Belated Merry Christmas

Hola. I can not sleep. The rest of the house is asleep. I can hear my sister breathing.

I have been trying to do this for two hours and have failed miserably. It is 12:32. I got socks for Christmas. They are nice socks. I feel like I should be channeling Dumbledore here.

Therefore, you are getting this piece. It’s the first part of my Christmas Things, the rest of which you can find here:

[redacted]
[redacted]

You can also find the above here: [redacted]. It has the fastest cover in the history of covers. That’s the only difference. Maybe a better explanation of Sagatime, but you already know what that is.

Right?

You may find these things interesting. You may not. I do not care very much. I want to sleep. My sister and I have discussed marrige vows and the various ways of drinking water (e.g. Asian, German, etc). The alarm clock has red glowing numbers. It is way too late. The smoke detector is flashing. I hate that smoke detector and wish to smash it into 209381029319273+ tiny little pieces. My brain is probably in a different time zone.

I have learned to play the recorder. It is a soprano recorder. Which means a) it’s really loud and b) it’s really high. Which means the neighbors are annoyed. Even my ears are annoyed. It’s a great instrument until you realize that you can’t multitask while playing it. You can walk around. But you can’t multitask. And you CAN’T PLAY MULTIPLE NOTES AT ONCE.

Well. you can annoy people. That makes up for part of it. and YOU CAN WALK AROUND WITH IT.

I’m freezing.

If you wish to waste your time, I have compiled a list of my favorite TED talks. You can watch them.
[all redacted, for no particular reason :)))]

You may not question me.

Belated Merry Christmas. May it be filled with belated donuts love, hugs, donuts cookies, and donuts milk. The milk is important.

And this one is called “A Yuletide Carol,” by Charles Chickens Me.

Caitlin may recognize this one. I think I showed it to her. I actually wrote it last year but did not post it due to the lack of existence of blogging in my life. It’s not as funny as I remember, though. *sigh*

SELINA WRITE SOMETHING

IT IS NOW 12:42

IN THE MORNING, IF THAT WASN’T CLEAR ALREADY

I’M TIRED

MY EYES ARE TIRED

I REALLY NEED TO SLEEP

I ALSO REALLY NEED ONE OF THOSE EYE-COVERING THINGS BECAUSE OTHERWISE I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SLEEP

ALSDKFJALSKDJFLAIEWORUAOEWUROW!!!

~

It was the holiday season, and Thor was in charge of the decorations.

He’d dragged in the Christmas tree, thrown the Yule log in the fireplace, donned the Santa Claus hat, and tried to bake a turkey. Odin had panicked and hurriedly excused him — read, kicked him out.

Which was why Thor was dressing up his two goats as reindeer.

With a red beard that stuck out in every direction and arms as thick as tree trunks, Thor was rather intimidating. But he was also wearing a Santa Claus hat, and Santa Claus hats make everything better.

Toothgnasher (Vixen) bleated and tried to shake off the antlers Thor had just stuck to his head. The goat’s head, not Thor’s.

“Be a good goat,” Thor grunted, straightening the antlers again.

Toothgrinder (Blitzen) butted Toothgnasher with his antlers. Immediately, Toothgnasher growled at the other goat and thrust his antlers at him.

“No, Toothgnasher. Bad Toothgrinder,” Thor said, pushing the two goats apart. They looked at him and bared their teeth.

“No,” he said again. “Bad goats.”

They shuffled apart. Toothgrinder snuggled up for a scratch, and Thor obliged. Toothgnasher butted Toothgrinder, attempting to secure a spot. Toothgrinder butted Toothgnasher back.

Thor pressed his face into his hands and promptly gave up. He pried apart the two goats. “Go on, shoo. Don’t bother too many people. Go on.”

Toothgnasher looked at Thor pleadingly.

“Oh, all right,” Thor sighed, and took off the antlers. Toothgnasher waggled his ears at Toothgrinder with a grin that only goats can manage. Toothgrinder growled.

“Stop it.” Thor dragged Toothgrinder back and unclipped his antlers rather reluctantly. “Run along, you two.” He pushed the goats away, and they ran wherever goats run when they are bored.

Thor got up, brushing off his pants and squinting into the sun. It was about ten o’clock in the morning, and he still had to persuade Odin to be Santa Claus.

Reaching into a pocket, he picked out a set of foldable skis (an early Christmas present from Ullr, the poor guy — he’d forgotten when Christmas was). He snapped them on and stepped into them.

Standing on the hilltop and whooping, Thor plunged down into the snow, skiing as if his life depended on it. He got to Valhalla twice as fast as usual, though with a twice-as-messy beard. He straightened it, checked that his Santa Claus hat was still on, and kicked the door open with the skill of someone who specializes in kicking doors open.

Thor opened his mouth to start dictating his speech (he’d written an excellent persuasive essay) and looked up at Odin and a large host of Viking ghosts. He promptly scraped the speech.

“Hi,” he said.

Odin was (very reluctantly) dressed in a too-big Santa Claus suit, glumly sporting a sack of toys slung over his back. “Ho ho ho,” he said unenthusiastically. “You have just tossed my reputation down the drain.”

