[2016 masterlist] AND A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!!
THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of you that took part in this little Christmas exchange!! Be it with works of your own, or just by enjoying the surprises and gifts that everyone made!! Do you want to make sure you didn’t miss anything? Here is our 2016 TMR Christmas masterlist!!
Newt’s Advent Calendar
Not bad Greenies!! Congrats to the whole Crew for bloody awesomely spreading Christmas Spirit all over the Glade :
@emmaandorlando with the sweetest Christmas playlist and a Minewt Christmas Urban legend (yeah :D)
@gingerglader who was a life-saver, with a fun and cute Christmas Thominewt :D
@narniaismymaze and the cutest Newtmas Christmas headcanon
@newtmnas and the most heartwaming selection of gifs for Christmas
@sobloodyinspired and a fic full of Gladers where everyone got their happy end
@keeperoftherunnerrs and their cutest Santa in the Glade :D
@mushyfern and an awesome Thominewt HP Christmas art
@kawai-kettu and a GallyxAris fic and Incorrect TMR Christmas quotes
@mssmartian and a Gally fic full of emotions ç_ç
Gally’s Secret Santa
Good to know there are still shanks out there that can be trusted : the Glade should live long with such incredible Little Helpers with a special talent to spread joy around for Christmas :D
From @emmaandorlando to keeperoftherunners, a Minho+Newt fic, Quiet and Understood
From @gingerglader to rainydaydream-gal, a Christmas NewtxReader
From @kawai-kettu to Mushyfern, a slight Thominewt supernatural fic,
From @keeperoftherunnerrs to sapphicmaia, Christmas Thominewt Headers
From @mushyfern to gingerglader, a Newt and Sonya meeting again fanart
From @newtmnas to onthecyberseas, a Thominewt Royalty AU moodboard
From @sapphicmaia to emmaandorlando, a Minewt fic, To the beat of the drum
From @onthecyberseas to newtmnass, Newtmas santa helpers XD
Stay tuned for Minho’ Top 20 TMR fics, courtesy of the one and only @straightouttatheglade !! <3
And again, many thanks to @captaingally for letting us use their icons :D
Thomas grabbed two cookies from the full platter Laura was holding. Both were covered in ample, white, sugary icing. He thanked the woman in front of him and turned to Brenda, who sat beside him, and handed a cookie to her already outstretched hand.
Christmas, for the second year in Paradise, was going smoothly. The houses they'd finally finished were equipped with fireplaces, which were definitely coming in handy at the moment, even if it was only a little nippy outside.
Thomas thought about all they'd accomplished since they'd arrived, all his friends and the other immunes, and some families that had survived as well. Miraculously, they all had made it to the safe haven. They'd constructed a neighborhood, a small school - there were two teachers that came through the flat trans - and a meeting hall. There were yet to be any symptoms of the flare exhibited by any one person; everyone seemed uninfected.
But Thomas was brought back to the current festivities with a nudge from Brenda. She eyed him curiously.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
“Oh, just us. How we all escaped and got here safely. How we made this new community.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty amazing. Pretty miraculous.”
As she spoke those words, Brenda gave a quick glance upwards. Then she bit into her cookie.
“Hey!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Hey, Laura! These are great!”
Laura, a woman in her early thirties with two children, did pretty much all the baking for the town whenever there was a special occasion or holiday. Paradise was limited in its resources, but it wasn’t anything any of the residents weren’t used to, and Laura made delicious desserts considering what she had to work with.
Laura turned from where she was, already at the other end of the room, and smiled sweetly at Brenda, who was finishing her treat with wide eyes. Thomas was just about to finally bite into his own cookie, to see if Brenda was exaggerating about its goodness - she had a knack for being a bit overdramatic - when Newt came and sat down beside him.
“Hey, Tommy.”
“Hey, Newt.”
“Listen, not to sound like a pig, but when’s dinner? I’m starving, haven’t eaten anything all day.”
Thomas smiled. Newt was getting his appetite back, a good sign of his recovery. Newt, who’d probably been depressed for longer than anyone realized, had had a somewhat trying time the past few months. When the Gladers’ and Glenners’ memories came back nearly entirely around the middle of the year, Newt relived some things he would have rather forgotten, things regarding his family, mostly. With the cold weather came low moods and an unwillingness to participate in any community activities. But, with Christmas nearing, which many of the Gladers remembered celebrating, Newt included, he became immensely happier. He became comfortable around his sister, Lizzy, and the two were just about inseparable.
