All characters showcased here are owned by their original creators and/or the nice gentlemen with powerful lawyers who stole them away.
I make no money from this crap.
How Fanfiction Stole Christmas!
A Foreword.
I'm afraid I've never been too big on Christmas. It's one of those things I really would want to put more stock on, but sadly, I just can't. It's not that I hate it, or that I actively try to be a Scrooge, it's just I'm naturally apathetic to it. I love pretty much all versions of Dickens' classic, even the Bill Murray one, except for the two craptastic attempts the normally brilliant Looney Tunes did. Heck, I even honestly like Jim Carrey's Grinch. And even so, Christmas just can't help feeling somewhat empty and shallow to me. I guess, despite how much of an agnostic I am (again, true Faith is another of those things I'd love to be actually able to feel, but alas), I'd feel more respect for the festivities if they actually assumed they are about the birth of Christ instead of obsessively centering about the distorted image of a saint turned into Magic Man with Reindeers Living in the North Pole.
Perhaps, as often is the case, television has part of the blame, since I was raised with TV teaching me Christmas was something to be associated with wonderful snowy landscapes, while I lived in a tropical zone that, if anything, is hotter than ever in December.
Perhaps, as with many things that went wrong with me, part of the blame lies on how much of a sheltered childhood I had, which ultimately made me a quite sad child and later adult (My upbringing probably can be described perfectly with the 'Paved with good intentions…' saying). Perhaps it all ultimately comes to that wonderful moving toy train in a diorama, tracks and all, I saw in a book and wished for only to receive a much cheaper plastic train with no batteries or movement beyond 'Push it around yourself' my mother (the wonderfully beloved, sweet and devoted but also innocently smothering, harmful 'good intentions' person) could buy. Perhaps it was the fact, unlike in all those movies and TV shows, Santa or El Niño Jesus never came afterwards to give me the 'right' gift after the fact. Whatever the cause was, Christmas soon stopped having any real meaning to me beyond 'Excuse to have a whole lot of free days', and even that ceased to be after I got myself a job.
But you know what? Writing little smartass Christmas snippets. That has given me back some true measure of joy for Christmas. And I thank you all for that. For giving me that chance.
Just forgive me for the Mars Attacks! piece, please. Sorry, Baby Jesus. I'm so sorry…
Indiana Jones and the Meaning of Christmas.
Marcus Brody sat behind his desk, giving his best friend a deeply disheartened look. "Then, you didn't find anything after all, did you?"
Professor Henry Jones Jr. shook his head slowly. "No. Nothing but ice, snow and rocks. I found a gigantic subterranean labyrinth, yes, but it only has a geological value. I can guarantee I saw no signs at all of any human presence down there."
Because there could be no way those diminutive beings clad in green and red, worshipping a morbidly large and obese old king dressed only in red, and constantly manufacturing grotesque primitive toys, might have been human. And even after all the Temples of Doom, Arks of the Alliance and Holy Grails, he could not bring himself to tell anyone, not even Marcus or Marion, he had seen that.
You Forge your Own Happiness.
That Christmas morning, Lex Luthor woke up very early and headed straight for his expensive loose sock hanging by his chimney. No doubt Superman had taken the other one when was not looking, but he had at least been able to give the remaining one a good use. As usual, he made the best out of a bad situation.
As expected, the sock had been filled with coal. That myopic (no doubt alien) old man and his outdated views on morality. When would he learn they had bought the festivities from him?
Undaunted, Luthor scooped the sock up, carried it to a nearby machine of intricate design, poured its contents into the device, and turned the artifact on, producing a large chunk of glowing green rock.
He smiled. Always making the best out of a bad situation.
Merry Christmas, Dear Dad.
Trigon the Terrible, Lord of Darkness, Enemy of all Living Creatures, sat before the colorful package delivered before him, which made the rocky ground it stood on to sizzle at its mere presence.
The towering red skinned behemoth snarled gruffly, making his minions back away. He read the message attached to the package. For Father. Merry Christmas. Raven.
