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Itâs time for @animorphsecretsanta! This is for Poppy @hostilepopcorn, who loves AxMarco and the true meaning of Christmas. I hope you like it! I could not come up with a title.
Untitled Secret Santa 2017 Fic
 The space alien sitting across from me has a pointed chin and my best friendâs brown eyes. He is struggling to untie the red satin ribbon on a Whitmanâs sampler box of chocolates, because human hands, he keeps reminding me, are large and clumsy and donât have enough fingers, and he is still getting used to them. âBehold,â I boom, in my best radio announcer voice. âA mighty Andalite warrior, brought low by human gift-wrapping technology.â My voice cracks halfway through the sentence, which sort of ruins the joke.
 Ax glances up from his work long enough to roll his eyes at me. He didnât roll his eyes before we started dating. Iâm clearly a bad influence, which is awesome. âI am not a warrior yet. I am still an aristh. And I have not been defeated. Merelyâset back. These human hands areââ
 âVastly inferior to Andalite hands, because everything humans have is vastly inferior to Andalites, up to and including our Porta-Johns, yeah, yeah, I think I get it by now.â
 He blinks, startled, then gives me a tiny smile, like heâs testing out his face. âI was going to say unexpectedly strong. It is difficult to properly calibrate the amount of pressure I am applying to the ribbon.â
 âGive it to me.â I hold out a hand. âI have a lot more experience calibrating my fingers or whatever.â
 Ax hands over the chocolate box. âYou are making an innuendo.â He sounds delighted with himself for figuring it out.
 âYeah. I have no idea what it was supposed to be implying, though.â Axâs efforts to untie the ribbon have fucked up the bow to the degree that it actually does take me several minutes and one broken fingernail to untie it. I pass it back to him, and when he opens the box, his face actually lights up. I mean, with a big, goofy grin and round cheeks and sparkling eyes, like a box of chocolates is the best thing to ever happen to him and like nothing bad has ever happened to him, and heâs so bright and blinding that I have to look away for a second and count the pine needles under my bare feet.
 Ax either doesnât notice or is polite enough not to say anything, and when I look up again, heâs already eaten three chocolates and is cramming a fourth into his mouth, scrutinizing the little chart that tells you which flavors are where intently. The wrappers are neatly folded in a stack next to him. âThe hazelnut is better than the caramel,â he tells me. âBut both are vastly inferior to the dark-and-white-chocolate swirl. Suh-wirl. Hazelnut. Zel. Zel. Caramel, zel, mel.â
 âAnd the store clerk thought I was insane for buying my boyfriend a sampler box of chocolates for Christmas.â Actually, Jake thought I was insane, too. Not that he could talk. He got Cassie a flashlight for Christmas. Mind you, this is a guy who breaks into the Yeerk Pool on a regular basis. A guy whoâs been running circles around Visser Three since the eighth grade. Heâs not an idiot, except for when he totally is. Who buys the girl they made out with on an alien planetâthe girl who would totally be their girlfriend, if only they had the guts to askâa flashlight for Christmas?
 Jake, thatâs who. I canât tell you his last name. Partially because of the whole guerilla warfare thing, and partially because I donât want everyone to know how totally clueless he is when it comes to girls.
 Iâm Marco, by the way. The handsomest, most intelligent guerilla warrior of the bunch. This is Ax, my boyfriend, an alien who can turn into a human, and into a lot of other animals. We can all turn into other animals. Canât tell you who we are, the Yeerks are everywhere, etc. You know this already, try and keep up.
