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butter-leopard · 1 year

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On the Longest Night

Story by Nicole Hawberry

Illustrations by Rama Thorn

Summary: A little holiday story in which nothing of note happens but visiting friends, lighting candles, and waiting up for lost souls.

Tags: winter solstice, alternative holiday traditions, asexual main character, lesbian moms, cozy fantasy, doctoral research, Edwardian-era-flavored setting, alchemy never died

Content warnings: past loss of family, loneliness

6,300 words

Suggested tea pairing*: Tranquility by Yumchaa

*unsponsored!

On the evening of winter solstice, Ann left her rooms at sunset.

She hefted her basket of gifts and made her way across the quad, boots crunching on grit that had been thrown down to break up the ice. A confection of pink clouds towered atop the university roofs. It quickly dispersed into darkness, and all across the courtyard, the alchemic lamps blinked on. One hissed to life as Ann passed beneath.

She stopped first at the home of Dr. Nir, who she’d known since she’d been an undergrad at Sweetwind College. When Dr. Nir had moved here to Janos University, she’d talked Ann into coming along to pursue her graduate studies. Soon after, she’d introduced Ann to her current mentor, Dr. Longway.

At Dr. Nir’s apartment, Ann accepted a glass of cherry cordial and a plate of tiny spiced meat tarts, and politely turned down an invitation to stay for a game of word cards.

She visited the home of Dr. Longway himself next and found that he was out. Ann smiled at the thought of the droll professor making rounds on winter solstice, doling out presents. She left his present on the front step with the pile of packages already growing there. Hopefully he’d appreciate the striped socks she’d knit him in bold yellow and black yarn, in memory of the bee that had followed him across campus one late summer day. He dryly joked that the encounter had left him hesitant to take afternoon walks, but Ann could tell he was at least half serious.

Next, she went to the home of the librarian, Davith. There, to the amazement of his two children, she pulled a handsome box of miniature wooden games out of her gift basket. From the corner of her eye, Ann caught Davith’s sharp look, but she didn’t meet his gaze. She only watched the kids go through the box, crying out with every discovery they made.

It had been a stretch to buy the box of games on her limited budget, but Davith was a good friend to her, and he had saved her research several times by tracking down rare books. She was glad to be able to do this for his family. She only regretted she couldn’t afford to get them proper artisan-crafted toys—ones that danced and lit up and made noise all on their own. These ones had been made by an apprentice artisan as practice pieces, so they were well-made but not infused with any life of their own.

The children begged Ann to sing at least one song with them, but Davith glanced in sympathy at the gifts piled in Ann’s basket before explaining to them that she might have other people to visit. Ann gave him a grateful smile. In truth, she dearly wanted to stay, but she did have a lot of stops to make and not much time.

She made three more drop-offs to colleagues and professors who were out, probably delivering presents, like her. It was just as well, because she didn’t have the heart to turn down many more offers of food and company as she hastened to empty her basket. Each stop brought her closer to the edge of the university, through austere gardens filled with bare branches, dark green juniper bushes, and red solstice ribbons.

By her seventh stop, she was making good time and allowed herself to get sucked into an audio play on a friend’s phonograph. The drama and music reminded her of the rare times she’d visited the theater with her family, and she forgot herself completely until she glanced at the clock and, with a stumbling apology, hurried out.

Her last stop was the farthest. It brought her beyond the university’s walls and across the bridge to the Camp of the Arts. She gave thanks that the morning’s ice had long ago melted as she rushed over the cobblestones.

The Camp of the Arts was everything the university wasn’t. The streets branched messily and were cramped with townhomes, cafes, and studios of different architectural styles and ages. Older structures made of creaking wood and brightly-colored cloth leaned shoulders with newer brick buildings. The newer buildings were no less flamboyant, with their spiraling murals and the mosaics that glittered across multiple shopfronts.

Ann passed the open-air market where she’d bought the games for Davith’s children. Most of the market was closed for the evening, but several food vendors served spiced bubbly cider and fried dough, and groups of merrymakers wove up and down the narrow lanes of shuttered market stalls, taking in the bright decorations: strings of glowing baubles, paper cutouts of twirling snowflakes, musical pipes playing songs. The smell of cinnamon and sweet fry oil tempted Ann, but she kept moving.

The whimsical decorations continued into the residential neighborhood. Strings of paper lamps crisscrossed overhead, drenching everything below in colored light. A stilt-walker leaned to blow bubbles at a group of children, who shrieked and scattered.

Ann stopped at the front step of a familiar townhouse. The house had been decked out in bunches of multicolored ribbons and little bells that rang themselves. Out of their delicate tinkling, Ann could just make out a solstice melody.

A clocktower tolled the hour. Planning, with regret, to make this visit short, she took the last parcel from her basket and rapped on the door. The apology she’d readied froze when Ulma’s face appeared in the doorway and brightened at the sight of Ann. Then Ann was being ushered into the warmth and light and savory smells of her friend’s home.

Ann was still attempting to navigate greetings and apologies when a streak of orange and white shot toward her and tangled around her ankles, putting her further off balance.

“Oh!” Ann said to the calico kitten. “You’ve gotten so big!”

She bent to pet it, and the basket on her arm dipped with sudden weight as a small black shape leapt into it, claws scrabbling.

Ann laughed under the double assault. Ulma laughed, too, and took the wrapped gift from Ann’s hand so Ann could catch her balance.

“That package is for you, anyway,” Ann said.

She set the basket down. Inside, the black kitten—which was nearly full-grown, like its sibling—had found the scrap of cushioning fabric at the bottom and was already curled on its side, attacking the cloth with front and back feet.

Sensing something more interesting going on than greetings from a human, the little calico twisted under Ann’s hand to inspect the basket. In moments, it had tumbled inside to bat paws with the other kitten.

“The pests!” Ulma said. “I’m sorry.”

Ann teased the kittens with the scrap. “They’re not doing any harm.”

“Do you have any more stops after this one? Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having roast.”

Ann already knew this by the delicious smells. She would have loved to stay; the house was so beautiful, filled with candles and bunches of prickly-grape leaves and more of the tiny bells. And the company would have been even better; Ann loved Ulma and her husband, Teddy.

Apologetically, she shook her head. “This is my last one, but I’ve got to get home.”

“Oh, good—so you have plans. That’s great, as long as you aren’t alone. We knew you weren’t traveling to see your folks this year.”

“Thank you,” Ann said. “The invitation means a lot.”

She took something soft and long from her pocket and handed it to Ulma, who accepted it with slight puzzlement, then recognition.

“My socks! I was wondering where these had gone. And—a pair of Teddy’s, too?”

At Ulma’s questioning look, Ann winked and lightly touched the side of her nose.

Ulma glanced at the squishy package she’d taken from Ann a couple minutes before.

“I needed a size reference,” Ann said, with a sheepish shrug.

Ulma laughed. “I’m sure I have no idea what’s inside this gift you handed me! Hold on a minute, I’ll be right back.” She disappeared through the open door, leaving Ann alone in the entryway.

Ann always loved visiting Ulma and Teddy’s house, even when it wasn’t a holiday. The couple were artisans, and they kept a rotating display of their works on the shelves and sideboards here. She mourned that she hadn’t visited them in months; she’d been so busy with her doctoral work. Now for the winter solstice, the entry hall was filled with even more wonderful things. She toured the room, running her finger lightly over the wonders: a tiny music box in the shape of a snowflake, a miniature castle with a rotating disk of costumed dancers, a wolf playing the fiddle. Ulma and Teddy had made all of them together. Ulma built the metal mechanical parts of the music boxes, and Teddy carved, polished, and stained the wood that housed them. Which of them infused the pieces with life, though? Ann was watching the wolf smoothly draw its bow across the fiddle, as if she could puzzle this out, when Ulma reappeared. She had a parcel under one arm, a pale wooden box under the other, and a tray of spice cakes in her hands. The cakes were shiny with icing and dotted with fat currants.

“I should have done this in the kitchen,” Ulma lamented as she handed the tray to Ann, set the package on a side cabinet, and opened the wooden box, which was empty. She popped the spice cakes into it while Ann watched, bemused.

As Ulma added the last cake and latched the box shut, she said, “At least take these with you to share.”

Ann didn’t know what to say except, “Thank you.” She let Ulma take the empty tray from her and press the warm box into her hands.

“And this is for you,” Ulma said, reclaiming the wrapped package from the cabinet and proffering it to Ann. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to go gifting this year. We’ve been busy with the roast, and our son’s airship had to stop in Rosewood for bad weather. The kids are the ones who usually go out.”

“I hope they make it safely.”

“Oh, they’ll be fine. The kids were pushing snow down each other’s collars, last I heard.” Ulma’s mouth twisted in a smirk. There was probably a story there. Ulma was sweet but took vengeful delight in her son’s parenting misadventures.

Ann felt bad for him, but couldn’t help her own, answering smile. She bent to tuck the gifts into the basket and then paused when she saw the two cats curled inside, now dozing together.

“Look,” she whispered.

Ulma’s curious look dissolved as she caught sight of them. She gave a “tsk!” and scooped them out, one floppy kitten in each hand.

“Here, they can have the scrap,” Ann said. “Happy solstice, you two. You’re so easy to choose a gift for.”