“Yay!” yelled Thor, hugging Odin. He’d only recently learned how to do this without strangling people and was now doing it as much as possible.

Odin mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” Thor beamed.

“Nothing,” Odin said. He straightened his Santa hat.

“Well, I was wondering if you had Christmas lights for the tree,” Thor said.

A brief smile flickered across Odin’s face. “Try the attic,” he said.

“And ornaments?”

“Up there too,” Odin said. He tugged at his sleeve.

“Good. I’m going to get them — see you later.” Thor ran outside, completely missing the fact that Odin was waving back. He tripped over Toothgnasher. “Oh. Hi.”

Toothgnasher bleated.

“What is it?”

The goat ran away.

Thor sighed. He would never understand goats.

He scratched his beard, frowning. Christmas tree lights, ornaments, and what was that smell?
The stench of burnt fowl wafted through the air.

Thor swore and ran off to save it.

~~~

“Thor swore” rhymes. I’m tired.

MERRY CHIRSTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.

(you knew that was coming, did you? Or did you not?)

TO BE OR NOT TO BE THAT IS THE QUESTION

AND I DON’T KNWO WHAT AI’MM WAYING ANYMORE.

The one I fail to title

Need more things on this blog. *glares*

Right now I am developing an obsession with Twitter and Wordpress. This means that a) a lot of my stuff is going on my blog(s — I don’t consider a storage room for my writing to be a blog) and b) Calletrix promptly is very lacking in new written pieces.

You know, you should just go on my blog. It’s snowing there. I bet tumblrs don’t do that. You can see it especially on [redacted]. And I try to direct people to my other blog…

GUYS YOU REALLY NEED TO WRITE MORE

SELINA CHARLOTTE HAS WRITTEN MORE THAN YOU HAVE

SO WRITE SOMETHING

I* do a thing called #Sagatime on Twitter, which is adapted from Joanne Harris’s** #Storytime. Most of the time I post it somewhere. Usually I do not put it here. 

Because I have a blog, I shall direct you to blog post for further explanation: [redacted]

*looks at Christine pointedly* This one’s for you. It’s also the only reason I’m putting it here.

~

Once upon a lemon tree there lived an elf among its branches.

She was very pretty and had features that biologists and novelists generally agreed on.

She also had wings and used them to flit about happily between the branches of the lemon tree.

One day, there came a handsome stranger with similarly gossamer wings who enjoyed flitting about the lemon tree as well.

He had strangely perfect features. The elf thought he was a bit boring. She wasn’t one for romance.

But boys are intruging, even in the elf world, and so the elf followed him home one day.

She did not think it was very creepy. Elvish society encourages stalking others, especially handsome but boring boys.

In case you have not noticed, Elvish society is strange.

She thought this might’ve been because all Elvish girls must take classes on stalking handsome Elvish boys at school.

As she followed him, she noticed that his wings were molting. They melted down his back and dripped into the ground slowly.

She stepped over the puddles. He walked on, still unaware of her.

Now his clothes were melting. And his skin. At the same time. They turned into the same quicksilver-y stuff.

She stepped over the mathematical-esque shapes in the ground and kept her eyes on the stranger. His wings were gone now. They turned into a dark quicksilver puddle, sliding over the ground like an eerie pool of…

Worms, she decided. Definitely worms. The liquid was squiggly.

So she kept following him, and he kept walking until suddenly he stopped.

This was mainly because if he did not, he would’ve fallen over a cliff. He turned around and faced her. For the first time, the elf noticed her surroundings.

They were in a cavern, towering over them both. She could see her lemon tree. It was a golden-green tower in the darkness. The cavern ceiling was sprinkled with sparkly diamond things. She wasn’t sure what they were.

It was cold.

“Why are you following me?” he asked.

“I was curious,” she said. “And— and it was my final for Stalking 101.”

“I would wish you to pass,” he said. He was still dripping quicksilver, and his voice wasn’t quite the same as before. It was hollow with the sound of metal.

She took a step back. Behind her, something whispered against the ground, snake-like.

The elf-imposter raised a finger to its lips. Its face was melting. “No magic in the world can save you now,” it said. Its face was silver.

She turned. A wave of silver was crashing down upon her. She looked back at the elf-imposter. It was expressionless.

Quietly, she opened up her wings. She stared at the silver ocean. She watched it come crashing down.

And she flew away, far away, faster and faster, into the night. She flew where all the other elves had gone.

She could not fight the imposter. She could only run. No one ever saw her again, or any of her kind.

Back home, the lemon tree became angry. It noticed her leave. It remembered the imposter and its quicksilver smell. And so it grew spikes. Big, long, green ones. When the imposter came back, pleased and in its Elvish suit once more, the lemon tree refused to let it back in.

The imposter never bothered anyone again.

~

* @[redacted lmao also i changed it again]. I’m fairly sure it’s not good ettiquette to change your handle after you’ve chosen it. But I don’t know, since I fail at social media. which I have said 7000000+ times already. Sue me.

** @joannechocolat. She’s awesome. In case you have not noticed this particular aspect of me, I absolutely love her stuff. DID YOU KNOW THAT SHE ACTUALLY ONCE HAD LONG HAIR??!?!?