 âThis is an excellent gift,â Ax says reassuringly. Thereâs chocolate smeared across the lower half of his face. Not a cute little smudge on the corner of his mouth, either. Weâre talking a full-on Hershey beard. I want to kiss him anyway, because being in love is stupid. âThe variety of flavors and textures serve to enhance the already highly favorable experience of consuming chocolate, and not knowing the nature of the filling before biting into it adds a welcome rush of adrenaline to an otherwise danger-less dessert experience.â
 âWow, you should write ads for Nestle.â Axâs brow furrows, and I move on, hurriedly, before he can force me to explain the concept of advertising again. Donât get me wrong, Ax isnât an idiot either, and heâs been on Earth long enough to have seen ads. Itâs just that Andalites donât really do âmoneyâ or âcompaniesâ or âcapitalismâ the way humans do, so he kind of doesnât get what theyâre for. âIâm glad you like it. Merry Christmas.â
 âThis day bears no significant meaning to me,â Ax says, like he has every day this month. âI am from another world. Andalites do not have the same calendar as humans.â
 âAx-man, some humans donât have the same calendar as other humans.â
 âI am aware,â Ax says haughtily. The effect is somewhat spoiled becauseâagain, chocolate face. âRachel has made this point clear. Several times.â
 Rachel hates Christmas carols, so obviously, Iâve spent every boring reconnaissance mission since Thanksgiving doing my best Mariah Carey impression. I told her it was my duty as Axâs boyfriend to educate him about Earth culture, which as it turned out was a terrible excuse, because Ax told us last week that all human music sounds the same to him. Which is to say, terrible. Even Nine Inch Nails. Even Offspring. Which, aside from being a total affront to the glory that is The Downward Spiral, meant that I had to throw away the mix CD Iâd been making him and beg Nora to drive me to the mall so that I could spend two hours searching for the perfect gift. Jake showed up to help me, which mostly consisted of him following me around and saying things like âI dunno, he likes food, right? Maybe get him a crockpot? My dad got my mom a crockpot.â
 âYour dad has been married to your mom for twenty years,â I said. âIâve been dating Ax for three months. Also, even if we had been dating for twenty years, a crockpot would still be a shitty gift, I like to think that I have a little more game than getting my boyfriend a cooking implement for Christmas. Also, heâs an alien who eats by absorbing nutrients from grass, and he lives in the woods and doesnât have a kitchen and he probably couldnât cook without starting a forest fire, and then where would the Ramones live, huh?â
 Jake had been nodding along, but now he stopped and furrowed his brow. âThe Ramones?â
 âThe baby skunks. The ones that Cassie saved. We named them after the Ramones.â
 âI think you might be freaking out a little, dude,â Jake said, in the same carefully neutral voice that he used to talk about things like Visser One and murder. It should have felt out of place in the mall, but there was a Yeerk pool entrance in the Gap changing rooms. Jake had almost bled to death on the linoleum outside GameStop once. Jake-the-general fit right in with the fluorescent lights and the tinny Christmas carols, the same way that he did in school, or my bedroom, or every other part of my fucking life.
 And he was right. I was freaking out. Which was stupidâIâd been in way more stressful situations than this. âIâm not freaking out. Iâm just not getting Ax a crockpot,â I said, in my best semblance of a normal teenage boy with a normal amount of stress over my boyfriendâs Christmas present. My secret boyfriend, who was an alien, fighting a guerilla war with me and my best friend and my boyfriendâs best friend and my best friendâs girlfriend and my best friendâs cousin, who one of these days was going to snap and murder me for telepathically singing Mariah Carey songs in the body of an osprey.
 You know. The normal amount of stress to have over that.
 And in the end Iâd panicked, and gotten Ax a freaking Whitmanâs sampler, and it turns out that a Whitmanâs sampler was the perfect present for your alien boyfriend of three months, who was now singing the praises of rum coconut with his bony shoulders under my arm as we sat together under the biggest tree in the forest where he lives. Even human morph is taller than I am, so he has to slouch pretty dramatically to make it possible for me to even put my arm around his shoulders. Which he does, every time we sit anywhere together, even when it means half-lying down on a bunch of tangled tree roots like he is right now. It canât be comfortable. Iâve never asked him why he does it. The answer would probably freak me out way more than any Christmas present.
 âI did not get you anything,â Ax says. He frowns. âThis is not like a birth-day. Birthhh day. When you are given a gift on this day, it is customary to reciprocate, is it not?â
 âItâs cool,â I say, jumping on the distraction. âI mean, like you said, youâre not even from this planet. You didnât know what Christmas was until like a year ago, and you donât have any Earth money anyway.â
 He rifles through the chocolate box, squinting at the little flavor chart. âI have means of acquiring Earth money.â
 I hold up a hand. âPlease do not tell me about any more of the felonies that you and Tobias commit together. Iâd like to maintain plausible deniability when you two are inevitably sent to Andalite Juvie for your crimes.â
 âTobias and I have never committed a felony,â Ax says huffily. âProperty damage not involving a motor vehicle and not in excess of two hundred fifty of your human dollarsââ
 âNot my dollars, and are you saying you and Tobias have never fucked up a car?â
 ââis not a felony.â He pops another chocolate into his mouth. âAh. Peppermint. You are the one who has stolen and summarily destroyed a motor vehicle. Neither Tobias nor I can drive.â
 âLike I have my license yet?â
 Ax rolls his eyes and looks up at me through brown frizz of curls falling into his eyes. âWould you like me to steal you a car for Christmas, Marco,â he deadpans, and I laugh and give into temptation and kiss him. He tastes like chocolate and pine needles.
 When I pull away, several minutes later, he says, âWhy are you not with your father?â
 âPlease donât talk about my dad while weâre making out.â I sit up and shake tree bark out of my hair.
