Title: Under the Christmas Tree
Year: 2021
Media: TV Movie
Network: Lifetime
Rated: TV-PG
Category: Queer Main Characters
Queer Rep: wlw
Starring: Elise Bauman, Tattiawna Jones, Ricki Lake
Plot Synopsis: “Romantic sparks fly between Alma and Charlie when Charlie finds the perfect tree for the Maine Governor's Holiday Celebration at right in Alma's back yard.”
Thoughts: This is a very sweet movie. I actually didn’t recognize Elise Bauman with her little Bettie Page bangs and dark hair, but she’s well known to the lesbian media scene as one of the stars of the Carmilla series. She and Tattiawna Jones had really great chemistry in this movie.
Under the Christmas tree is full of traditional made-for-TV tropes, with an unmistakably queer twist. I think my favorite part was the random gingerbread house competition, or the jokes about how the movie White Christmas made Alma queer. You could really tell queer people were involved in this movie, and it was really nice to see. There was also some great family moments, especially with Enrico Colantoni who is no stranger to good father/daughter scenes.
If I was the kind of gay who loved plants and wanted to be a “tree whisperer” or had any interest in raising chickens I might give this a perfect score. If you’re looking for a great lesbian Christmas movie Under the Christmas Tree is a fantastic option.
Here are some queer tv show recs! Since I divided them into just four categories, the chart isn't 100% accurate (for example, Clare from Derry Girls is a main character, but there's not much focus on her sexuality, and Jane the Virgin is technically neither a comedy or a drama), but I think it gives a pretty good idea.
TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering)
"It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow."
or
A very angsty fic where the Knights find an injured girl in the forest and take her home to heal. Queer fluff with Gwen ensues.
2.5k words.
Masterlist or Read it on AO3
--------------------
Chapter 1:
It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow.
Merlin set to work immediately: pulling fabric bandages from his satchel along with honey and other such ointments to stop the bleeding and prevent infection growing in her shredded forearms. The King and his knights could do nothing but watch, shock drawn on their faces. They had seen blood and death before, but so rarely had they seen someone that had attempted to take their own life.
It was Lancelot that discovered the reason for her considerable sweating and pale face. Wolfsbane. Merlin opened her mouth and found her tongue swollen, further confirming the theory. He leant her forward and, after warning the party to turn around, made her empty the contents of her stomach.
Finally content that he had done all he could, Merlin approached panic mode. He left Lancelot and Elayn with the girl (Percival had left to refill the waterskins and Gwaine had had a ghostly look in his eyes since the discovery and so was left alone) and began pacing.
“We need to get back to Gaius. I can’t look after her on my own.”
“I’m no physician but she doesn’t seem fit to ride, not yet.” His King replied, doing his best to assure him.
“But what if I’ve missed something? I hardly noticed she had been—she had poisoned herself, that was all Lancelot’s doing!”.
“Consider yourself lucky that there are so many of us to help you then.”
“But—”
“You have been training with Gaius for almost a half-decade now, I trust your skills totally. It’s okay Merlin, she will be okay no matter what happens.” Arthur carelessly tacked on the last part, hoping Merlin wouldn’t notice how dark it sounded. He had seen a few of his knights return from their first battle and end up in a similar state and knew too well that most were content with dying if no one could do anything to save them.
“Now, how about you get your mind off this and make us some dinner, eh?”
Merlin rolled his eyes, nudging past. As much as he refused to admit it, he was glad Arthur had given him a distraction, even if it were preparing a stew that he wouldn’t be allowed to eat until everyone else had been served first.
--
As night fell and the fire grew smaller, Gwaine’s mind ran a thousand leagues a minute. It had been years since he had last thought of what that girl had done – around the time he had met Merlin, actually – and yet, after seeing her in that state for only a few seconds, it was all he could think about. All he could see as he closed his eyes. He longed to help her as he needed help all those years ago, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk (the others had made comments about how marvellous that was and he wonders, if only for a moment, if they would say the same had they known what was going on in his head.) He could barely breath, only able to let out fast, short breaths. He felt helpless.
As a Knight of the Round Table, Sir Gwaine did not like feeling ‘helpless’. He was strongly opposed to it, in fact.
It was only after Arthur awoke to take next watch that his brain began to slow (or had it sped up so fast that it felt like it had stopped?) and he began to feel tired. After some prompting by Princess, he lay on his roll mat and let sleep take over.