“Dinner should be soon, probably in about thirty minutes. But...why didn’t you eat breakfast with us?”
“Oh, I’ve been too busy. Had to wrap presents for you lot.”
“Presents?!”
“Yeah, ‘course.”
“Shuck, Newt, I didn’t get you anything.”
“Didn’t expect anything, Tommy. I just wanted to do a little something for all of you. The Gladers.”
Thomas smiled, “Thanks.”
“You’re going to love it, Tommy. It’s a great gift. But, before we get too sappy, have you noticed Minho yet? Over there, next to Miyoko.”
Newt pointed across the room to a spot right next to the tall Christmas tree in the corner. Next to it, on the floor, Minho sat next to Miyoko, a Glenner. Both were sat in front of about seven or eight munie children, all of whom were watching Minho attentively.
He appeared to be telling some story, as he was making large gestures with his hands and arms, as if acting out what he was telling the children. His face too, had more expression in it than usual; his eyebrows had never moved so quickly, his eyes had never been so large.
Newt and Thomas watched silently for a few moments before Minho suddenly put on an angry expression and pounded his chest with two balled fists, like a gorilla.
“Ahh,” Newt said. “See, that’s you, Tommy.”
Thomas looked at Newt incredulously, “What?! No way, I don’t look like a monkey, ever.”
Newt smiled slyly, “You do when you’re runnin’. Those arms of yours fly all over the place.”
With a snicker Newt jumped up from the couch and jogged away, out of Thomas’s reach. He settled over by the fireplace and sat next to Teresa and Gally, who were chatting happily, each grasping what Thomas believed were mugs of hot chocolate.
Thomas caught Newt’s eye and stuck his tongue out at his friend in mock annoyance. Newt only smiled back and waved, which drew Teresa’s attention away from her conversation with Gally.
She turned to see who Newt was waving at, and saw her friend across the room.
She gave Thomas a small smile and sent a message to him: Hey, Tom.
Thomas stared back at her and continued the conversation.
Teresa.
You enjoying the party?
Yeah, it’s great. Michael was too generous to let everyone come over again. We made a mess last year.
Michael’s a nice guy, I’m sure he’s more than happy to have everyone here.
…
I got you a gift, Tom. Was hoping you’d open it tonight, after the party’s over.
You too?! Newt said he got me one, I didn’t get one for anybody. Gosh, Teresa, I’m s-
Tom, it’s okay! Seriously. Don’t worry about it. You’ve done enough for everyone.
Thomas was taken aback by Teresa’s words. In a good way. He thought he saw her eyes get watery, but he wasn’t sure.
I’m glad we’re here, Tom.
Yeah, me too.
Teresa gave Thomas another smile before turning back to Gally, who had been talking to Newt during her private conversation with Thomas. Now, both boys turned to Teresa, and the three of them began to talk casually.
Thomas watched them until another nudge from Brenda, this time a light punch on his shoulder, disrupted his concentration.
Brenda stared at Thomas for a moment before moving closer to him. She nestled into his side comfortably and leaned her head against his shoulder. Thomas could only stare at her.
Before he could even react, Brenda reached out with one arm and grabbed the cookie Thomas still held in his hand.
“It’s been twenty minutes and you’ve haven’t eaten this. C’mon, man. I bet Chuck’s devoured at least three of these by now.”
And with that, Brenda broke the cookie in half, taking one half for herself and placing the other back in Thomas’s still open hand.
She munched happily, trying not to smirk as she did so. Thomas, annoyed in a playful way, laughed quietly. Finally, he took a bite of his treat.
His face, obviously displaying his pleasure and appreciation for the cookie, made Brenda laugh.
“Took you long enough.”
“Hey, I just like to savor the moment. Tonight, and this cookie.”
Thomas put his arm around Brenda, and the pair finished their halves of the same treat, snuggling quietly and watching all their friends, their family, celebrate Christmas together.