In the few minutes she’d spent in the warmth of Ulma’s home, Ann had forgotten how cold it was. She paused on the doorstep to wrap her scarf tighter around her neck. As she made her way back through the Camp of the Arts, she kept close to the buildings, out of the wind, catching good smells and sounds of laughter and currents of warm air from cracked windows.

As she reached the university’s moat, the chill took on a wet bite. The noise and bright glow of lamps fell away, becoming only muffled sounds and flashes of light reflecting off the black surface of the water. Ann passed several people on the bridge, many of them carrying lanterns. Their voices echoed around the short tunnel of the university’s gate as Ann passed through it, under the portcullis that had not been lowered in generations.

After the bright colors of the Camp, Janos University seemed so dark, lit only by the steady white illumination of the alchemic lamps.

A wreath had been placed on her door. Ann glanced around the hall, wondering if it had been placed there by one of her neighbors. Bags of candied fruit and nuts had been pinned among its pine needles and prickly-grape leaves.

Beneath the wreath, mounded against the door, a small pile of packages waited for her. The sight surprised her, though she didn’t why it should. Heart warm, she knelt to put them into her basket. From the wreath, she chose a bag of candied fruit for herself and left the rest for any spirits that wandered by that night.

The living room looked just the way it had when she’d left earlier: spool of ribbon, scrap fabric, and scissors out for wrapping presents, an empty tea mug and a plate of toasted nut bread on a chair nearby—and the usual mess everywhere else.

With horror, she realized it was a disaster.

Since early summer, she’d been so focused on her research, she hadn’t taken notice of her surroundings. The apartment looked like the den of some book- and yarn-hoarding creature, a little nesting bird or rodent.

She checked the clock on the mantel. She didn’t have the time to spare, but she also didn’t have a choice.

Her desk offered the only clear surface large enough for the basket of gifts. She set it there, atop her research notes, then sloughed off her warm winter clothes and got a fire going. When the wood was crackling and sending up orange flames, she attacked the living room. There wasn’t much she could do in a small amount of time, but she could at least put things in neater piles.

First, she swept the scrap fabric, ribbon, and scissors into a craft basket and returned the toast and tea mug to the kitchen. Then she ran around the apartment, gathering armfuls of books. At first, she tried to organize them in some relevant way, but when she found herself deciding whether to separate Dr. Rafa’el’s books from the three stacks of research, she quickly gave up and, in a frantic rush, piled them all together.

For a moment, she hesitated over all the knitting, thinking she should arrange it by project, but then she remembered herself and dumped it all on the corner of the couch—the one that was too stiff to sit on, anyway.

One of the projects was an unfortunate first attempt to knit a gryphon doll for her niece. The wings were blocky and looked like two blankets flapping on its back, and she’d forgotten to give it forelegs. She intended to try putting it to rights at some point without completely unraveling it, but until then, it would sit with her balls of yarn, looking confused and left out. Some emotion—pity, or love—urged her to pull it out of the pile and set it on top to watch her finish cleaning the apartment.

Ann pulled long strips of telegraph tape from the desk and threw them into a crate of prints. She suspected one of the messages was a short winter solstice story from her niece; it had arrived earlier in a flurry of metallic clacking.

From the dining table, she swept a pile of equipment for her upcoming research trip into a box and pushed the box—clinking with vials of antinausea draughts—under the bed in her room. Straightening, she spotted a piece of paper on the ground and recognized it as a letter from Dr. Rafa’el. He’d sent this one to her at the holiday years ago; it was one of her favorites. Earlier in the week, in a fit of nostalgia, she’d pulled it out to read. He was usually polite and serious to a fault, but this one contained a rare, silly drawing by him, and it always made her smile.

She tucked it in the closet with the rest of the letters, and spared a moment to wonder how Dr. Rafa’el was doing and how he was celebrating the holiday. She couldn’t imagine him making visits on solstice evening with a basket of presents on his arm, but also, she couldn’t imagine him not. Was he visiting family? Funny, from the years they’d corresponded, Ann could recount his personal philosophies, his favorite operas, and the way he took tea, but she didn’t know if he was married or if he had kids. Siblings. Nieces or nephews that telegraphed him with stories and cost him a fortune in telegraph tape...

Realizing she was smiling again, and that she’d been standing in her dark room, staring at her closet for several minutes, she shook her head at herself.

When at last she was done, the apartment still looked like her own—the apartment of a doctoral student lost in her dissertation work—but it seemed (at least she hoped) a bit less desperate. If nothing else, some of the floor was visible. In a word, it was acceptable, and she relaxed a fraction.

She still had a lot to do.

The fire had burned itself into smoldering coals nearly perfect for cooking. With her limited time, she should have opted to make dinner at the stove, but stubbornly, Ann rearranged the coals and added more wood. They always made winter solstice dinner at the hearth. It was tradition.

Ann retrieved the iron pot from where it lived for most of the year in a corner of the kitchen and set it over the coals on its three squat legs. Soon, the apartment was filled with the sound of sizzling and the smells of rosemary and parsnip. Beef stew wouldn’t make for a particularly fancy meal, but it would be warming and—she hoped—appreciated.

In her apartment, Ann had a total of three chairs. While the stew bubbled, she gathered these around the small dining table, spread out a lace tablecloth, and arranged three place settings. She put a knit cushion on each of the chairs.

Seeing the table this way did something funny to her. It had never been only her and them before.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, with a snap of her fingers. She retrieved the box of spice cakes and, after a minute of rummaging, found a serving platter to set them on. They looked too good like that, dressed with icing and currants. It made Ann smile. A lot of love had gone into them.

All she had left, now, were the finishing touches.

From beneath the couch, she pulled a wicker box filled with her most precious holiday decorations. First, she took out the bunch of silver bells. It was one of the few artisan-crafted items Ann owned, and it had been given to her by Mum and Auntie when she left home. Though the bells didn’t ring on their own or play music, the silver never tarnished and their nest of ribbons looked as crisp as if just-tied. Then, she lifted the little soul lantern from its protective fold of velvet cloth.

She stepped outside to hang the on the hook above her door and set the lantern on her doorstep. Across the courtyard, children whooped and a man called out a greeting. Ann crossed her arms over her chest, breath frosting, and watched their group go by. The atmosphere had taken on a rare, hazy quality that softened the lamp and lantern lights, making them into ghosts.

After the crackling cold, the air inside her apartment was thick with heat and rich smells. The door sealed out the children’s laughter, and in the insulated quiet, the clock above the mantel ticked the seconds.

Suddenly, the apartment was very small and very large and very empty and very close. She didn’t look at the clock. Now that it was almost time, she couldn’t.

To keep her hands moving, she placed a pan of wine over the fire and added cider and spices. She rearranged the contents of the dining table. Added the gifts from her basket to the mantel with the other cards and presents. Relocated her teapots so they could all fit. Sat on the vacant end of the stiff couch and watched the fragrant steam rise from the mulled wine. After a time, she realized she’d pulled out her talisman—the one Dr. Rafa’el had sent her years before—and was stroking its silky feathers, something she did when she was nervous.

The clock chimed ten.

“All right,” she said to the knit gryphon sitting on the hill of wool next to her. She tucked the talisman back under the collar of her sweater and went to the door.

“Welcome,” she whispered, and locked it.

From the wicker box, she took the last objects: two silver candle holders. She placed a slender taper in each and lit them with a flame from the hearth, as she’d been taught.

The pale-yellow beeswax burned sweetly. Once upon a time, the women of fishing villages had gathered together to dip the tapers that they’d later burn in their houses at night—lights to guide home their husbands and sons. Brothers. Fathers.

Ann placed the candles on the windowsill.

Winter solstice. Everywhere across campus and in all pockets of civilization, people set candles and lanterns in thresholds and in windows, on gate posts and at the edges of camp—beacons promising warmth and safe haven to all stray souls. Family and strangers gathered at the fireside, sharing bounty and story, reinforcing old connections, creating new. On the longest night, everyone had a home and hearth.

Ann ladled three bowls of stew. She set these on the small dining table with warm bread, a pot of honey, and butter. She poured mulled wine into each of the mugs.

“I hope you enjoy,” she whispered to the table.

She had intended to take a seat at it, but in the end, she took her meal to the hearth. Maybe this was rude, but somehow, it felt right. She ate while listening to the murmur and snap of the coals, and allowed herself to feel at peace. She hadn’t known what she would feel, sharing the holiday this way, but it wasn’t bad. It was…good. It was quiet, and she felt connected. Inexplicably, paradoxically so.

Outside, the approaching clang of a bell marked the passage of a solstice search party, a procession of candle bearers who traveled from door to door, guiding the way for lost spirits. They neared Ann's door, and the bell went silent. Into that pause, the bearers would be lighting the lantern on her doorstep. The peal of the bell resumed a few seconds later, and the procession moved on, drawing the spirits along with flame and sound—helping them find their way home, and, if not, helping them find friendly shelter.

She listened to the sounds disappear. In the gentle quiet that followed, she tried to sense any difference in the apartment. A shift of the air, a watchful presence that hadn’t been there before, maybe an inexplicable flicker of the candleflames at the window. How did these things work? She’d never been in an otherwise empty room on the night of solstice.

The clock continued to tick. Her bowl, now empty, cooled in her hands.

If any spirits had found their way inside when the procession passed by, Ann could not detect them any better than she could when surrounded by five other women and a small flock of birds all making music and conversation together.

