on Chance’s shoulder, “Let’s go make sure Grandpa is okay with it first okay.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rachel stepped out of the car looking up to Ray’s eyes, “Where’s Chance? He always waits for me out here.”

Ray gestured to the house, “Well he’s got a surprise for you inside.” He led her through the front door, the house covered in gold, red, and green.

Rachel’s eyes went wide as she took it all in. The small pine tree, lights wrapped around it, the wreaths littering the walls, red bows connecting them all together. Stockings hung on the fireplace with care, Christmas music playing softly, the smell of sugar cookies baking hitting Rachel’s nose as her eyes landed on Chance. His brown hair covered by a red santa hat, a too big sweater with reindeer, gapped tooth grin on his face as he walked to hug her. “Merry Christmas Rachel!” He declared as he led her into the house, “Look, I made you a stocking,” Chance pointed to the one in the middle Rachel’s name made out of yarn and adorned with blue snowflakes.

“Chance,” he looked to her blue-green eyes, “it’s May.”

He rolled his eyes, “No it’s Christmas,” he pointed to the calendar on the fridge, “See it’s Christmas. Right dad?”

Ray nodded, having put on his own Christmas vest and a red nose, “He’s right it’s Christmas. Well Christmas Eve to be exact.” Rachel looked between Chance and his dad, doubtful crossing her arms.

The back door opened to Mickey Ruicknar stomping in brushing off the white flakes from his hair, “Well looks like that snow is starting to come down.” Rachel’s eyes went wide looking out the window.

“It’s May,” she protested, “It can’t be snowing.”

Ray squatted down to look her in the eye, “I promise you it’s snowing. You want me to show you?” A small smile came to her face as she nodded, “Alright let me show you,” he lifted her from the ground, Chance following behind. He brought her up to the back window, her eyes going wider the closer she got. The white flakes fell gracefully to the ground that was covered in white. “See it’s snowing outside,” Ray set her back down on the ground, “but we can’t go outside because it’s just way too cold.”

“Yeah and we have to make cookies still for Santa,” Chance pulled her towards the kitchen where Mickey was pulling out a tray from the oven.

Chance didn’t hesitate in pulling one of the perfectly golden brown cookies from the hot tray, “Chance! Those can burn you still,” Mickey chastised as Chance reached for another one.

“Hey- Ow. Ow,” Chance handed one of the hot cookies off to Rachel, “Careful they’re hot. But Grandpa it’s Christmas, you can’t be mad at me.”

Rachel tossed the cookie from hand to hand before placing it on the counter, “I think he can still Chance. May I have one of the other cookies?”

Mickey brought the plate of cooled and finished cookies down from the counter, moving it away quickly when Chance tried to reach for one, “Chance, kiddo, you’ve already had six of them. You won’t eat dinner.”

Chance looked to the floor sad, the warm cookie stuffed in his mouth, “I can still eat dinner.”

Rachel laughed at him, “Yeah Chance you won’t be able to eat dinner!” She grabbed a blue frosted cookie, her lips starting to stain already. She stuck her tongue at Chance who responded in kind.

“Alright kids,” Ray announced placing a box near the small pine tree, “Who’s ready to decorate the tree?”

“Me! Me!” The two kids screamed as they rushed over to the box of sturdy ornaments and some that were made the day before. Rachel pulled out the sparkling silver garland wrapping it around herself like a scarf singing along to the song playing on the radio. Chance making work of pulling out some of the pine cones, their placement haphazard, his voice over taking Rachel’s. She lightly pushed him laughing and giggling as Chance dropped a little tinsel in her hair. The older men watched and helped out where they could, their main job keeping the cookies from burning and that the snow stayed falling.

Ray had doubted the reception of Christmas in May for Rachel would be what Chance expected but he was right in that it wasn’t fair. Seeing the two of them laughing, dancing, and singing made it worthwhile to go as big as they did. Ray took a sip of the Irish coffee leaning against the kitchen counter, Chance and Rachel having moved on to coloring and writing letters to Santa, his own father joining him. “Can’t believe you talked me into this,” old Mickey gave a sigh, “glad we did this though. Nice to see him spending Christmas with someone else close to his age.”

“Yeah, it is. Guess that’s what we get for having such a small family,” Ray met his father’s light blue eyes.

Mickey scoffed, “Yeah. Just glad you got a little bit of time with them,” Ray watched as his father grabbed a cookie, “You think maybe we come up here for the holidays from now on? Let those two celebrate it together,” he pointed to the kids lying on their stomachs on the floor, both with the tips of their tongues sticking out of their mouth as they concentrated on writing.

Rachel’s raised feet moving along to the beat of Paul McCartney from the radio had Ray thinking about the possibility, but work was work and Montana winters were unpredictable. “Her family would never let her come over during that time. It’s hard enough now to get them to allow her over as it is,” Ray set his mug down shaking his head, “I wouldn’t want to get their hopes up.”

“And there’s your work too,” Mickey reminded him, “But you have a point. So what, we just have Christmas in May every year?” Ray gave his dad a shrug laughing, his dad putting his hand on his shoulder, “Well guess I better leave the rigs up then. Too bad you can’t just have Rachel stay with us full time. If it’s as bad as it seems then it would be best for her.” Chance stood up making his way to Mickey paper in hand, Rachel not far behind, “Did you two finish your letters already?”

The two kids nodded and spoke eagerly as Mickey led them back to the living room, looking over their work, Ray left in the kitchen lost in thought. Surely it wasn’t impossible to take Rachel in, but it would be hard, take some time. Would it even be the right move to take Rachel in? Would she be okay once all was said and done? Ray shook the thoughts from his head, it was just the heat of the moment thinking, he was probably misreading some of the events that had passed recently. If it looked like it was getting worse Ray would look into it, after getting a professional involved.

“Dad! Is it time to decorate the cookies?” Chance asked, bringing Ray back to the room around him.

“It’s only because you want to eat them right away,” Rachel giggled.

Chance rolled his eyes, “Well yeah what else are you gonna do with them?”

She put her hands on her hips, “Make a gingerbread house,” she looked up to Ray and Mickey scared, “Wait did we make gingerbread?”

Ray pulled down the box on the fridge, “Well we didn’t but we managed to find a kit,” Ray set it down gently on the table, “You just have to be careful okay?”

Rachel screamed in joy as she jumped up and down, clapping her hands, “I promise! Chance can we do that first? Please, please,” she begged.

Ray laughed at the look Chance gave her, his lips pursed, green eyes looking to the ceiling away from her, “Well I guess we can make the house first, Princess.” She squealed, giving him a hug before pulling him by the arm to the table. Ray pulled out the disposable camera taking more pictures of the night hoping that maybe some would turn out decent to commemorate the night. The two of them fighting over the best way to set up the house, or what decorations went where, had Ray and Mickey wondering how a house managed to get built and the lack of frosting on the walls. The cookie men proved to be where the frosting fight began. To be fair, Chance had started it by eating the eye of Rachel’s cookie self, she was appalled and covered cookie Chance’s green eyes with black frosting. Back and forth the two went, frosting ending up in both of their hair by the end of it all.

“Chance you weren’t playing fair!”

“I was only joking!”

“Alright you two,” Ray warned, “Let’s take a breath and then we can get the two of you cleaned up okay. Besides its time for bed soon anyway,” Ray patted their small shoulders.

“Mr. Ray,” Rachel looked up to him, her eyes big, “Is Santa really going to come tonight?”

“Well of course he is,” Mickey’s deep voice interjected, “But you have to be in bed first before he comes. It’s part of what makes the magic work,” Mickey winked at Ray.

“He’s right. So let’s get ready for bed,” Ray looked to Chance, “You take a bath first mister.”

“Yes, sir,” Chance mumbled, getting down from the chair, the older men’s eyes not leaving Chance until he went to the bathroom.

“What about me? I don’t have anything for a bath,” Rachel asked softly.

Ray knew it was a lie, “You have some in your bag, you showed me earlier,” she shook her head fervently. She was lying but there was no reason to lie, Ray glanced up to his father, “You’re right. I’m sorry Rachel.” He pulled out a frosting covered strand of hair, “However we need to get this frosting out of your hair still, so here’s what we’re going to do,” Ray pointed to the kitchen sink, “We are going to wash your hair in the sink there and clean your face up. Then you can go to Chance’s room and change.” He looked her in the eye, “Is that okay?”