Christmas was always a special time in the glade. Everything felt a little bit lighter and a little bit brighter. Except for one thing. Newt’s dreadful mistletoes. They were everywhere and nowhere. But if you got caught under one it was nothing else to do than kiss. Sure, most just kissed lightly on the cheek, but some people really went for it. And after a certain someone come up from the box Newt suddenly got extra excited about his mistletoes and tried his best to get caught under it with this certain someone. And he got caught under it a bunch of times before he finally got to kiss the boy he was wishing for.
Oh, and then there was Minho. Walking around with a mistletoe right above his butt so people could “kiss his ass”. But even with mistletoes hanging everywhere, it was one of the happiest times in the glade.
Newt: I just say we should bloody celebrate Christmas. Why should we let the Creators steal that from us too?
Alby: So what? A Christmas party? Santa and gifts?
Ben: I remember Gally dressed in the red suit, the big black boots and the patent leather belt, sneaking around downstairs. He didn't want anybody see him, but he'd be drunk, so he'd stumble, crash into something, and wake everybody up.
Frypan: Well, that doesn't sound like a very merry Christmas.
Ben: Who said anything about Christmas?
- Friends
[Carols]
Winston: [as the Medjacks pass near him, to the tune of 'Jingle Bells'] Pulling down his pants, yanking off my own, underneath the mistletoe I'll make your medjack moan - OOOH! Jeff is hot, Jeff is hot, and we'll go all the way...
[as he walks near the fields, to the tune of 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas'] I wish I could see him naked. I wish I could see him naked. I wish I could see him naked...and down on all fours! [Zart flies away, his face burning red]
[as Minho and Ben jog by, coming back from their daily Run, to the tune of 'The Dreidel Song'] Ben has a sexy keeper, gets hotter every day, and if I ever meet him with his booty I will play - Everybody! Keeper, keeper, keeper... [a running shoes hits him square in the face]
- How I met your mother
[Welcome to Santa]
Newt: Or we could just have some kind of Secret Santa? Each of us preparing a make-shift gift for another Glader.
Alby: Yeah. But not just that.... The children must be allowed to be children again. They must learn what it means to have fun. We need a Santa Claus on the Glade!!
[after a moment of hesitation, all Keepers turn towards Minho]
- Santa Claus conquers the Martians
[Minho is not at all thrilled about being assigned to be Santa. He and Alby are at the homestead, getting him dressed like Santa]
Alby: [chuckles] Okay, Mr. Claus. Let's hear your best Santa laugh!
Minho: [dully] Ho, ho.
Alby: You left out a 'ho', Minho. It's three ho's, did you even read the Santa manual?
Minho: [looks at him with both eyebrows up, a silent ‘really, shank’?]
Alby: Okay shank, I'm sure you'll do fine. Just remember, Santa is a cheerful, jolly fellow, who never calls a child "shuckface".
- That’s 70′s show
[Logical consequences]
Frypan: So, technically, you slept with Santa?
Newt: Well, I didn't know he was Santa at the time... but technically, I guess I did.
Frypan: Well, ho, ho, ho!
-This Christmas
[The long walk of Shame through the Glade]
Gally: Hey jingle balls! Move your candycanes!
-Sacré Père Noël
[Chuck is suspicious]
Chuck: What are their names?
Santa!Minho: Who?
Chuck: The Elves.
Santa!Minho: Shit, I can't remember, I think one of them is Sneezy and there's a Dopey...
Chuck: That's the seven dwarfs!
Santa!Minho: You're klunkin' me? I thought... I was thinking there was a... I don't know! Shuck, kid; I just call them you know Bub, I call them... I say hey Bub or Chief or whatever the shuck, I tell them to make the god dammed toys.
Chuck : ……
Santa!Minho: What the SHUCK is wrong with you? I can't remember this klunk. Does everything with you have to be a shucking test?
Chuck: …..
Santa!Minho: ….
Chuck: ….How old are they?
- Bad Santa
[Talking with Santa]
Newt: I've always had a thing for Santa Claus. In case you didn't notice. It's like some deep-seeded childhood thing.
Santa!Minho: So is my thing for butts.
- Bad Santa
[Chuck is suspicious - continued]
Chuck: It's Christmas Eve.
Santa!Minho: Yes. Yes, tell me that.
