Baccano! Secret Santa

Secret santa for the Baccano! fandom. :) If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to ask. Mod/Main blog is holocom.

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All is Bright

Very belated Baccano! Secret Santa gift to @houjicha, who’d requested a family-themed and Christmasy fic starring Firo/Ennis/Czes + the Martillos and/or the Gandors+Claire. 

I can’t express how sorry I am for how late this is, and I hope that something somwhere within it was worth the wait. 

(I also apologize in advance for any accidental rampant mischaracterization.)

Characters: Firo Prochainezo; Ennis; Czeslaw Meyer; Maiza Avaro; Ronny Schiatto; Randy and Pezzo; the Gandor brothers; and dashes of Lia Lin-Shan, Tick Jefferson, and Seina.

Word Count: 10283, give or take.

Summary: December 1932. It is Firo and Ennis’ first Christmas with Czes, and Ennis would like it very much if they made an effort for the holidays. Firo does his best to oblige.

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[coratcoretgaris]

very rushed artos for BACCANO! secret santa event! this was my first time trying this, and ugh so sorry fo the unquality piccu o)-( but glad you like it! @lua-russo  

like, I didn’t check that the submission time limit was being extended, so I kinda rushed things and tadah, got it done at the 25th (GMT +7) o)-(

————-

Ladd and Lua for me is like, amusing couple– well almost every couple in BACCANO! are amusing, but, I like how they love each other by the “I’ll kill you right away, so don’t die yet” phrase. That is, to me, is very romantic.

baccano secret santa event: @baccanosecretsanta

[baccanosecretsanta]

For agallimaufryofoddments: The Brawl Brothers

Hi Rev! :D Sorry for the delay, but I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. So I happily chose Keith as my narrator, so I hope I did them and the other characters for that matter somehow justice. I still hardly know them, so this might be highly inaccurate, but I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Greetings, claire-stanfields.

___________________

Even though he obviously enjoyed their company, sometimes Keith mainly came along to keep an eye on his brother and Firo when they planned to wander off somewhere the adults had no control over them.

Most of all Keith was worried for the safety of his brothers and Firo, but he had also made it his mission to keep Berga, Claire and Firo from causing trouble for those who crossed their path. He could perfectly trust Luck to behave, but the youngest Gandor brother still ended up being a unwilling part of the mischief (well, oftentimes, mischief was an understatement). He simply had no choice in the matter. Luck never managed to control Claire and Berga. That’s why Luck audibly heaved a sigh of relief when Keith heard about their plans to go to the park after heavy snowfall the night before and decided to tag along.

Keith knew that a park offered the opportunity for Claire and Berga to mingle with other children. They might start doing their usual friendly sparring matches or actually make use of the snow, but one provocative glance, word or movement and the two would pounce on the offender. And, unfortunately for the female population, Claire didn’t agree with the notion that you can’t hit a girl no matter what she says or does. If you’re parents aren’t around to scare them off – tough luck. And there was always friction because seemingly everyone could tell where the boys came from: Hell’s Kitchen. Glares, pitiful gazes.

To Keith’s satisfaction none of the boys had protested (if they had he would’ve felt seriously offended) and they had agreed to leave the apartment after lunch on Sunday. Firo was supposed to join them downstairs.

Except, their mother had asked all of them to help and a second later they both heard the door being shut. But Keith stayed and helped her out. Afterwards his mother and him went downstairs to reprimand Berga, Luck and Claire for ditching them, but they were gone. Firo was nowhere to be seen either.

“I can’t believe they actually have the guts to do that,” she said agape and crossed her arms.

Keith was no less astonished. Never would he have thought that they would abandon or go against his wishes when he simply had their well-being in mind. It wasn’t quite modest to say so himself, but he was usually the one in charge. For his brothers to leave him behind…He felt his chest constrict. That didn’t sit right. However, they probably knew he wouldn’t take this lightly, even if everything turned out fine. He didn’t waste any time and followed them. Hopefully they hadn’t decided to run off somewhere entirely different.

But they did.

He couldn’t find them in the park, so he immediately returned home in hopes of finding them much closer than he had anticipated. Well, upon arriving at home, he at least crossed path with Luck. Keith stopped him for a second and Luck used the breather to provide him with the necessary information.

“We’re waiting for you to come when those guys showed up and they were talking about how they’ve been selling drugs, so Claire told them that drugs were off-limits here and Firo couldn’t resist to tell them to piss off when they obviously didn’t care what Claire had to say.”

Funny how Claire and Firo of all people had said that. But Keith was quite certain Berga didn’t miss the chance to give them a piece of his mind as well.

Luck was finally calm – not that he seemed distressed in any way. Keith assumed he simply had been exhausted from running.

“Then suddenly this brawl broke out and I’m not sure who punched who first,” Luck continued. “All I know is that these idiots have gotten themselves into a bloody mess and I’m not sure if they’re able to handle it on their own.”

Keith mused for a moment. Should they get mother and father involved?

“They’re up against three grown-ups and they’re strong,” Luck provided helpfully and he spread out his arms as if to underline it. “What do you say, should I get father? They’re going against his wishes after all and I really don’t want the others to get hurt any further.”

Keith nodded and they parted ways.

While Luck went ahead to get support, Keith ran over to his brothers to help them out. It took a while for him to find them in the end, and it was thanks to Berga shouting something neither their mother nor father would like to hear coming out of his mouth, even though they had picked it up from someone.