She nodded smiling, getting the shampoo from her bag. “You might be onto something Ray,” Mickey whispered, “I’m gonna check up on the snow.”

Ray nodded making sure the two kids got ready for bed and all their letters and cookies for Santa placed by the tree. Ray was starting to usher them to the room when Rachel spoke up, “Can you read us a story? The Christmas story?”

Chance looked up to his dad before looking to the ground sadly, “We don’t have the book Rachel,” he told her avoiding her eyes, “Sorry.”

Her shoulders slumped, “Well we may not have a book but I have it memorized,” Ray tapped the side of his head. “Come on let’s get you into bed and then I can tell you the story.” Their faces lit up rushing and shoving the other to get onto the bed first, settling the pillows just right. Chance holding his white toy cat Artemis, a crescent moon on his forehead, Rachel gripping the Cheeseburger bear she won the summer before at the Testy Festy. The blue and green eyes focused on Ray as he clapped his hands, “Okay you ready?” They nodded, “Twas the night before Christmas…,” Ray started, he got through the first verse before forgetting all the exact words. The improvisation worked on them as the two kids laughed and their eyelids became heavier, eventually falling asleep.

Ray tucked them both under the covers before silently leaving the room. “You going to stay awake with me,” Mickey’s voice startled Ray as he grabbed his chest, “or are you actually going to try and get some sleep?”

“I’m fine dad. I want to help you get the presents all set up,” Ray waved his dad off making his way up to his room in the attic. The box of gifts and candy in the center of it, Ray hoped that Rachel would be happy with what they had picked out for her, if anything she couldn’t hate the stocking stuffers. When Ray got to the living room he tossed a red hat with a white beard attached to it towards his father, “Here in case they wake up.”

Mickey looked at it laughing, “You got a red coat in there too?” Ray grinned as he pulled out the read coat, “Of course you do.” Mickey groaned as he stood to put the garments on, “You really can’t do things halfway can you?”

“Chance wanted to go all out, so that’s what I did,” Ray shrugged, getting the smaller gifts placed in the stockings.

“Kid was also fine with there being no snow, but you managed to set up a rig that let’s the fake snow fall constantly,” Mickey adjusted the belt on the coat before bending down to help fill the other stockings.

“A basic chemical reaction and reusing an old fertilizer spreader is not that hard to do dad,” Ray picked up one of the cookies taking a bite.

His dad shook his head rolling his eyes, “Proves my point more Ray. Thinkin’ ‘bout it though, she deserves the all out.” Mickey finished setting up the stockings taking a break on the sofa, “I think we can wait to set the presents out a little bit.”

“Starting to get too old for Christmas, Dad?”

“Nah,” he reached for the letters next to the cookies, “I just want to see what they asked for.” He handed one over to Ray, the picture drawn by Chance, it asked for a science coat like dad’s and that Rachel has a fun time. “He’s gonna take after you, Ray, I promise you that,” Mickey looked at the one from Rachel, “Dear Santa I just want a pretty crown of flowers and to spend real Christmas with the Ruicknar’s.” Ray and Mickey looked at the letter, a family picture with herself thrown in, drawn on the back, “Maybe you make the time to come up here Ray. We could all have a real Christmas. One the two of them can play in the snow kind of Christmas.”

Ray sighed, taking the letter, “Maybe. I’ll see what I can do dad,” Ray turned the letter back over chuckling, “She spelled our last name wrong,” the two laughed trying to not wake them, “Can’t blame her though. She was close….”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chance pulled the old journal down from the shelf looking at the dates on the side, January 2000 to June 2000. He had skipped over this journal the first time around, paying more attention to finding out about his mom and his dad’s early life. Chance turned to head back downstairs to Faith who was making pasta, hearing the falling of thick paper. He looked down to the floor seeing bright blue and pink construction paper and two photos. He picked them up, looking them over as he walked down the stairs.

The first picture was of him and Faith as kids, frosting on their faces, his dad behind them smiling at the camera, a messy gingerbread house in front of them. Chance set it down on the table taking a seat looking at the other picture, this one Chance’s grandfather holding Faith helping her put the star on top the small tree while Chance sulked underneath, he couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic he was back then. Faith turned to face him in her too big plaid shirt, “What’s so funny?”

Chance handed over the photo, “You remember when we had Christmas in May?” He looked over their letters to Santa once she took the pictures from him.

She smiled fondly at the memories, “Yeah. You guys got me a book on Greek myths. It was way too advanced for me, but I read it all the time once I was older,” she moved to sit in Chance’s lap kissing him, “I still have it too.”

#chance ruicknar oc #x: emo flower child #a chance for faith #I hope you enjoy it!

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lissy-strata · 4 years

Text

Three Times Vicki Used Fire For Good and One Time She Didn’t

This is my Secret Santa gift for @austerlitzborodinoleipzig, who asked for Vicki being awesome. (I’ll post this to AO3 as soon as I can.) Merry Christmas! :D

1. Light

The cave was only marginally warmer than the outside, which was so cold one could toss out a pitcher of boiling water and it would freeze before it hit the ground. Like a dangerously enthusiastic snow globe, the wind blew the snow fiercely, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. What little light could penetrate the thick clouds slipped inside the cave opening, waiting out the storm with the two shivering travelers inside.

Vicki’s fingers shook as she tried to tie the end of a string to a bow-shaped stick. The string wrapped around another stick once, then joined the other end of the bow. “There!” she said, succeeding in her task. “Now I just n-n-need some sort of f-f-f-flat rock or s-something for the t-t-top.” Feeling around on the ground, she found a small piece of bark.

Beside her, the Doctor was fumbling around in his pockets for something to use as kindling. Miraculously, they had wood. The cave was filled with bits of branches and sticks that had one way or another come in. Some of it was even dry enough to burn.

“Hmm...” He peered through his spectacles at a few crumpled sheets of paper. “No, not this one...must remember to return that to Mr. Jefferson. Ah, yes! This should do nicely.” He handed her one of the pages. It was brown with age.

Vicki looked at it. “S-symphony No. 10....is this Beethoven?”

The Doctor pocketed his glasses. “Only a fragment. Nobody will miss it. Besides, I told him the second movement needs tweaking...” he trailed off before seeming to remember the urgency of the task at hand. “Are we going to sit around chattering all day or are we going to make a fire?”

She tore the paper into tiny shreds and piled them up in a heap. The Doctor reached for the bow. “C-can’t I do it?” she asked.

“What do you know about fire starting?”

“I know enough. Ian s-s-showed me. B-back on J-J-Juno.” She put the end of the stick in the middle of the paper, held the bark between her palm and the top of the stick, and began moving the bow back and forth. “See? T-the string moves the st-st-stick faster and it should heat up the p-paper.”

The rapid movement also helped warm her up a bit. The Doctor didn’t seem to feel the cold the way she did.

He sat back and watched her in silence for a few seconds. “Chesterson saves us all with fire again...” he mused.

“What?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing child. Nothing. I was just thinking about another fire in another cave...”

“Was that with Susan?”

Silence.

“...How did you know that?” he whispered, almost hoarsely.

“Ian told me about it when he was showing me how to do this.” The tiniest wisp of smoke wafted up from below. “He said it was when he and Barbara first met you.”

“He did, did he?” The Doctor’s tone was defensive.

Vicki decided not to pursue that line of conversation. Instead, she said, “He told me about Susan.” More silence. The paper started to smolder slightly. “Was she really your granddaughter?”

There was a long pause. Silence, save for the sound of scraping wood. Her arm was starting to tire, but she was sure the paper would catch soon.

“Yes,” said the Doctor.

For an instant, she saw a look of terrible sadness flicker across his face. He quickly hid it away.

“Barbara said she fell in love.”

“Yes. She did. With a young man on Earth. And I...” the words hung in the air.

The paper caught fire.

Together, they carefully fed the little flames until they had a decent blaze going. Vicki pulled her mittens back on and huddled next to the Doctor, letting the much-needed warmth wash over them.

He sat staring into the fire thoughtfully, occasionally adding another stick. Vicki couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she didn’t need to be telepathic to guess that he was lost in a memory.