There was also the alternative: that there weren’t any spirits because the souls that would have visited her hadn’t been lost.

In the fireplace, a log popped.

She rose to put her bowl in the kitchen, then covered both bowls of stew on the table, reckoning it wouldn’t hurt to keep the contents warm and clean. Just in case.

She tried not to be disappointed. It wasn’t like she’d expected to speak with them. It wasn’t like she had expected…anything, really.

Her hands rested on the back of a dining chair. She realized she was gazing at Ulma’s spice cakes. She picked one up, inhaled the sweet butteriness, and took a bite. The dense dough was still very slightly warm. The fragrance of spices and orange peel evoked memories of late nights in the sitting room with her foster sisters, playing number tiles and weaving leftover ribbons into bracelets and solstice crowns.

What were their mothers doing tonight? Was the house very quiet? Were they listening to music and enjoying an evening without four demons flinging bells at each other behind their backs? Ann hoped they were. She hoped it wasn’t as strange for Mum and Auntie as it was for her, gathering all the cards and packages from the mantel and settling on the floor with them.

“Miss you all,” she said to them. “Thank you for these.”

She opened the cards first, starting with one from a friend she kept in touch with from primary school. She unfolded the handwritten note she’d come to expect every winter, with its accompanying heliograph, and saw that her friend’s family had an extra tiny, bald person this year. The firelight glowed through the creamy paper, silhouetting the words as she read them.

The cards from her university friends and mentors were also familiar and expected: most offered short greetings and wishes for a happy holiday, as they did every year.

Opening the cards from her sisters, however, was an odd experience. Usually, she received family updates and holiday tidings in person. This year, however, they’d agreed not to get together. With Ann preparing a research proposal for her expedition in spring, Linden caring for her one-month-old, Alyssum opening a business, and Heather off in the northern ice pole, they were all too busy—or too far—to travel home.

Ann had braced herself for missing them, but still wasn’t prepared for the ache at reading their words. The feeling eased as she continued, though, and it seemed rather like they were there with her. She could hear their distinct voices as they recounted new baby troubles, happy accidents in floral arrangement, and spousal drama.

Only after she had read the letters did she remember she might not be alone.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing at the table. “Just in case you’re listening: This one is from Linden. Her first child was born last month. All she wants for solstice is sleep. I wish I had some to spare, but I’ve been woefully low on my own supply lately.” She picked up the other letter. “This one is from Alyssum. She decided to open a flower shop—in autumn. Good luck to her. Sorry; that was mean. She’s actually doing quite well for herself. She received so many orders for solstice swags, she closed the shop early in the month. I’m proud of her.” She set the page down. “There’s no card from Heather. She sent it last month because mail is unpredictable for her. She’s at the northern ice pole. That’s her gift on the mantel, the carved antler. She got it from a tribe she stayed with for a few weeks.”

Ann treasured the piece. She had stopped to run her fingers over it many times since she’d unwrapped it from its cushioning strip of fur. It depicted a tiny sled being pulled by dogs, just like Heather’s. Every time Ann looked at it, she imagined the tread of paws on snow, the whispering slide of runners, the vast silence and frosting breaths—and smiled.

She loved all of her foster sisters, but Heather’s sense of adventure had always spoken to something inside Ann. Even if Ann herself was too timid and book-bound—and too afflicted by height sickness—to strike out on her own adventures, it made her heart full to think of Heather camping under the ribbon of northern lights.

Ann smiled and added, “I think you’d like them all, my foster sisters.”

After slipping each of the cards into their envelopes, she tucked them into the chest of drawers for safe keeping.

She unwrapped each of the presents next, revealing—from her university friends—caramels, mittens, knitting needles, and a hat.

Her sisters had sent colorful sweets, an anklet, the clay impression of a baby foot, a glass vial filled with delicate dried flowers, and two notebooks bound in soft leather (one from each of them).

Dr. Longway’s present made her stomach drop, even as she smiled. “You’re terrible.” It was a rubber stamp with her name and her title, as it would be when she completed her dissertation and graduated her doctoral program. She’d lamented so often that she would never finish. “I guess I have to get through it, now. This stamp is too handsome to waste. And ‘Dr. Fairweather’ does have a nice ring to it.”

The gift from Ulma and Teddy made her gasp. They had made her a gleaming music box the size of her palm. It bore a motif of feathers and ivy leaves, and when she thumbed the switch, it filled the room with the soft strains of her favorite solstice carol. She couldn’t decide if she felt more grateful or guilty. Had she hinted too hard by fawning over the boxes when she visited? Then she remembered the genuine smile on Ulma’s face and, with a vow to make them something extra nice for their birthdays, set aside the guilt.

She placed the music box on the mantel, delighting when it moved onto a new song and continued to play.

Only the brown paper parcel from her foster mothers remained.

Bells tolled—big bells this time, from across the courtyard, marking midnight. Ann added another log to the fire and a pinch of incense that made the flames flash green. She sat back down with the package. The brown paper was the rough kind used to wrap meat. Ann loved this quirk of Auntie’s: the woman who so loved fine, frilly things delighted in wrapping presents with the most unassuming paper and jute twine. It made the treasures inside all the more dear.

Ann picked at the knot of twine until the loopy bow sprang open, then unfolded the paper a corner at a time to reveal a tissue-wrapped bundle. It was floppy and thick in her hands. She pulled aside the tissue, then frowned quizzically at the knit inside. Bright jewel tones clashed in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but was…unexpected. She unfolded it to reveal a child’s blanket. This was odd. Mum and Auntie did often give blankets as gifts, but they favored quilts and creamy-colored crochet throws with tasselly ends.

An envelope fell to the floor. Ann draped the blanket on her lap and opened it to find a heliograph of Apple the cat curled in a basket of laundry, a recipe card for Mum and Auntie’s solstice-morning scones, and a letter in Mum’s handwriting, pasted with whimsical paper cutouts of birds and snowflakes. Ann brushed her thumb over the texture of them.

Dear Ann,

How is your project going?

Auntie brought home three loaves of solstice bread today. One is your favorite, with crushed pistachios. Auntie doesn’t like that one, and the one with candied cherries is more than enough for me. What are we going to do with all this bread !! I might give it to the neighbors when Auntie is out. I doubt she’ll notice it’s gone. There is so much food in the kitchen. I think we forget that you girls won’t be home for the holiday. Maybe we’ll have to invite some of the old women from the quilting class. Some of them haven’t got family anymore. The class is a way for them to get out and see people. You know Auntie and I stopped asking much for the class years ago, just enough to cover the supplies. Ettia’s bank stopped paying out her fee months ago but we won’t say anything to her about it. The class is the highlight of her week.

The letter went on for several more long, rambling paragraphs as Mum covered news of the shop, the decorations they’d put up, Apple’s bout of sickness (“She’s fine now, she threw up a big hairball one morning. Auntie stepped in it. Now she won’t stop screaming for food”), and their slow renovation of the house.

Auntie and I were cleaning out some old trunks in the back room and found this. It’s your baby blanket. I thought you might like to have it.

Mum’s neat handwriting continued on for the rest of the page, but Ann stopped there.

Her baby blanket. That hit her in an odd way and she blinked, and then it hit her harder when she realized that her mom, her real mom, must have knit this—or even her grandmother.

She spread the blanket beneath her hands, taking in the pattern of the colors, absorbing the deep, almost primordial familiarity. Her fingers bunched the knit and she pressed it to her mouth, blinking sudden tears. She didn’t even know what she wept for.

She glanced toward the table. She took a deep inhale, but the blanket just smelled like home, the home she grew up in with Mum and Auntie. With Mum and Auntie—and her foster sisters and their birds and a host of dolls and swathes of fabric draped over every surface. The home where they hid in closets and flicked thimbles from under the bed and placed the cutlery on the table just so. The home where she’d hidden behind the lemon balm in the summer and fashioned fairy gardens out of patches of moss, where she sneaked out of her room at night to steal tablespoons of jam from the ice chest, where she curled between Mum and Auntie when she couldn’t fall sleep in her own bed. Home. Lavender sachets and ginger syrup, glass pitchers of minty water and lacy drapes fluttering in the breeze.

She wasn’t even sure if it comforted her that it smelled like her childhood, or if she was disappointed that it didn’t smell like something else—like someplace else.

The fire burned down. The music box from Ulma and Teddy continued to play. Ann lowered the blanket and got up to turn it off. She covered the stew pot, poured the remaining mulled wine into a jar, and organized all the gifts.

The clock’s chime at the half hour found her at her desk, staring at her dissertation notes. She didn’t remember sitting down. Muscle memory must have brought her there, where she’d spent so much of the past year.

She set the notebook aside and pulled the telegraph machine toward herself. She thought for a moment, then tapped out a message to Mum and Auntie, wishing them a happy holiday and thanking them for the blanket. She almost asked them about it. They rarely talked about her parents; Ann still wasn’t sure how, or if, they’d known them. But after staring at the telegraph for several minutes, she flipped off the lamp and stood.

At the table, where the bowls of stew sat with the wine and the remaining cakes, she whispered a happy solstice and a thank you.