When they finally came into sight, a guy held Firo by the nape like an animal and shook him. Firo cursed him and tried to free himself, but clearly he was overpowered. Claire and Berga would have come to his rescue by now, certainly, there are just two other guys standing in their way.

“Keith!” Firo didn’t exactly sound pleased to see him and Keith could understand why. His arrival meant they’ve messed up and perhaps he was also worried that Keith would likely get hurt as well. Oh, and hurt they were. Keith checked them quickly for any injuries and unsurprisingly their skins were brightly colored in red, blue and violet. And those were only the parts he could see right now. He sighed.

Their opponents were indeed hardly adults and not as bulky as Keith had expected them to be, nonetheless, they were up against mere children. No matter how strong Berga and Claire might be for their age, they’ve found their match. Apparently they finally understood that as well. They understood that some unfortunate day you were bound to come across someone far stronger than yourself. And, truthfully, at their current level, Berga and Claire didn’t have to look far.

Perhaps it would have been wiser for Keith to remain at home and come with his father. However, Keith just couldn’t turn his back on his brothers. Even if none of them stood a chance, he was the eldest, so they were his responsibility when his parents weren’t around. And they were a responsibility he gladly took over. Besides, Luck was already getting help, so it shouldn’t be long until they arrived. .

“Nice,” one of them grinned at Keith. “Look, Johnny, another midget we can beat to a pulp.”

“Don’t you dare,” Berga growled and lifted his fists as if intending to attack them. Keith caught up to them and put a firm hand on his shoulder. It probably was for the best to keep these hoodlums occupied and stall some time – preferably without violence.

That Johnny who was keeping Firo in his grasps, broke out into a random fit of laughter. “I wonder if that tiny piece of shit is the support the rat-faced munchkin was threatening us with.”

Keith slightly gritted his teeth. He really didn’t like to hear people insult his brothers. If he were strong enough, he probably would feel petty enough right now to punch him for that comment. But, alas, neither of them probably stood a chance and even if Keith was present, it was unlikely he made a difference.

“Y'know, if this munchkin-brigade just had minded its own goddamn business, then maybe, no I’m pretty sure, we all could’ve spent our afternoon better. Instead I’m stuck here teaching them manners – which should be the job of your parents, but naturally asses produce shit, so no surprise there.”

The third hoodlum really had that punch coming and not even Keith stopped Berga from delivering it. It was an awful idea to throw another fist because most certainly it would be repaid.

On a positive note, however, at least they finally let go of Firo. But, of course, the smallest of them didn’t use the freedom he had won to escape. No, he pounced on Johnny and used whatever he could to hurt him. Frankly, Keith hadn’t expected anything else.

Finally, at most fifteen minutes later, Mr. Gandor and two of his men arrived. He didn’t hide the gun he carried, although Keith was almost certain he had no intention of using it. But he’s furious, so who knows how this might end? Neither is Keith sure how he wants it to end. There’s no doubt they’re assholes and good-for-nothings. But strictly speaking, Claire, Firo and Berga should’ve minded their own business. There had been no need to get involved with them. They could’ve notified their father and he could’ve taken care of the hoodlums. Nonetheless, if they were truly drug dealers disregarding the don’s orders, then a punishment was in order.

However, nobody was shot on that street on that day. Keith has never heard of them again. Maybe they were dead, or maybe their father had taught them a gruesome lesson that drove them away for good. Who knows?

They all were reprimanded, even Firo (to his utmost astonishment) who wasn’t even a family member and Keith who had recklessly stormed off instead of being patient and waiting for the adults to settle this. At least, so Claire, Firo didn’t get his ass kicked by the don.

[lizalaforet-inactive]

“You’re terrible, Huey… You’re saying this because you know… you know that I can't refuse.”

Huey and Monica for @sinewaverider. Happy holidays from lizalaforet! @baccanosecretsanta 

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Swallowed in the Sea

Happy Holidays! This is sorta Huey/Elmer and sorta angsty and I hope you like it, it gave me a hell of a time

Elmer slept like an infant, flat on his back with his legs outstretched, hands grasping and twitching every so often. The metaphor was further strengthened by the rocking of the boat, a natural cradle.

It would have been reassuring to see him in so peaceful a slumber, if it were not for the fact that he looked so un-Elmer like.

After all he couldn’t control whether he smiled in his sleep, and to see even a neutral expression on his face was unfamiliar and disquieting. Huey hadn’t noticed it the previous nights, where silhouettes of black on black left such small facial details indistinguishable. But they had both retired early after the mayhem of the previous evening, and for the first time since they set sail the dusk light still hung in the air of their cabin when they took to their beds.

Elmer had drifted off almost immediately, his body exhausted even if his mind would have liked to stay up the rest of the night, goading smiles out of Maiza and Miss Lumiere. Huey had no such luck.

He took to blaming his present insomnia on the hard and cramped bed, Elmer’s snores, seasickness, anything but the frantic thoughts in his mind that all seemed to circle around the sleeping form an arm’s width away.

He wasn’t supposed to be worried about Elmer. The man was infuriating and annoying and had no real sense of personal boundaries. Even more so, he was immortal; he would never die, physical harm would not befall him, and the only other threat to his perpetually continued existence was floundering in the Atlantic Ocean miles behind them. There was no reason for Huey to be acting like a mother watching over her newborn to ensure they were still breathing.

Yet he did, for the remainder of the night.