“Doctor,” she began. He turned to look at her. “She sounds like a wonderful person. Do you think...” She hesitated. “I mean, maybe the Tardis... Maybe one day I could meet her?”

For a second, she was afraid she’d crossed a line. An unspoken boundary. But then a small smile played around his lips. “Maybe someday we will,” he said as he put an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe someday...”

2. Baked

“They’re coming through the windows!” screamed Barbara.

Ian rushed to the window where a seven foot tall gingerbread man was trying to break through and beat it savagely with a candy cane. The monster cookie roared and fell back, and Barbara grabbed a giant gumdrop off the floor and stuffed it into the broken window. It wiggled at bit as the gingerbread man pounded on it, but held firm.

“How many more are there?” Ian asked breathlessly.

“At least half a dozen,” said Barbara. “I’ve locked all the doors and windows, but the whole place is made of sweets, it won’t hold for long!”

Ian put the end of his sharpened candy cane down and leaned on it. “Where’s the Doctor?”

“With the mayor. He’s trying to get the attraction shut down.”

The attraction in question was the gingerbread mansion they were currently standing in. Every year, the humans on New Saturn built a new Christmas wonderland- a forest of ice sculptures, a maze of Christmas trees, a replica elf village. The tourism did wonders for the local economy. However, this year their elaborate gingerbread mansion hadn’t panned out the way anyone expected.

For example, nobody had expected the gingerbread men to come to life and start attacking people.

Outside the parlour, there came a loud crash, followed by a scream and the sound of someone running. Vicki burst into the room, wielding a long stick with the remains of a marshmallow on one end. Behind her, wearing the rest of the molten marshmallow, was an on-fire gingerbread man, waving its arms madly and roaring.

“I think I’ve found their weakness!” shouted Vicki. “They don’t like fire!”

“You just made it angrier!” Ian grabbed a nearby chair and threw it in the path of the rampaging cookie. It tripped and fell to the ground, still burning. As it tried to flip itself over, Barbara pushed Vicki behind her.

“It’s between us and the door,” she said.

Ian hefted his candy cane. “I’ll hold it off. You and Vicki make a run for it.” The gingerbread man managed to roll itself over, smothering the flames. “Run!”

“Wait!” said the cookie.

They stared in astonishment as the gingerbread man stood up and brushed itself off. “Wait,” it said again. “I...I’m done.”

“Done?” asked Barbara.

The cookie scratched the back of its head. “I’m done. Finished. Completed.” When the humans still didn’t seem to understand, it said, “The process is complete. My insides have hardened.”

“Are you saying,” said Vicki, “that you’re finished cooking?”

“Yes.” The cookie smiled.

“Now hang on a minute,” Ian said as he lowered his candy weapon. “You’re telling us that all the gingerbread men out there are on a rampage because they’re only half-baked?”

“Yes.”

“So all we need to do is finish baking them?” asked Barbara. “Vicki, can you get more marshmallows?”

Twenty minutes later, they were on the roof with bags of giant marshmallows, a small bonfire, and an improvised slingshot.

It was going to be a very eventful Christmas.

3. Explode

“Who are you?” asked Vicki.

The girl who had unlocked the cell door wasn’t at all who Vicki who had been expecting. She looked just a little older than Vicki, and she wore a black bomber jacket decorated with an eclectic assortment of pins and badges.

“I’m Ace. C’mon, we’re getting out of here.” Ace took Vicki’s hand and pulled her out of the cell and down the corridor with all the confidence of someone who either knew what they were doing, or who was really good at pretending.

“But my friends-”

“They’re fine. You just got stuck in a time slip. You’re something like fifty-seven years ahead of them.”

Vicki stopped short, jerking her hand out of Ace’s. “Wait! I’m in the future? Well, compared to them.”

She must have looked pretty distressed, because Ace threw an arm around her. “Don’t worry, kid. The Professor sent me to get you and send you back to the right timeline.”

“Who’s the Professor?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go!”

She allowed Ace to lead her through the twisted corridors of the research station. It looked so different from when she had come in with Steven and the Doctor. Newer, obviously, but also when they came in it had been an ancient castle. Now, it had been modernised- kitted out with new lights, new furniture, more computers, and a whole new wing dedicated to deep space telescopes.

“See, what happened is there’s a buildup of tachyon energy and if you happen to walk through the right place at the right time, you get zapped to the other end of the timestream.”

“I see,” said Vicki. That certainly explained the sudden dizziness and waking up alone. And the-

There was a bang from somewhere in the distance.

“Cybermen!” they exclaimed. Ace looked at her.

“I see you’ve met them.”

“Well, I didn’t lock myself in a cell!” snapped Vicki.

“All right,” said Ace. “And I’m not looking forward to a reunion. Let’s go!” She motioned for Vicki to follow her toward an alcove containing a stone spiral staircase.

“But the front door’s right there,” said Vicki, pointing. “We can escape.”

Ace stopped on the stairs. “Well, you know how I said we’re in the future?” Vicki nodded. “Okay, so it’s not the future future. Not the real one. It’s like a chunk of future but a bit to the left. All closed off from the rest of time.”

“Like a bubble?”

“Yeah, exactly! And we need to get to the focal point so we can get back to our own timelines and trap the Cybermen here. At least, that’s what the Professor said.”

A horrible electronic screech echoed from a nearby corridor. Three Cybermen entered the great hall somewhat shakily. A strange foaming substance oozed from various heads and chests. The one in front pointed at them and screeched again.

“Move!” shouted Ace. Vicki didn’t need to be told twice. The two of them scrambled up the steps as fast as they could go. At the top, Vicki watched as Ace pulled a silver canister out of her rucksack and fiddled with the top.

“Just giving them something to think about,” she said, grinning. From below, they could hear the Cybermen ascending the steps behind them. Ace tossed the canister down the stairs. It bounced out of sight and then there was a loud explosion that shook the walls.

Three more corridors and another set of stairs later, they found one of the newer rooms, filled with futuristic computers and equipment and tangled wires weaving haphazardly through it all.

“What do we do?” asked Vicki.

Ace powered up the computer. “I think...yeah, they didn’t change the coordinates. It looks like they just unplugged everything.” She tapped a few commands into the computer. “Okay, that should send us back to where we need to be. Help me reconnect all this...”

It wasn’t difficult to plug all the wires back in. Most of them were even helpfully color-coded. It was just that they were tangled and there was a lot of them. They were almost finished when they heard another strangled electronic screech. Ace swore. She was halfway underneath one of the machines, up to her elbows in cables. “Hey, kid! Get another can of Nitro-9 out of my bag!”

Vicki dropped the tangle of wires she was working on and dove for the bag. She pulled out another silver canister while Ace shouted directions.

“Just don’t use it until you actually see a Cyberman,” she said. “Don’t want to give away our location.”

“Okay.” Vicki slid open the door to reveal a Cyberman standing right outside.

It was still scorched from the first explosion.

“Here!” Vicki quickly thrust the can of Nitro-9 into its outstretched hand, slammed the door shut, and threw the bolt home.

The following boom shook bits of rock and debris from the ceiling.

“Ace!” said Ace.

The machine, when fully assembled, looked an awful lot like three old-fashioned television cameras arranged in a triangle around a raised platform on top of a nest of cables.

Vicki stood on the platform, holding a remote control, and watched as Ace carefully fiddled with her last canisters, placing them strategically around the room.

“Why..?”

“So after we’re gone, those things can’t follow. Don’t looks so worried, it’s a long fuse. I’m like, 93% sure of it. We’ve got about a minute before they blow up.”

She ran to join Vicki on the platform. “Ready, kid?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Vicki hit the button.

Thirty seconds later, the now empty room exploded.

4. Tradition

“Are you sure this is all right,” Steven asked as he peered around the corner at the city square. A fresh blanket of snow covered the previous blanket of snow, giving their target a festive winter coat.

“Of course it is. Lars said it was.” Vicki fumbled with the lighter. “And we’re just in time to be the ones to do it this year if we hurry.”

“But why would people go through the trouble of building a giant straw goat just for someone to burn it down?”

