hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2002-12-20 01:10 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2002-12-20 01:10 pm
No coal for you!
In the spirit of Anti-Grinch day and all that business, I’m heading out of town for a bit. However, seeing as I won’t be able to write for a while, possibly until after New Years, I wanted to leave y’all a little something that you will *NEVER* see from me again.
So. For y’all. From me. Happy (Insert your religious (or non-religious - with nods to Holographis and Rabbit) holiday here).
The Christmas Drabbles
SV: Tis The Season... to be a Kid
To Hope (sorry about the Barbies) and to Wendi.
“I saw it at a garage sale and thought of you.” Clark was thinking of Lex while he was digging around in someone else’s old trash. How… not touching. How suspicious is more like it. So this is what it’s come to? Clark doesn’t want Lex to think he wants him for his money so he gives him a brown paper bag all rolled up? How very un-Christmasy
Lex didn’t know the Grinch had had plastic surgery.
“You saw a paper bag and decided that that was what you got for ‘the man who has everything’?”
“No,” ah, then Lex’s present must be the enormous grin on Clark’s face. That’s more like it. Maybe it’s condoms; maybe it’s sex. Or maybe not.
How on earth did Clark know about this?
It’s certainly not a knit hat; that’s in Lex’s favor. Although Lex has to wonder if a knit hat might not have been more appropriate, or at the very least made him look less stupid. He hates it when his facial expressions get away from him like this. Luthors don’t grin like idiots. “Is this what I think it is, Clark?”
“Do you like it?” ‘Like’ would be the wrong word. Worship devoutly, suffer from blind adoration at the sight of, want to lock it up in the sort of case the Louvre would envy. Phrases like that immediately spring to Lex’s mind, and to think that he had actually questioned Clark when he gave him this present. Lex may have to do something stupid and rash, like kiss him. It. His present. And then maybe he’ll kiss Clark too.
“I know he’s a bit old and beat up, but I thought, you know,” Clark looks nervous or something, Lex can’t really tell. He’s too busy playing with his present. For him. All for him. Wow.
“Clark, who told you that I collect these?” Actually, collect isn’t the right word. Have an entire galaxy of action figures might be more appropriate in Lex’s case. Several galaxies in fact: X-Men, Top 10, Warrior Angel and the Defenders of the Guardian Realm. Lex doesn’t have this one though. Lex doesn’t even know where he came from. He doesn’t care. It’s all for him, and based on the trademark on the right foot, Lex owes Burger King his gratitude.
Maybe he’ll bankrupt McDonalds as a thank you gift.
“No one did, Lex, I just thought, you know… With the comic books and stuff, I kinda took a chance. But it’s okay? I mean he doesn’t seem very bendy.” Well, Lex wouldn’t be that bendy either if he had dirt wedged into his joints, but that can be fixed. The teeth marks on the ankle can be fixed too. Stupid kids.
“It’s okay, I can fix it.” Lex can also get a grip because he can’t remember the last time he was this excited about a present, but Clark got him a Warrior Angel action figure. Clark may not know it, but in some places giving of gifts with this much thought means they’re married.
“Where did you get it again?”
“A garage sale.”
“Right.” From now on Lex will spend every free hour trawling the garage sales between Smallville and Texas.
“There’s more you know.” More than this? Lex isn’t sure his heart can take this kind of strain.
“A bag inside the bag inside the bag, Clark? I knew you were a man of mystery, but I didn’t know you were into theory’s of infinity.” Lex didn’t know that Clark was into a lot of things. Not that Lex ever took Clark for the subtle type, but, “a Warrior Angel action figure… and lube, Clark?”
“Well, yeah. He’s a bit old. I thought it would make it easier to manipulate his arms if you had some lubrication.” Christ, Lex might go blind with the sudden onslaught of white teeth. Who's being manipulated here? And to think Lex had thought that this Christmas was going to be boring. Now he has not one, but two new toys.
HP: Tis The Season... For Insanity
I heard![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bonibaru was looking. It’s pointless. What can I say?
“It’s a very Muggle device don’t you think?” Malfoy’s voice creeps up Harry’s arms like fingers, and really Harry hadn’t given anything much thought until he wound up here. How the bloody hell would Malfoy know about this anyway?
“I’m not going to snog you, Malfoy,” is the first thing Harry says, although he’s not sure why. He wasn’t planning on snogging anybody ten minutes ago, but that was then and this now; and why exactly Harry is in the main hall when he’s supposed to be in Charms he’s at a great loss to say. Harry was walking down the stairs behind Ron and Hermione, and then suddenly he decided to go another way. He’s not sure they even noticed between the hand-holding and the googly eyes.
