Seraph Christmas Gifts Pt. 2! It’s the season 2 disc(s)! (Includes eng dub & sub, owaranai seraph omakes, and trailers/promo stuff)
Bonus: I showed the mikayuu disc/inside cover to my little brother and had the following exchange
Me: What do you think of this art?
Me: What are the characters doing in this picture?
Me: What do you think their relationship is? Are they friends?
Me: What are they, then?
Me: …well, you’re not exactly wrong
Once upon a time, in a land called Buffalo, there lived a little girl named Jules Daly who dreamt of traveling to faraway places where the people sang for a lark and danced on a whim, where houses were filled with calliopes and music boxes, mechanical dolls and cuckoo clocks. But, alas, not all tales can have a happy ending. Jules grew up and still has her dreams. Unfortunately, she’s still in Buffalo.
Christmas had never been Sherlock’s favorite time of the year. Growing up with a brother like Mycroft and parents as intolerable as theirs made for endless, horrifically boring Christmas dinners which were torturous affairs for everyone but their mother, who insisted on all but glueing her husband and sons to a seat on the table for a civilized family meal.
As an overcompensation of sorts, he had taken to treating Christmas as just another perfectly ordinary day. Things changed slightly to accommodate Mrs. Hudson, then John, but all in all, Sherlock viewed Christmas as an occasion that warranted no celebration or acknowledgment.
So the first time he had woken up on midnight of Christmas Eve to the sound of his bathroom window opening, the last thing he expected to see in the meager living room of the SRO he was renting while hiding from Moriarty’s network was The Woman. Not that her appearance in itself warranted any celebration or acknowledgement (or so he told himself), but he had to admit, it was a surprise.
She was dressed in one of his shirts – what was her fascination with his clothes, anyway? – and sitting on the worn couch, her knees drawn up to her chest. Sitting on the table in front of her was one of the candles he had been saving for an experiment under the sink. She barely looked up at him when he entered the room, instead she addressed the candle’s flickering light.
Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “I’m aware.”
She still didn’t look at him. She seemed mesmerized by the candle’s flame. “I died for the first time last year. Remember?”
Remember? How could he forget?
When he woke up on Christmas Day, she was gone. He would think it was a dream, some kind of hallucination his half-drugged brain had created, except… except the candle was burnt down to a small waxy stub, and his shirt and his sheets smelled of Her.
And then there was nothing.
No sign of her, no news of her whereabouts. He didn’t actively seek her out, because he had no reason to, and also for fear of what would happen if he were to do so. What could they say to each other that wouldn’t make the situation worse between them?
He did keep an ear out for whispers from Moriarty’s slowly dwindling network… any rumours of a Woman arising from the bottomless pit that was the criminal underworld.
But there was nothing.
Twelve months later, in a hotel in Montenegro – exactly a week before he had to leave for Serbia, and a month before his return to London – his window opened again.
This time, she wasn’t alone.
The infant in her arms stirred and opened its blue eyes, which were the exact replica of his own.
“It’s Christmas,” she said, by way of explanation. And nothing else was said for the remainder of the night.
He held the baby – his baby, his brain automatically supplied, even if he was still having trouble processing it – once. Only once, while its mother was asleep.
It was tiny… so tiny… and fragile. Why were human beings so easy to break? There were so many things that could break this impossibly tiny thing… Himself, included.
He wasn’t surprised to find both Woman and infant missing the next day.
It was for the best, he told himself as he eased awkwardly back into his old life in London. He could barely take care of himself, much less an infant. Such a thing would only weigh him down, would be another vulnerability.
He didn’t know what had made the Woman bring it to term and actually keep it. Sentiment, perhaps… a chemical defect that had the audacity to grow into an actual human being.
Though he would admit, he did think about it sometimes.
When the Woman appeared in his mind palace, she was still as unspoiled as ever… but this time, she would sometimes be accompanied by a baby’s thin cry, or the smell of the infant’s soft head trailing after her perfume.
Three weeks before Christmas, he and John passed by a certain store, and he spied it.
He didn’t know what possessed him, but he returned to the shop later without his friend, made sure it was appropriate, and brought it home. His illicit purchase was hidden in 221C where he was sure neither John nor Mary would find it.
When the window opened this time, there was a bassinet waiting in the living room of 221B. And the Woman smiled at him knowingly before placing the sleeping baby – who was no longer an infant, but a year-old Child; no longer an it but another she – inside.
He shrugged. “It’s Christmas.”
Christmas Day found the bassinet empty except for the blanket the Child had been wrapped in. The soft, clearly expensive material carried the scent of the Woman’s perfume and strawberry-scented baby shampoo.
The bassinet would later make its way to the pile of baby shower gifts for Mary after he had deduced her pregnancy, but the blanket remained in his possession.
Mary… whose bullet had nearly killed him.
There was a rose at the foot of his hospital bed when he awoke, but there were no unexpected-yet-expected visitors the next Christmas.
This Christmas, he found himself standing beside his best friend with Magnussen’s lifeless body at his feet and his hands in the air, having just done what he had sworn he would never, ever do.
“Give my love to Mary,” He turned to John. “… She’s safe now.”
Which she had he been referring to – Mary? The Woman? Or the Child? Did he even know…?
But the moment Magnussen had detected the scent of the Woman on his hand, he had known. From that moment on, he’d known exactly what had to be done.
And if it led to his exile or his certain death… well, wasn’t that a small price to pay?
He knelt on the floor and thought of John and Mary, who were safe now from the threat that had been Magnussen. He thought of The Woman, wherever she was, whose death would remain permanent in the eyes of the world. He thought of the Child, whose existence would remain a secret. She whom he had never known, had only held once – an experience that would never be repeated again.