Vicki handed him a lit torch and began lighting the other one. “It’s tradition. It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s probably some ancient religious thing that nobody knows the meaning of anymore.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t they pick someone to burn down the goat? Why leave it up to chance?”

“That’s probably part of the tradition.” She tucked the lighter into her pocket and held her torch in front of her and grinned. “If you’re lucky, the goat survives. And if you’re not, the goat burns down and you get six more weeks of winter.”

“That’s Groundhog’s Day.”

“Oh, who cares? It’ll be fun!” She went to the end of the alley and checked to see if the coast was clear. “Ready?”

Steven shrugged. “I guess. What do we do?”

“Follow me!”

Vicki burst out of the alley and ran at top speed toward the huge straw goat, whooping and hollering and waving her torch. Steven ran after her, with much less noise, and together they circled the enormous legs, touching the fire to the straw until the flames grew and the goat was completely alight.

They stood back, panting, watching the structure burn.

“It’s gorgeous,” said Vicki.

“I have to admit,” said Steven, “it does look pretty spectacular.”

They only had a few moments to admire their handiwork when they heard sirens and an angry voice yelling, “Hey, you!” They turned to see Swedish police officers running towards them.

“...maybe this isn’t really a tradition...” Vicki said softly.

“Yeah. And if we’re lucky, we’ll avoid jail time. Run!”

#classicwhosecretsanta #austerlitzborodinoleipzig #Vicki Pallister #First Doctor #Barbara Wright #Ian Chesterton #Steven Taylor #unexpected Ace #writing #fic

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everly-kindred · 3 years

Text

Eve’s Diary - Entry #85

Date: 6th of December, 2027

Dear Diary,

Can you believe it’s already December? I can’t. So much has happened in a year… It feels both like it’s been longer than a year, but also that it hasn’t been long enough!

So we had the tree-lighting ceremony, and I think it’s one of my favourite things when the Great Hall is filled with all of the Christmas trees. They look so beautiful! And sometimes they use faeries or special bubbles to decorate the tree, and I love it. I’m still getting the stuff gathered for my Death Day party, but I think my trees will be covered in black decorations and a lot of candles.

We had Hogsmeade weekend, and it was good to go into the village, but I didn’t stay very long. It gets dark super early, and it’s been snowing a whole lot. Blizzards, in fact! So I stocked up on my candy, had some hot drinks, and walked back in the dark. It was a full moon, too, so they wanted us back early anyways for safety and stuff. Oh, I also visited Snitches Get Stitches, and I made some ornaments.

Apparently that thing that fell from the sky is some sort of space thing, a meteorite I think it’s called? And it’s a big mystery. There’s a big beam of light coming out of the forest and into the sky, where it struck. I’ve been drawing it from a tower window, and I want to see it up close, too. No one knows what exactly it is or what to do with it. But I’ve been having weird dreams ever since it landed. They’re fuzzier and harder to read than usual, which I dislike. A lot of them are very stressful dreams about drawing in the darkness of space, while trying to catch stars. Or I’ll be chasing the Aurora Borealis and fall right out of the sky!

In Herbology, we talked about evergreens, which I love. I think Evergreen would be a cute nickname for me, since it’s so close to my real name, but how lame is it to give a nickname to yourself? Anyways, someone mentioned holly, and I talked about how I’d love to have Holly be my name, and then Dana and Marcella both told me they liked my name which made me get all flustered. And then I said that I just like stealing names, like the fae, which is sort of true because I have a big list of names in my journal and I write down more every time I hear one I like.

We had Defense Against the Dark Arts class with MaCauley in the art room. He told us to paint someone we hated, and I don’t really hate anyone, so I started painting Grindelwald from a picture in one of my history books. Aures and I ended up pranking the professor - she bit into an apple and stuck one of my gummy snakes in it, and then he ate it! But he took it really well and actually thought it was funny. We laughed a lot, which was nice, but then some Beauxbatons students started arguing… at? About? Elliott and that made me all anxious, and then we left.

Professor Blightly held dance lessons, which was fun, but I don’t think I’m any better at dancing. I have a hard time with… time? Timing. And I’m already pretty clumsy, so trying to dance in a box is hard. I think I got the hang of it though.

Today, I had lunch with Marigold, and she told me that she didn’t get to do much dancing because of some drama, and I don’t know what that’s about, but I feel bad that I didn’t notice that she wasn’t dancing. We talked about the Yule Ball though, and I think we’re both looking forward to it. I know I am, anyways. Oh, and Lars approached me again, with another Durmstrang student, and asked for a reading. He said he’d give me what I need, which I thought was odd.

But anyways, I read his tarots, and basically the cards said he could be jealous or insecure and have very high standards, is currently triumphing over a victory, but is also beating a dead horse and if he continues he’ll get exhausted. Essentially. There was more to it, but I think both him and the girl he was with understood. They seemed very thoughtful about it, anyways.

After that, there was Hufflepuff Hangout today, and we decorated the tree in our common room. I hung up a little ballerina my mum sent me, and a little nutcracker Marigold transfigured for me to go with it. I also hung up the metal gingerbread-men ornaments I’d made at Hogsmeade weekend.

My birthday is in a couple days. I’ll be 13. Isn’t that weird? I feel like that’s weird. I used to always want to be 13 because that’s how old you can be to get on websites without your parents permission, but I don’t use computers much anymore. Anyways, I’m not sure if I want to do anything for my birthday, because I was planning on waiting ‘till I got home, like I did last year. But since we’ll be stuck at the school… maybe I should do something? Does anyone even know it’s my birthday? Maybe I should talk to Marigold and bake a cake.

That’s about it for me. It’s very grey and dark, and super cold these days. I feel like I’m living in a snowglobe again, but I kind of love it. I feel very inspired. I keep thinking about the Aurora Borealis and faeries in the snow and my phoenix. I’ve been drawing her again, lately. I think winter inspires me for her. I’m probably going to go draw her now.

Or maybe work on a faerie-house. I could ask Dracheblume to let me put it near the forest, so if any faeries get cold, they can hide inside. I also really like flying lately, like, for fun. I want to fly around the castle, but I don’t think I’d be allowed. I’ve been having a lot of dreams about that, too. Flying through the towers at night, while it snows, the moon bright in the sky. Aures and I never did get around to making that hiding place on the roof...

I have things to think about!

Much love, Everly

[ Eve’s Wiki Page ]

[ Flickr ]

#harry potter #hufflepuff #diary #magic #witch #hogwarts #secondlife #second life #mischief managed

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adapted-batteries · 6 years

Text

Christmas Shenanigans

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General/sfw (little bit of making out)

Relationships: Jassekiel, Fleve

Word Count: 6582

It’s Christmas time, and someone has just unsuccessfully tried to subdue Santa via poison.

Also posted on my Ao3.

This is the next story in my Land Pirates AU. It’s not exactly necessary to read the previous stories, but some things may make more sense if you have.

Also, because my brain failed to really include much of any Flynn/Eve interaction in the previous stories, I will say now Fleve is a thing for sure in this universe, it just won’t be a large focus compared to Jassekiel because I haven’t really written it much. It definitely was going on when Flynn and Eve were gone in “The LiTs go Clubbing” though...I mean what else do they do when they’re off on missions alone?

-----

Christmas invaded the Annex with the subtlety of an elephant with squeaky shoes. Tinsel and lights were being wrapped up the banister to the second floor by Ezekiel, who was progressively becoming more covered in shiny red and white strands as he went. A white Christmas tree claimed a spot next to the stairs, slowly but surely getting decorated with ornaments and candy canes by Cassandra and Flynn, both of them humming along to the Christmas carols being played on an old record player (Jenkins insisted that if they were going to make that much noise, they could at least listen to his classics). Gift wrapping materials and finished presents littered the main table where Stone was having a bit too much fun with bows and ribbon.

While not actively decorating, Jenkins was retrieving items for them when they asked, and experimenting with holiday tea flavors on his willing test subjects/decorators (it was nice to actually use all those decorations he found sitting in a closet years ago, and having people to put them up, not that he’d ever admit that). Despite the mess and mild chaos, Jenkins kept his complaints and outward show of disappointment and annoyance to a minimum.

The only one not in the mood for any of that was Eve. The second she stepped into the Annex that morning, her annoyance was plain as day. “Do we really have to do this?” she sighed, sinking down into the chair at her/Flynn’s desk (it still didn’t want to be organized the way she liked it).