Briefly, she considered stepping outside to clear her head and breathe fresh air, but the soul lanterns had been lit. While it wasn’t taboo to leave the house after the search party had passed, it didn’t feel right. So instead, Ann cleaned the dishes and did, after all, organize her stacks of books. She even made an attempt to read her niece’s holiday story, but her gaze kept skating over the length of telegraph tape without reading the words.

Ann poured herself a last mug of wine and settled on the couch. Next to her, the little knit gryphon listed on its perch. She picked it up and ran her fingers over the stitches, frowning. The blocky wings flopped.

She should unravel it. Or maybe not.

It was time for bed.

The blanket still lay in a neat heap on the floor. She hesitated before she picked it up, bunching it in her hands as she stared at it and then spreading it open. It was even smaller than she’d originally thought, vibrant with color and soft.

She looked at it for a long time before finally taking it with her to the bedroom. On the windowsill, the candles were nearly burned down. She left them, and would leave the window latch unlocked tonight. Just in case.

fin.

(Li'l author note: Happy holidays, and thank you for reading! Ann's story will continue in 2023. ☕️📚🪶 -Lep 💜)

#cozy fantasy #queer fantasy #steampunk #holiday story #lgbtq characters #gryphon #asexual #ace/aro #illustration #lgbtqia #lgbtqia+#queer author #queer artist #trans artist #short story

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lonelypond · 11 months

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Weird But Fucking Beautiful (A Christmas Tale Of Two Tails) Ch. 5

Nico/Maki, Wenclair, Love Live, Wednesday, 2K, 5/?

We search for a werewolf lost in the woods.

Where's Maki?

“Why didn’t your…puppy...girlfriend...mate...fiancèe run off?” Nico glared at Wednesday, knowing she needed more information.

The huge white wolf was still snuffling all over Wednesday, who was whispering more Spanish.

“Answer Nico’s question. Or get her to turn back.”

Wednesday shook her head, “Enid must have transformed to protect herself. I suspect someone or something is using an alluring cocktail of odors in an attempt to manipulate Maki and Enid. But with our emotional bond, Enid’s ties to me were stronger than some strange scents so she started to panic when something blocked my usual…” Wednesday’s grin was smug, “aroma.”

“Maki wasn’t sniffing. She kept talking about music, hearing music. Nico didn’t hear anything.” A moment to glare accusingly at the night. “Still can’t, besides the usual night sounds.”

Wednesday hesitated, “I am not certain I am at liberty share information about my absent cousin…”

“Tell Nico. Now. If it will help us find Maki, I need to know.”

“Maki, like many with an Addams connection, falls into a category known as asexual.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that.”

“Oh.” Wednesday relaxed. “So if the chemical mix of the odors works by sexually attracting the target, that's not really a language we speak, if my hypothesis is accurate. It follows that then there might be another area of weakness that left Maki vulnerable."

“So, there’s a Pied Piper out there, and Maki’s werewolf hearing is following that.”

“That is a sound guess.”

“Nico sings.”

Enid howled.

Wednesday smiled, patting the werewolf’s cheek, “You have a beautiful voice, my love.”

"Is Enid hearing anything now?"

Pleased at being asked, Enid sat up, ears perked while Wednesday looked worried. After a couple minutes, Enid shook her head.

“So Nico will have find Maki and sing her back.”

“How do we find her?”

Nico rolled her eyes, “Does the mighty goth huntress with the case full of weapons never track anything? Is your werewolf’s nose only good for sexy scents?”

Enid huffed, moving to stare down Nico.

Nico remained unmoved. “Hustle your fluffy butt, we’ve got a wolf to find.”

Enid looked to Wednesday, who nodded. “Let me grab a backpack. I packed some things that might help.”

“What’s Maki’s favorite Christmas carol?”

“Why Christmas carol?”

“If you all weren’t crazy about Christmas, Nico wouldn’t be out here in the cold, about to give a concert to a bunch of snowflakes.”

Enid howled again.

“Nico and Enid.” Nico patted Enid’s side. Wednesday shoved a pack at her, forcing her back from the werewolf. Enid swatted Wednesday with her tail.

“Jingle Bells is a good one.”

Nico began, as loud as she could, without wrecking her throat. Somewhere, Enid had found a string of bells, and dropped them on Wednesday, who looped them around her neck. Now dressed for the occasion, Enid picked up Maki’s scent from her shredded clothes. A quick sniff and she trotted off into the night, tail waving jauntily in the air, as Nico sang.

“Dashing through the snow In a one-horse open sleigh O'er the fields we go Laughing all the way Bells on bobtails ring

Making spirits bright What fun it is to ride and sing A sleighing song tonight”

###

Confusion. Fog everywhere around Maki, except in front of her, all Maki’s werewolf senses in panic mode, frantically searching for something familiar. And then this trill of music would start up, and Maki would shiver with a heat forged from cold, and find her paws padding toward the source of the sound. But there was a bubble inside her ear, like a clump of water, an irritation, making her shake her head, open her jaw wide to clamp it quickly shut, to burst the irritant. And then her paws would stop and she would sit, panting, confused, wondering where anybody else was. Then the buzzy music would start up, again, her head tilting that way, muscles following, awareness lost in an internal fog of fright and staticky confusion

Anger. Anger started to swirl inside. There was another sound, one Maki wanted to listen to, and the buzziness in her head made that nearly impossible. Snarl. Maki could snarl. Dig her paws in, Maki could dig her paws in. Stand ready to pounce when there was a swirl of snow and a tall, pale woman in furs with ice slivers for eyes appeared on the trail and came walking toward her, hand out, clicking her tongue, a smell so flowery sweet Maki thought she might be sick.

“Come, my child.” A hand on her forehead, the touch as light as the tone was heavy, a sharp command, the edges blunted by the syrupy fakeness of the cloying tone. Maki snarled, but the woman knelt, grabbing Maki’s head, fingers a cold burn, the ice slivers of her eyes a glance that drilled into Maki’s forehead, making Maki throw herself back, whining, terrified, and then a blur split her away from the woman, and Enid, in human form, pushed the interloper back, growling, a respirator mask obscuring her face. Maki felt other hands reach out to pull her further away, and spun, to see eyes as red as a candy cane stripe, worried eyes, eyes that looked at her with all the warmth and welcome the ice slivers had lacked.

“Nico.” Maki thought. And then Wednesday was at Enid’s side, crossbow in hand, two bolts fired before Maki made sense of what was happening, the fog intensifying, rushing her, but Nico was saying, singing something, holding Maki's head so close, Nico's heartbeat strong and fast, Wednesday was firing another bolt, Enid striking through the fog with blood on her claws and suddenly the pressure was gone and Maki fell into Nico, drained.

“Hey, help me with her…”

As Nico snapped at everyone, Maki let the cold of the snow catch her as she fell.

###

Maki heard the crackle of burnt wood crumbling and flames leaping. She could feel the warmth in front of her body. Horizontal. Lying down. No prickly static in her head. But something on her ears. She raised a hand. Headphones. Her eyes opened, Enid, in a respirator mask, and Wednesday sat across from her, on the other side of the fire. She needed to find out what was going on and grabbed the headphones, but a strong hand stopped her. Nico squatted down, shaking her head.

“What’s going on?” Maki knew she was shouting.

Wednesday started signing and speaking, finishing with the index finger point to Maki, “Wait us, wake you.”

“I’m awake now. What happened?”

Wednesday frowned, circled her closed hands, then flashed all ten fingers. “Magic.”

Maki was wrapped in a blanket, wool socks, half shredded boots, a long wool sweater, and long underwear underneath. Nico sat next to her, offering a hand, but Maki ignored it as she stood, keeping the blanket over her shoulders, stepping to loom over the fire.

“Where is…where are…what’s going on?”

“Chill out, M-a-k-i.” Wednesday blinked, then signed again, patting the air twice with flat hands, then fingerspelling the name.

Nico giggle choked as Maki reached out to throttle Wednesday.

Wednesday swept her right hand in front of her closed fist. “Danger.”

Maki tore off the headphones, but didn’t throw them into the woods. She turned to Nico.

“Why weren’t you affected?”

Nico leaned back into her arms, “Nico’s worked in customer service since she was a kid. Ice Queen Karens have no effect on Nico.”

Enid gave Nico a thumbs up, then wrestled her mask off.

“My heart…”Wednesday chided.

“If I start to wander off, just wrestle me down and put it back on, babe.” Enid handed off the mask and shook out her hair, “I need some snacks. Something sweet.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes.

Nico reached into her backpack and tossed Enid a brown paper bag.

Enid opened it, sniffed, eyes glowing. “Ooh, walnut and chocolate brownies.”

Maki couldn’t help the little whine in her throat as she sat back down and bumped Nico’s shoulder.

“Here, hungry girl.” Nico handed over a thick sandwich and a small Thermos. “Nico's super stacked roast beef, with stock for dipping.”

Maki didn’t drool, she was proud of herself for that, but she did nearly wrench the lid off the Thermos with brute strength.

“Do you want anything, stormcloud?”

Wednesday saluted Nico with a camp cup full of black coffee.

Nico threw a couple more logs on the fire. “What’s next on your map?”

“Was that the weather or the rescue or the danger?” Enid looked to Wednesday.

“Logically, danger should have been before rescue.”

“Unless rescue is when we met.” Maki offered.

“You mean when you hit Enid with the car?” Glare.

“But no, that doesn’t make sense. That’s definitely pre meet. We went from there to meeting Nico.”