Merlin, it was enough to give anybody stomach upset. Perhaps he had planned to go to the infirmary.
And now this. It’s obviously a trap. In the middle of school. Where anyone can see. Perhaps not. Except that the last time Harry caught sight of anything floating in the middle of nowhere in the main hall he wound up a temporary Slytherin.
This could turn out worse.
“I wasn’t planning on you snogging me, Potter,” Malfoy’s smirk seems particularly salacious today. Harry didn’t even know he knew a word like ‘salacious.’ He’s never thought of Christmas as a particularly masochistic season, not since he came to Hogwarts, but Harry thinks he might need to revisit his viewpoint. He must’ve done something particularly awful – apart from the episode with Mrs. Norris and the Inflamare Charm – that would warrant the sight before him: Harry has never seen mistletoe at Hogwarts in his life.
It’s obviously a very cruel joke. Which would naturally explain the presence of Malfoy under said mistletoe as well. Harry isn’t going to snog Malfoy, he’s not attracted to him at all. Harry just thinks he’s kind of hot, in that annoying way. However, Malfoy seems to be growing more annoying, and more attractive, by the second.
It must be a Slytherin thing.
Harry knows that when he got out of bed this morning he still had the ability to walk. He kind of wants to know what’s happened in the last minute or so that’s made him forget how.
“Potter, you’ve obviously got the wrong end of the stick. You’re not going to snog me; I’m going to snog you.” And really, Harry has never thought that Malfoy was that smart, but obviously he might be wrong. Or maybe not, because they bump noses and Harry’s glasses go askew and foggy. Malfoy’s teeth are sharp on Harry’s lip, and then Malfoy abruptly pulls away and walks off about his business, and really, when Harry had been planning on having a Happy Christmas this had never even come into his mind.
Tis The Season... And all that Shit
Notes: A one-time only for my girl. Happy Anti-Grinch Day – and tosilviakundera, feel better soon.
Marshall and religion don’t mix. God never did shit for him, and they’re still looking for the last Jehovah’s Witness that made it to his door. Actually, that’s a lie, Marshall just told the guy to suck his dick and shut the door in his face, but he was also high at the time so that’s only what he thinks he did.
Of course he knows that there’s somebody up there cos *somebody* besides those dumb fucks at the FCC is reveling in his vilification and his deification, but otherwise Marshall doesn’t really believe. Whoever the fuck it is ain’t done nothing but dick him around, and they made this fucked-up holiday on top of that? Fuck them, and fuck this. At least that’s what Marshall tells himself in those bullshit hours where he’s traveling, and stuck in airports and limos and vans. All those people buying shit for their kids and putting up lights and all that commercial shit, fucking dickless rabbits... it's not the same as when he does it. Fuck no.
Marshall would be the biggest Scrooge ever if it weren't for Hailie. He’d never deny that at all, but as it stands right now, he’s trying to wrap up half of Toys R'Us for her because Kim gets her on Christmas Day, and he gets her on Christmas Eve. If there was ever proof that God hates Marshall, it would be Kim. Of course, if Marshall ever gave God the time of day, it would be because that bastard sent him Hailie as well.
Giving with one and taking away with the other, and he's supposed celebrate this man's kid? Fuck that.
It’s some fucked up shit, but not quite as fucked up as him up to his elbows in wrapping paper and scotch tape an hour before he has to leave to pick up his daughter. He should have asked Nicole to do this shit for him; he doesn’t know what the fuck he was thinking. Actually he knows exactly what he was thinking, that the paper wasn’t going to be on anything long enough for Hailie to notice that it was all jacked up.
Between the shiny green and red stuff and his tracksuit, he can’t find the damn phone when it starts ringing. After several rings and a few more curses, he locates it under a Barbie house the size of a small chair. “What the fuck do you want?” He’s even more exasperated than he sounds, if that’s even possible.
“And Merry Christmas to you too,” Lex’s voice radiates lifesize, even though Marshall’s phone is smaller than this pack of Harry Potter cards he bought Hailie.
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I ain’t got Merry *shit* happening right now.” Marshall cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, and tries to unwrap the tape that has somehow fasted his shirt to his zipper.
“I hope you’re not planning on sharing that sort of wisdom with your daughter, Marshall.” Lex seems quite amused, as though he can actually see the mess that Marshall’s gotten himself into, and if Marshall didn’t know for a fact that he has his security on lockdown he might start randomly flipping the bird just to test his theory.
“Look motherfucker, I ain’t got time for this shit. Hailie’s going to be here soon –-“
“And you haven’t finished buying her the entire store?”