The next morning proved that immortality would be no end to exhaustion, as the sun rose without Huey having a wink of sleep.

He watched tired, but no less enraptured, as the rising sun began to move its way across Elmer’s face, like it would a waxing moon.

It was only several moments later that a smile stretched across his face and his eyes blinked open, almost immediately meeting Huey’s gaze.

“Good morning, Huey! How about a smile to celebrate this new day?”

Huey let his blazé expression speak for itself, seeking the opportunity to get out of his uncomfortable bed now that he didn’t have to fear waking Elmer prematurely. He buttoned his vest with his back to Elmer, unwilling to see his own tunic stretched too tight over Elmer’s chest after he had surrendered it last night so Elmer might have something dry to sleep in.

“What do you think we should do today Huey?” He asked, as if they had innumerable options aboard the boat.

Huey, again, denied him a response.

“Come on now Huey, don’t be cranky! Give us a smile, it’s a new day and that old bloke Szilard is gone! Why don’t we pay Maiza a visit? Our friendly faces will surely get a smile out of him!”

“Why don’t you reserve some tact?” Huey snapped, gathering his hair to tie back, “I fail to see any circumstances in which he would be pleased to see you, the man would probably much rather be alone.”

Elmer’s uncharacteristic silence urged Huey to look over his shoulder. His expression was pensive and his smile restrained, as if he was seriously considering what Huey had said. Noticing that Huey was looking, Elmer said,

“Not everyone is like you Huey. Don’t you think it’s good to have your friends around?”

“It’s no pleasure having you around,” Huey muttered, the sharp comment more a habit than an attempt at an actual insult.

“Hm, I don’t think so,” Elmer teased, “I think that you like having me around, I mean you were watching me sleep, right?”

“You’re mistaken,” Huey said. Fed up of the conversation and the stuffiness of the cabin, he opened the door to and wound his way through the hull of the ship to reach the deck and the fresh air.

Of course the conversation he sought to abandon was easily continued as Elmer trailed behind him.

“Oh, come on now Huey, you aren’t trying to avoid me, right?”

“Hardly possible, on a ship when there’s nowhere to go.”

The sky was clear on the deck, but the wind was fierce. Huey was no expert on sailing, despite having lived in a harbor city for a large portion of his life, but even he could tell it was a good day for travel, the sails billowed above his head like laundry hanging to dry, like the skirt of a dress on a cliff…

“Except the ocean,” Elmer observed. With the wind as gusty as it was it was no surprise that the surf was acting up, crashing against the boards, but even so Elmer seemed calm as he looked out to the horizon.

The ocean was terrible. How easily she changed her appearance, gentle and peaceful one day, tumultuous and stormy the next. A witch in disguise.

And Huey had to steady himself, impossible against the rocking boat, as he watched Elmer watch the sea. Had to control his breathing so it wasn’t to deep, to shallow. Had to keep his hands relaxed at his side, rather than curl them into fists. Had to stop himself from feeling anger, indignant passion.

Huey had never quite thought of Elmer as being foolish, an idiot perhaps, but not someone easily hoaxed.

And yet it seemed even he had been fooled by the sea.

“An option you seem to think is viable,” Huey said, not angry or frustrated or any other emotion that would be telling.

Elmer looked confused for a second before he seemed to recall the previous night.

“Well it was the best option given the circumstances, sure Szilard had been smiling for most of the night, but he was upsetting everyone else…”

Huey could have growled in frustration, annoyed at how Elmer couldn’t seem to perceive that Huey didn’t care about anyone else on the boat.

“It was the best option to fling yourself into the ocean?” Huey said, as detached as he could make himself, because Elmer didn’t get it. Elmer didn’t understand the body-shaking, throat-clenching horror Huey had experienced as he watched, detached, as Elmer tipped over the side of the boat. Thinking about how the ocean only ever took and took and took.

And the worse part, had been the happy smile upon Elmer’s face as he had begun sinking to the depths, where Huey had feared he would never emerge, newfound immortality completely forgotten. Elmer would disagree, but smiles like that all looked the same. Smiles of people taken by sirens.

“Yes,” Elmer said, because he didn’t understand.

Huey could only breath as he looked at Elmer. He was standing beside him, not drowned and waterlogged, not fish food; they were immortal now, for better or worse, for better, Huey was sure.

He took a step up so they were shoulder to shoulder, leaning on the railing, watching the sea, his life changing on the whims of the tides.  

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Purple Flowers and Burning Fire

I always wanted to write a story exploring Dallas and Eve Genoard relationship as brother and sister. This year, @the-youngest-Gandor-brother allowed me to do exactly this with one of his promp. This was meant to focus mostly on Genoard sibling relationship, since I both love them so much and Luck just sort of inserted himself in there I swear. I hope you like it?… I really really hope you like it.

Title: Purple Flowers and Burning Fire

Characters: Dallas Genoard, Eve Genoard, Luck Gandor

Word count: A fuckton 4600

Summary: An extract of Dallas life, from purple flowers to burning fire.

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[baccanosecretsanta]

[Admittedly I don’t know much about the Lamia so I decided to go with what I knew, I know you like Liza and Chane so here’s an AU where Liza and Chane are good sisters and Chane is Liza’s legal guardian. Liza is around eight years old here and Chane is nineteen (I HC them as being eleven years apart). Here you go @liza-laforet!]

Merry Christmas, Liza Laforet!