All three glanced at Nico.

“Nico Nico Ni.” With a big smile.

Enid giggled, Wednesday raised her map as a barrier, and Maki slid closer to Nico on the log.

“And we stopped because of weather.” Maki said slowly.

“So was whoever she was danger or are we still going to find some more.” Nico frowned.

Wednesday hunched, fists tight, wanting to rip the parchment in front of her. This Christmas adventure was not meant to endanger Enid.

“So what’s the choice? That's the last word, right?” Maki asked.

“I don’t think we’re wherever that is yet.” Enid pointed to the map, “Past the forest is a lake maybe? Maybe we have to get there?”

“That makes sense.” Maki unfolded her map.

Nico thought there had been some changes. Trees and areas they’d been through were smaller, and she could see a opening that might be a trail more obvious than before. She traced it with her finger, “So with the scale you figured out, how much of a hike is this?”

“We should go back for the car. We might need some of the things we left behind. ” Maki suggested.

"We would be slower. Our antagonist has a head start now, if their goal is the same." Wednesday started folding the map, her movements precise.

“Or just one of us could go.” Enid swallowed the last brownie, refueled and ready.

“No, no one goes alone.” Nico would have invented the buddy system if it hadn’t existed already.

“Agreed. Enid and I will go forward while you and Maki head back for the SUV.”

Simple plans are best, Nico knew. And she’d be able to keep an eye on Maki.

“We’re on it.”

Maki nodded, then dipped the last bit of her sandwich.

###

Wednesday’s pace seemed to ignore the slippery crunch of the terrain, “Finally, we are alone.”

Enid pushed the range of her senses, wanting to pick up any hint of danger before it – or she threatened them again. Enid didn’t believe the frosty fog queen was done with them. That had been a very anti climatic exit and Enid suspected there would be a big magic showdown at some point.

“Enid? Why am I the only one talking? Are you ill? Compromised?”

“Searching for threats. But I’m listening to you. And you like Nico.”

“I do not. Her friendly personality is of the particularly loathsome variety.”

Enid laughed.

“She does appear to have useful skills. I suspect her status as a big sister sharpened them.”

“So, using Nico to give a shout out to your own big sister skills.”

“Pugsley has thrived thanks to skills taught to him by me.”

“He has been incarcerated less than your uncle.”

“Exactly.” Wednesday grinned, “I must remind Father of that.”

Enid stopped, her nose picking up the first hint of the cloying sweetness, Wednesday spinning seemingly further away, a whimper left Enid’s throat as her muscles clenched to chase the temptation, and Wednesday was immediately close, wrestling the respirator into place, a hard stomp on her foot a quick and necessary pain to let Enid focus enough to adjust the seal.

“Yep. Smell-a-licious is still out there.”

Wednesday left the crossbow on her back, reaching for her taser, “Perhaps it is time for magic to meet the might of a modern lightning storm.”

Enid let her claws slip out, “I love it when you tech up.”

“You are a wretched influence on me, beloved, and I would steal every weapon from the gods and the Picatinny Arsenal to keep you safe.”

No time for swooning now, Enid reminded herself. But there would be swooning later.

A/N:

Picatinny Arsenal is a military base in NJ. I like the thought that the Addams Family lives in NJ, where I grew up : )

Have been busy, hope your May has been kind.

#NicoMaki #wenclair #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Enid Sinclair #Wednesday Addams #holiday story #Weird But Fucking Beautiful #werewolves #snow #Christmas

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acacia-may · 1 year

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Wish Me Luck, Dad

Description: A holiday cookie decorating contest organised by the Black Bulls brings up some bittersweet memories for Zora. Luckily, his friends are there to remind him that even after loss, he doesn't have to spend the holidays alone anymore.

Rating: G

Warnings: The tiniest bit of hurt/comfort (because of Zara), but mostly just Black Bulls family and holiday fluff

Fandom: Black Clover

Genre: Black Bulls Squad as Family and some soft, friendship holiday fluff for Zora. Cookie decorating contests and "The Christmas Dragon"

Relationships: Zora Ideale & His Black Bulls Squad Family, Zora Ideale & Magna Swing Friendship, Magna Swing & Luck Voltia Friendship, and Zora Ideale & Zara Ideale Father and Son Family Bonding.

Characters: Zora Ideale, Magna Swing, Luck Voltia, Charmy Pappitson, Zara Ideale, & The Black Bulls.

Word Count: 1312

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.

I want to offer a special word of thanks to the house on my aunt's street that puts up an inflatable "Christmas Dragon" decoration every year. You are my heroes and have helped to inspire Luck's part of this story!

Thanks for reading! Happy Holidays and Cheers Everyone!

Story under the cut:

“Does everybody understand the rules?” asked Charmy as she stood up on her chair at the front of the table.

“When has anyone here ever followed the rules?” quipped Zora with a snarky, lopsided grin that earned a few snickers from his nearby squad mates.

Charmy huffed and crossed her arms. “There are only two rules which are no teaming up to help each other and no eating the cookies or decorations until Captain Yami and Nacht finish judging and declare the winner. We can all follow those right?”

“The only one who is going to break that second rule is you, Charmy,” teased Vanessa who seemed more interested in her glass of wine than the plate of sugar cookies in front of her. Charmy frowned, but before she could say anything Asta interjected.

“I don’t know. These look delicious! It’ll be hard not to eat them.”

Noelle huffed. “We can eat them when they’re done, Bakasta.”

“Everyone just try your best,” said Gordon so quietly that Zora wasn’t sure if the rest of the table could hear him.

“The decorating contest will last half-an-hour and will start when we ring the bell, okay?” Charmy said, and Zora could barely stifle his laugh as Luck stood up from his chair and rang the bell repeatedly at her question. Charmy huffed at him. “Not yet, Luck.”

“Why not?” Luck pouted, and Charmy shook her head but turned to the table at large.

“Are we all ready to start?”

As his companions nodded in agreement, Zora leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. “As we’ll ever be.”

“Alright. Now, Luck.”

Positively beaming, Luck rang the bell multiple times until Vanessa finally patted his shoulder and gently suggested, “That’s enough. Why don’t you go decorate your cookies now?”

Zora couldn’t help but laugh as Luck scurried back into his seat and began slapping icing in big spoonfuls onto one of his cookies teasing Magna that he would finish decorating much faster than him. It wasn’t long before those two bozos had more icing on themselves than on their cookies.

To Zora’s right, Gordon, Grey, and Gauche were being much more careful—cautiously painting their cookies with the tiniest bits of icing of various colors. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Gauche’s cookie was starting to look more and more like Marie as time went on, though he was too far away to get a good look at it. Gordon was closest, and he seemed to be making a Black Bulls robe for his snowman cookie while Grey and Henry passed the powdered sugar back and forth.

Farther down the table, Noelle was scolding Asta for covering his cookie in the sprinkles she wanted to use, and Vanessa was laughing and mopping up the wine Finral had spilt when he was reaching for one of the bowls of icing.

He didn’t look nearly as amused as he whined, “This is my favourite shirt, Vanessa.”

“Use some white wine to get the stain out. It’ll be fine.” Still laughing, she shrugged and waved her hand before she finished the little bit of wine that was still in her glass.

Zora was laughing some himself when he saw Liebe steal a bowl of gumdrops from Secre when she wasn’t looking and caught Charmy sneaking a couple bites of her cookie while everyone else was preoccupied, breaking her own rules she was so concerned about in the first place.

“Aren’t you going to decorate too?” asked a frosting-covered Magna peering over his shoulder.

With a sigh, Zora peered down at his plate of cookies, but he shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m just thinkin’ about how to decorate them.” He tilted his head teasingly. “And you’re not supposed to help me, remember?”

“Oh forget the rules! Like you said, we were never going to follow them anyway. Even Charmy’s breaking them.”

“I am not!” Charmy protested defensively, but the bits of frosted cookie on her sweater suggested otherwise.

“You’re covered in crumbs,” teased Vanessa, playfully poking her in the side.

“Those are from earlier.”

“Charmy—” Magna huffed but was interrupted by Luck triumphantly shoving his cookie in his face.

“I finished first!” he exclaimed, puffing out his chest with pride as he showed off his “masterpiece” to his friends.

Zora’s brow furrowed. “What is it exactly?”

“It’s a dragon!”

“What does a dragon have to do with Christmas?” asked Magna quirking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a Christmas dragon,” Luck insisted, and Magna rolled his eyes.

“There’s no such thing as a Christmas dragon.”

Chuckling cheerfully, Luck teased in an almost sing-song voice, “You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it and that I finished decorating before you.”

“You’re not done, dumbbell,” interrupted Zora motioning to Luck’s plate of a handful of undecorated cookies.

“Well I still have one finished, but Magna doesn’t have any and you haven’t even started yet.” He bounced up and down shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You should get started, Zora, otherwise you’ll come in last place.”

“It’s not that kind of a competition, Luck,” huffed Magna returning to his cookie decorating.

With a tilt of his head, Zora glanced over the clock. Their half-hour of decorating time was slipping away quickly. He sighed. He didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. He wasn’t exactly a master decorator and hadn’t decorated cookies since he was a kid.

Something dulled but familiar ached in his chest at that thought. Decorating cookies around the holidays was something he had always done with his dad, and it felt strange to be sitting here now, staring at a plate of sugar cookies and bowls of icing—all grown up without him.