"She mocks me," Trigon growled, full of spite and viciousness. "She knows there is nothing repulsing me more than the pretenses of love and care. And yet, she has the sheer audacity to send this to me!"
His huge hands took hold of the package, undoing it even as his palms and fingers burned, which barely registered as any kind of actual pain. His growls grew even fiercer and more bestial. "I would congratulate her courage to provoke me so, if only she was not using these frivolous human festivities to do so! Truly, over this offense, I shall make an eternal rain of fire over that base world she favors so much!"
He looked at the last-gen cellphone he had pulled out of the package. "Curse her! And she knows I have no idea how to use these confounding objects, either!"
The Tower:
"Merry Holiday in Commemoration of the Birth of a Religious Leader you Probably don't Believe in, Raven!" Starfire said as she gave her best friend her gift. "Did you finally send that gift to your father in the vain hopes to make amends with him? I know I did with my sister!"
"I chose what he needs the most," Raven deadpanned.
"My parents are deeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaad," lamented Robin.
Together.
Norman couldn't help spending Christmas alone with his mother. Even if he had wanted to ditch her, as modern youngsters would have put it, to enjoy the festivities on his own, his conscience and guilt wouldn't have let him, and who else could take care of her anyway?
Most likely, he wouldn't have known what to do in Christmas without her, anyway. He had spent every Christmas of his life at her side, and that had left him... sadly (or not?) unable to ever hazard a guess of how it could be, spending those cherished times with anyone else. It was just unconceivable. It would have felt wrong.
Christmas was, after all, as Norman reasoned, a time to spend with your family and loved ones, and he had none of either but her. Turning his back on her, nagging and unbearable as she could be at times, would have been not only wrong, but pointless.
So it was a small sacrifice, to spend the whole evening alone with her, upstairs, where it was warm and safe, far from those who could hurt them. The world wasn't a safe place anymore. The only sane thing left to do was secluding yourself from it.
At some point, as the snow fell outside, he heard Mrs. Bates' voice reluctantly and gruffly saying, with a strange warmth to it, "Merry Christmas, son."
And he smiled. "Thanks. I love you."
Mars Attacks! Christmas!
Three wise men saw it before than anyone else. A star falling towards the lands of Israel.
In truth, it was a flying saucer from the planet Mars, the world of war. It crashed near a small village of oppressed farmers, and out of it stormed the Martians, fearsome, grotesque invaders clad in flexible suits that protected their frail, thin bodies; under their transparent helmets, their large, bulbous green heads cackled a constant, unnerving litany of dry, humorless and cruel laughter.
Their bugging eyes glinted with perfidious glee as they advanced towards the village, murdering all shepherds and sheep on their way with their deadly heat rays.
"Ak-ak-ak! Aaak aaaakkk aakkakakakakkkk!"
Soon, they reached a tiny, humble stable in the outskirts. After killing the small boy carrying a tinfoil drum approaching the entrance, the Martians stormed in, startling the young couple who rested there, along with their newborn son, an ox and a mule.
And the invaders cut loose with their killer rays, always cackling madly.
"Akkka akkkk akk! Kk-akak akk kka kkka akk!"
One second later, the stable was obliterated by a lightning bolt from the Heavens.
The Big Man Upstairs sighed to Himself. For one time since the days of the burning bush that He decided to take a direct intervention on mortal affairs, even sending His son to settle matters, and this happened.
Oh well. Maybe He could use the baby in the stable next door instead. What was his name again? Brian?
How Class 3-A Spent their First Christmas with Negi, and how Shiina Sakurako got her Pactio.
Please. If Akamatsu Ken wouldn't bother to tell that tale, despite being paid to do so, do you really think I will? Dream on, bitches!
That Encounter.
Peter Parker sat, alone and penniless, that morning of December the 24th, in a cheap cafeteria brooding over a handful of unsold photographies.
Once again, he was a failure. How did he expect to become a decent provider for Mary Jane, much less Mary Jane and Aunt May at once? A baby was obviously out of the question, even without bring the risks related to genetically altered blood.
