There is an unwritten rule of the Christmas party, but can Harvey keep to it?

"I'm having a hard time believing you flew all the way from England for a holiday you don't celebrate."

Christmas is about finding a place to call home. (Or, the one where Eames and Arthur have a Christmas...thing.)

"I do believe the two of you were in the same year as boys, were you not?" Headmaster Shaw said. "Charles is the most competent deputy any headmaster could ask for, Erik, and he's been doing this for years…" He trailed off, as if finally noticing something odd in the way his Potions and Divination masters were staring at each other.

"Of course," Charles said quickly, his voice only a little hoarse, and stuck out his hand. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Erik."

"Music is the silence between the notes" ~ Claude Debussy; or, life is what happens when you're busy wishing you could be in a practice room.

Set very shortly after "Ach, des Knaben Augen".

It starts innocently enough (yeah, right), Arthur sends Eames a birthday gift as a sort of (ok, totally) signal that Arthur knows these things about him. But he spends what is probably an inordinate amount of time considering the gift itself. It has to be perfect.

On the first day of Christmas, Arthur comes home to find a stuffed partridge on his table and three hundred pears in his fridge.

"Eames," he says, and reaches for the phone before he even has a chance to take his coat off.

Set one year post movie, Charles overloads himself in Cerebro, and his mind goes walkabout; wherever he is (and he’s around), it’s not in his body. Erik temporarily takes over the school in his absence, and finds that there’s little time for resentment or hatred when he’s busy organizing assigned reading for English lit, keeping the youngest children out of trouble, and trying to talk Raven into wearing clothing for the boys’ sake. Somewhere in between taking responsibility for the students and dreaming Charles’ dreams every night, he manages to remember that he’s something rather more than a weapon. In other words: A Love Story between two Gentlemen, told in Prose, Epistles, and Nonsense Rhymes.

X-Men AU, Good Omens-style, with Charles as Aziraphale, Erik as Crowley, Jean as the Antichrist, and Raven as a badass motherfucker.

Charles decides that the X-Team should have a day trip to New York City. Erik disagrees, but ends up shopping and ice skating anyway.

Years later, Charles would remember that day. Sometimes he would wonder if he could have changed anything; other times he would despair over what he had since become. But he would always hold the image in his mind: Raven, laughing, and his thoughts flying alongside her on strong wings, silver-gold through the winter air. Once upon a time.

NEED-

-e.l. icicles
-explo. snowb. globes (legal???)
-tenenbaum treacle
-HONEYDUKES, raid at
-Carol Card f/Mum
-tree? appro. trimmings? garland???
-green
-lights (candles, pixies, fire, etc.)
-exploding things in gen.

and also

-hairclips (sparkly kind, green, f/LE)

“You’re the first person to pull off inception,” Mal says, to Eames, not bothering to mask her own delight, “and you did it with your penis!”

At seventeen, Trevor and Jenny are prototypical high school sweethearts, or they would be, it if wasn’t for Mike. They’ve been dating since the eighth grade, and it’s at the point where they’re firmly “Trevor and Jenny,” and not “Trevor” and “Jenny,” but Mike’s been there for every minute of it. Officially, he’s Trevor’s best friend, and Jenny’s confidante, but in practice, Mike’s so much more than that.

In which Sirius is possibly naked, and Remus' mind is not the safest place to be.

They’d sit! And they’d post! Oh, they’d Post! Post! Post! Post!

"Mistletoe," Aziraphale said from the top of the stepladder. "It's not so easy to get these days, but Christmas traditions are Christmas traditions." He looked at Crowley's face and sniggered. "Don't worry, you're not my type."

(containing a travel diary, the story of a heist, and two point five romances)

The plan is this: Raito, under the guise of following Watari's not-so-subtle suggestions, will attempt to inflict a little holiday cheer into L through his only notable weakness -- his sweet tooth.

Her lips press against his cheek, warm and smooth and all the things that lips are supposed to be, and in that moment, Remus knows that he’s fucked.

"Potter," Lily blurted out desperately, catching sight of him in the corner with his friends. "It was Potter, and it was before we went out."

(She may or may not blame the eggnog later on, of course. He cannot foresee whether she will, and cannot bring himself to care just yet.)

"Look. You're a brilliant person. But if you don't stop babbling about this blasted present, I swear on my great-grandfather's most unholy and thrice-damned name that I will Silence you for the rest of your life."

A lovesick Sirius is a desperate thing, and Remus Lupin insists on being oblivious.

How Sirius saved Christmas and why Remus is actually illiterate.

"There is only one truly effective and permanent love potion, Miss Black. You won't find it in books, because it is difficult, deeply personal, and useless."

If James wanted to debase himself in order to win a single date with Lily Evans, well, that wasn't much of a change at all.

There was no green shirt in with the blacks. There were no black shirts in with the greens. There were no shirts in any sort of wrong order. The string of curses that fell from his tongue was hostile and possibly suggestive of violence and might have continued to go on for quite a while longer had someone not elbowed him in the side and said: 'Oi, my mother’s here. Stop cursing like a bloody sailor.

In which Jim is a multicultural holiday whore, Spock could do with a little less respect, and Russians invented Christmas trees.

"Just don't get into trouble while we're gone."

"Well, it's true that some people might find collectors to be a... useful revenue stream. But if I were such a person, as you're intimating, I think I'd be insulted to be lumped into such a generic class so rudely. Isn't each and every person on this earth a unique individual in their own way?"

Olive Snook finds out. Though "finding out" implies that the finding was passive.

Specifically: the thought that inviting Neal for Christmas dinner would not result in any trouble and would, in fact, be an act of goodwill and kindness.

"Saint Nicholas is our patron saint," Parker says, again, more insistent this time.

What do you give a girl who has everything? Or at least, enough firepower to get it.

Shore leave happens to coincide with Christmas. Jim convinces Spock to join him for some traditional Terran festivities, and learns an unexpected lesson in Vulcan customs.

In which the boys pretend to still be together for Christmas (and there is more than one kind of charade).

A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.

Merlin regrets ever becoming a conman. Not because he lived his life on the run; not because he broke thousands of laws along the way; not even because he was eventually caught and imprisoned for three years.

In his rational mind, Rodney knew that following a girl who'd just dumped you into a strip club was really, really pathetic.

But so was going to your little sister's wedding without a date.

Science was his mistress, yes, but it was hardly one Rodney could put into a turquoise mermaid dress and parade around skeptical and shocked family members who had been taking bets on whether Rodney was asexual, gay, or more attracted to theoretical physics than other organic matter.

The diner was packed, the only open seat at the counter next to…

Santa Claus.

Sure, and what will Uther say when we miss the plane? 'No matter, boys, there's always the next flight, huh?' You'd manage to make it sound like it was entirely my fault, too.