 Ax doesnât follow me. He stays lying on the forest floor, hair a halo around his head, staring up at me with wide, unblinking eyes. âChristmas is traditionally spent with oneâs family. These Messages and the Very Special Episodes were clear on that subject. I care for you, very much.â The way he says things like that, like theyâre observable facts of the universe. The sky is blue. You have thirty-two seconds left in morph. I care for you, very much. âBut we have only been âdatingâ for three months. I do not think I can count myself part of your family yet.â
 âHalf of my family is probably on the Blade Ship, being used as a meat puppet to torture some poor Hork-Bajir and plot the destruction of our entire planet.â My voice comes out sharper than I want it to, but Ax doesnât blink. Ax doesnât blink enough, even as a human. We need to talk about that at some point. âThe other half is sitting at home with his new wife, watching Charlie Brown Christmas and eating tamales, totally oblivious. Excuse me if I thought that spending the day with my boyfriend sounded more fun than watching my dad make mushy faces at my math teacher.â
 âYou could have gone to Prince Jakeâs house. Your families have known each other since you were children. Surely they would be a viable substitute for your own family unit.â
 âOh, sure. Chinese food and movies with a known Controller, and the slim-but-terrifying possibility that Rachel will try and remove Tomâs Yeerk with a chopstick.â And Jakeâs parents giving me pitying looks out of the corner of their eyes when they thought I wasnât looking, in between scolding Jake about his failing grades. And Jakeâs silent thousand-yard stare through Tomâs forehead, like all the failures of the world were on his shoulders. And Rachelâs skinny fingers with their blue glitter nail polish twitching on the edge of the table, just waiting for one of us to give the signal. âYou have to admit, that family isnât exactly relaxing.â
 âSo I am your last resort.â Ax looksâitâs hard to read his facial expressions, but I think he looks disappointed, and like heâs trying not to be, or at least, not to let me know. He squares his jaw and looks off to the side. Yup, thatâs definitely a my boyfriend just said that heâs only hanging out with me because his dad and his best friend are both totally fucked up face.
 I lean forward and take Axâs face in my hands, so that I know that heâs listening to me. âYouâre my boyfriend. Usually, people want to spend time with their boyfriends. I bought you a box of shitty chocolate specifically so that I could spend time with you, without worrying about alien space battles or alien office politics or being stuck as a flea for the rest of our lives because of alien morphing technology, orâalien things in general?â
 âYou realize,â Ax says calmly, like itâs totally normal for me to be leaning over him and squishing his cheeks between my hands while I talk, âThat you are an alien.â
 âBzzt. Wrong. Weâre on my planet, therefore, youâre the alien. Take me to the Andalite home world, then weâll talk about me being an alien.â
 âI would take you to Andal, you know.â
 The thing is that I do know, I really really do. Ax wants to take me to his planet and introduce me to his parents and tell me about their trees and their grass and all the other things that Andalites think are important. And itâs too much, the way that his face over a box of chocolates is too much, the way that I care for you, very much is too fucking much. I steamroll over it, I have to, because if we start talking about family and homes I will actually have a full on panic attack, right here, in front of my alien boyfriend and this big old tree. âYou are, as weird as it sounds, the most normal thing in my life. And I care about you. And I want to be here, with you, right now.â
 Ax opens his mouth to say something, and I kiss him again. He tastes like chocolate, and pine needles, and absolutely nothing else.
Don't you know people write songs about girls like you?
@animorphsecretsantaâ for justine @a-modern-major-generalâ! i donât listen to much music but i hope u still enjoy this rachel playlist and art <3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Hello and welcome to the Animorphs secret santa gift exchange!
What is a secret santa?
Secret santa is a gift exchange (here with animorphs as the theme), where you will get a random person to give something to. You can do fanarts, fanfics, fanmixes, edits or anything else you can think of !
In return, YOU get something from a random person aswell !
If you like Animorphs, feel free to join !
Rules
To join, please fill out this application form and submit it to this blog before the 31st october.*
Everybody will start getting their person between 1st and 4th november.
Gifts will be posted between the 24th and 25th december!
If for some reason you arenât able to finish the gift until the deadline and need more time, please contact me as soon as possible!
If you change your tumblr url, please also let me know.
Remember to not tell the person you get that you are their secret santa (emphasis on secret and all).
But most importantly, have fun !
If you have any more questions, check the faq or shoot me an ask !
(for more info / updates, you can follow this blog)
*these dates are NOT finite! If not enough people sign up til the 31st, Iâll extend the application period.
For @aftranya !! Secret santa gifts hhhhhh sorry it looks like garbage I've,,, never drawn a yeerk OR ribbons before For @animorphsecretsanta secret santa thingie!!