We're nearly at holiday time and I appear to have forgotten the Yuletide signups again

[last01standing]

So if anyone would like a drabble, drop me a comment with a few words, a fandom, and a character.

[Fandoms of the moment: SGA, BtVS, LOM, SPN, Dark Angel, Grimm, Scrubs, (or any other you think I may be familiar with)]

Comments

[starfoozle.livejournal.com]

SGA, our main team, holiday traditions on Atlantis?

Ooooooooor another Alex and Mal snippet, possibly also holiday-themed because I wanna see how supervillians deal with Christmas cheer.

[trolllogicfics.livejournal.com]

[Enemies!verse, pre Mile or possibly the Sidekicks AU. Eventually I will escape this universe. But not today.]

"It's not me!" Mal cries.

It's a giant robotic Santa Claus throwing what look like Christmas ornament cherry bombs in the same garish green color as Mal’s current pair of trainers.

Of course it’s Mal.

“Name me one other crook in this town dealing in robots.” He opens his mouth, but I cut him off before he can start. “One other not-a-corpse crook.”

“I’m Jewish,” Mal says petulantly.

“You’re an atheist and your foster mother was Baptist. You're full of shit.”

“I wouldn’t rip off an episode of Futurama!” he tries, which is marginally more believable. “I’ve got more class than that. Besides, I’m working on my droid. Or at least I was until someone zeroed out all my data.”

“I don’t even know what that means!”

He stomps on my good foot.

I elbow him in the face.

“See if you make my Christmas list after this,” Mal grumbles.

“I don’t want to be on your Christmas list. For my birthday last year you wrote, Stop hitting on Good Guy in the river with fire.” It was pretty impressive chemical work. Held it’s shape an everything. I was a little touched considering the mess with the succubi.

“And here I had a bottle of egg nog with your name on it.”

“I don’t even like egg nog!”

One of Robo Santa’s cherry bombs skitters to a halt at my feet. Mal could outrun the blast if he tries. Instead he his me like a running back and manages to have us twenty five yard away when it its. The fireball is disproportionate for the size of the payload.

And not actually putting out any heat.

Mal hauls me to my feet. “Worst Nightmare,” he says. “You owe me an apology.”

“You’re not getting one,” I reply, but I’m grinning and I don’t think he cares.

[starfoozle.livejournal.com]

Eeeeeeeee I love them. (Succubi?! Never a dull moment in the District, it seems.)