#because. snowman radio

[timidtresleches]

Fucking get down with it Jesus christ

[diejager]

First of all HEYYY I love ur work smmmm I read almost every. single. day. So I have anemia (iron deficiency) and I'm always super cold and pale. Like my body barely produces any heat. Sometimes I don't even realise how cold I actually am like I just look in the mirror and realise my lips are blue and I look like a zombie. So I was wondering if u could do like a Ghost x cold reader like with the blue lips and nails and everything ykkkk?? And to be sum like they end up having to stay in a safe house together cause they're snowed in and the radios don't work or wtvvvvv and the heats brokennnn OMGGG and there's only one bed😭😭😭😭🤌🤌 I would love that sm tbh and again LUV UR WORK

Cw: fluff, humour?, anemia, snowed in, mention of hypothermia, cold, one bed trope, tell me if I missed any.

You hated the cold as much as you hated snow despite how lovely you remembered it was, to feel the soft and cool flakes fall on your face and staring off into the landscape. You couldn’t help feeling some sort of aversion towards the cold when your condition made you nearly vacant of any heat, extremities turning blue or purple if you didn’t regulate your own tempature. But the thing you hated the most, was being stuck and snowed in a safe house without any communication from Laswell and a broken heater. 

At the very least, you had company, sent off to Siberia with Ghost by your side, a man that burned higher than anyone you’d ever met. Perhaps he was the best option out of everyone, someone you got along with and enjoyed his jokes. That left you shivering under many layers of warm blankets, a bundle on the single bed that the safe house had. Oddly enough, it had enough food to feed a team of ten powerful and hungry men for an extended amount of time, space for many to roam around, but it had one single bed in the whole facility. 

Not that it minded you, you were as close to him as you were with the other men, a gentle friendship that often led to idiotic decisions and humourless jokes (more so on his side than yours). You watched him move around the room, securing the windows before he did the same to the rest of the house, checking the locks and insuring that both of you would be safe for the night; and when he was sure everything was secure enough, he climbed into bed, slipping under your pile of blankets. Ghost held you against his chest, an arm under his head and the other around your waist, keeping you close to him to share his heat with you, to relieve you of your shaking and shuddering, and breath coming out in frozen vapour.

“Tell me a joke, Ghost,” you quipped, wanting to take your mind off the numbing cold and your low iron count.

“What does a doctor ask a snowman?” He started after a few seconds of thinking, a lightness in his tone.

“What?” You raised your brows, burying your face into your blanket burrito and squirming until he got tired of it and tightened his hold on you.

“And you say you’ve been erect for 4 hours?” He ended with a low chuckle, laughing at his own joke. He was shamelessly proud of it, apparently.

You blinked owlishly, lips pursed as you mumbled lowly, huffing through your nose with a quick sigh, worming around to stare at Ghost. Even with the mask on, you could see the softened expression through his eyes, his darkened eyes gleaming with mirth and innocent joy.

“That was bad,” you pouted, narrowing your eyes a him.

“Oh? But you laughed,” he grumbled.

“Because it was bad.”

“Yeah, now shut up and sleep.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[l0vem00nlight]

CHRISTMAS SCENARIOS: DAY 2 ~ MILES FAIRCHILD

♥︎ Miles Fairchild With an S/O Who Loves Christmas Music ♥︎

Oh lord…when I say you OWN his radio and his guitar you OWN it.

He loves you to death but man it gets him annoyed when you constantly ask him to play a christmas song instrumental or switch the music into some Christmas jam.

It’s a bonus for when you start singing along with the jolly music, whether his playing the instrumental or not he best believed that your gonna sing your heart out. It doesn’t matter if you can or cant sing he’s gonna hear those vocals.

Kate is so done with this. But do you care? No not really.

Miles just sits on his bed and watches you do whatever as the awfully loud christmas music plays in the background of your singing. He tries to hide that smile of his but he just can’t.

Sometimes you would start dancing and you would pull him to come join you on your excitement. He doesn’t really dance but he just kinda lets you take some control even though all he’s really doing is just swaying around and not putting effort into his moves.

He finds it a tad bit annoying when you tower control over his personal music items but yet you don’t care. You will do a jolly breakdance in his face whether he likes it or not.

Flora joins in on the fun and starts to dance with you IN HIS ROOM. He couldn’t even take yall anymore nor did he even bother to stop you two for the sake of his little sister’s happiness and your joy.

Miles now understands how Kate feels when he has his damn music up way too loud for her liking. He can’t blame her—it’s so annoying having that christmas music blazing in his eardrums.

Even after you are done with your christmas spirit unraveling he can still hear Mariah Carey echoing in his eardrums.

Once you even compared his and yours relationship to the song named Sleigh Ride in the few parts of the song much to his dismay.

Miles loves you, okay? But when you’re just spamming those songs every single day it just cuts it for him. The thought and the memory of having to hear so many christmas songs in one setting is ridiculous to him and also having to watch you breakdance to the songs is already too much. When you finally settle down he is glad. He is glad that you finally calmed yourself and now he gets to listen to whatever he wants to listen to. He loves you a lot to the moon and back but maybe calm down on the songs and not spam them over and over and over again and start hitting the whip and nae nae in his room…? But haters gonna hate anyway and he’s sadly one of them.

Again, he loves you so much but…come on. Just please lower it to a minimum.