Chuck: Yeah, well, then why aren't you out delivering presents?
Santa!Minho: Technically, I am.
Chuck: No, you're not, 'cause you're stood right there.
Santa!Minho: [exasperated sigh] Ah, shank, grow up, love.... Just one Santa delivery team? How could there be? There are 526,403,012 children, all expecting presents before tomorrow morning. So, that's 22 million children per hour. It's impossible. Obviously, I got a second sled.
- Doctor Who
[Respecting tradition]
Santa!Minho: At this time in the proceedings, it is a tradition for me to make a little speech.
Frypan: And it's a tradition for us to take a little nap!
Santa!Minho: My speech! Here's my Christmas speech. Ahem. "Thank you all, and Merry Christmas."
Alby: That was the speech?
Chuck: It was dumb!
Winston: It was obvious!
Chuck: It was pointless!
Winston: It was... short!
Chuck and Winston: I loved it!
[This is kinda Part 2 of Flicker, so set in Canon verse, post TDC.]
“Why can’t we just have a feast like back in the Glade? .....Whose shucking idea is this? It’s from Thomas’ right? Or from his half crazy beard?”
To be honest, he would have added something more derogatory, but his contemptuous tone makes it clear that he isn’t sold on this idea. Frypan is cringing in response, which is exactly what Gally wanted to achieve.
He wishes they would let him out of their little scheme. He absolutely doesn’t feel like playing along.
“Man, don’t be a Grinch. Many people here want to celebrate.”
The Glader looks at him with a mix of indignation and pleading, making Gally groan and want to argue even more:
“Well, as far as I remember, Christmas is something to celebrate with your family.”
He understands that this clever retort was a wrong move the instant the words leave his mouth, the instant a flash of pain passes through Frypan’s chocolate brown eyes.
“No; it’s something to celebrate with loved ones, Gall’. Which is good. Not many of us here have enough of a family left to spend Christmas with.”
He falls silent at this, ashamed of himself yet reluctant to utter a word of apology. Frypan isn’t mad at him, though, Gally realises with a stolen glance. The cook is, in fact, smiling to himself, still kneading dough; he doesn’t look worried anymore that Gally might drop out of the first Christmas party ever organised in Paradise.
Shuck him.
“….Playing Secret Santa is still dumb.”
The other teen only chuckles back.
“You might be surprised, Gall’.”
***
At least the gods are clement enough that he is supposed to offer a gift to some little girl he’s never spoken with, a 6 year-old almond-eyed tiny princess, carting a busted doll around.
He’s glad. Children are easy to please, so he shouldn’t have too much problem with keeping his side of the bargain. [He still spends four nights building her a castle doll house. He uses every scrap of discarded material he can find on the building site their team works on. The castle is a mismatched, perfect little décor for a little girl’s dreams.]
He doesn’t worry himself over what he’s gonna get in return, who is the unlucky shank who’s been assigned to finding Gally a gift in return. He’ll probably get a noodle necklace anyway. He’s not close to that many people here, and even then, what is there to offer, in this puny dump of a Paradise?
From what he’s heard, Frypan has been trying for days to create cookies using whatever ingredients he can to make for the absence of chocolate chips. Cameron is worried sick about not finding the proper present for Pixie Beard (he still refuses to call her Brenda, to the damn girl’s amusement). Minho stays surprisingly silent on his own gift preparations, only smiling slyly every time Thomas pesters him about it.
Honestly, Gally doesn’t care too much.
He doesn’t.
“You like silence, yeah?”
He blinks, looking up when he understands the question is directed at him.
Aris pointedly looks at his own hands, focused on the task at hand, tying up sheaths together. He doesn’t even look up when Gally keeps staring at him, even if the situation obviously makes him uncomfortable, his cheeks rose-tinted.
When Gally feels like this agony has lasted enough, he offers a gruff answer:
“If you need someone more talkative, go ask to be partnered with Mahdi.”
These words manage to have the other teenager look up, in surprise and, if Gally didn’t know better, fear.
“….I don’t mind quiet people.”
They stay in silence for a moment for a moment longer, each working on their task, the absence of conversation morphing back into something comfortable and easy.