Thin, pale legs swing from the plastic chair as Liza sits in it, hands folded in her lap, head bowed as she tries to listen to the words floating from behind the wooden door beside her. This isn’t the first time she’s been in the principal’s office and it won’t be the last, but this time is different.

She’s supposed to be being good for Santa this time of year. Christmas is coming in less than a week, they get out of school in two days. She’s supposed to be good so she can get everything she wanted on her tiny Christmas list this year, but now she’s gone and ruined it.

It wasn’t her fault. If that boy hadn’t said such nasty things about her Daddy she wouldn’t have had to hit him.

The door opens, and Liza winces, closing her eyes before looking up. She doesn’t want to look but forces herself too anyway.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the principal is saying to Chane – her big sister – giving her a handshake before stepping back into the room. He’s an angry man with dark eyes and hair, and Liza doesn’t like him.

She doesn’t say anything when her sister walks over to her, kneels down in front of her and puts her hands out in front of her to sign.

‘Liza’, she signs, each letter of her sister’s name spelled out carefully with her nimble fingers. Liza keeps trying to learn sign language, but her hands are clumsier than Chane’s and they feel like they don’t work as well. ‘Liza, look at me.’

Liza tilts her head up, stares into golden eyes nearly the same color as hers. ‘It’s alright, Liza. I’m not mad at you. I know what happened.’

“But, Chane – wasn’t I bad?” Liza says, her voice just barely above a whisper. Her head is still bowed slightly.

Chane shakes her head. ‘No. Not bad at all.’ She pauses, before standing up and offering her hand to Liza after she finishes signing. ‘Come with me, I have something to show you. I was going to wait for Christmas but I think you deserve it now.’

Liza takes her hand and stands up, happy to be free of that horrible plastic chair. She follows her sister out to the car, and nearly shrieks in excitement when she sees what’s inside.

A black and white Brittney spaniel puppy is staring at her from inside of the car.

It’s then that Chane knows that she’s made her sister’s Christmas.

[baccanosecretsanta]

IF YOU STILL HAVE NOT RECEIVED A GIFT YET PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

There are still a few gifts missing, if you haven't received yours yet let me know. I will contact the person, and if need be find a back up solution. Thanks.

[baccanosecretsanta]

Maiza and Ronnie for Bo! @monomae from @thegoldenhigh

[baccanosecretsanta]

spiky husband is part one to my gift for Mom! @Birdschach Donut

[yupuffin]

Here’s my @baccanosecretsanta gift for @pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird!

I decided to draw Nice and Jacuzzi being relatively warm and fuzzy, and I got some inspiration from a summer song, so it looks like they’re staying warm and cozy despite the chilly winter weather some of us may be experiencing ^o^ Happy holidays and have a wonderful winter!

[toushindai]

With the Devil by Your Side (Baccano! Secret Santa gift)

Hey, it’s Christmas somewhere, right? Actually, it happens to be Christmas in Indonesia, which is where @morinisanpo lives, so guess whose gift is going up right now~

This is my @baccanosecretsanta gift for @morinisanpo​, who asked for something with Maiza and Ronny being bros. I’ve been wondering about how they got to know each other to begin with, so thank you for providing the impetus to explore that!

Title: With the Devil by Your Side Characters: Maiza Avaro, Ronny Schiatto Wordcount: 6357 Summary: Maiza finds himself with a very unexpected traveling companion as he makes his way from town to town in the New World.

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Mistletoe

Gift to: hrh-gwen

Pairing: Ricardo Russo/Carzelio Runorata

Boyband AU Christmas Fluff, basically. Merry Christmas~

One of these days, Ricardo is gonna quit. One day he’ll have enough with being the manager of the Boyband From Hell (also known as Valentine’s Massacre), and he’ll quit. The boy can do whatever the hell they want. Not like he cared.

They can manage without him, can’t they? Of course they can. They are all grown up men, they can manage themselves. One more stunt like this, and he’s gonna quit, that’s it, he decided.

But for now, he just opened his front door, and walked in, putting his back to the now-closed door.

“I’m home!”

The house was predictably festive as hell - when he left in the morning, it wasn’t, yet, but he knew fully well how enthusiastic Cazze was about this, so it didn’t come as a surprise that Ricardo felt like he stepped into Santa’s factory.

Oh well.

After dating Cazze for a few years, and knowing him even longer, Ricardo knew fully well when to indulge Cazze’s whims, and when to argue with him. This was a non-argumentative thing.

It was actually nice, getting home to a house like this.

To get home and have someone waiting for him.

“I’m in the living room! Hurry up, I need your help!”

Ricardo couldn’t help smiling a bit, but he made the smile disappear so he could fake a frown while walking inside said room.

“Don’t you think you overdid it a little, Carzelio?”

“Nope!” Cazze replied, cheerfully, sitting in the middle of the room, next to a half-decorated Christmas tree. In a Christmas sweater that just said What happens under the mistletoe, stays under the mistletoe on it. Ricardo decided to ignore the sweater for now, and just walked in, still in his suit, and grabbed a few ornaments.

“You look grumpy. C’mon, Ricardo! Feel the festive spirit!”

“Hard to get into the festive spirit when you have to babysit grown up men from PR disasters.”

“Oh… you’re referring to Christopher’s tweet from this morning?”

“Oh. So you have seen it.”

“Babe, I’m pretty sure the whole world had seen it. #TheGuyThatMakesItHappen is trending worldwide.”