--
As the morning fog lifted, Merlin checked over his work once again. He removed her bandages, careful not to let it pull on her skin, and cleaned the last of the blood off. He envied Gaius’ ability to treat a patient without being upset for them – working with tears in his eyes was making the task far more difficult than it should have.
After wrapping her up once again, he declared them free to take her back to Camelot. He state hadn’t worsened overnight which was reassuring, but she hadn’t much improved either, so he thought it best for his mentor to give her a look over too. He had only dealt with poisoning a few times (and at least one of those times he had been the one poisoned) and so was not as confident in his abilities as his friends seemed to be. It was nice that they had faith in him, but he worried it was misplaced this time.
With Percy’s help, they manoeuvred the girl onto Lancelot’s horse. He had volunteered to take her so Merlin could attend to Arthur, who Lancelot had noticed was missing the young man. He had watched their relationship grow for a few years now and, despite not knowing really knowing what was going on between them, he was glad his friend had someone to be with.
Upon Arthurs command, the troop began moving. Gwaine rode at the back and Arthur and Merlin took the lead. Percival and Elyan rode next to each other, leaving Lancelot to his thoughts of the girl leaning against his chest. She was a young woman really, looking to have maybe 23 summers, but she looked so youthful that he couldn’t be sure. Her hair was braided with red fabric woven in and a few strands framed her face. She had striking black eyebrows and he was curious of her eye colour. He hoped that she would open her eyes again – the idea of someone so young trying to take their own life left him feeling cold.
He, like the rest of them, he was sure, had occasionally thought of doing as she had. Maybe not thoughts they would take forward, but ideations none the less. They had seen such horrible things throughout their travels, things that kept them up at night, things that made them want to stop thinking forever. It often led to a week at The Rising Sun, but sometimes that didn’t work.
He shivered, trying to banish those thoughts.
A part of him wondered what led her to sitting at the bottom of that tree. What could drive a young woman to consume Wolfsbane and mark her skin in such a way. He had noticed scars on her arms as Merlin wrapped her: either she had been in many, many fights before, or she had done something like this before. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.
--
Elyan and Percival were concerned. They tended to worry most days, caught up in making sure everyone was okay, but this hunting trip had not been a normal one. It had begun as usual: Merlin sneezing, coughing and stumbling each time anyone went to take a shot at some poor animal, and Arthur having a go at him for it (though everyone knew he wasn’t really angry), and then, after Gwaine finally got a lucky hit on a doe, Merlin found the woman.
The light mood soured immediately, doe left on the muddy floor. Everyone went into Knight-Mode, as Elyan liked to think of it. Knight-Mode was when all casual personality faded, and they became formal protectors. Swords were usually drawn but there was no need this time – the woman didn’t look like she would be going for her blade anytime soon. Regardless, Percival kept the blade in his possession just in case.
And now, as they rode slowly towards Camelot, the pair were worrying about the silence. They loved Gwaine – he was great, really – but he had amassed a reputation of not shutting the hell up, particularly on long rides. And yet now, on a trip that would likely take two days, he was silent. Now that he thinks about it, Elyan doesn’t recall Gwaine saying more than a sentence since they had stumbled upon the woman.
On the one hand, it was refreshing being able to listen to the birds and the creek of the trees. On the other, it concerned him. Percival wasn’t much better, turning his head back every few feet to see if there was any change on Gwaine’s blank face. It looked like a part of him was missing, the light behind his eyes seemed to have disappeared. Hopefully, Percival thought briefly, he would be back to his usual blabbering self once they had returned home. Maybe some mead would do the trick. Although he would never say it aloud, the gentle giant quite enjoyed his small friends’ stories. He found they made long trips feel a lot shorter – especially when they were returning from a grave event such as this one.
“Do you have a drink we could give him?” Percival whispered to Elyan, hoping to at least cheer Gwaine up a little before they got back.
“I have water, but I fear that won’t suffice.”
“No, something much stronger seems needed. You don’t know what’s wrong, do you?
The smaller man shook his head, looking grim. The subject of their concern didn’t seem to notice their concerned glances despite their distinct lack of subtlety.
No closer to finding a solution, the pair looked ahead, and continued riding.
--
Arthur had been riding horses since he was 3. He was good at it, great, even, but right now, all he could think about was how much his arse hurt. Turning to his left, he could tell Merlin was on the same train of thought (about his own arse, Arthur doubted his friend thought about his Kings arse unless it was about the trousers that they agreed never to talk about again). After mulling it over for longer than was needed, he raised his hand to warn the others they would be resting for a while. He knew there was a good stream nearby and intended to lead them there first.