Ezekiel gave her a grave look from the balcony. “Don’t get in the way of Cassandra and Christmas.”

Cassandra glared at him playfully before explaining. “My parents thought believing in Santa would ‘stunt the development of my intellectual rigor’...they told me he wasn’t real when I was three.” Flynn gave her a sad look as he handed her an obnoxiously sparkly pink ornament. “I decided, once I was on my own, that I would always celebrate Christmas as much as I wanted.”

“I was not prepared for it,” Ezekiel added as he returned to the bottom floor, leaving a trail of tinsel behind him as he brushed it off his heather grey sweater. “I will say it grew on me though, not like I had much of an ideal childhood either. Plus, she’s entirely too fun to watch getting excited,” Ezekiel said, giving Cassandra a peck on the cheek before wandering over to see what Stone was up to.

“What about you, Flynn? Any depressing childhood Christmas stories you’d like to share?” Eve asked, nearly not as annoyed as she had been as she watched Ezekiel stick bows on Stone’s head.

“No, actually. I mean, I figured out Santa wasn’t bringing me presents early, but I always looked forward to decorating the tree with Mom, eating gingerbread cookies, visiting Grandma,” Flynn replied, looking off into the distance wistfully for a moment. “Christmas didn’t get ‘sad’ for me till Mom died, but I still had Charlene and Judson, and Jenkins.” He focused back on Eve. “I guess Military bases aren’t exactly festive...oh sorry.” Flynn bit down on his lip to keep himself from blabbering.

Eve shook her head. She’d told Flynn about her childhood on one of the many missions they were alone, after getting doused with a truth serum that apparently also made her dredge up her past. Thankfully he hadn’t said the other reason she didn’t like Christmas. “It’s fine. And no, they weren’t, especially not when I was on my own either.” She sighed,deciding they didn’t need any of her depressing backstory. “Please tell me more than just one of us had an okay childhood,” she said, looking pointedly at Stone.

“Well, I mean, yeah, Christmas is pretty big for my family, everyone comin’ into town, seein’ relatives I only see on Christmas. It was...easier...before I left to study, they weren’t exactly enthused with me wantin’ to be a historian and all instead of takin’ over Dad’s company,” Stone paused, catching himself exaggerating his country drawl (which happened when he talked about Oklahoma or anything about his family). He cleared his throat before continuing. “Turns out the kids think I’m cool because I’ve been a lot of places, and my cousins like me ‘cuz I’m still good in a bar brawl.”

“Is that a...normal Christmas thing in Oklahoma?” Cassandra asked, looking at Stone confused.

Stone shrugged. “If enough peoples’ relatives and in-laws have driven them up the wall, then yea-” a phone ringing echoed through the tall room, cutting Stone off.

Everyone looked to the source of the ringing, a payphone on a rolling pole against the wall, and then looked at Jenkins. “There aren’t many people who have that number,” he said calmly, but the speed at which he walked to the phone betrayed his collected visage. “Hello?”

A panicked voice squealed out of the receiver; Jenkins’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “What do you mean he was poisoned? He can’t be-” he got cut off by the caller again, who sounded more angry. Eve had stood, posture somewhat defensive despite no threat nearby.

“Gretchen, calm down. He got back at least, that’s good. Whatever it is will leave his system eventually...yes, I’m on my way of course, he’ll be fine. Did he see who attacked him?” Jenkins asked gently, attempting to be soothing with the frantic caller.

He glanced to the LiTs and Guardian, all staring at him with puzzled expressions while the caller continued talking. “Do you mind if I bring some...colleagues...who may have had some experience with these people? Yes, I mean the Librarians...yes, besides Flynn now...okay, yes I’ll make sure to fully brief them before we arrive...we’ll be there soon...it wouldn’t hurt to activate it, do so if you want. Just make sure he rests...goodbye.” Jenkins hung up the phone, looking much more frazzled than he had been before.

“Who was that?” Eve asked the same time as Flynn asked “What happened?”

“That was Gretchen,” Jenkins clarified, which only got confused stares from everyone besides Flynn, so he elaborated. “Gretchen is...Mrs. Claus, and Santa has been poisoned somehow.”

“Santa’s real?!” Cassandra squeaked, which earned amused looks from the boys.

“Yes, but not exactly as you think of him as,” Jenkins answered.

Eve, already trying to piece together what happened, was ready to berate Jenkins with questions. “I take it he’s not usually susceptible to being poisoned because he’s…immortal?”

“Yes-” Jenkins started, but Flynn jumped in, cutting him off.

“Santa is an avatar of goodwill. Essentially he spends the year collecting goodwill from the global population, and at midnight Christmas day, he releases that goodwill back to the people. If he didn’t do that, the world would descend into chaos,” Flynn lectured, bouncing on his toes from either excitement or the tea.

There was a good ten seconds of silence while everyone processed that information. “So that’s why everyone gets cranky around the holidays, we’re running low on good will?” Ezekiel asked.

“Precisely, which is why it’s imperative to not have Santa incapacitated or weakened by the time December 24th arrives,” Jenkins said, walking over to the card catalogue. “That I knew of, there wasn’t much of anything that could subdue Santa, nor do I know why someone would want to do so.”

“Actually, you could subdue him, temporarily anyway,” Flynn corrected, drawing everyone’s attention. He seemed confused as to why everyone was looking at him until Jenkins motioned for him to explain. “Oh, a highly potent mix of, hm, mistletoe, holly, and….oh yes poinsettia would do it.”

“How festive,” Jenkins mumbled. He seemed embarrassed for not knowing that information and continued rifling through the card catalogue.

“If...Santa...has all that goodwill in him, would that make him a highly magical being?” Eve asked, not really liking the train of thought her brain was going on, regardless how true it probably was.

Jenkins sifted through the cards, pulling out the one he was looking for and handing it to Cassandra to go find the book listed. She took the card and scurried off, obviously aware time was of the essence.

“If one wanted Santa because of the immense amount of sympathetic magic in him, then yes, this would be the opportune time to collect him,” Jenkins said. “It is a fair thought that Dulaque is the one responsible, considering he has been attempting to collect items with fairly high amounts of magic. The likelihood of his involvement also increases as the men who attacked him had serpentine tattoos on their arms.”

Everyone collectively mumbled “Serpent Brotherhood” under their breaths; the LiTs glanced at each other as just two weeks ago, they barely managed to keep some similarly tattooed goons from swiping a magic mirror in Belgrade. Dulaque had been more active lately, which was quite concerning.

Jenkins stared off for a moment before shaking his head. “I’ll let you deal with the tactical side, Colonel Baird. For now I need to figure out how to get the poison out of him.”

Cassandra returned as Jenkins finished his sentence, handing him the rather thick book. He quickly thumbed through it, pausing on a page that caught his attention. He read a bit more before shutting the book. “It won’t take me long to make an antidote.” Jenkins started off to his lab.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Stone said, getting Jenkins to stop and turn around.

“I suggest you get some warm clothes. The North Pole is not exactly known for its balmy weather,” Jenkins said, turning around once more and disappearing down the hallway.

“We’re going to the North Pole!!!” Cassandra squealed, grabbing Stone and Ezekiel by their arms and dragging them off to find coats and sweaters.

Eve sighed at the room, leaning against the desk. “Of course we’re going to the North Pole.”

Flynn sauntered up to her side. “Oh, it’ll be fun! Just think, you’re living every little kid’s dream.”

“Did you dream about going to the north pole?” Eve asked dubiously.

“Well...no...okay so some, the majority of kids dreams,” Flynn backtracked. “It’ll be nice to visit, I haven’t seen them in several years, since I last went with Jenkins anyway.”

Eve eyed Flynn suspiciously. “You’ve met Santa?”

“And this surprises you?” Flynn retorted, throwing his arms in front of him to gesture at the room. “I spent the past ten years collecting magical artifacts, working for a building that’s actually a pocket dimension and definitely sentient. Santa is not the weirdest thing I’ve seen by far.”

Eve raised an eyebrow. “And just what is the weirdest thing you’ve seen?”