He was aching all over from the prior night's fight. Who would have expected for a guy in such a stupid costume, and calling himself The Shocker of all things could be so tough? And of course, not only he couldn't afford himself the proper treatment, but he couldn't even let Aunt May see the bruises. Fortunately Winter season meant he could cover himself up to the neck and wrists, but other than that, the only upside was he had a healing factor that would leave him with only half a week or so of intense physical pain to hide.
He stared at his now empty cup of coffee and looked into his pocket. Just when he was about to curse his bad luck again, not to mention his lack of foresight on checking before leaving, the plump waitress dropped a full hot breakfast before him.
He looked up at her. "Um, Ma'am? Sorry, but I think this is the wrong table for—"
"It's on the house. The manager says so, " the woman gestured with her head towards the counter, behind which a scrawny man with bottle glasses seemed to do his best at remaining unnoticed, pretending to look through the morning's earnings. "Says he recognized you from some day at the train... you know, that day, months ago!"
"You mean...?"
"Well, yeah, he always talks about that, about how he was there when that wacko with the tentacles almost killed everyone. A partner in ordeal, huh? Musta been a really bad time."
"Ah... Ah, yes. Yes, it really was."
He smiled.
"But maybe, after all, times are getting better."
A Marvel Zombies Christmas.
They sat in the darkness, gathered around the chimney.
"Goddammit, Parker, this has to be the stupidest plan ever..." Zombie Luke Cage grunted.
"I have to agree with him there," Zombie Hank Pym nodded. "Peter, we're men of science. We have scanned the globe several times, and we know for certain there's no lost city of tiny men working all year long making toys in the Arctic. Has the hunger clouded your mind so much?"
"Please, Hank," Zombie Spider-Man argued. "It's not like this world wasn't full with people who could elude your scanners before, right? They use magic to keep their workshops secret. Doc Strange might have helped us finding them, but since he's brain damaged now, this is the best we can do..."
"Even assuming he exists, an' I'm only sayin' this because we've seen weirder crap before anyway, " Zombie Wolverine said, "how can we be so sure he'll come here tonight? I mean, I dunno if you haven't noticed, but we haven't been exactly good children this year! I figure we gotta have merits to make the naughty list for decades!"
"Duh!" Zombie Spider-Man slapped a side of his own head. "That's why he'll come here to deliver TONS of coal, obviously!"
"Hulk says it's worth shot!" Zombie Hulk growled. "Hulk hungry for big fat jolly red man! If works, Hulk says we try with Easter Bunny next!"
The next morning:
"— see, I told you it wouldn't work," Zombie Luke Cage said.
"Aunt May lied to me my whole life!" Zombie Spider-Man cried. "For the first time, I'm kind of glad I ate her."
Zombie Hulk punched Zombie Hank Pym in the mouth, sending rotten teeth flying everywhere.
"HEY!" Pym rubbed his loose jaw. "Why was that for?!"
"Hulk thinks we still should try with Tooth Fairy now!"
Meanwhile, up in Asteroid M, the big fat jolly man in red raised his cup in a toast with Black Panther, Forge and the Acolytes.
"A big Merry Christmas for all of us, True Survivors! And peace on Earth to all... well, peace to all people of good will up here! Ho ho ho ho!"
A Christmas Carol, Revisited.
Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.
Even when, later on, all those who still retained cruelty in their hearts and had a chance to take advantage of his newfound generosity used it to leave him impoverished and destitute, but that was the Spirits' fault, for not having further intercourse with other misers.
Under the Mistletoe.
In hindsight, finding the package under a branch of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling near the Christmas Tree should have clued her.
Mostly since she was pretty sure that branch hadn't been there last night.
She also should have been clued in by the small holes in the package, but she had thought it might have been a pet. Perhaps a doggie? That might have been nice, so it perhaps was not too hard to imagine why Ilya would rush to unwrap the mystery package that morning of the 25th...
Only to have Kuro popping out and planting a huge, wet kiss on her mouth.
