So Christmas is coming closer and as there is no Secret Santa this year I thought that instead of that we could have a Christmas ‘party’ going on from December 23rd to January 6th. During that time we can post art, crafts, recipes, fanfictions, songs … and I’ll try to reblog all of them to this blog. This way, everyone will get tons of gifts for Christmas and everyone who wants to create something can do so. Please spread the news using the hashtag #carryonchristmas! If you have any questions you can send them to me via this link: https://carryonchristmas.tumblr.com/#ask-trigger Don’t hesitate in joining us, I’m sure it will be lots of fun and an amazing way to ring in the New Year as well!
A Christmassy SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown
Of course, it’s not enough that the Crucible stuck me
and that twat in a room together. It’s
not enough that I have to deal with his abuse every single day six months out
of the year. Of course, someone out
there, whoever’s controlling the fates, has gotten it in their mind that I don’t
have it bad enough.
You know what would make this even
better? Make Simon and Baz buy each
other Christmas presents! Perfect!
I trudge along
the snowy pavement, scowling at the melting slush. I’ve been in five shops already and I can’t
find anything. I don’t even know what I’m
looking for. What do you get for someone
suppose I could pull a prank or something.
That’s probably what he will do.
He never fails to stoop to the lowest level when it comes to me.
then again, he would probably kill me if I pulled something like that. For some reason, he’s allowed to mess with
me, but I’m not allowed to mess with him.
I duck into a coffee shop. The air is
warm and spiced with cinnamon. As I make
my way to the front of the line, I see the display of gift cards next to the
drinks coffee, doesn’t he? Of course he
does. Everyone drinks coffee.
buy my peppermint mocha, load a gift card and walk out relieved.
Of course, it’s not enough that I have to pretend I
hate the boy with every word I say. It’s
not enough that I have no choice but to make his life a living hell every
single day six months out of the year.
Now I have to display my everlasting hatred by means of a Christmas gift
thought this was a good idea can get fucked.
shove my way out of a candy store emptyhanded.
Every shop is bringing me closer to the point of giving up. What kind of villain gives the hero candy for
again, what kind of villain gives the hero anything
Maybe the villain who doesn’t want to be the
shake my head to clear it, squinting up at the sign over the next window. Antiques
it says in big loopy writing. I sigh and
push through the door.
smell hits me first. It’s not a bad
smell necessarily, just old and musty, kind of like breathing straight dust,
and I cough. As my eyes adjust I begin
to make out the piles of knick-knacks stacked up on every surface, age-old
brass and silver winking at me from every corner. Or rather, blinking. Like someone who’s trying to wink but never
quite got the hang of it.
know where to start. I don’t even know
what I’m looking for. What do you get
for someone who despises you?
what I can tell, everything in here is pretty expensive, which almost causes me
to turn around right then. Expensive
doesn’t fit the guidelines I’ve set for myself.
The gift can’t be too sentimental
or he’ll know you don’t hate him. It can’t
be too expensive or he’ll think you cared enough to spend money on him. It can’t be candy because candy is for kids,
it can’t be cologne because that’s too personal, it can’t be homemade or he’ll
think you spent time and effort on him.
The list goes on and on.
flash of metal catches my eye, and I turn to see a tiny silver object on a
table by the window. I wander over to
a sheath, only big enough for a dagger, and it’s patterned in bronze
rosebuds. When I pick it up, I discover
that the blade is still inside, intact, and actually nicely polished.
course, Snow already has a sword, but when you live with a vampire, what harm
would it do to have an extra weapon handy at all times? One that doesn’t disappear when you’re not
much for this?” I ask the shopkeeper.
When the last day of classes rolls around, I find Baz
in our room – no surprises there – packing the last of his things for the
holidays. I clear my throat as I enter. He turns, but only for a second, and he doesn’t
make any other move to acknowledge my existence. Again, no surprises there.
you leaving soon?” I ask, trying to at least begin the conversation in a civil
Snow,” he sighs, “as you’ll be thrilled to know.”
roll my eyes. It doesn’t matter what I
do. This is just him.
drop my bag on my bed and rummage through it, searching for the tiny gift. When I find it, I toss in onto his bed. “Here.”
looks at it, his brow furrowed. “What’s
gift exchange,” I say, “you might have forgotten.”
opens the pathetic little square of wrapping paper I’ve taped around the gift
card, and mutters something incoherent. “What
was that?” I ask.
said, this is my favourite coffee shop.”
I reply, not sure what else to say. “Well,
good then. Happy Christmas, I guess.”
slips the card into his pocket and doesn’t move. I figure he’s completely forgotten about the
gift exchange, or he deliberately didn’t get me anything, and decide not to
press the subject. I flop down on my bed
and pull out a magic book. No use in
packing for me, I’m not going anywhere.