‘Intended’ because, before he could lean his horse towards where he was reasonably sure the stream was, Lancelot called out for Merlin. It seemed their guest was waking up.
Merlin quickly hopped off his saddle, barely keeping his legs from buckling after being sat still for so long, and made his way to Lancelot and Percival, the latter of which had also dismounted. They carefully lifted the girl from Lancelot’s horse and sat her against a tree (It looked far too much like the way they found her for Arthurs liking).
Merlin took a waterskin from the nearest horse and gently poured some down her throat. This clearly woke her up more as she began coughing and spluttering, pushing Merlin’s hand away in the process. When her wheezing calmed down, she looked around in surprise.
“Wh—” another scratchy cough, “Where am I? My throat, it’s burn—” more painful coughs. Arthur almost looked away, somehow feeling guilty that she was in such pain.
“You are on your way to Camelot. My name is Merlin, I’m the Royal Physicians apprentice. This,” he gestures to Arthur who decides he should look more Kingly and not cower and the pained sounds she is making “is King Arthur Pendragon and the others are Knights of the Round Table.”
“Oh.”
Merlin rummages in his bag, pulling the phial of honey out again. He pours a little onto a wooden spoon he had in his coat pocket, and hands it to the girl. How Merlin remembers where he keeps all these small objects is beyond Arthur, but he is glad he does.
“Here, drink this. It should soothe your throat a little. It’s just honey but it will do until we get back to Camelot.”
She eyes it, sceptical, but drinks it regardless.
“I am sorry for the burning. I had to make you, you know, get rid of the wolfsbane you ingested.” She grimaced at the thought.
Arthur waited for a short while until he was certain Merlin was done tending to their guest. “There is a stream around the corner. We should stop there to have lunch before we set off again. I am sure we would all appreciate the chance to stretch our legs.”
The knights all grunt in response before they set off again. Merlin and the girl walk side by side – the girl leaning on him a little – while Lancelot takes the reins of Merlin’s horse along with his own. It doesn’t take them long to reach the stream Arthur had mentioned and the relief that they could stop properly was evident on everyone’s faces. Except Gwaine, he hardly seemed to register they have even moved. Arthur furrowed his brows at this but choose to ignore it for now.
The knights sat on a large log, Merlin and Arthur sitting opposite them, as they ate the bread and salted meat that the manservant retrieved upon reaching the stream. The girl sat beside Lancelot looking dazed. The kind knight offers her small smiles and sips of water occasionally but it doesn’t make much difference.
“I’m going to get more water.” Declared Gwaine, picking up his full waterskin, which looks like it hasn’t been touched since yesterday. He left with a nod to his King, not giving anyone time to object. Merlin shot his back a concerned look but stayed, his patient having his focus. No one else made a move to leave, too into eating or watching the girl as she nibbles on her bread and sips of Lancelot’s drink.
--
Gwaine was not a crier. He was not going to cry. He was a Knight of the Round Table, protector to the King of Camelot and, if Merlin’s drunk ramblings had any truth to them, protector to the Once and Future King of the united Albion, whatever that meant.
And yet, as he stumbled to away from the camp, aware that no one was coming after him, he felt a lump in his throat that he couldn’t shove down. He finally didn’t feel numb, but he wasn’t sure this was better. Thinking of how his friends would react to him coming back with red eyes didn’t help the situation, instead making his eyes glossy. He sighed a long sigh, and heavily slid down an oak tree, hugging his arms against his chest and leaning his head on his knees.
A part of his wanted to pull his sleeves back and trace the white stripes that lines his arms. Another part wanted to make them red again. But a more rational part (likely influenced by Merlin, curse that beautiful boy) made sure he kept them where they were, wrapped around his torso. He could feel where each line lay, his mind playing tricks on him as he pictured his little blade drawing against his skin.
Sometimes, often, Gwaine hated his brain. It wasn’t a very nice to him. Though, he thought, he wasn’t very nice to his body so maybe this was fair.
He took a sip of his water, making a face as he regretted not bringing the skin of mead that he had thought about before they set off a few dawns ago. Mead would be very nice right now.
Pouring some water on his hands and splashing his face with it, he stood up, shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts, and made his way back to the temporary camp. A few paces from his previous seat, he realised that he hadn’t actually filled his waterskin, but it was too late and so all he could do was hope no one noticed.
They had, but they didn’t comment so he considered that a win.
