#mistletoe shenanigans

[soappbar]

MOB PSYCHO CHRISTMAS ANIMATIC THAT IS DEFINITELY NOT ONE MONTH TOO LATE!!! WOOO YAAYY

[starweaversguidetothehazbinhotel]

A stupid Christmas thought for y’all.

(And in the spirit of the season, feel free to steal.)

I keep seeing mistletoe pop up in fanfics and fan art, and it’s finally pushed me to make a last-minute holiday post. Before we go any further, though, we need to address a widespread and deeply disrespectful misunderstanding of what mistletoe actually is.

Mistletoe is not a bush.

It is not a vine.

And it most certainly does NOT have pointed leaves and red berries. (Seriously- why are so many of yall drawing holly?)

Yes, you hang it in a doorway. Yes, people kiss under it. That part survived history. What apparently did not is the knowledge that mistletoe is not festive holiday greenery.

Mistletoe is a parasite.

It does not grow obligingly at shoulder height. It does not curl itself demurely around banisters. It grows at the very tippy-top of large trees, favoring the weakest, most irritating branches available. You cannot simply stroll into the woods and pick mistletoe.

Historically, if you wanted it? You had to shoot it out of the tree.

This was, back in the day, considered romantic.

A display of precision. Capability. The quiet promise that one could provide and hit a distant target without wasting ammunition.

It required actual skill.

(FR-shooting a specific branch out of a tree is harder than it looks. Especially in windy winter weather.)

Now.

Alastor.

There’s plenty of fan-works with him accidentally ending up under mistletoe that has been strategically placed in a hotel doorway. And that idea is just fine. Perfectly acceptable. I enjoy it.

But it misses a much better option: intentional acquisition.

As a gentleman of 1920s Louisiana, Alastor would be intimately familiar with both this tradition and the shotgun required to fulfill it. This is a show of skill and finesse—steady hand, sharp eye.

If mistletoe is required, the Radio Demon does not wait in line at a store for a sad little sprig in cellophane. Instead, he goes out, selects his target, adjusts his stance, and removes the weed “festive greenery” from the tree with a single, clean shot.

The branch falls.

A point is made.

Anyone watching learns something important about preparation and competence.

(The fact that the hotel has staff with wings? Irrelevant.)

You can spin this romantically: a perfect shot, a smug look, and the implication that this took no effort whatsoever. A chance to show off while wooing his sweetheart.

Or—for an aroace-friendly interpretation—the mistletoe’s acquisition is a bet. And our proud deer shoots the stupid plant out of a tree with one bullet. The bet is won. The mistletoe is secured. And Alastor, having proven his point beyond dispute, excuses himself from the rest of the holiday decorating on the grounds that he has already contributed something both traditional and educational. The other hotel residents can handle the glitter and greenery- he has carols to practice.

No doorways.

No surprises.

No kissing.

Just a parasite removed efficiently, a tradition observed correctly, and a gentleman who refuses to participate further now that he’s clearly won.

And frankly? Target practice with a shotgun is the only sensible way to celebrate the holidays in Hell.

-

[danielleitloudernow]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Fifteen words, strung together to form one sentence. Thrown together in some particular order, said without any real thought or care. Fifteen words Zoey will come to regret. Or will she? When she looks back on this moment later—much later, she's still trying to reconcile it all—she'll pinpoint those words as the moment everything fell apart.

Zoey accidentally makes a promise to Derpy, a spiritual entity, and finds herself stuck in a time-loop until she gets Rumi and Mira under the mistletoe and gets it right.

I still have time! It's still Christmas Eve in good ol' Wyoming town!

Posting on Christmas Eve exclusively for the bit.

Huge, huge thanks to my wife @accidentallyonpurposehere who sat on the couch with me for literal HOURS while I bitched and moaned and struggled. The fic probably would not have gotten finished otherwise, so if you enjoy it, you should absolutely thank her. She is the (un)official co-author of this fic (let me make it official, dammit!)