For once Flynn was flummoxed. “Um...well, I mean there was...no actually...hmm...I’ll get back to you on that.” He pushed off the edge of the desk, propelling himself towards the middle of the room before he changed direction to lead further into the Annex. “We should get coats, though I doubt inside will be anything but toasty.”

Eve followed him, albeit less enthusiastically. “Can’t we just open a door inside?”

“Nope. Gretchen probably activated the North Pole’s magical security system in case whoever poisoned Santa tried to follow. Magic, or anything really, can’t get through, so we’ll have to use the barn for a door and wait until she sees us and turns it off,” Flynn explained, belatedly offering his arm to her.

“If it’s in the name of security, then I guess I can bear a little cold,” Eve joked, hooking her arm with his. “Though if we have to stand out there for more than five minutes, you owe me coffee.”

Flynn smiled and leaned towards her conspiratorially as they walked. “I’ll make you some of Jenkins’s special elfish coffee that he doesn’t let anyone know about. It’s divine.”

---

The North Pole was...well...cold. Everyone had bundled up except Jenkins, who somehow was braving the arctic temperatures in nothing more than a wool hat and an overcoat. They stumbled out a door that faced what looked to be the main building of the property: an old but sturdy looking log chalet, whose architecture had a distinct viking vibe (at least to Stone anyway).

The door they just used belonged to a similarly designed barn, which definitely had live animals inside based off the smell that greeted them. A recently used path in the snow led from the barn to a side door in the chalet. Snow quietly fell, the cold quickly made noses and cheeks red.

“So, how long do we have to wait?” Ezekiel asked, looking around.

“However long it takes for her to see us,” Jenkins replied, bending down with gloved hands to make a snowball.

“We can’t like...knock?” Stone said, shuddering a little. Cassandra moved closer to him, hooking an arm in his.

Jenkins just raised an eyebrow at him, then rather gracefully threw the snowball at the chalet. About five feet away from the house, the snowball smashed against a force-field that crackled with blue energy to dissipate the force. “She will be alerted to that. Give it, oh...three, two, one-”

When Jenkins got to one, the force-field abruptly glowed in a circle above the home, then shrunk down to disappear into the snow around the foundation. Jenkins set off towards the side door, not bothering to tell anyone to follow him.

By the time they trudged the fifty feet to the door, a distressed lady, presumably Mrs. Claus, opened it. “He’s barely awake. I hope whatever you have works, because he’s in no shape to do his job,” she said, ushering them all inside what appeared to be a mud room. Jenkins pulled out the vial from an inner pocket and shucked off his coat, quickly hanging it on a hook before following after her. The LiT’s, Librarian, and Guardian were not so quick in removing coats, but it was easy to follow Gretchen’s worried voice through the home.

By the time the rest of them arrived in the master bedroom (Cassandra had to drag Ezekiel and Stone from various relics, artifacts, and art displayed), Jenkins was in the process of giving the potion to a visibly ill man in the bed. While the nature of their visit dictated that this was Santa, none of them had expected him to look, well, not like the jolly, white-bearded Santa that had been marketed to them over the years (Ezekiel thought he looked a lot like the actor Bruce Campbell).

Santa, was barely awake. Jenkins was doing all the work of slowly pouring the potion into his mouth and holding him up a bit. Jenkins mumbled something under his breath, too low for anyone to hear, then let Santa relax back into the pillow. No one spoke as they watched him close his eyes, apparently losing consciousness. Jenkins didn’t seem concerned, at least not as visibly concerned as Mrs. Claus still looked.

Thankfully, the potion was quick to work. Within a few minutes of swallowing it, Santa sat up in bed, propped up by a couple pillows. He still looked tired, but he was a lot more conscious than he had been when they walked in the room. He gave a curious look to the clump of people at the foot of the bed, then looked to Jenkins. “Santa is very grateful for your help. Not many know how to poison Santa...this is disconcerting.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Mrs. Claus asked, holding Santa’s hand as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Yes, he just needs rest,” Jenkins replied. “In the meantime, we will do our best to deal with the person responsible for this.” He said the last part with such malice that if he was a cat, he’d be hissing with hackles raised.

Mrs. Claus eyed the people at the foot of the bed, mainly the LiTs. “I have some matters I would like to discuss with Jenkins and Flynn...the Guardian could help too. If you wouldn’t mind giving us some privacy,” she suggested, waiting on them to dismiss themselves.

Cassandra knew exactly how Stone was going to respond being treated like a kid getting kicked out of the room so the parents could talk, so she just tugged him harshly towards the door before he could say something stupid. “Of course, Mrs. Claus,” she said with a nod. Ezekiel thankfully didn’t need to be prodded out of the room.

Stone waited till she shut the door before he let out steam. “Why can’t we be involved? We’re not little kids!” Ezekiel just tutted at him, hooking his arm into Stone’s free one so that he and Cassandra had control over him.

“To them, we are!” Cassandra shot back, not angrily, but annoyed. “Flynn’s been doing this for years, Jenkins is who knows how old, and something gives me the distinct feeling that Santa’s even older than him.”

Stone grunted, seeing the argument, but he didn’t want to quite let go of his anger. “How come Eve gets to stay? She’s just as ‘young’ as us.”

“She’s the Guardian, mate. Don’t tell me you missed how Jenkins and Charlene treat her differently. She’s not like us,” Ezekiel replied. Stone breathed heavily out his nose, but seemed content to let them take him wherever they were heading in the house.

They wandered for a little while, and may or may not have gotten lost (the house had a similar feel to the Library, way bigger than the outside dimensions suggested, Cassandra thought). Eventually they found an immense study. Bookcases were built in to all the walls except the exterior one, which had large windows instead. Books took up residence on most of the shelves, interspersed with various random, but probably magical, trinkets and sculptures. A huge, solid wood desk at least a third of the room’s width sat towards the back of the room, and a few somewhat mismatched, but ultimately comfortable looking reading chairs occupied the center of the room in front of it.

The ex-land pirates wondered to various shelves, completely engrossed in reading the book spines and looking at the objects (not touching, per Cassandra’s demand earlier), but Stone distractedly fiddled with the sleeves of the maroon sweater he’d found in the Library’s wardrobe.

Ezekiel was the first to notice it. “You alright?”

“Hmm?” Stone tore his gaze away from a sculpture.

“Why are you itching yourself through the sleeve?”

“What?” Stone looked down at himself, then his eyes went wide. “Shit.” As quick as he could without actually ripping the sweater, he shucked it off, taking his undershirt with it. “Sweater didn’t, mmph, have a label, was probably wool,” Stone said, though part of it was muffled by the sweater.

Cassandra finally caught the commotion just as Stone’s sweater landed on the back of one of the chairs. “Um…”

“I’m not really allergic to wool, it just itches, makes me red,” Stone explained, motioning at his arms which were indeed redder than his torso, up to where the short sleeves of his undershirt started. There was also a faintly red ring around his neck.

“I’m sure we could find something else for you to wear, or we can go get your coat,” Cassandra suggested, looking at his arms with mild concern.

“Nah, here, mine is cotton,” Ezekiel said, matter of factly pulling his sweater over his head in one smooth motion. Stone noted that Ezekiel was, in fact, not wearing an undershirt. Eventually his brain restarted and he grabbed the sweater from Ezekiel’s hand, blatantly ignoring the knowing look on Ezekiel’s face.

Ezekiel’s sweater was a snug fit on Stone; he was quite aware of Cassandra’s gaze on him, and once Ezekiel managed to get the looser wool sweater on, his eyes were clearly seeing something enjoyable too. He let them look for a good few moments, hands on the back of the chair so he could tense his arms (Baird’s training sessions definitely paid off), but he ruined the image when the itching on both of his forearms got unbearable at the same time.

Ezekiel lost it as Stone stood there rubbing his arms together like one rubs two sticks to start a fire. “Aw mate, why’d you have to ruin the view,” he snickered. “You were looking so tasty.” Cassandra bit back a laugh.

“Yeah, well changing clothes ain’t gonna make me stop itching for awhile,” Stone replied, forcibly gripping the couch to keep himself from itching again.