*-*-*

“Look what I made, Dad!” exclaimed Zora excitedly holding up his decorated sugar cookie to his father. His dad made a show of inspecting the cookie—a snowman with candies for eyes and a bright red licorice scarf.

“Hm…very fine craftsmanship. Notice how the artist has used both icing and candy for his decorations—very inventive.” His father’s eyes twinkled at him as his face lit up into a bright, warm smile. “I give it a 10 out of 10 for presentation, but how does it taste?”

He handed the cookie back to Zora for him to try, but he shook his head insisting, “I made it for you.”

“Well alright then.” His dad hummed as he bit into the cookie. “Mhm…delicious. 10 out of 10 for taste too. You definitely win this year’s Ideale cookie competition.”

Chuckling, Zora rolled his eyes. “It’s not a competition. Dad. There’s just me—I can’t win if there aren’t any other people playing too.”

His dad’s face softened, and he ruffled his hand through Zora’s hair. “Who knows maybe someday you’ll get to decorate cookies with your friends.” He pulled his son into a tight hug. “But no matter what, I’ll always be rooting for you.”

*-*-*

The usually hard lines of Zora’s face softened at the memory, and his mouth twitched into the slightest bittersweet smile as he watched his squad mates—his friends—in all their cookie decorating chaos. His dad would have loved them, chaos, quirks, and all. A warm feeling spread through the ache in his chest, and he blinked his misty eyes at them. His dad would have loved how soft his squad was making him too.

After wiping his sleeve across his eyes, Zora reached out and picked up one of the cookies on his plate shaped like a snowman. With a playful, lopsided grin, he gathered his various colors of icing, candies for the eyes, and red licorice for the scarf. As he stared down in triumph at his ingredients, he could no longer hold back the smile that tugged at his mouth or the thought that tugged at his heart, Wish me luck, Dad.

#friendsgiving event #black clover writing requests #holiday story #zora ideale #zora ideale and the Black Bulls #zara ideale #black clover fanfic #the black bulls as family #zara ideale is the best dad #answered requests

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emlinden · 1 year

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What, you didn’t think Aaethrien was going to go the whole story without getting beat up at least once, did you?

The second and final part of the Shadow of Midwinter short story goes live tomorrow on theshadowspawn.com and patreon.com/emlinden!

#webserial #webnovel #theshadowspawn #story #fantasystory #creativewriting #fantasywebfiction #writersofinstagram #writestagram #writing #webfiction #christmas stories #holiday story

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a-chaotically-small-lunta · 1 year

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Small Holidays

The wind whipped around, whipping up the snow and creating small hills of snow scattered around the small town. David looked around the area at all the nearby houses. He noticed all the lights were shut off, The power must be out, he thought. David sighed and looked down from the small perch on the tree. He was waiting for the love of his life, Scarlet.

She was a borrower from the forest, unlike any borrower he’d ever met. Her hair was pure white and her eyes were red, she was albino and a badass. Her family were bird trainers, borrowers who’d train bird for others to ride but Scarlet was a bit weird. Her family had a tradition; when one is of age, they must steal an egg from a nest and raise the bird that hatches from it. Most of her family grabbed robin, blue jay, or even cardinal eggs. Scarlet however stole an owl egg. When it had hatched her family freaked out, for no one had trained a predator bird like an owl before. Scarlet however was determined, and from then on she learned to train predator birds, from owls to even a hawk.

David was currently waiting for her to arrive on one of her owls. They planned on celebrating the holidays like they always do, but because of the blackout David had to keep watch on the roof of the home, so he could flag down the owl for an easier landing.

Eventually David noticed the lone bird in the sky, he smiled and quickly ran over to the chimney. He shoved down a rock, giving the signal to Laura to make the fire inside more smoky so Scarlet could see it. After a few seconds the light gray smoke changed to a dark gray and flew into the sky, the wind blowing it over. Luckily Scarlet must have seen it as the owl headed down, landing a few feet from the chimney where David stood. Scarlet hopped down and patted the owl, giving it the signal to wait a second before flying off. David hurriedly ran over and hugged Scarlet.

“Welcome back.” He whispered, gaining a chuckle from Scarlet.

“Thanks hun, it’s good to see you again. Now help me grab these gifts”

David smiled, she was always ready to get business done. He quickly started gather the small gifts and shoved them into the empty bag he had on him. After all the gifts had been gathered Scarlet gave the signal for the owl to fly off. The owl immediately flew away back towards the woods where it would most likely head back to its own nest.

The two borrowers quickly made their way to the chimney and found the small entrance carved out of the brick. They headed down the small path until they reached the bottom where it opened up next to the actual fireplace. They looked around to see the whole family who excited turned their way.

“MOM!” Shouted two girls who ran over and hugged Scarlet. The other kids quickly ran over too, expect two who didn’t move from their spot.

“Hey sweethearts! How are my girls? Oh! And how is everyone else?” Scarlet said smiling.

A chuckle was heard and Scarlet looked up to see Laura who was sitting by the fire place on the floor with a smile, “I think they’re all excited to see you. I’m glad you made it safely” Laura said with a soft smile. After years of living with borrowers, Laura had learned how to speak in a soft tone.

David smiled up at Laura and then looked over to Scarlet, “A little snow ain’t gonna hurt her.” Scarlet shot him a quick look before going back to all the kids.

There were 12 borrower kids here so there were a lot of hugs to be handed out. Scarlet and David had three kids, Brittany who was their eldest, she had darker red hair and green eyes, she was the oldest of all the kids and she reminded David of his father. From her funny behavior to the seriousness when it came to business. Then there was Rose, their second child. She had black hair where it was darker at the ends and lighter at the top and light brown eyes. She was different from the other girls in the group, but that didn’t stop any of them from treating her like a sister. She was always a bit shy, but after she started to become more comfortable in her own body, her confidence went up.

Then there was their youngest child, he was only around three years old. His name was Randy. He had light brown eyes and his hair was black and white. Randy was a very curious little borrower who always would find ways to escape places, and for someone so young that was impressive.

Those were all David’s and Scarlet’s biological kids. Lily, David’s sister who lived alongside him, had two kids of her own. Twins in fact. Her lover was a man named Brian, who had curled black hair and dark brown eyes. The twins were Mary and John, both had black hair and brown eyes. They were a bit mischievous as most twins were, and they worked very well together.

Then there was the other seven children who each had interesting stories, but those stories will come later on. For now though...

There was Alice, a teen girl who had blond hair and blue eyes. She was a quiet girl but no one blamed her for being the silent type.

There was Thomas, a boy who had black hair and blue eyes. He was a bit cocky but always respected everyone around him.

There was Finley who was a teen who has brown hair and brown eyes. They were always running around playing with the younger ones while making up stories.

There was Blair, a child of one of David’s old friends. They had brown eyes and dark brown hair. He was always gentle with things and others.

There was Ariel a young girl with blonde hair and white eyes. She was blind. She was always excited to do things though, and loved to hear stories.

There was Anan a young Mute boy who had brown hair and greenish eyes. He was best friends with Ariel. They always were together and even made up a way of communication using simple sounds and noises. Like claps or clicks of the tongue. They are the only two who know it.

Finally there was Nanda who was a very talented artist. They were always doodling or sewing something whenever they weren’t playing games that is.

All these kids were found by David, Scarlet, Lily and even Laura. All were lost or needed help, now they all had somewhere they could call home and people to call a family.

Scarlet smiled and hushed all the kids down, “okay everyone I brought you all some things from the forest.” The kids were excited and quickly settled down, although some were a bit bouncy. David and Lily helped Scarlet pass around the small wrapped gifts, meanwhile Laura stirred cup of hot chocolate. Gathering a drop in small cups for all the borrowers.

All the kids excitedly opened their gifts once they were all passed out. There were necklaces made of carved walnut shells, and Buckeyes. There were feathered pens for writing or drawing, and parchment made for leaves. Jams made from forest berries, trinkets made from wood, clothes made from pelts, among many other items.

All the kids loved their gifts and excited showed the others while sharing the snacks. David and Scarlet sat next to Lily and Brian, who were leaned against the small edge of the fireplace near where Laura sat. They all were watching the kids play with their new things, while sipping on hot chocolate. They all could hear the cold wind whip around through the the fire place, where they all planned to sleep that night due to the cold house.

David looked up at Laura for a second, making eye contact. He was happy in that moment. He never thought he’d be so close with a human, and that it would turn out so well for him and his family. He felt at peace, curling his arm around Scarlet who leaned into him as he laid back agianst Laura’s arm. Lily sat next to him, grabbing his hand as she and Brian leaned against each other.

It was a happy night, where the grownups watched the kids play games. Small chitchat here and there. Eventually the kids started to tucker themselves out, falling asleep one by one. Laura got up and grabbed a blanket, which she folded and laid along the fireplace. One by one, each child was moved onto the blanket and small blankets or pelts were placed onto them as they slept. Laura laid on the floor nearby, where a few of the kids snuck over and snuggled against her. David and Scarlet laid on the blanket, where Scarlet was sleeping on David’s lap. Everyone had fallen asleep or was about to. David however stayed awake to keep an eye on the fire. He looked over the scene before him before turning to look into the fire. He watched the flames dance and smiled, “I hope everyone gets a Holiday like this” he whispered. The wind howled outside but everything inside was calm and peaceful for all those inside.