Next, massive thanks to @princington for the gorgeous art for this fic and for being an amazing person in general. Bouncing random bits and thoughts to them and @hotsaucevitamins helped bring this fic to life. It was a massive labor of love and I gift it to you both.

Merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy this fic, and stay tuned for more Polytrix in the future!

✌️ ❤️ & Cheers!

[dragonbornphoenix]

Mistlefeaux! 💋

@drarrymicrofic My not-microfic for the Wheel of Drarry 2025. Thank you mods for this fun Holiday event! Written for @moonmanatee and their prompt word Melt. Words: 1398 | Rating: T

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it, my friend! Happy New Year!🎇

The situation was critical. DEFCON 3 rapidly going on DEFCON 2.

The reactor is compromised. Nuclear meltdown imminent. Sound the emergency alarm siren. Judgement Day!

It was a bit dramatic, not to mention influenced by his obsession with Muggle cinema, but how else could he emphasise the seriousness of the situation?

Draco narrowed his eyes and peeked around the huge plant he was not hiding behind. Of course he wasn’t hiding! Why would he need to hide? He was assessing the situation. In order to do damage control. And he had to do it fast because what was Potter thinking?

He wasn’t. Obviously. The Chosen Twat was as reckless as ever. Even after all these years, he still threw himself in front of danger without the slightest thought. Look at him, standing under the blasted mistletoe, inviting everyone and their wife to kiss him!

Draco wasn’t anything if not conscientious. He would rescue his… friend from the clutches of the opportunistic vultures just waiting to get their talons on Potter. They hadn’t built that hard-won friendship for nothing. He wouldn’t turn his back on Potter in his hour of need. Potter might be a complete pillock, but what are friends for and all that?

Potter had been a prime candidate for a husband ever since his divorce. Did the muppet care? Not in the least. It didn’t stop the rabid masses from trying, though. Draco had to put up with all kinds of nonsense, both in person and through stories told. Harry (Potter!) thought it was funny. Draco didn’t. Even the women still chased after him even though their Chosen One had come out as gay. Hadn’t Draco heard just the other day the journalist (Journalist, my arse!) from Silken Sorcery (Blergh!) saying she could fix (Fix!) Harry if he went out with her? Draco spent hours plotting the best way to bring Armageddon down on her and that abhorrent magazine she worked for.

Draco brought his thoughts back to the present. He craned his neck to see better. Potter was still standing serenely under that infernal mistletoe, smiling like the dolt he was.

Who hangs mistletoe there anyway? And who in their right minds would stand right beneath it? It’s like standing beneath Merlin’s sagging balls!

In the far corner, Draco spotted a man (Devin? Dorian? Ugh, Dray?) looking up at the mistletoe then down at Harry. The predator was getting ready to make his move. Draco had to act. Set the building on fire? Too extreme. Set the man on fire? That would be frowned upon. He couldn’t set Harry on fire! Himself then?

Wait!

Ginny appeared. Danger averted for now. She hugged Harry (Potter!) and kissed him on the cheek. That was alright. Ginevra was his ex-wife. The mother of his children. Which reminded Draco that Scorpius would spend the first half of the holiday season with Astoria in Italy, and he’d said something about plans with Albus and the Potters and— Focus, Draco!

Ginny whispered something in Potter’s ear, and Potter laughed. The sound carried, loud and joyous. Draco never wanted Harry to stop laughing. He sighed. Ginny turned to leave. She looked toward Draco and winked. Winked! The gall of that woman!

Draco wished he were a Muggle so calling her a witch would sound like an insult. Being a wizard deprived one of such pleasures. It was infuriating!

I’ll get you, Ginevra! You will be benched for the rest of the season, Ginevra! Worse! I watch Muggle films, you know. I’ve seen Gremlins, Ginevra!

But Ginny was gone, which left the field open for anyone willing to try their luck. Draco had to take action.