It’s not until Gally has stopped worrying that Aris whispers, averting his eyes again :
“I just wanted to find out what you like.”
Gally could easily ignore this. He could. He should, too, probably, because to tell the truth, he doesn’t quite know what to answer. What does he like? ….It makes him pause, this question. It’s far easier to define what he doesn’t like. Or what he wants. To be left alone. For this whole world not to be the shucking mess it is. To be safe and survive? To be useful and to ensure he’ll protect whatever they still got, this frail grasp on a new, normal life.
He doesn’t say all of this. He almost doesn’t say anything.
“I like order.”
It must not quite be what Aris was looking for, because a veil of disappointment passes over his delicate features; Gally shouldn’t feel concern about it, should feel bad, but he does, and so he blurts out:
“I like to be in control.”
When the green eyes widen and the olive cheeks turn a dark shade, Gally can’t quite pinpoint why Aris reacts like this, but he knows that this has to do with Gally’s words, so he should probably blame himself. Again.
He groans, raising his hands in defeat, and hiding his confusion under annoyance:
“What does it matter to you anyway, shank? And why- you know what, just leave it. We’ll finish this job tomorrow, can’t concentrate today, won’t do anything good.”
He surprises himself at how soft he is; he could have flared up, would probably have two years ago, except he’s different now. And his work partner is always shy and hesitant, and Gally takes no pleasure in lashing out on scared animals.
As they walk back, Aris keeps throwing Gally’s silent looks that are more and more difficult to ignore.
***
They celebrate Christmas Eve all together, huddled in the recently completed Community House. There are lights and smiles everywhere, and even Christmas decorations, that some Survivors managed to create using straw and wood sticks and yarn. There are carols and a massive fir tree, there’s a fire and a cozy friendliness; for a moment, Gally manages to forget that they live in a world in its death throes.
When each of them goes to sleep that night, it’s with a smile on their lips, and the promise of a Christmas breakfast and gifts to come.
As per tradition, all of the kids among the Survivors are the first to wake up on Christmas morning, bobbing up and down untill they’ve successfully woken up all adults and everyone is groggrily walking back to the Christmas Tree and the Breakfast House in the Community House.
Exchanging gifts is a little messy, what with the sheer number of people in the room, but they manage.
Gally’s his heart melts weirdly when little Jing’s eyes widen in amazement as she discovers the castle doll house. He answers the little girl’s spontaneous and clumsy hug with a grunt that sounds just as awkward (she doesn’t seem to mind, proceeding to examine every little secret the Castle has to offer, with excited little ooohs, showing each of them to her doll).
He leaves her to it and is about to get a bowl of chicory for his breakfast, when light fingers brush against his arm.
Aris has managed to sneak close without Gally’s notice; he’s shifting from one foot to the other, holding out a parcel wrapped in a pretty fern leaf. His cheeks are still a little rosy, probably from everyone’s current contagious excitement, or from stress, his hands shaking the slightest bit as he hands out his gift, whispering :
“Happy Christmas, Gally.”
The hanging mobile is a beautifully delicate work of art, yarn connecting shards of colored glass and rocks that look like gemstones. He lets it hang out in front of him, admires the arrangement of forms and colors, the way it seems to collect light and shine, really shine.
His impressed amazement must be easy to read on his face, as Aris smiles, looking pleased, explaining :
“I thought.... these pieces are born from destruction, but... ...but if we arrange them together, they can create something good and fit within a new order.”
The allegory makes Gally want to snort or cry, he’s not sure which. Instead, he nods, and answers back, in a slightly strangled voice:
“Beauty born from chaos.”
Aris only smiles in answer, gaze dropping down.
They’re both taken by surprise when Gally reaches suddenly without thinking, wrapping the other teen in a one-armed hug. The olive-skinned boy goes rigid for a second, before Gally can feel him relax, enough that he returns the embrace, both of his slender arms moving from Gally’s chest to his back.
They remain like this for too long than acceptable, though no one comments on it, nor does anyone feels the need to point out that Gally’s eyes look a little red-rimmed, as they part.
The mobile is hanged right next to Gally’s bed. It catches the sunlight in the morning, dances softly with the breeze at dawn.
It’s the first thing Gally sees when he wakes up, the last he watches before closing his eyes.