“Nah, that’s not it at all. I - man, Lex, what the fuck do you want?” Marshall’s finally managed to make some order of his clothes, which means it’s time for him to try and wrap this box. For the sixth time. Over the crinkling of the paper he hears Lex say something that sounds like ‘stick it in your ear.’
“Motherfucker, what did you just tell me to do?” Marshall snaps, as he rearranges the box so that he can just grab several handfuls of paper and pull them together. Tying the mess together with a huge length of ribbon, Marshall looks on in satisfaction. So what if the box looks a bit like a garbage sack? Fuck it, Hailie won’t care.
“I said, are we still meeting up for New Year's Eve?” Lex is laughing at him on the other end of the phone, Marshall knows it, he doesn't have to hear it.
“Hell, yeah, I got this orange pill just for your punk ass…” Marshall now has one present down and about fifty to go. At this point he’ll still be wrapping while Lex is wandering around downtown Metropolis pulling down Christmas lights and urinating on fire hydrants.
“That sounds –- great, Marshall. Look, I better go. I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas…” Lex’s voice drifts off and when Marshall looks at the time he realizes that Lex must still be working, and on Christmas Eve.
“Motherfucker, you own half the planet, take the day off, yo.”
“I can’t do that,” Lex begins with a sigh, they’ve only had the same conversation fifteen thousand times. “I have a business to run.”
“Yeah, and I’ve got a daughter to wrap presents for, and this discussion with you ain’t getting shit done. ” Point in fact, the longer Marshall talks to Lex the less wrapping is getting done. Hailie’s presents are multiplying before Marshall’s eyes. Fucking stupid ass residuals.
“Marshall…”
“How about you come and spend Christmas here with me and the boys?” It’s not really a question, not really a statement. Marshall has no idea where the fuck the idea came from, but he’s just now decided that he wants to see Lex on Christmas and if Lex doesn’t come to him, Marshall will fucking go to him. He knows Lex doesn’t want that.
“I have this thing with my father... and Clark is expecting me.”
“Fuck the farmboy, Lex. Get in your car and drive your ass down here. Better yet, get somebody else to drive your ass down here. I expect you here in the next couple hours, bitch. I need somebody to wrap these presents for me.” Marshall hangs up without waiting for Lex to agree. Maybe Christmas won’t suck so bad this year.
finis.
So. For y’all. From me. Happy (Insert your religious (or non-religious - with nods to Holographis and Rabbit) holiday here).
The Christmas Drabbles
SV: Tis The Season... to be a Kid
To Hope (sorry about the Barbies) and to Wendi.
“I saw it at a garage sale and thought of you.” Clark was thinking of Lex while he was digging around in someone else’s old trash. How… not touching. How suspicious is more like it. So this is what it’s come to? Clark doesn’t want Lex to think he wants him for his money so he gives him a brown paper bag all rolled up? How very un-Christmasy
Lex didn’t know the Grinch had had plastic surgery.
“You saw a paper bag and decided that that was what you got for ‘the man who has everything’?”
“No,” ah, then Lex’s present must be the enormous grin on Clark’s face. That’s more like it. Maybe it’s condoms; maybe it’s sex. Or maybe not.
How on earth did Clark know about this?
It’s certainly not a knit hat; that’s in Lex’s favor. Although Lex has to wonder if a knit hat might not have been more appropriate, or at the very least made him look less stupid. He hates it when his facial expressions get away from him like this. Luthors don’t grin like idiots. “Is this what I think it is, Clark?”
“Do you like it?” ‘Like’ would be the wrong word. Worship devoutly, suffer from blind adoration at the sight of, want to lock it up in the sort of case the Louvre would envy. Phrases like that immediately spring to Lex’s mind, and to think that he had actually questioned Clark when he gave him this present. Lex may have to do something stupid and rash, like kiss him. It. His present. And then maybe he’ll kiss Clark too.
“I know he’s a bit old and beat up, but I thought, you know,” Clark looks nervous or something, Lex can’t really tell. He’s too busy playing with his present. For him. All for him. Wow.
“Clark, who told you that I collect these?” Actually, collect isn’t the right word. Have an entire galaxy of action figures might be more appropriate in Lex’s case. Several galaxies in fact: X-Men, Top 10, Warrior Angel and the Defenders of the Guardian Realm. Lex doesn’t have this one though. Lex doesn’t even know where he came from. He doesn’t care. It’s all for him, and based on the trademark on the right foot, Lex owes Burger King his gratitude.
Maybe he’ll bankrupt McDonalds as a thank you gift.