Alright then. Big guns, it is. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Draco emerged in all his Malfoy glory and strode toward Harry with purpose. “Potter!” his voice boomed. Heads turned. A couple of people flinched. Good. “Is that how you want to announce our relationship to the world? By forcing me to kiss you in public?”

Harry laughed. Draco didn’t slow. He crashed onto Harry and sealed their lips together. It would likely be the only kiss he would ever get from Harry, so he planned on making it memorable. It’d have to be enough to keep him warm in the cold nights of winter for the rest of his life.

Before the thought had finished forming, a strong arm wrapped around him and a tender palm cupped his cheek. It took his brain a few seconds to register Harry was kissing him back. Draco’s surprised gasp was all it took for Harry to deepen the kiss. Draco found himself tasting the Chosen Mouth, and oh Circe, it was mind-melting. Someone was moaning (himself? Potter? Both of them?) and maybe Draco should have been embarrassed, but he and Harry were kissing, and if that wasn’t a Christmas miracle, he didn’t know what was! He buried his fingers in Harry’s messy locks and gave back as good as he got.

He heard whistling and catcalls, but they seemed to come from far away. When the kiss broke, a voice suspiciously resembling Weasel’s shouted, “You owe me a Galleon!” in a triumphant tone.

His head was spinning. Harry was looking at him all soft and smiling. “Finally,” he breathed against Draco’s lips.

“What do you think you’re doing, you plonker?” Draco asked, dazed.

“Kissing you under the mistletoe. It’s tradition.”

“Who put mistletoe there, anyway?”

“I did,” Harry said with pride.

“You?”

“Me!”

“Why?”

“To force your hand. Push you to make a move.”

“Force m—”

“We’ve been dancing around each other for too long, Draco,” Harry said, voice feathery soft.

Draco couldn’t find it in himself to be contrary. “Why didn’t you make a move, then?”

“Because you’d have reacted like a feral horse. I had to make you come to me.”

Draco thought about it. “Kind of like the fox in that Little Prince book?”

“Kind of,” Harry said with a smile.

“So now you think I’m tamed, I suppose.”

“God, no!” Harry said around a big smile and pulled Draco closer. “I like you wild. The hurricane of my life.”

“Merlin, you are such a git. There’s a photo of you next to the word “twit” in that Merry Lobster dictionary!”

Harry burst out laughing. “It’s called Merriam-Webster!”

“Merry Lobster is infinitely better. So now what?”

“Now I’ll take you home. I’ll make us hot cocoa, and we’ll watch A Christmas Carol while the snow falls out the window.”

“Boring,” Draco said, feigning disinterest. “I want extra marshmallows in mine.”

“Of course, my Lord! And on Christmas Day we’ll go to the Burrow—”

“What? No, I can’t. That’s your family; I’ll be intruding—”

“You’re invited. Molly has already knitted your present. I’ve seen it; the colours are gorgeous.”

Draco froze. He must have misunderstood. Misheard. Invited? Present? How? Why? They wanted him there?

“Of course they want you there.” Harry cupped his face and kissed his nose. Draco realised he had spoken aloud. “Do you know how long I’ve… had feelings for you? How long have they been subjected to my pining for you?”

Pining? Feelings? Potter had feelings for him? Potter had feelings for him!

Happiness erupted in his chest, threatening to explode his heart. “What about the children? We have to tell them.”

“Whose idea do you think this was?” Harry gestured to the mistletoe and around the room. “It was a Potter-Weasley-Malfoy joined effort!”

“A Potter-Weasley-Malfoy betrayal! A conspiracy! I will not stand for this!” His face wanted to do silly things, but as a Malfoy, he was the master of his face. He broke into a goofy grin.

“Excellent! I can’t wait to hear you threaten Ginny with benching her for the rest of her life,” Harry laughed. “I’ll take you carolling on Christmas Eve. How does that sound for a date?”

“Dreadful. Looking forward to it.” The goofy grin grew broader. “Now, I believe someone promised me a Scrooge, extra marshmallows and snow. And a promise to a Malfoy is not to be taken lightly.”