Ricardo exhaled, and just decided to continue decorating the tree instead. Part of him really wanted to just not think of this, but of course, Cazze couldn’t let it go.

“So… what did Graham do to piss Christopher off enough that he’d post a picture about Graham and Shaft making out?”

“Graham refused to try Christopher’s Holiday Macaroons.”

“Ooooh big mistake. Not even because of Christopher’s vindictive streak, but because those macaroons are amazing. Did you bring me some?”

“Of course I did.”

Cazze pressed a kiss to Ricardo’s face, which of course made Ricardo smile a little.

“So… I suppose, you took away Christopher’s Twitter privileges?”

“I took away everyone’s as a pre-emptive measure.”

“…do you think you can manage all of theirs, and the official Twitter account too? And your own?”

“I can neglect my own.”

Cazze hummed a little, and then his face lit up.

“You know, I can help ou–”

“Absolutely not” Ricardo interrupted him, sending Cazze a look. “LAMIA might have disbanded, and the fandom mostly dead, but the Bear Lamia memes are still alive from that time you took over their Facebook page, and posted bear pictures all over it.”

“I think they were adorable.”

“…point being, you are not allowed near the social media accounts of any groups I manage. Ever.”

“…it’s not my fault that those bearcubs were the most adorable things ever.”

Cazze pouted, and Ricardo couldn’t help but smile, and just pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Never change, Cazze. But never-ever post anything on official Twitter channels either.”

Finishing decorating the tree was mostly quiet, with Christmas songs in the background, Cazze humming along to them, and even Ricardo caught himself mouthing along to some of those.

It was nice, in the end, wasn’t it?

“Heyyy, Ricardo, look up!”

This was a bit later, when they were done with the tree, and Ricardo was putting together their dinner - a lot of it were gifts from band members, including Christopher’s Holiday Macaroons (which he had to forcibly hide away from Cazze so he wouldn’t eat just that for dinner), and the food that Firo and Felix’s respective families had sent to them.

So Ricardo just looked up, and over Cazze’s head…

Ricardo sighed.

“…seriously, Cazze?”

“Oh noooo. There’s a mistletoe over my head! I wonder what to do!” Cazze grinned, and pointed at his sweater. “See? You don’t have to be nervous! You can do whatever you want, and it stays under the mistletoe!”

“…Carzelio we had been dating for more than a year.”

“I knoooow, but mistletoe kisses, Ricardo! Last year we didn’t have them because of the very hectic tour the band went on! And the one we had before we got together doesn’t count. That was a dare. So, I had to lay down this cunning plan to get you to kiss me under the mistletoe. And look at it! Now you can’t ignore it! You can’t go against tradition!”

Looking at Cazze’s earnest expression, Ricardo basically felt his heart melting. Not like he could ever really say no to Cazze, but still.

“Well, I guess I have no choice, do I?” Ricardo asked, trying to sound grumpy, but couldn’t hide a smile - and seeing this smile made Cazze’s face light up even more.

“Nope! Absolutely no way for you to get out from this!”

“Well, then. I’m going to have to make this sacrifice, then.”

So Ricardo stepped over, put a hand around Cazze’s waist, and pulled him in for a kiss.

A kiss which had lasted longer than usual mistletoe kisses did.

Not like either of them complained.

[baccanosecretsanta]

first christmas (Secret Santa Fic)

Title: first christmas

Gift for: @cherself

Characters: Firo, Ennis, Czes

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas, Max!!! I hope you like this! If there are any details messed up, it’s cos I’ve only seen the anime and read the first couple books, but hopefully, if there are any mistakes they can be easily overlooked.

(I don’t know if I can do a readmore on submissions, but if so, this would be a good place to put one.)

She doesn’t know what it’s like to be an older sister, but she adapts. Sometimes she feels as though it’s Czeslaw guiding her, showing her how it is that they’re supposed to pretend to be, but she’s learning quickly.

Really, he doesn’t need her to act as an older sister, at least in terms of practicality. He knows, by now, what it means to look after himself, and it is only when they’re out in public that he thinks of it as a benefit to rest his hand in hers and talk to her like he’s known her all his life, and like neither of their lives have been very long at all. She plays along when she’s supposed to, but even beyond that, she starts to think of him as the brother that he was “given” to her as.

Ennis isn’t as lonely as she once was, with so many great people around her, but her heart is warmed when she thinks about bringing someone else into that. Her heart is warmed knowing that she has someone to look after, even if he thinks he doesn’t need to be. And, the thing about loneliness, is that she’s so accustomed to it that she is starting to get better at seeing it in others.

Whether he admits it or not, and whether he’s willing to truly let her in or not, Ennis knows that he’s lonely too. Perhaps more so than she knows and perhaps more so than she’s known for herself, but she doesn’t know what he needs from her. He doesn’t seem like he wants an older sister, and he doesn’t seem like he wants a mother, but what does he need?

If only, she thinks, she could do something for him to show him that he’s really not alone this time. Of course, she doesn’t think she can ask Czes himself about this, since he’ll probably brush it off, but there are others she can go to about it. Already, she decides to talk to the ones responsible for bringing the boy into her life, and see what it is that they have to say on the subject.

~X~

From the beginning, Firo isn’t quite sure what to make of Czes, but he welcomes him, because of Maiza, and because of Ennis, and because of Isaac and Miria, and because he can already tell that there is something off about him. That “something”, he comes to realize, is simply a result of all that the child who is not truly a child must have seen, and all that he has been through, and experiences that he will never understand.