Cassandra sauntered over to Ezekiel. “Stone currently may be some eye candy, but you make me want to find a fireplace and hot chocolate,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Apparently Ezekiel didn’t know how to handle essentially being called cute; his mouth opened and closed, a little flush appearing on his cheeks. “Uh, thanks. I mean you will forever win the cute category of us, though.” Cassandra and Stone looked at each other fondly, conveying the message “listen to this dork of ours” with affectionate smiles and loving eyes.

Stone effectively ruined the moment again by making an annoyed grunt and scratching at his neck. Cassandra let out a huff of a laugh then turned her head back to Ezekiel. “I think Stone could use a distraction,” she muttered into his ear.

“I think I can help,” Ezekiel said deviously as he looked at Stone, who was still rubbing his neck. He turned his head to Cassandra and gave her a quick kiss, then made his way over to the itching archaeologist.

Stone may not have heard their conversation, but he easily recognized Ezekiel’s “I’m gonna kiss you till that’s all you can think about” face. “Hi,” Stone said, subconsciously licking his lips.

“I think you could use a distraction,” Ezekiel purred, wrapping his arms around Stone’s waist. “Well, Cassandra thinks so, and I agree.”

“Please, distract me,” Stone rumbled, equal parts irritated by his arms and turned on by having Ezekiel pressed against him. Ezekiel happily obliged. Cassandra thought about peppering Stone’s neck with kisses, but then thought better of it and came up behind Ezekiel, effectively sandwiching him. Stone’s arms still itched, but it was becoming less and less of an issue.

---

One Minute Earlier

“Silly of them to not have defenses up,” Dulaque said as one of his goons picked the lock of the front door. The door opened loudly, hinges in need of oil, but it didn’t deter Dulaque and his goons one bit. “You two,” Dulaque motioned to the two men on his left, “search the house for anything magically valuable. There’s bound to be some here. Everyone else, with me.” The five intruders entered the house, up to no good.

Upstairs, Mrs. Claus shushed everyone mid-conversation. “I thought I heard...it sounded like the front door.”

“Front door, were you expecting someone?” Flynn asked.

“No, and we don’t exactly have unexpected visitors here,” Mrs. Claus replied uneasily.

“I don’t like this, I’ll go check it out. The Librarians wouldn’t go outside I don’t think,” Eve decided, leaving the room on-edge.

---

Of all the things on the LiT’s minds, the Serpent Brotherhood showing up was not one of them. Stone was quite thoroughly distracted from his itchy arms thanks to Ezekiel and Cassandra, especially as the former was having fun probably leaving a mark on Stone’s neck. He just happened to glance towards the door at the opportune moment to see two wide-eyed bruisers in the doorway.

“Oh come on,” Stone huffed, lightly pushing a confused Ezekiel away slightly as Stone stepped back so Ezekiel didn't fall into Cassandra. “We’ve got company.”

The Serpent Brotherhood goons didn't know any better; they stepped into the study defensively, both warily watching the now aggravated Stone. Ezekiel instinctively backed towards the windows, but Cassandra prevented him. “You need to help him,” she whispered, eyes on the goons.

“What? I don’t fight,” he whispered back, turning himself to continue backing away.

She grabbed his arm to stop him again. “Distract them. Give Stone the upper hand.”

He risked a glance at her. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to...hide stuff, we don’t want them taking anything in this room probably,” Cassandra answered, hand tensing on his arm as one of the two goons started actively going for Stone.

“This is gonna be fun,” Stone growled, taking the bruiser head on. They clashed with a variety of heavy sounds and grunts, Stone probably enjoying the sudden fight more than he should’ve.

“Go help!” Cassandra whispered harshly, shoving Ezekiel towards them with the one hand. Ezekiel floundered, but didn’t stumble. He looked back to Cassandra, but she was already moving towards a back shelf she had looked at earlier with a fair few items on it.

“What am I supposed to...hey!” Ezekiel shouted, startling the goon about to join his buddy against Stone. He was sure Stone could handle one fine, so he just needed to occupy this one long enough so Stone could deal with him. The goon, seeing Ezekiel as a viable target, started going for him.

“Uh.” Ezekiel put his fists up in front of him, wishing he hadn't skipped out of those training sessions Stone had invited him to. “I can do this,” he told himself. He risked a glance back at Cassandra, who had already somehow cleared the shelf of magical looking things and was on the other side of the room, but taking his eyes off the man in front of him was a poor decision. The goon charged, attempting to use momentum to hit Ezekiel for as much force as possible.

Fortunately what Ezekiel lacked in force, he made up for in being slippery. Fleeting movements here and there, making the goon go for the places Ezekiel had been. He took a couple good hits, enough to probably make him sore tomorrow, but fortunately Stone jumped in just as the goon sent Ezekiel to the ground.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?” Stone growled, actually lifting the goon away from Ezekiel.

“Nah it’s fine, totally got it under control,” Ezekiel squeaked, scrambling back to his feet. “I mean if you want, not gonna stop you.”

“Uh huh. How you doin’ Cassie?” Stone asked, punctuated with a grunt when he slammed the goon into a shelf. Surprisingly no books fell off.

“I could use a hand, Zeke,” she replied with a bit of strain as she carried several hefty items to the desk.

“That I can do,” Ezekiel exhaled. By the time he got over to Cassandra, Stone had knocked the second goon out (which was fast, because Ezekiel only had to cover fifteen feet from the middle of the room to the desk). He helped her sit down the items she had, then she pointed over to the corner where the goons currently occupied the floor.

“I didn’t get over there, that’s the last of it though,” she said, busy playing tetris with the items in the large, lockable drawers in the desk.

“Do we need to continue hiding stuff?” Stone asked, joining Ezekiel in collecting the last items.

“I doubt there was just two of them,” Cassandra replied. She placed the last item she had in a drawer, then looked back up at them. “I’m sure Colonel Baird has it under control...but just in case.”

Ezekiel seemed more convinced to continue hiding the objects than Stone did...or maybe he was just relishing the chance to get his hands on them, Stone couldn’t decide which it was. They both gently placed the items they gathered on the desk, and Cassandra went back to work hiding them. Ezekiel idly grabbed one of the artifacts Stone had brought over, turning a little statue that had an unnerving smile in his hands. “Today could’ve been worse,” he decided. “At least Morgan Le Fay isn’t here.”

Cassandra was about to respond, but a comical sounding “POP!” echoed in the room. A very confused Morgan Le Fay suddenly appeared in the middle of the reading chairs. Ezekiel looked down at the statue in horror, all but throwing it back to the desk. While she was only dressed like a well-to-do lady of this century, the way she carried herself made the air tingle with magic.

“Why did you-” was all the bewildered witch could say before footsteps thundered in the hall, quickly nearing the study. A frazzled but spry Dulaque sprinted into the room, abruptly stopping when he saw who was there. A moment later Eve, Flynn, and Jenkins arrived, all in various states of annoyance and confusion.

“Can someone explain why I was summoned here?” Morgan asked, particularly towards Jenkins and Dulaque. Neither gave her any indication they actually knew, so she turned to the trio still around the desk. “Which one of you brought me here?! You don’t just summon people like me for no reason!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Ezekiel blurted. “It just...happened? I dunno, that thing,” he pointed to the statue laying on its side, “did it I think.”

She glared at the statue before a flash of recognition appears on her face. “Oh I forgot I gave Nick that when he was going through his trickster phase. Great thing to let an annoying little kid use, until it summoned a demon,” she said with a nostalgic sigh. Then she turned to Dulaque. “Why are you here?”

Dulaque gave her a smug smile, ignoring Colonel Baird moving a step closer to him. “I think you know why I’m here.”

“No...I don’t,” she said, looking more annoyed than before.

Regardless whether Dulaque wanted to share his plan or not, Flynn was more than happy to explain. “He was apparently coming here to take Santa, after failing to capture him a few hours earlier.”

Dulaque scoffed at Flynn, but spoke to Morgan. “I did not fail...one of my lackeys did. I’m here to actually get the job done.”

“And just what is it you plan to do with Nick?” Morgan asked, putting a hand on her hip.

“Surely you can put two and two together,” Dulaque sneered, but when Morgan didn’t reply to him, he seemed a little flustered. “I, well, I plan to release magic back into the world!”

Morgan looked at him like he was insane. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Surely you of all people would want to be back at full power,” he quipped. Instead of answering him, Morgan simply reached out a hand and suddenly Dulaque was five feet off the ground, spinning around slowly. “Put. Me. Down!”