Draco took Harry’s hand and brought it to his lips. In the span of a few minutes the course of his life had changed. Let Ebenezer Scrooge keep his spirits. He had a handful of mistletoe. Mistletoe he intended to put to great use later that night. Not bad for a poisonous parasite. Not bad at all.

READ IT ON AO3

[kk1smet]

Rumors say the castle conjures mistletoes to appear between people with unspoken affection. Well, this is no surprise, is it?

It’s that time of the year! Finally had some break from work to whip up some doodles.

What’s one advent fic that you would always return to? Mine would definitely be nearly all Saras_Girl’s, But Turn, If The Fates Allow and Kaleidoscope hold a special place. Sigh. Looking forward to read and discover more from other amazing authors soon.

I wish a happy Christmas to everyone who celebrate it and may you have a lovely, restful time ⭐️

Love, K.

[essence0fsilence]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A silly mistletoe fic inspired by the @shigerussato post where Ash talks about fighting people under the mistletoe. Enjoy!

"We should make the mistletoe more interesting," Ash replied cheerfully, following along, wholly unbothered by Gary's rapidly fading patience.

Gary glared up at the offending plant as they passed by another little bundle. "By burning it?" he asked perhaps more seriously than the occasion called for.

Ash laughed. "By challenging anyone who stands under it to a battle!" Pikachu voiced his agreement with an excited chirp.

It was the most Ash thing Gary had ever heard come out of his mouth. He snorted in amusement and drained the last of his drink. "I still like my idea," he declared. "C'mon, let's get something to eat."

[velnica]

Singing Along Ch 5 - Slow, how you wanted it to be

Fandom: FFXIV

Ship: Sanson/Guydelot

Tags: Modern AU/University, Falling in Love, Meet Cute (emphasis on cute)

Rating: Explicit (later chapters)

Sanson roped Guydelot into cleaning the house in preparation for the Starlight feast tomorrow, revealing maybe more than both of them ever expected.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“Sanson, look up,” he chimed in, watching as his roommate did as he was asked only for the smiling face to fall into an exasperated frown coupled with a pink tinge. In his hand, the Elezen held a sprig of decorative mistletoe, dangling it merrily above the two of them.

“Really?” Sanson drawled. Guydelot just grinned wickedly in reply. He thought he could see a look of panic cross Sanson’s face and he nearly aborted the whole thing, but then the Hyur just closed his eyes and spoke with a resigned voice. “Fine, do your worst.”

Guydelot wasn’t sure what to make of that command. He was expecting another fluster and an indignant retort, but this? No, he would not give Sanson the satisfaction of playing into his expectation, even if the thought of it was extremely tempting. He let Sanson wait a moment overlong, his brows scrunching in confusion as he no doubt wondered if his assumption was misguided. Perfect.

Slowly Guydelot leaned forward, breath ghosting across Sanson’s cheek, causing the shorter man to inhale sharply despite his anticipation. The sound almost made Guydelot trip but he recovered, sweeping upwards to plant a kiss on Sanson’s forehead, the lightest press of lips that somehow sent sparks down his spine all the way to his toes. Sanson inhaled again, earnestly this time, his blush now coming in full force, trailing down alluringly from his face to his neck—

He took a step back, cutting that observation.

[alexandrite-the-great-nerd]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sako Atsuhiro | Mr. Compress/Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, League of Villains & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko Characters: Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Toga Himiko, Bubaigawara Jin | Twice, Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner, League of Villains (My Hero Academia) Additional Tags: Christmas Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Hints of poly League because i cant help myself, Learning traditions, Mistletoe, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, No beta we die like Twice, Quick and sweet Christmas one shot Summary:

Tomura had never really celebrated Christmas and didn't care much about it. But Toga had started preparing an evening for them, and maybe he was curious about some of the holiday traditions.

-- Canon maybe compliant, set while he League rests in Deika before everything goes wrong, no plot, just some sweet Christmas fluff.