“Oh, Sherlock… what have you done…?”
The game is never over, John
Did you miss me?
Sherlock, promise me?
Moriarty is dead. No question… more importantly, I know exactly what he’s going to do next…
It was New Year’s Eve. Exactly a week after Magnussen’s murder. Three days after his overdose on the plane.
The book had been waiting on the mantelpiece for exactly a week, but the window remained resolutely shut.
He had been doing his best to hide the residual effects of the overdose from John and Mary, and he had been doing a good job of it. Good enough that he had been allowed his first moment of privacy since the plane, while the good doctor tended to his pregnant wife.
But in his solitude, there was no denying that the effects of the drugs still lingered, and it was this residual toxicity that made him think he imagined the small, high laugh from the living room of 221B.
But when the laugh – a child’s laugh, he now registered – was followed by a familiar voice, he shot up immediately out of bed and lurched into the living room.
The Woman was sitting on John’s chair in front of the fire, with the Child in her lap. The Child was reading the book he had left for her, and she was pointing out something in the book for her mother to see.
He released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding for a whole week.
The Woman looked up at the sound of his shaky exhale. They looked at each other silently for a long time.
His voice was hoarse from disuse and it rasped out of his throat with unexpected relief and anguish at the same time. The dim light softened the Woman’s features and reflected the unexpected moisture in her eyes. It cast a soft light on the Child sitting quietly in her lap.
“Christmas was a week ago.”
Her words were meant to be teasing – she loved to be contrary– but her voice was quiet. The Child stirred, her blue gaze moving from her mother to this stranger she only saw once a year.
“No, it wasn’t.” He dragged himself onto his chair opposite her. For a moment, he watched them both. Then he smiled, and it coaxed one out of her as well when she realized what he meant.
Sorry for the long post. Christmas is my favorite time of the year, and it’s almost here, so… suffer my Christmas Adlock feels. Ugh, I shouldn’t be allowed to write fluff at 1AM.
Everlark Advent: Day 19, Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe
Today’s Advent story is in response to @loveinpanem‘s prompt: mistletoe.
Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe
It’s been yet another overlong day at the bakery making endless cookies and bûche de Noël. Trying to keep a smile for all of the stressed out shoppers who snap and spit their frustration at me. And the endless loop of Christmas music on the PA system.
I’m sick of the holidays. I’m sick of angels and reindeer and tinsel. I might have a stroke if I see another sprig of mistletoe.
Ebeneezer Scrooge has nothing on me right now.
I just want to crash on the couch, watch Netflix and forget about Christmas altogether for an evening.
But the fates have something entirely different in store for me it seems.
I arrive home to find that my house is softly lit with candles and twinkle lights. The new Pentatonix Christmas CD plays in the background. And in front of me, my Katniss, smirking. Her raven hair is loose, reflections from the Christmas lights dance among the strands, crowning her in coloured jewels. She’s wearing only a ridiculously tiny pair of panties.
Ho Ho It’s finally the day I can post this! So here’s my gift to @yourhandiheld, hope you like it!! Got a little carried away though, ‘cause Disney World + Christmas carries endless possibilities and I really love your art and, well you deserve something amazing at the least! I just want to say… in my defense… that this Pluto counts as a dog…. =x And that’s it! Happy Holidays!!
Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964) “I don’t know what we would have done without Rudolph to pull us through. Anyway - uh, Rudolph? Huh, could it be that some of you are not acquainted with the story of Rudolph? Well, pull up an ice block and lend an ear.”
I seriously can’t believe the last time I will be seeing my lobster ( taylorswift ) has finally come. (So I figured I may as well put on all the glitter I can handle and shake it off with the best of them!) This weekend I will be at BOTH TORONTO SHOWS!! Night 1: Section 115 and Night 2 A4 FLOOR!!!
Taylor (if you happen to see my post again),
I can’t begin to thank you you enough for everything that has happened this tour, era and year. Last time I saw you in Toronto I was an 18 year old girl, off to university and unsure of herself.. Now I’m a twenty year old lady lobster who is still trying to figure out her place in this world, but with your advice last time we talked, is a little closer. Thank you again for the endless kindness you have shown me.. from inviting me to Loft 89 to liking posts about my endless fall/christmas obsessions… everything means more than you’ll ever know. I love you and seriously can’t wait for what you have up your sleeve for these massive shows!
I’ll be around Rogers Centre both days if anyone wants to meet up or catch up in person!!
Hello and welcome to Enjonine Christmas Week 2015! Date: 14-20 December
Since the tags are so silent lately I decided to organize a Christmas week dedicated to our beautiful ship. Everybody is welcome and should participate so we have lots of fics, gifs, graphics, mixes, fanarts etc. for Christmas! Day 1: Winter Wonderland (indulge in your love for snow! Snowed-in in a secluded cabin in the woods, making snow angels, snow fights - the possibilities are endless) Day 2: Christmas in Paris (aka canon era) (there’s never enough fluff and happiness for the tragedy that was the book canon) Day 3: World Winter Traditions (let’s explore the endless customs that are unique in every country) Day 4: Movie Day (Holiday? A Christmas Princess? Maybe Love, Actually? All the aus based on our favourite holiday films) Day 5: Mistletoe & Symbols (what’s better than being put under a mistletoe by friends to admit hidden feelings?) Day 6: Secret Santa & Gifts (who spends a ridiculous amount of time to find a perfect present for the other & who is fondly exasperated?) Day 7: Whatever you want! (free choice)
Remember that the most frequently used tags are: #enjonine, #enjolras x eponine and #lesmisedit in case of graphics and gifs. Any questions can be send here or here. I hope people will participate and enjoy this little event. See you all on 14 December!