Arthur hopped up again as he noticed Gwaine return (he tried not to stare at the clearly-not-refilled waterskin) and gestured for everyone else to rise too. Time to set off. If they continued at the speed they were at before, they should get back before luncheon the next day and he could have a nice long bath, the girl could be treated fully, Gwaine would go to the Tavern and would return just as talkative as before (though he wouldn’t object if he talked just a little less, the King thought) and everything would be okay.
Just one more night in the woods.
-
-
-
-
I hope you liked this! I have a few chapters already written and am expecting it to be about 6 chapters long? It was meant to be a one shot but I got carried away...
If you happen to want to be on a tag list for this then comment/message me!
This is the first fic I've properly written and it's based on a dream I've been having over the last few days. It's not really planned so I hope that doesn't show.
This is a snippet from my novel One of the Restless. It focuses around a werewolf motorcycle club. Eddie is the new president of the club after the other president was murdered, though they don’t know who did it yet. He sent some of his guys out to investigate the murder, and one of them, Chuy, came back with a gut full of silver bullets. Eddie’s secret boyfriend, Clive, has been trying to keep Chuy alive.
“Okay, you’re relieved of duty,” Clive said, startling Eddie, who had been drifting off. There were several bruises on his arm from the three transfusions he’d done and some of Clive’s less than successful attempts to find a vein. For the latest transfusion they’d had to switch to Eddie’s other arm and so he now had to sit with his back to the door.
“Hm?” Eddie said. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay, you look like a vamp took a bite outta you. I shouldn’t have let you go this long.” Clive said.
“Does he need more?” Eddie asked.
Clive hesitated.
“It’s a simple question, Clive, does he need more blood?” Eddie demanded. He glanced around and saw a few people, they’d filtered back into the clubhouse throughout the night and morning, looking at him. He lowered his voice. “Will it help?”
Clive grabbed Eddie’s arm to pull him into the boardroom. Eddie snatched his arm back, but instead of backing off, Clive grabbed him again and pulled him over to a corner, where they wouldn’t be heard.
“I don’t know!” Clive hissed. “I don’t know, okay? Maybe it’ll keep him going another hour. Maybe it’ll keep him going another five minutes. Either way, he’s going to be dead, very soon,” Clive said, his voice taking on the nasal honky timbre of someone trying not to cry.
Eddie reached out to comfort him, and it was Clive’s turn to smack him away. Clive walked back toward Chuy, and Eddie made to follow, but he went lightheaded and nearly toppled over. Clive turned around and caught him under the armpits, but nearly dropped him anyway, because Eddie was quite a lot bigger. Eddie managed to get his feet under him and stand up, his head swimming, black encroaching. He stood very still for a moment and the wave of oddly bright darkness passed.
“Go drink some orange juice,” Clive said.
“Who’re you? Red Cross?” Eddie said. “I’m fine.” He took a step forward and almost fell again. When his vision expanded back out from a pinhole, the first thing Eddie saw was Clive’s annoyed face. “I’m gonna go get some orange juice.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Clive said. Then, he called over Diego to sit with Chuy for a bit.
Eddie carefully picked his way over to the bar. He poured a glass of orange juice and added a splash of gin as well. He sat down and sipped the drink. He let his eyes slip closed.
“Hey Eddie--” a voice began, before being viciously cut off by another voice. Clive’s voice.
“If this isn’t life or death, then leave him be. Is it life or death?” Clive asked.
“I was gonna ask where the plunger is,” the voice said. Eddie thought it was the prospect, Rat, but he didn’t feel like opening his eyes to check.
“Get the fuck outta here,” Clive said.
“‘S in the ladies’ room,” Eddie mumbled. “Put it back when you’re done.” If it was left in the men’s room, it would be destroyed in a matter of days.
“He’s already gone,” Clive said.
“Oh,” Eddie said.
“When’s the last time you slept?” Clive asked.
Eddie shrugged. He still hadn’t opened his eyes.
“Why don’t you head over to the bunkhouse?” Clive said. “Get a little rest. If anything changes, I’ll come grab you.”
Eddie finally opened his eyes, and straightened up. “I’m fine. I gotta stick around here, in case someone needs me. I’ll just sit here,” he said.
“We both know that’s not true. You’re gonna get a thousand more dipshit questions just like that.” He pointed at Raton wandering around still looking for the plunger. Clive must have read the refusal on Eddie’s face and decided to reach for a compromise. “Okay, fine, just go into the boardroom okay? Sit with the lights off for a bit.”