"GAAAAAAHHHHHH! W-W-Who would helped you with THAT crazy stunt?!"
Irisviel chose that moment to loudly, yet innocently, hum from the kitchen.
Mom could be weird at times.
A Boys' Empire Christmas.
"So tell me, please, Santa-san!" Makoto asked, with all the bright and innocent cheer of a child, the jolly fat man he had caught in the act (of entering his house late at night). "Did you bring me any toys this year?"
"Um, no, I'm sorry," Santa Claus had to admit. "You've been a naughty boy this year, Tamura-kun. You impregnated your childhood friend and your own mother!"
"Oh," Makoto said. "So Mina's baby is Ikki's?"
Santa nodded.
"Then, why did you come here?" asked Makoto. "To bring me coal?"
Santa offered him a rather large box just pulled from his magical bag. "Condoms for the whole year."
"Oh, um... thank you..." Makoto said, sounding rather disappointed.
"Don't complain, you could be far worse. Do you know what I did give Ikki-kun this year? A vasectomy..."
Charlie Brown's Last Christmas.
He planted the tiny, pitiful, laughable Chistmas tree at the middle of his backyard and knelt down on the snow before it.
He wasn't sure if it could survive the winter. He wasn't sure of most things anymore, to a far bigger degree than eighty years ago, when he had his first experience with a tree like that one, an experience that had been lasting enough to remain in his mind even now he had forgotten most things.
He had forgotten their names, the names of those children, except, occasionally, his poor, long gone sister's. He was vaguely aware there had been one who was obsessed with playing... some sort of instrument? A violin, perhaps? Then there had been that fussball of a girl who... in all truth, several faces and different names came to his mind when he thought of that girl, but perhaps it only told of how most girls had been during his youth. He thought he remembered a wise, knowful loyal friend who, despite everything, was the most damaged and sad of them all, except perhaps for Charlie Brown himself. And he definitely remembered a dog, a dog he loved so much.
So much, in fact, he never had the heart to buy another after he-
He really wished he could remember the first girl he loved, as well. The only memory he had of her now was her red hair, but he couldn't even tell if it had been curly or not, short or long. Probably that was for the best. Probably, if he could clearly remember her, them, now, those memories wrapped in mist would lose their charm, their warmth. Maybe they would just become mundane, disappointing, grating, even.
The man felt cold at that thought, so he turned around and trudged his way back to the old home, supported on his cane. He sat near the door and watched the snow slowly fall down, one last time.
He wasn't sure if the tree would live. But it deserved its chance anyway. Even if the odds were against it, much like they had been against him, once.
They buried him under the tree, which grew tall and strong, and occasionally devoured kites that dared flying too close.
Beautiful Jolly Old Man Santa Moon.
"You have to do it, Usagi!" claimed the black cat that had appeared in her bedroom. "Only you can do it! You must find all of the Elf Senshi and assume your place as the harbinger of Christmas, Santa Moon!"
"But, but I don't wanna!" Usagi whined. "I don't wanna become an ugly old fat man! WHAAAA!"
"It'll only be one night a year!"
"That's one night too many!
"If you don't do it, Christmas will be ruined for children all around the world, forever!"
"Can't Tim Allen do it?"
"NO!"
Usagi went on to sob. "Okay... I guess I have no choice, then..."
"No you don't. Now say it!"
She sighed and raised her hand. "North Pole Power... MAKE UP!"
You now have the mental image of a nude transformation scene turning a beautiful young girl into an obese bearded old man burned into your brain. No need to thank me.
Elsewhere, Queen Grinch rose majestically from her dark throne, her cute dog yapping around her feet. "Scroogezite," she called out, as a figure stepped out of the darkness to meet her. "You are to find and destroy the next avatar of Santa Moon before he finds all the Elf Senshi..."
Mamoru walked out of the casting office. "I'm not doing this."
Usagi chased after him. "But Mamo-chan...! It'll only be one night a year...!"
"That's one night too many!"
THE END.
Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy 2015!