“You think I lost my power? Silly knight. One born with their abilities never loses them,” she replied, sounding almost like she was talking to a child who didn’t know any better. Without warning, she dropped the spell, letting him land on his ass. “Do you know how much chaos you will cause? It won’t ever be like it was. There’s too many people now. Too many who will wield magic once they have access.”

Despite being on the ground, he leered up at her. “What? Are you scared of being knocked down? Scared some kid will overpower you?”

She laughed at him, genuine amusement. “You don’t live for a thousand years to be easily overthrown. No, I don’t want to be here when the world becomes a mess again. I’ve tested how this world reacts to magic...it’s...underwhelming.” She looked at Jenkins, who so far had been watching the whole ordeal with a mix of horror and anger. “Maybe you should actually listen to your son for once, Lancelot. I’m sure Galahad agrees with me.” Stone’s jaw practically dropped to the floor at all the sudden identity revealing; Flynn at least kept his jaw shut.

Dulaque finally stood and turned to Jenkins, waiting to hear his stance. “Unfortunately, I concur. Wild magic makes more work for the Library,” Jenkins answered. Something in his tone hinted that Jenkins was not saying all he had on his mind.

Dulaque looked betrayed, but also like he knew Jenkins wasn’t going to side with him. “You side with the Witch now? Have you forgotten your youth? Your vow? The world was ours, we could have it again.”

“I don’t side with her, I could never side with her for what she did...she only makes a good point,” Jenkins replied, strained. “That time is in the past. The world has moved on. I moved on.”

Morgan shook her head at the family drama. “I don’t know what you did for the past thousand years, Lancelot, but I’m still tired of your squabbling, and I wouldn’t mind a vacation while you scheme away.” She put a thoughtful finger to her chin and looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe I’ll go to the fey, haven’t been there in a few hundred years, be with people who really get the concept of humans being annoying. Have fun taking over the world, and don’t come crying to me when it bites you.”

She didn’t even give Dulaque a chance to reply. With no visible strain, she opened a shimmering purple portal in the middle of the room and stepped through to wherever it led. Dulaque spared one last glance at Jenkins, who only scowled back at him, then leaped into the portal just as it shut.

There was a good ten seconds of silence before Eve really looked at the LiTs. “Why are you wearing Ezekiel’s sweater?” she asked Stone.

Stone looked down at himself like he forgot. “Oh uh, apparently that sweater was wool,” he pointed to Ezekiel, “and I’m allergic to wool sort of, and Ezekiel offered to switch.”

“O...kay then.” Eve looked down at the still unconscious goons. “What should we do with them?”

Everyone was silent as they thought...or waited for someone to suggest something.

“We could drop them in Belgrade, considering that’s where we dealt with them last,” Ezekiel suggested.

No one protested the suggestion. “Very well. I will go inform Gretchen and Santa of what just happened, and advise them to be cautious,” Jenkins said, straightening his waistcoat. “In the meantime, you can replace the items you hid.” He gave one last glance to the unconscious bodies, then strode off into the house.

“Actually, Stone, help me move these men to the door, and we’ll grab the others. Flynn, help Cassandra and Ezekiel,” Eve commanded, better delegating her resources.

With teamwork, the Librarians, Guardian, and Jenkins had the Claus’s study and home back in order, and goon-free. Gretchen didn’t let them leave empty handed; everyone, including Jenkins, got a little bundle of baked goods, each custom to their own tastes. Everyone assumed they were of magical origins since she merely walked into the kitchen and came back with them within five minutes.

The goons started to wake mid-transport, but Jenkins had Pan’s Flute put them back to sleep before they were aware enough to notice where they were. They deposited them rather easily in a park, where they looked like passed out drunks, not dangerous henchmen. Once back to the Annex, Stone was quick to ask Jenkins about the details of Camelot, but Jenkins was not in a mood to delve into his past. Fortunately for Jenkins, Cassandra commandeered Stone for decorating.

Eventually they finished decorating the Annex, munching on Gretchen’s snacks as they went. Eve even helped out a little on the tree, but for the most part she watched them argue over ornament placement or ribbon and wrapping paper pairings, chase each other with stick-on bows, and sword fight with empty wrapping paper tubes (no one beat Flynn though). So this is what Christmas is supposed to be like, she thought. No wonder Cassandra wanted to make up for what she lost.

Flynn sauntered up next to her, startling her out of her reverie. “A ring that made the wearer shape shift into inanimate objects but with their face still there. That is the weirdest thing I’ve seen so far,” he said.

It took a moment before Eve remembered their conversation from earlier. “That is...weird.”

They watched Cassandra and Stone attempt to tie up Ezekiel with ribbon to see if he could get out, though it took longer than it should have to tie him because he kept distracting them with kisses and they kept finding ticklish spots, which made him squirm and loosen their work. Jenkins attempted to act like he was busy sorting books that got stacked on one of the desks, but Eve caught him sneaking a fond glance at the trio more than once.

Flynn nodded towards them as they finally finished tying Ezekiel up. “They’re…”

“Adorable,” Eve finished for him. Cassandra had gotten a phone out to time Ezekiel’s escape.

“Yeah.” Flynn laced his fingers with hers. “I know Christmas wasn’t great for you,” he started, low enough only they could hear, “but you do have a new family now.” Ezekiel got his arms free in the time it took Flynn to say that sentence. “I think they deserve to really know what the day is to you. And to not have to figure out your birthday by hacking government databases...you know Ezekiel would.” Ezekiel freed the rest of himself after that sentence.

Eve chuckled. “He definitely would...I don’t know if that’s endearing or concerning.”

“It’s concerningly endearing,” Flynn suggested. “I could tell them if you want.”

“No, I can do that. Plus if you tell them, they’d plan a surprise party,” Eve said, leaning against his shoulder. They continued to watch the trio, now back to decorating the tree, mostly, though about every other minute two of them would get distracted by each other and quit working, and the third would eventually get them back to work.

“And to think four months ago they barely worked together,” Flynn mused.

“I think there was something there before they came to the Library. Stone got over it pretty fast,” Eve added.

Flynn went thoughtful for a moment. “He did seem pretty betrayed when Cassandra tried to sneak off with the book of Serhem...who knows what they were before I met them.”

Jenkins, who had apparently disappeared, walked back into the Annex with a tray in hand. “Tea, anyone?” he asked, but everyone was already moving to the center table where he had sat it down.

Despite the unexpected interruption, Christmas carried on in the Annex, this time to everyone’s enjoyment.

---

A few hours earlier

Morgan stepped into the fey, ready to relax, until Dulaque stumbled into her back. When she regained her balance, she glared daggers at him. “What part of ‘I need a vacation’ did you not understand?” she said, quite annoyed.

“I needed a way out of there...I improvised,” Dulaque explained, but he wasn’t very confident she’d accept his reason.

“No, you aren’t staying here with me,” Morgan retorted, shaking her head. She opened another portal, the purple tinged with blue this time, and promptly shoved him through it.

Dulaque stumbled through, tripping over the threshold of the portal and landing almost face first into some moss. He was back on Earth...though where he didn’t know. The forest around him gave no clues; it stretched on for miles in any direction he looked. He sighed heavily, ignoring the mocking caws from the jays in the trees, picked a direction at random, and started walking.

-----

Post Notes: I decided to make the decorating scene happen sometime early December, mainly because it bugged me in the show that they did all that decorating on December 24th.

Stone being allergic to wool is both a convenient plot point to get his and Ezekiel’s shirts off...and also is me when anything wool is on my skin for a long time (generally takes like 20 minutes to get nice and itchy), though I’ve never had ex-land pirates to distract me by kissing me...but I can wish right?

While Jenkins definitely thought Morgan was evil in the show, she always gave me chaotic neutral vibes, which definitely fueled her scenes in this. I seem to have written Dulaque as more of a mess than he was in the show, maybe that’s because I also forgot to write in Lamia, who knows.

#the librarians fic #land pirate au #flynn writes #jassekiel #fleve #the librarians #jacob stone #cassandra cillian #ezekiel jones #flynn carsen #eve baird #jenkins #dulaque #morgan le fay

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