“No one did, Lex, I just thought, you know… With the comic books and stuff, I kinda took a chance. But it’s okay? I mean he doesn’t seem very bendy.” Well, Lex wouldn’t be that bendy either if he had dirt wedged into his joints, but that can be fixed. The teeth marks on the ankle can be fixed too. Stupid kids.
“It’s okay, I can fix it.” Lex can also get a grip because he can’t remember the last time he was this excited about a present, but Clark got him a Warrior Angel action figure. Clark may not know it, but in some places giving of gifts with this much thought means they’re married.
“Where did you get it again?”
“A garage sale.”
“Right.” From now on Lex will spend every free hour trawling the garage sales between Smallville and Texas.
“There’s more you know.” More than this? Lex isn’t sure his heart can take this kind of strain.
“A bag inside the bag inside the bag, Clark? I knew you were a man of mystery, but I didn’t know you were into theory’s of infinity.” Lex didn’t know that Clark was into a lot of things. Not that Lex ever took Clark for the subtle type, but, “a Warrior Angel action figure… and lube, Clark?”
“Well, yeah. He’s a bit old. I thought it would make it easier to manipulate his arms if you had some lubrication.” Christ, Lex might go blind with the sudden onslaught of white teeth. Who's being manipulated here? And to think Lex had thought that this Christmas was going to be boring. Now he has not one, but two new toys.
HP: Tis The Season... For Insanity
I heard
bonibaru was looking. It’s pointless. What can I say?“It’s a very Muggle device don’t you think?” Malfoy’s voice creeps up Harry’s arms like fingers, and really Harry hadn’t given anything much thought until he wound up here. How the bloody hell would Malfoy know about this anyway?
“I’m not going to snog you, Malfoy,” is the first thing Harry says, although he’s not sure why. He wasn’t planning on snogging anybody ten minutes ago, but that was then and this now; and why exactly Harry is in the main hall when he’s supposed to be in Charms he’s at a great loss to say. Harry was walking down the stairs behind Ron and Hermione, and then suddenly he decided to go another way. He’s not sure they even noticed between the hand-holding and the googly eyes.
Merlin, it was enough to give anybody stomach upset. Perhaps he had planned to go to the infirmary.
And now this. It’s obviously a trap. In the middle of school. Where anyone can see. Perhaps not. Except that the last time Harry caught sight of anything floating in the middle of nowhere in the main hall he wound up a temporary Slytherin.
This could turn out worse.
“I wasn’t planning on you snogging me, Potter,” Malfoy’s smirk seems particularly salacious today. Harry didn’t even know he knew a word like ‘salacious.’ He’s never thought of Christmas as a particularly masochistic season, not since he came to Hogwarts, but Harry thinks he might need to revisit his viewpoint. He must’ve done something particularly awful – apart from the episode with Mrs. Norris and the Inflamare Charm – that would warrant the sight before him: Harry has never seen mistletoe at Hogwarts in his life.
It’s obviously a very cruel joke. Which would naturally explain the presence of Malfoy under said mistletoe as well. Harry isn’t going to snog Malfoy, he’s not attracted to him at all. Harry just thinks he’s kind of hot, in that annoying way. However, Malfoy seems to be growing more annoying, and more attractive, by the second.
It must be a Slytherin thing.
Harry knows that when he got out of bed this morning he still had the ability to walk. He kind of wants to know what’s happened in the last minute or so that’s made him forget how.
“Potter, you’ve obviously got the wrong end of the stick. You’re not going to snog me; I’m going to snog you.” And really, Harry has never thought that Malfoy was that smart, but obviously he might be wrong. Or maybe not, because they bump noses and Harry’s glasses go askew and foggy. Malfoy’s teeth are sharp on Harry’s lip, and then Malfoy abruptly pulls away and walks off about his business, and really, when Harry had been planning on having a Happy Christmas this had never even come into his mind.
Tis The Season... And all that Shit
Notes: A one-time only for my girl. Happy Anti-Grinch Day – and to
silviakundera, feel better soon.Marshall and religion don’t mix. God never did shit for him, and they’re still looking for the last Jehovah’s Witness that made it to his door. Actually, that’s a lie, Marshall just told the guy to suck his dick and shut the door in his face, but he was also high at the time so that’s only what he thinks he did.
Of course he knows that there’s somebody up there cos *somebody* besides those dumb fucks at the FCC is reveling in his vilification and his deification, but otherwise Marshall doesn’t really believe. Whoever the fuck it is ain’t done nothing but dick him around, and they made this fucked-up holiday on top of that? Fuck them, and fuck this. At least that’s what Marshall tells himself in those bullshit hours where he’s traveling, and stuck in airports and limos and vans. All those people buying shit for their kids and putting up lights and all that commercial shit, fucking dickless rabbits... it's not the same as when he does it. Fuck no.