But there are some feelings that come from a multitude of experiences, and those feelings can be understood on a basic level. Firo knows well enough by now to know that reaching out to Czes and accepting him into their life is the best thing he can do, and they form an odd sort of bond, and he isn’t sure if it’s brotherly or simply that of friends, or something he can’t put a word to.

There are times when Czes talks to him like they’re the same age, or like he’s the older one- and, of course, he is- and trying to give Firo much-needed guidance. He picks up on Firo’s feelings much too quickly, and it never stops feeling strange, getting romantic advice that he never asked for from an innocent face like that.

“What do you think is going to happen if you just keep waiting around?” he’ll ask, his smile so pure that Firo has to do a double take before he realizes the meaning of the question.

“What kind of question is that?” he replies quickly, rather than actually answering.

“I know you know what I mean,” replies Czes. “Everybody knows about how you feel, so when are you going to find out about her?” All the while, he just keeps grinning like the blameless child who shouldn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Things are complicated with her, you know that. Y'know she’s been through hell, and she’s got…things on her mind. Besides, she doesn’t think of me like…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m happy with how things are, as long as she is too.”

Czes sighs, in an almost exasperated way before he speaks again. “If that’s how it is. But, you know, I bet if you’re just a little patient…” He says it all so clearly and so innocently, but Firo knows him better, and wonders what he actually has to gain by giving this advice, and what he would really know of a relationship like this. But the conversation cuts off there, and later, Firo realizes that somewhere along the line, it actually reassured him.

Just gotta be a little patient, he thinks.

~X~

“Y'know, Christmas is coming up,” he says one day.

Ennis nods and smiles. “It’s going to be exciting, having everyone around for the holidays.”

“Yeah, we tend to go all out for that sorta thing,” he replies with a grin. “By the way, I was wondering…has Czes talked to you about Christmas at all?”

“Hm…not that I can think of,” she says. “I guess we don’t really talk about stuff like that, why?”

“Well, I was just…I mean, he don’t talk about it or anything, but it’s kinda obvious he ain’t had it easy. I just wonder what he usually does for Christmas, and when the last time he had a big celebration for it was.”

“Yeah, but I really get the impression…I mean, he was probably alone for most Christmases, don’t you think?” she asks, a sad look in her eye.

“But he won’t be this year, so cheer up,” Firo says quickly, having not meant to make her sad.

She smiles at that and says, “You’re right. He’s got all of us.”

“Yeah, and see, the reason I asked you is because he’s warming up to you more and more every day. I was hoping you could help me figure out something special we could do for him.”

Her eyes light up, and Ennis says, “That’s a great idea! I don’t know if it’ll be easy for me to find things out without being too obvious, but I promise, I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s great, thank you! At least this way, maybe we can start making up for the good Christmases he didn’t have before.” Really, Firo has no idea what they can do, but he hopes Ennis will be able to find some clues. It’s hard to know with someone like him, what with his age and experience and behavior, but, at the very least, he wants to be able to say that he tried.

And, he thinks, he might owe Czes one, considering the occasional unwarranted bits of advice. He’s going to be patient, after all, and in the mean time, he’s able to do things like this, to spend more time with Ennis, and make her happy as well. In a way, seeing her smile is worth as much as anything to him.

~X~

Secretly, Ennis is happy about Firo’s plans for more selfish reasons than she lets on, because Czes is not the only one lacking in happy Christmas memories, and she looks forward to whatever the three of them will end up doing.

[baccanosecretsanta]

Part 2 of my gift for Vipperoni/vilatile for the prompt any of the homunculi + something Christmas-ish (or winter-ish? does that count?). The gang goes ice skating and Chris is unbelievably overdramatic. 

[baccanosecretsanta]

Part 1 of hopefully a two part gift for vilatile/Vipperoni for the prompt Tick/Maria + something Christmas-ish. Merry Christmas! Hope you like it! ] 

…

When they are young, their mother asks them to write letters to Santa — every year, without fail. Even when they outgrow their belief in him, even when they grow to understand how tight money is, even when their tree is bare and their food is scarce, she puts on a smile and hands them a pen and paper and tells them that Santa needs to know what they want for Christmas.

The memory of her is soft and sweet; in the years to come Tick will learn that the world prefers Tack, but he will always recall that their mother loved them both. 

Snip, snip, snip. Scraps of paper drift to the floor like snowflakes.

Tack wants an abacus and a microscope, and a book with a title which, when torn in half, reads as The - Species on one side and Origin - of on the other. Tick thinks these sound like good, smart things to want for.

Tick is not good or smart, but he is good enough to dislike the thought of his brother being let down and smart enough to know that he will be. Their mother loves them, but she is a single mother and times are tough enough for families with two parents; Tick knows that she can’t afford the things that Tack deserves to have. 

He doesn’t know that Tack will cry when he sees his letter torn to shreds. When he’s done there is nothing to salvage, and in his mind this means it doesn’t exist anymore; this is for the best. If there is no list, there are no expectations — and if there are no expectations, there can’t be any disappointment. Now it won’t matter what they get. 

Tack is a genius. No matter what he’s given, Tick is sure that he’ll make something good and smart out of it. No matter what Tick is given, he’ll make scraps out of it. The details don’t matter. 

Tack has high expectations, for himself and for the world, and even if he got his abacus and his microscope and his books he wouldn’t be happy, and Tick — Tick is happy enough if he has wrapping paper to tear through. 