Eddie shook his head. “Nah--”
“I get it, you’re strong, you’re tough, no one fucking doubts it. But you’re not going to be any good to anybody if you pass out because you gave four pints of blood and haven’t slept in 48 hours. That sound like someone who’s feeling sharp?” Clive said.
Eddie bared his teeth into a sneer, poking his tongue into his lower lip. “You don’t get it.”
“What don’t I get?” Clive asked.
“I’m the one who--” Eddie realized he was shouting and dropped his voice back down low. “I’m the one who sent him down there.”
“Because you trusted him,” Clive said.
“And look where that got him,” Eddie said. “It’s my fault. So I can’t just go take a nap while he is lying on that table dying.”
“He’s dying either way,” Clive said. “Please,” he added, very softly so no one could hear.
Something in Clive’s voice made Eddie really look at him. There was a deep furrow between Clive’s eyebrows, it always showed up when he was worried. There were dark circles under his eyes. The sweat in his hair had dried, sculpting his hair into strange configurations. Clive hadn’t gotten much rest either. Eddie wanted to reach out and touch Clive’s face, rest his palm against Clive’s cheek. He hated that there was a part of him that was worried that the others could tell what he was thinking.
shout out to Dreamworks Dragons for having two physically disabled main characters and multiple disabled secondary characters and making none of it about their struggle to move past their disabilities. they’re just disabled and getting on with life and none of it is angsty. also it has multiple queer-coded characters with no homophobic bullshit (Gobber’s canonically gay, Snotlout’s implied to be bi, and i’m pretty sure Bucket and Mulch are married). only thing i can really say is it lacks poc characters but tbf it’s set in Sweden in the eleventh century.
Starring: Michael Urie, Philemon Chambers, Jennifer Coolidge, Kathy Najimy
Plot Synopsis: “Desperate to avoid his family's judgment about his perpetual single status, Peter convinces his best friend Nick to join him for the holidays and pretend that they're now in a relationship. But when Peter's mother sets him up on a blind date with her handsome trainer James the plan goes awry.”
Thoughts: This movie is the gay TV Christmas movie that dreams are made of. There’s no coming out drama, limited angst, there’s not even really a villain. For years we’ve watched women on Hallmark debate leaving the big city for the small town, and now we get to watch gay men do that too. Jennifer Coolidge plays a hilarious theatre diva Aunt, and Kathy Najimy was a great overbearing mother. This movie was everything I wanted The Christmas Setup last year with Fran Drescher to be. There was some truly hilarious family match-making plotting.
Peter’s mother reminds us about 5 times that she just learned in a book that gay friends don’t have to be secretly attracted to each other, but don’t worry these gay friends definitely are. Single All The Way wants you to think it’s going to be a “fake relationship” movie, but it’s not. It’s really a classic secret pining and jealousy movie. Which might be better than a fake relationship plot. Speaking of jealousy, Luke MacFarlane plays an adorable wannabe instagay and romantic rival James. MacFarlane is a Hallmark Christmas veteran, but he usually gets pushed into some fairly corporate carboard leading man roles, so it was great to see this out actor play a fun character. Let him play more gay characters!
This movie is full of cheesy goodness and traditional ridiculous TV Christmas movie logic. For Netflix’s first gay Christmas movie it was great, in fact I’d say it was way better than their straight Christmas movies.
Here are character mood boards for my new story, One of the Restless
Chris
Chris is a 12 year old trans boy. His father was the leader of the werewolf motorcycle gang, the Restless Outlaw Pack, until he was murdered. Chris is serious and intense. He doesn’t trust easily because of his abusive father. He has also kept the fact that he is a werewolf a secret from everyone he knows.
Eddie
Eddie is the new leader of the Restless. Chris’s father raised him like a son and he is like an older brother to Chris. He loves the motorcycle club more than anything. He is gay but very much still in the closet. He has a triumph motorcycle and is a big mother hen to the other members of the club.
Johnny
Johnny is an outsider to the club. He is a trans man who loves anything having to do with Cowboys. He has a flashy sense of style. He is a stringer, a type of magician capable of manipulating the strings of the universe. He has a lot of trouble with the law and never knows when to shut up.
One of the Restless begins with the murder of Chris’s father, Dev. Eddie is determined to find out who killed Dev, but the full moon is coming up and he is worried about his ability to protect Chris during the change and so he hired Johnny to protect Chris for a few days.