Marshall would be the biggest Scrooge ever if it weren't for Hailie. He’d never deny that at all, but as it stands right now, he’s trying to wrap up half of Toys R'Us for her because Kim gets her on Christmas Day, and he gets her on Christmas Eve. If there was ever proof that God hates Marshall, it would be Kim. Of course, if Marshall ever gave God the time of day, it would be because that bastard sent him Hailie as well.
Giving with one and taking away with the other, and he's supposed celebrate this man's kid? Fuck that.
It’s some fucked up shit, but not quite as fucked up as him up to his elbows in wrapping paper and scotch tape an hour before he has to leave to pick up his daughter. He should have asked Nicole to do this shit for him; he doesn’t know what the fuck he was thinking. Actually he knows exactly what he was thinking, that the paper wasn’t going to be on anything long enough for Hailie to notice that it was all jacked up.
Between the shiny green and red stuff and his tracksuit, he can’t find the damn phone when it starts ringing. After several rings and a few more curses, he locates it under a Barbie house the size of a small chair. “What the fuck do you want?” He’s even more exasperated than he sounds, if that’s even possible.
“And Merry Christmas to you too,” Lex’s voice radiates lifesize, even though Marshall’s phone is smaller than this pack of Harry Potter cards he bought Hailie.
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I ain’t got Merry *shit* happening right now.” Marshall cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, and tries to unwrap the tape that has somehow fasted his shirt to his zipper.
“I hope you’re not planning on sharing that sort of wisdom with your daughter, Marshall.” Lex seems quite amused, as though he can actually see the mess that Marshall’s gotten himself into, and if Marshall didn’t know for a fact that he has his security on lockdown he might start randomly flipping the bird just to test his theory.
“Look motherfucker, I ain’t got time for this shit. Hailie’s going to be here soon –-“
“And you haven’t finished buying her the entire store?”
“Nah, that’s not it at all. I - man, Lex, what the fuck do you want?” Marshall’s finally managed to make some order of his clothes, which means it’s time for him to try and wrap this box. For the sixth time. Over the crinkling of the paper he hears Lex say something that sounds like ‘stick it in your ear.’
“Motherfucker, what did you just tell me to do?” Marshall snaps, as he rearranges the box so that he can just grab several handfuls of paper and pull them together. Tying the mess together with a huge length of ribbon, Marshall looks on in satisfaction. So what if the box looks a bit like a garbage sack? Fuck it, Hailie won’t care.
“I said, are we still meeting up for New Year's Eve?” Lex is laughing at him on the other end of the phone, Marshall knows it, he doesn't have to hear it.
“Hell, yeah, I got this orange pill just for your punk ass…” Marshall now has one present down and about fifty to go. At this point he’ll still be wrapping while Lex is wandering around downtown Metropolis pulling down Christmas lights and urinating on fire hydrants.
“That sounds –- great, Marshall. Look, I better go. I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas…” Lex’s voice drifts off and when Marshall looks at the time he realizes that Lex must still be working, and on Christmas Eve.
“Motherfucker, you own half the planet, take the day off, yo.”
“I can’t do that,” Lex begins with a sigh, they’ve only had the same conversation fifteen thousand times. “I have a business to run.”
“Yeah, and I’ve got a daughter to wrap presents for, and this discussion with you ain’t getting shit done. ” Point in fact, the longer Marshall talks to Lex the less wrapping is getting done. Hailie’s presents are multiplying before Marshall’s eyes. Fucking stupid ass residuals.
“Marshall…”
“How about you come and spend Christmas here with me and the boys?” It’s not really a question, not really a statement. Marshall has no idea where the fuck the idea came from, but he’s just now decided that he wants to see Lex on Christmas and if Lex doesn’t come to him, Marshall will fucking go to him. He knows Lex doesn’t want that.
“I have this thing with my father... and Clark is expecting me.”
“Fuck the farmboy, Lex. Get in your car and drive your ass down here. Better yet, get somebody else to drive your ass down here. I expect you here in the next couple hours, bitch. I need somebody to wrap these presents for me.” Marshall hangs up without waiting for Lex to agree. Maybe Christmas won’t suck so bad this year.
finis.
no subject
But.
Woo hoo! This is all kinds of lovely, and I feel all glowy.
Poor tired Lex, wanting to just relax and be accepted on his own terms. And Marshall, ha ha, wanting to do everything for his daughter *himself*.
Love this.
no subject
If you pretend I didn't succumb to the RPS, I'll pretend like I don't hear the squealing. I'm glad you liked it :)