Snip, snip, snip. Pine needles drift to the floor, an artificial forest making its home in the Gandor family’s casino. Tick pauses to admire his work. The once ragged, wild branches trimmed to a perfect cone shape, brilliantly green, rejuvenated by a pair of rusty scissors. Edith had once told him he should become a florist; he thinks he should broaden his prospects and become a gardener.

“I slashed down another one, amigo! Where do you want it?”

The lithe woman heaves a Christmas tree over her shoulder as though it is light as a feather, and a certain young mafioso watches from his seat at the poker table and frowns deeply.

“Miss Maria,” He breathes through his nose, voice stiff with exasperation. “If you put one more tree in this room there will be no room for the customers.”

“C'mon, amigo! You won’t have any customers if you act like a killjoy!”

The building is nothing if not festive; the scent of tobacco smoke, usually strong in the cloudy casino, faded by the scent of pine and peppermint. Tick and Maria attack the holiday season with the same fervour they attack everything, and the Gandor turf has never looked greener.

Luck Gandor has never looked redder.

“How many trees are there in this room right now?”

Maria pauses to count, a finger raising with every addition. Uno, dos, tres…

“Siete! Seven.”

Luck nods.

“Seven. Explain to me, then, please, how choosing to stop at seven Christmas trees would make us look like killjoys.”

“Because —”

Her explanation falls flat.

“Hmph. Fine. This is the last one,” She folds her arms over her chest. “But don’t blame me when people start asking where the holiday spirit is, gruñón.”

Snip, snip, snip.

Maria lays the tree down across the poker table, turning her nose up at Luck. 

Snip snip snip.

She plops herself down on the floor beside Tick, stretching out beneath the branches and studying Tick’s hard work. 

“Looking good, amigo — the tree, I mean.”

Tick closes his eyes and spreads his toothy grin wide, scissors snipping along happily with each word.

“Thaaaank you! Think Mister Luck has any decorations layin’ around?”

“Don’t think Mister Luck knows what decorations are, amigo.”

A cough. Maria sees Luck’s glare out of the corner of her eye and promptly ignores it.

“We should make some!”

Tick tilts his head in question, but Maria is firing off an explanation before he can ask.

“We could make those… whatcha call ‘em — those paper things Mister Yaguruma showed us?”

“Origami?” Luck offers, tossing a card down on the table. Maria scrunches up her nose. 

“Origami, sí!”

“I’m not sure how suited the two of you are to that craft.”

“What does that mean?! Me and Tick —”

“Tick and I.”

“Me and Tick can do anything!”

“It means that your usual strategy of slashing isn’t of much use in folding paper cranes.”

“Then we’ll just slash ‘em into cranes instead!”

Maria seems satisfied with this solution, throwing her head back in triumph. She repeats the idea again and again and again — her excitement increasing exponentially with Luck’s exasperation.

“We’ll show that paper who’s boss —! Right, amigo?”

Maybe it’s just that she wants someone to be excited with her — and maybe it’s also that she’s notices the silence where Tick’s excitement usually is. The upbeat rhythm of his scissors has slowed to a dirge, hands opening and closing methodically.

“I thiiiink —”

Shrieeek. The drawn out cry of metal against metal punctuates his speech.

“I want to make them the right way. If Mister Luck says you don’t cut ‘em theeeen,” He lifts his shoulders into a shrug, scissors dangling from his fingertips. “We should try that.” 

In three hours time, Maria has succeeded at making twenty odd crumpled up pieces of paper — and a grand total of zero cranes. Her latest attempt had looked sorta like a duck who got its neck snapped according to Berga, who had dropped in on Luck’s request to ensure they hadn’t caused any property damage. Maria would prefer causing property damage any day, but Tick seems intent on actually following through with his word.

“You know, amigo, Murasamia could finish these up in a second!” she offers, for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. She wants to do a good job with this — but why can’t doing a good job mean doing what it’s in her nature to do? Tick doesn’t look up, but he smiles. 

“You can cut yours iiiif you want, Miss Maria,” he hums, holding his paper up to the light to study his most recent fold. 

“… humph. It’s no fun if you don’t! What’s gotten into you?” Maria leans over the table to wave a hand in front of his face, lips pursed into a pout. “Have you gone loco? Let’s cut ‘em up!”

“Hmmmm,” He sets the half-finished crane down, an uncharacteristic stillness emerging for lack of paper or scissors to fiddle with. “Y’knooow, Tack was good at following instructions, aaand — putting stuff together. He would’ve been able to make these real easy. He’d probably think that I’m stupid for having so much trouble.”

On their last Christmas before their mother’s passing, Tack had been gifted a puzzle; when he’d put the finally piece down, Tick had smashed it apart. It had been an accident, for once, but he’d been assured he was an idiot. It would seem that Tack was born to create and Tick was born to break. He raises his head to see Maria furrowing her brow, and fortifies his smile as though to reassure her.

“Which is okaaay. Thing is, I juuuust…” He tilts his head, searching for the words to explain. “I wanted to see if I could.”

“If you could what, amigo?”

Maria rests her elbows on the tabletop, frowning now — confusion contorting her features. 

“If I could make something real.”

She’s silent, just for a few seconds, processing this sentiment to the best of her ability, then her eyes travel to the pair of scissors sitting on the table beside her pile of crumpled paper cranes. 