#Story #g/t #g/t writing #gaint/tiny #gianttiny #gt #oc:david #Holiday Story #Borrowers #Borrower #thought I’d write a small story about the holidays with David and his loved ones #you get to meet his whole family...sort of lol

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enceladussx · 4 months

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las americas

thats where we met. on the island of tenerife celebrating both new years and my birthday. its past midnight now and i am finally 18. but equally still just a girl. me and my friend have got our eyes on you and your louis vuitton model friend. youre the only good looking people on this island it feels like; you gave off this energy of wealth and cleanliness we had to get your attention. we walk over to you and your friend and to my shock you wanted to talk to us first. thank god. we start talking and as time progressed i felt more and more attracted to you. all of a sudden we are walking to the rocks on the beach and youre undressing me and you soon start fucking me. "lie on the rocks i wanna fuck you in missionary to see your pretty smile", you say to me. damn okay, im thinking to myself. your dick is greatly ramming me into the rock underneath me and your kissing me so gently and slowly whilst the rest of your body is going insane on me. i was so in the moment. waves were splashing on us and i just remember lots of laughter whilst youre still inside of me. who are you? it lasted what felt like a lifetime but i loved every second of it. we stopped eventually as i was in so much pleasurable pain and we kept on talking. so much laughter and joy surrounded us, you picking me up and throwing me in the air, so many smiles. i gave you a ring that i made and you wore it for the whole night. i took you back to our accomodation and before we slept your hands roamed my body, so slowly, so intimately and it felt better than anything ive ever had before. i remember looking at your eyes in the dim lit lighting and us softly smiling at each other. you're soft precious smile feels so comforting to me i cant let go of it i cant let go of anything. i couldnt help myself so we went to the toilet and stepped inside the shower where you proceeded to fuck me so hard. the way you handled my body felt so intimate and equally so so safe. i want so much of you this is so insane. you eventually finished, all over me even, and afterwards i just remember you embracing me so hard as we knew i had to leave so soon. you stayed with me until the very moment my taxi showed up, we hugged once more and kissed and that was goodbye.

i hate myself for this because maybe i am just so incredibly fucking delusional but that was easily the best fucking night of my life. never been happier. weve been in touch since and we are both so insanely obsessed with each other, we text each other all day and its looking very likely that i am going to sweden to see him next week or he will come here, who knows. but i just so desperately need to see him again and from his words, he badly wants to see me soon. this could be the beginning of something big (im delusional.)

#falling in love #love story #holiday story #LOVE #bf #obsession #life #relationships

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mistresslrigtar · 4 months

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It's here! 6 days of Twilight Princess tooth-rotting fluff! So get a cup of cocoa, mulled cider, or spiced wine and enjoy chapter one of a Hallmark/ABC Family Holiday movie LoZ style.

Read the full chapter HERE on AO3

Excerpt:

Link hefted the axe in his left hand, testing the weight before lifting it and gripping the handle with his right. Swish. He swung it through the air with ease. It wasn’t quite the same as a broadsword, but the motion was familiar enough. Crack! The axe connected with the trunk of the spindly pine tree, sending splinters and chunks of bark and wood flying.

He repeated the motion several more times, each swing a little more forceful and accompanied by a grunt until the notch in the trunk was as large as his forearm. Pausing, Link pushed up the sleeves of his cream, rough cotton tunic. He’d abandoned his haramaki and green bracer hours ago and, but all the same, sweat trickled down his back. One more swing ought to do it.

Come on, who doesn't like a good lumberjack Link scene?

Many thanks to @cjracingpnf for being my awesome beta.

#legend of zelda #zelink #the legend of zelda #loz twilight princess #holiday story #hallmark movies #winter solstice #abc family #post twilight princess #tooth rotting fluff

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theindividualisticauthor · 4 months

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Silas: The street looks so beautiful. The rooftops are covered with snow. Snow is falling from the sky. Damaris: I can see smoke coming out of a few chimneys. Silas: I sometimes feel like I'm living inside a movie. Darby: Yeah, now all we need to see is a row of reindeer, a fat man and a bag of presents inside a sleigh before our eyes and and we will definitely be having the kind of Christmas you see on television.

#fiction #story #my fiction #my fic post #fic post #chat #holiday fic #holiday #holiday fiction #holiday story

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grlnxtdr30 · 4 months

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Chapters: 8/9 Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, Nick Duvall/Jeff Sterling, Sam Evans/Mercedes Jones Characters: Blaine Anderson, Nick Duvall, Jeff Sterling, Elliott "Starchild" Gilbert, Kurt Hummel Additional Tags: Boy Bands & Bodyguards, holiday story, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Fake Dating, Christmas Music, Three Original Songs! Summary:

Pop Superstar Boy Band, Bad Bromance, is on the verge of releasing their first Christmas Album and hosting their first Christmas Special, but when pretty boy front man Blaine Anderson gets a Stalker, manager Elliott "Starchild" Gilbert brings in his former college roommate Kurt Hummel as Blaine's bodyguard and fake boyfriend.

Kurt isn't a fan of Christmas in general, and the idea of fake dating Blaine Anderson has him seeing red, but can Blaine convince Kurt that Christmas is the Happiest Time of the Year? And can Kurt protect Blaine from an obsessed fan?

#Glee #Klaine #Kurt Hummel #Blaine Anderson #boy bands & bodyguards #Holiday story

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ecstilson-blog · 4 months

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The “Little Caesars Dancing Man” worked tirelessly, spinning his sign on the corner of Antelope and Main. Regardless of how hard his job must’ve been, he beamed, so happy and ALWAYS kind.

My kids were still quite little, and they’d smile and point as he’d spin the sign on his foot and flip it over his head. We saw him from our car nearly every day, and no matter what kind of crappy mood I’d been in, this stranger would always make my day better.

In fact, I received some really bad news one particular afternoon, but as I drove home, I spotted the #LittleCaesars Dancing Man, just rockin’ away to some unheard beat. The light turned red, so I continued watching his complete exuberance for life. I fully realized then; he's perpetually happy even though he's out there, working in the blistering sun or the freezing cold. He waves back and smiles. You’d think he didn’t have a worry in the world, but in actuality, he must have been so tired.

That day, I turned right instead of going straight home, parked by the dancing man, and decided to finally meet him.

“I’m Raymond.” He grinned, offering me his hand.

“I’m Elisa!” I smiled and knew an awesome friendship had begun. Then I told him what an inspiration he is—how he might not know it, but he makes life better every day for people like me and my family. He grew quiet, and I thought the words meant far more than I knew.

When I got home, I friend requested Raymond through Facebook and blogged about my experience.

A couple of weeks later, I received a letter from Little Caesars’ corporate office across the country. They’d actually read my blog and sent two $20 gift cards! They had one request: for me to keep a card and give one to someone else. I remember reading the letter in the post office, then I gave the second gift card to the post office employee, John. He said the story was even better than the money!

The whole experience felt surreal at the time. And to think, if I’d never stopped that day, I would’ve missed out on the whole adventure.

Raymond and I became friends for well over 10 years. I watched him experience good and bad times—and he smiled the whole way through… just like he used to when he danced for Little Caesars. Then, in 2020, after doctors diagnosed me with terminal cancer, he became one of my biggest advocates, sending me encouraging messages and kind words when I needed them the most. Who would’ve thought all this would start after I saw him spinning a sign on the corner of Antelope and Main? Life is such a miracle.

I’ve had the most wonderful people, like Raymond Lowery, come into my life over the years and show me how to be strong, smile when life is the hardest, and keep going against all the odds.

Rest in peace, dear friend. You made such a positive impact on my life. I think you did that for everyone you met though. You, well, Raymond… you were incredible. Put in a good word for me, all right? Maybe save a seat for me in Heaven? 💓

#wholesome #heartwarming #heartwarmingholidaystory #holidaystory #ecstilson

#ecstilson #heartwarming #holiday story #heartwarmingstories #little caesars #pizzalover #pizza

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imagine-mokey · 3 months

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A sweet Christmas story, involving John Lennon and his first family. This isn't an erotic story, but a sweet loving tale of the struggle of over coming loss and connecting with ones children.

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lonelypond · 3 months

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Dear Santa: A Lo-Fi Holiday Love, Ch. 4

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.8K, 4/4

Lo-Fi Holiday Postlude

Lacking a Maki Nishikino to impress, Nico had settled for cyber stalking her and was now possessed of much more Nishikino knowledge. International healthcare business, starting with a small hospital in Japan at the start of modern medicine, expanded to the United States, partnerships in Korea and several South American countries, and multiple pharmaceutical concerns. The parents made more appearances than Maki, who could mostly be found TWIGing from next to the runway during various fashion weeks attending her friend Kotori Minami's multiple collection launches over the years. Maki also took time to talk about her work with various indigenous organizations working to protect the planet, frequently offering her platform to activists. And then all the concert pics. Maki would show off the outfit, the piano, and post a video from her rehearsal. She had a couple of friends who appeared in shots, one a short ginger who could get her to face paint and stick out her tongue and snowball fight and Nico was suddenly envious of having that casual access to Maki. There were no pics of Dia. Of course there were no pics of Dia. A baby would be such a target for photographers and nosy pests.