Not like Baz. Not everyone gets
to celebrate with a family. And
certainly not everyone gets to celebrate in a fucking mansion.
small wrapped package appears in my periphery.
I look up. Baz is madly arranging
clothes in his luggage, trying to look like he didn’t put the thing on my
bed. I’m surprised, I’ll admit. I guess he didn’t forget.
this?” I ask. I don’t know why I ask it,
as the answer is fairly obvious.
open it,” he says, not looking at me.
I pull the tape off of the paper, not wanting to trigger anything in case this
is still some sort of prank. I wouldn’t
put anything past him, the boy who literally pushed me down the stairs and
tried to feed me to the Chimera. But
nothing ticks, and nothing blows up in my hands. Slowly I pull the paper back from the object,
holding it far away from my face, just to be safe.
not expecting a dagger.
I am not expecting a dagger with a matching sheath that clips onto a belt,
adorned with a rosebud pattern of bronze.
I am not expecting what appears to be a polished silver blade with a
soft leather hilt that fits in my hand like it was molded to the shape of my
mouth is hanging open in awe. I can’t
seem to form words.
look back up at him. He’s stopped
rearranging his luggage and is watching me, and he looks almost nervous.
much did you spend on this?” I breathe.
shakes his head. “It was just from a
pawn shop,” he mutters.
Baz,” I chuckle, “way to make me look like a shit gift-giver.”
eyes harden. “I’ll take it back then,”
he growls, moving to take it from my hands.
“No!” I clutch the knife to my chest. He stops, looking surprised, like he hadn’t
actually expected me to like it. How he
could think that beats me. “I love it,”
I say, not even realizing that I’ve admitted to something.
brow softens a bit. “I just thought it
might be easier than always having to summon your sword,” he shrugs.
perfect,” I breathe, staring at the roses on the sheath, spellbound by the
I’m hit by a wave of guilt. I spent a
handful on a lame gift card, when Baz went and actually found me something that
would mean something. I don’t stop to
think about why he would want it to mean something, I only know that it leaves
the scales completely unbalanced.
need to repay him somehow.
stand, and suddenly we’re nearly face-to-face.
If our room wasn’t so damn tight we wouldn’t be this close together, but
for once the proximity doesn’t bother me.
It clearly affects him though, because he shies away as soon as I
stand. He won’t even make eye-contact
can’t accept this,” I tell him, “not without paying you back somehow.”
part of the term ‘gift exchange’ do you not understand, Snow?” he asks, raising
an eyebrow at me. “It’s a gift. Let’s just wish each other a Happy Christmas
and be done with it.”
that’s not how we work,” I insist. “I
torment you, you torment me, and somehow we always break even. So now we have to break even on this.”
not telling you how much I spent on that,” he shakes his head.
not?” My heart drops for a second. “Was it terribly expensive?”
it’s just not what you do. You don’t
tell someone what you spent on them, it just makes them feel guilty.”
since when have you ever passed up an opportunity to make me feel guilty?” I
challenge. He doesn’t answer, just
stares at something that isn’t my eyes.
I can’t quite tell what he’s looking at.
Maybe the wall behind me, maybe my shoulder, maybe nothing in
I concede, “no money, then. But there
must be something I can do.”
Merlin – his cheeks turn pink.
now I’m very aware of how close we are.
of how I can pinpoint his gaze now.
looking at my face, but not my eyes. My
think. I just lean in and kiss him.
Simon’s mouth, no matter how many times I’ve thought
he might kiss me, is a complete shock. I’ve
stared at his lips plenty, but apparently I wasn’t prepared to feel them
now here he is, pressing a gentle kiss to my cold mouth like it’s the easiest
thing in the world.
I can even close my eyes, he pulls back.
speak. I don’t trust myself to.
that alright?” he whispers.
“Yeah.” Crowley, I’m shaking.
we even then?”
I swallow nervously, “almost.”
He smiles, and my heart stops entirely. “What
else do you want?”
lean in by just a fraction, hoping he’ll take the hint.
then his mouth is flush against mine, not even bothering to be shy.
Lexi Magnusson, who lives outside of Seattle, says that a new neighbor stopped by her house to explain that she’d moved to “protect” her children from their LGBT-friendly school and others in her area with that “lifestyle.”
“I responded only with, ‘Your kids are going to be exposed to this no matter where you take them. Kids these days get it. They know not to be horrible to other kids based on how they were born,’” she said. “Then I walked inside [my house] and rage-ate a bowl of nachos.”
Being a big fan of putting up what she describes as a “ridiculous amount of lights” every Christmas, Magnusson decided it would be cathartic to make a rainbow flag of 10,000 lights in her hedges.
“I felt good the entire time I put them up,” she told HuffPost. “I sent a text to my cousin who loves Christmas lights like I do, and who is also gay. His approval was everything.”