“Who says you can’t do that by cutting stuff up?!” She grabs the scissors in one sweeping motion, so quickly that by the time Tick reacts — a frantic attempt to snatch them back — she is already shoving them into his hand. Her hand lingers there even after his fingers have closed over the scissors, a touch of warmth to accompany the cold metal. 

“You’re you, so if you’re gonna make something you’ve gotta do it your way!”

She is grinning again, eyes bright with enthusiasm, and Tick cannot ignore the call to respond in kind. 

“Alriiiight,” He nods, laying his other hand over hers. “How do I do that, Miss Maria?”

“There are all kinds of ways, amigo! Like… like — !”

The casino is beginning to resemble a winter wonderland out of some storybook. Atop the bed of pine needles is a scattering of white triangular scraps, floating to the ground like snow as Tick snips away with small, fast cuts. He pauses to admire his work, holding the paper up to the light to study the pattern he’s cut out. 

“What d’you think you’d look like if you were a snowflake, Miss Maria?” He hooks the ornament onto one of the branches and smiles. Across from him, Maria drops her borrowed scissors to dig into her pile of paper snowflakes. 

“This one!” she exclaims, holding out her choice up for Tick to see. 

Tick squints at the snowflake, then nods. 

“It’s pointy.” He reaches out to poke one of the edges. 

“Exactly, amigo! Just like Murasamia and Kochite!” She beams, and Tick’s smile brightens; happy to be understood and happy to understand. 

Luck watches them dance between their now eight Christmas trees, pinning their paper snowflakes up wherever they can, and tries his best not to lose his temper.

“How many of these have you made, exactly?” he asks slowly, brushing one of them off the edge of the poker table. He decides that it would be unnecessary to ask why they gave up on the origami idea; the dedication with which they’ve chopped up every sheet of paper they’d been given speaks for itself. 

“I stopped counting after two hundred, amigo,” laughs Maria. 

“Sorryyy, I’m no good with numbers, Mister Luck.”

“Two —?! I… Just. Keep them away from the tables.” He fights to keep his voice levelled. “We run a serious business here.”

Tick and Maria do not seem to agree; as though eager to compromise the seriousness of the Gandor family business, they set to work lining every tree with their crafts, until the green of the pine cannot be seen for the white of the snowflakes — and when they run out of branches they set to work decorating each other. Maria fastens one onto the top button of his shirt, and Tick makes a crown of them to place on her head. 

“It suits you, Miss Maria!” The ring of snowflakes turns the flower in her hair into the first sign of spring, and this is Maria; even the harsh north eastern winter can’t freeze her spirit, but it can complement it well. 

“Gracias, amigo!” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles brightly enough that it convinces Tick he’s made something worth making — maybe he was born to break, and cut, and tear away at everything he touches, but that smile is something real. 

The following day, the casino is bustling. Maria gets all of her ‘I told you so’s out in one run-on sentence spanning the length of a Shakespearean monologue: I told you so I told you so I told you so I told you — stopping only when Luck admits, begrudgingly, that yes, it would seem their customers appreciate the festivity (and no, this does not mean it isn’t over the top, he adds, but Maria is deaf to this). 

Kate plays music for the dancers — it had been decided that a special occasion called for higher quality than scratchy records. Maria, kindly reminded to get back to work guarding said dancers, saunters over and props her elbows up on the piano. 

“Sounds great, amigo!”

Kate smiles up at her, fingers dancing between the keys. 

“You know what would make it even better?”

It doesn’t take much convincing for her to agree to play Jingle Bells next. 

Tick sits in his usual seat, scissors snicking along rhythmically. Maria smiles over at him, and he smiles back. When she thinks Luck isn’t watching, she thanks Kate and slips away. 

“Feliz navidad, Mister Tick!”

She takes a seat across from Tick. 

“You’re stiiiill wearing the snowflakes,” he observes, gesturing with his scissors. Maria touches her head and beams. 

“’Course I am! You said it suited me, amigo!”

He nods, snipping pausing for a beat. “It’s cute.”

Maria has been called cute many times before, but the fact that it is not a surprise does not make it any less pleasant. She opens her mouth to say thank you, but then remembers something more important and digs into her pocket to find it. 

“Here, amigo!”

Tick blinks at the object extended to him: a pair of scissors speckled with white paint.

“I painted snowflakes on them, see!”

He sets down one pair of scissors in order to accept the gift. He sees it now, the snowflakes. He turns them over in his hand, admiring the adornment; shoddy painting, objectively, but perfect in sentiment. 

“That way you can be festive even when you’re working!”

Tick has never wanted for much. He is happy enough if he has wrapping paper to tear through, and anything he is given he will just break — but she has thought to give him something to do the breaking, and this he can be grateful for. 

“Thaaaank you, Miss Maria! I’ll use them next time Mister Luck brings someone in for me!”

The festivities continue; Kate plays on, the dancers put on their show, the gamblers place their bets, and Tick and Maria exchange smiles like gifts at every opportunity. 

[baccanosecretsanta]

“You managed to nick my ear. Even though it was just a coincidence, you left proof of your existence to me, the centre of the world. So I want you to join me on the side of the dreamer… on the side of the ruler of the world. I’ll welcome you with open arms.”

The first thing that came to mind for drawing Chane and Claire was dancing in an abandoned warehouse. Headcanon that Claire is a great dancer, and that Chane’s never danced in her life.

Secret Santa art for KarLouiie (@kareligatr)