Then Nico cyberstalked herself. The pic, fans talking down upset fans, Nico and her awards, her music company, the Nico Nightlights cosmetic line she'd just launched. Her net worth in the 50 million range, her long career, working hard at music and some choice roles in movies and television. Lots to be proud of, for anybody who happened to look Nico up. Although, thinking about Maki, Nico thought maybe some more charity involvement might be good, although this evening's New Year's concert was all about charity. Nico was a catch. And Maki never smiled in any of her pictures like Nico had seen Maki smile when they were alone together.

Sigh. Nico put down her phone. She'd sent enough messages. Parents nagged and demanded Maki show up, not Nico. Time for Nico to have some quiet time: takeoff her makeup, put on her homemade hydrating mask, pick out a pint of ice cream from the freezer (spoiler: strawberry shortcake), and curl up in bed to watch the ball fall.

###

Nico's Maki text tone went off. Nico grabbed for her phone.

M: Hey

N: Hi

M: I'm here

Unexpected. Totally.

M: With Dia

N: Are you parked?

M: On the street. In a loading zone.

N: ＼(｀0´)／

N: Nico will be right there.

Grab a hoodie, put on boots, run, literally run downstairs. And there was Maki pacing outside her car, in a long, dark coat and navy beanie. Run and grab her, hug her tight enough to crack a rib, make sure she wasn't going to bolt.

Nico's arms squeezed and Maki relaxed. She wouldn't be out on the pavement pacing for hours. Or have to drive through the Berkshires tonight to get back home. Dia wouldn't scream all the way anywhere. Tears kept threatening; Maki kept fluttering them away with her lashes.

"Mama says we're not billionaires." was the first thing Maki thought to say.

"Give Nico your keys."

Maki handed them over.

"Get in, loser." Nico jingled them at the car.

"What?!??!?!"

"Mean Girls? The meme?"

Maki shook her head.

"Nerd." Nico muttered, then switched to the big smile. "Please allow Nico to be your valet this evening, Ms. Nishikino." Nico hopped around the car, opening Maki's door with a grand flourish.

Maki giggled. That was better.

###

Dia's newly acquired portable crib was a 14 pound backpack that unpacked into a side zippered playpen looking thing. Pretty cool, Nico thought. Unpacking the car had woken up Dia and now she was burbling at her mother in complaining tones.

"She's probably hungry."

"Nico's kitchen is your kitchen." Nico pulled on the backpack straps, "Where do you want Nico to set this up?"

Maki ducked her head, "What were you doing before…?"

"About to put on a hydrating face mask, morosely eat ice cream in bed, and stare at the really gorgeous view from Nico's bed, maybe watch some New Year's fireworks and stuff on my laptop."

"Can I join you?" Maki asked softly.

"Portable crib in Nico's bedroom it is."

"Thanks."

###

"Now that she's eaten, we get Dia settled in." Maki put down the spoon she'd been feeding her daughter with.

"Crib's all set." Nico bounced to the kitchen opening restless, eager to be in a cozier space. "Does Dia want a lullaby? Nico can still sing."

"Nico Ni." Dia announced.

Stunned at first, Nico spun around, to watch Dia reaching out wiggling fingers. Nico was right there, kneeling, her hand flat against Dia's tiny one, a huge grin on her face.

"We've been practicing your name." Maki offered shyly.

"Two charmers." Nico winked at the mom, then turned her attention to the daughter.

"Hi, Dia. Welcome to Nico's home. Stay as long as you like."

###

"So you have a cosmetics company but you only use the homemade stuff at home?"

"Nico makes the best."

"Better than chemists?"

"It's a hands on, feel the texture thing."

Nico spun Maki to face her. Nico's hands were already covered in what Maki had now christened 'green goop" and Nico was applying that to Maki's face with the gentlest of touches.

Maki sniffed, "Smells like yogurt?"

"Yogurt, avocado, lemon, turmeric, and a splash of a secret ingredient."

Maki batted her eyelashes, ignoring the neon green glow of her face she could see peripherally in the mirror. "You can tell me."

"Nope. Industrial rival." Nico stepped back, crossed her arms, frowned, and her towel wrapped hair shifted to lean forward. "Very dangerous. Nico is on guard."

Maki giggled, and giggled some more, and then guffawed.

"You're terrible at terrifying."

"Not Nico's goal."

"What is Nico's goal?"

A quick kiss to the end of Maki's nose, a quick swipe of Nico's tongue to clear any traces of mask on her lips, and a wink. "Tasty things. What kind of ice cream do you like?"

"Milkshakes. Vanilla. For dipping french fries."

Nico huffed. "Weirdo. Nico does velvety, luxury smoothies from Boston's best."

Maki pointed to a bowl next to the sink, "Are the cucumbers mix ins?"

"Ha! And no. Face toppings. But we do that after the ice cream and gazing at the view."

"This is super complicated goop." Maki had the goofiest grin peeking through the green as she teased Nico.

"Nico's super cute is worth the effort."

Maki leaned in, pursing her lips. "Nico is super cute. But it's better when you're not Shrek colored."

"Very funny." Nico spun Maki, and they both looked at their reflection in the mirror. Nico grabbed her phone. "Smile. Nico Nico Ni."

Maki smiled.

"We'll show 'em what super hot date nights really look like."

A weight in the air. Maki's smile crashed into stress lines.

"Nico." Maki sounded scared. "Don't. Please."

Nico immediately put the phone down, sliding her hands around Maki's waist, pulling the taller woman in for a hug, "Just for Nico works best."

"Thank you."

Nico tilted her head, Maki could see the mischief sparkle, "Honestly, Nico gets more of a Grinch than Shrek vibe from you."

"Santa will put you on the naughty list." Maki shoved at Nico, but Nico remained solidly set.

"Nico is always nice. Like I said, it's in the name." Another hug, an inhale, a scent memory of Maki's lingering perfume mixed with Nico's homebrew avocado mush. A new, cozy kind of intoxicant.

"Grab the cucumbers, get comfy on Nico's bed, and I'll be back with the best milkshake ever."

"Okay."

###

Nico had tucked her bed into the corner where the windows met. Albums, magazines, candles, and plushies were scattered across the bed high, marble looking blocks actually lining the windows. So many pillows. Maki had never seen so many pillows. Pink pillows. Heart pillows. Squishable pillows. Maki had changed into bright blue pajama pants with skiing Yeti, red wool socks, and a white "fuck colonialism" shirt. Nico's pajamas were cream, quilted, and with tan stuffed rabbits tumbling everywhere.

"Those are so cute."

"Nico knows. Picked them up on a visit to Seoul."

"Concert?"

"Yes." Nico laughed, "But Nico was in the crowd, not on the stage. Nice shirt. Really going with the not Team Billionaire vibe."

"Yep." Maki said, popping the final "p," half falling into Nico's pillows, her lips wrapping around the straw sticking up from her milkshake. Sexiest way to derail a conversation ever. Nico shoved a large spoonful of with a chunk of strawberry into her own mouth, congratulating herself. Way to be classy and not drool over the hot redhead in your bed. A literal cool down. Nico giggled. Maki raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

A small cry from Dia froze them both. They glanced toward the crib, but when Dia burbled a few not quite words and went back to sleep, Maki chuckled.

"She probably wants ice cream."

"We'll save her some for the morning."

"I'm not sharing." Maki hugged the glass.

"You are silly." Nico bumped Maki's glass with her spoon.

Maki let out a huge sigh, "I need silly."

"Silly, with you, sounds like a great way to start off the year."

"Yeah." Maki dropped her head to Nico's shoulder, "Not a bad choice at all."

"Nico is always the number one choice."

"You write all your own reviews, don't you."

"Have you been cyberstalking Nico?"

"No…uh…I had to get your albums…and…"

Nico put her ice cream aside, sliding an arm around Maki. "Nico is teasing. Breathe, Maki. You're too cute being green to turn blue."

Maki stared at Nico, the gorgeous smile sneaking back. "You say ridiculous things."

"And yet here you are."

"Here I am."

Silence. Maki dropping her head on Nico's shoulder, eyes closed, Nico's fingers softly easing knots out of silken curls. A quick touch on the nightstand and the room lights dimmed, the view of Boston glittering, buildings stark against a moonless sky, reflected lights shimmering in the water like someone had draped the harbor for the holidays.

When Nico turned away from the city lights, she could see Dia comfortable, lying on her back in the crib, starting her second year.

"Happy birthday, Dia." Nico whispered.

Maki murmured something into Nico's shoulder, drawing Nico's attention back. Nico could feel Maki's breathing evening out, the redhead relaxing into Nico's side, trusting her. Nico felt a surge of confidence. Somewhere there was a sparkly thing dropping, fireworks booming, New Year's kisses spreading through cheering crowds like the wave. But for now, Nico had had enough of noisy crowds and kissing could wait. Smiling down at the sexy and sweet present serendipity (and maybe Santa) had brought into her life, Nico knew this new path might be rough and the timing unpredictable. But Nico couldn't imagine better company for whatever adventures the New Year would bring.

A/N: Fuck yes…screw you, Covid-19 and electoral politics. For the first time since 2019, a completed lonelypond Christmas and holiday jam.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Dear Santa #baby Dia #holiday #New Year's Eve #Christmas #holiday story #fluff #cute

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