I’m gonna add more than just some music because this is way too short-

During when you weren’t spamming christmas music you two are out building a snowman. It is really funny due to the fact that Miles was struggling to make the balls for the snowman. You did two and he did the smallest one which was the head because it wasn’t going too well for him and it was too cold for all that.

You two made Kate drive into town to get a carrot.

Snowball fights are like war. But Miles could’ve sworn that you at least put some rocks in your snowballs cause those should not hurt like that-

Miles could tell that you are competitive over snowball. Absolutely no reason as to why you ripped the snowman’s head off and threw it at him, carrot nose and pebbles and even the hat all came his direction. It was so foul…cause like damn..

You two have hot chocolate together and relax. This is probably his favorite time. Despite the christmas music playing quietly in the background it’s fine.

Other than that, he enjoys the holidays with you. As much as he dislikes the fact that you spam christmas music he enjoys seeing you all happy and dancing and it brings a smile to his face. When he sees you smiling all big like that he just can’t seem to stop the smile forming on his face as much as he tries to show his displeasure. To spend the Holidays with someone as happy and jolly as you can be tiring but also very nice as well and he hopes to encounter this every year during christmas…not the music though.

[deblklesb]

[Phantoms of Past — Abby x Reader]

[AFAB!reader, friends to lovers, Christmas themed, br!reader, angsty, MDNI]

a/n: well, is this late for Christmas? yes. but do i care? also yes bc i'm paranoid and have some need to make stuff on time, so imagine my despair when i couldn't finish this. but i ALSO know that I'm doing my best, and for that i have to pat my own back. anyway, this is for my brazilian besties out there!!!

cw: reader is brazilian, usage of phrases in pt-br with the translation after and between parenthesis, owen mentioned (this man is a cw by himself idc this is not a owen appreciated blog), mutual pinning, Abby understands portuguese and even talks some. let me know if i forgot something.

not proof read | word count: 3,274

reblogs are highly appreciated!!

While you drive through the recently cleaned streets of the neighborhood you grew up, thanking the heavens that it stopped snowing for now, the radio plays a seasonal song and your murmur along. The traffic on the main roads were chaotic, almost as congested as your uncle's arteries, but now the decorated rooftops and doorsteps replaced the headlights on your peripheral vision. In front of a house stood a snowman, or at least his body stripped of arms and face.

You park in front of a house with simple adornments and flashers around the main door, a LED deer standing next to it and a small table with fake cookies and milk on top. All the energy was so reminiscent of the years you'd spend a whole day decorating the house with your mom, mainly inside, just so your father and sister could take care of the outside. Now that you both were grown and away, the couple occupied itself with the house interior and resumed the exterior with a simple approach. It never failed to take a smile from you, though, especially seeing the way they would adhere to simple things just because it looked cute, even if it had nothing to do with their native traditions.

Coming from Brasil, for the first part of your life you had hot weather and sunny days on Christmas. Maybe a night of rain, but never snow. Fireworks and catholic mass were on the list, but your parents went just to go along with the rest of the family and friends. They weren't religious, so in the end Christmas was simply another holiday, but with presents and - as all the other holidays - a family gathering. The main difference now was that you were studying in another city, becoming one of the absent relatives; you know, the ones that mainly go home for the holidays and vacations. It wasn't bad, but they definitely missed you a lot and the feeling was mutual.

Using your key to get in, the sounds of Simone’s “Então É Natal” (“And So It Is Christmas”), a brazilian holiday song, hit you immediately. You chuckle, taking off your boots and coats. From the front corridor the ornamented tree is visible, carrying innumerous lights and details. There's probably not a single empty wall, the seasonal decoration filling every inch of your field of vision.

“There she is!” Your father shouts as you appear in the living room smiling. The man goes into your direction with open arms, holding you tight. You smell that same cologne he wears since you can remember anything, and along with the warmth of the house, it truly feels like home. Some of the tension from university and work just falls on the carpet, leaving your body to receive all the good things inside that place.

“Carlos, you'll smash our child and I cannot have another one”, your mom yells somewhere from the kitchen direction, making you laugh.

“I can get another one anywhere, Marília”, he finally lets go, an arm around your shoulders. “Won't be as nice as this one, though”

“Of course not, she's irreplaceable”, your cousin Felipe says, approaching. “Prima, você tem feito falta!” (“Cousin, you have been missed!”) He holds you sideways with an insane amount of exaggeration, taking an embarrassed chuckle from you. Felipe was a lawyer with a lot of charisma, but inside he was just your cousin that your mom liked a lot. You both used to play together growing up. “From some people, a little too much”, he whispers playfully before running away, not letting you scold him for bringing up something you were not prepared to deal with this earlier, especially when the person implied wasn't even around. Yet.

Your father doesn't seem to notice, now talking with your mom again.

“Hey, Alice”, you wave to Felipe’s wife sitting on the couch, drinking something on a Christmas themed mug.

“Hey, sweetie! How's uni?”

“Tiring”, you shrug. “How about the kids?”

Your name is once again shouted through the house, and as you turn around three kids are running into you. Camila, Jorge e Rayana hold your waist, almost making you fall with a laugh. Camila is the oldest, at five years old, but the others are at the age of three. They're simply the most precious people in that family.

“Meus pestinhas!” (“My little brats!”) You start messing their hairs and pinching their ears playfully.

“Eu perdi um dente, olha!” (“I lost a tooth, look!”) Camila smiles widely, showing the first little window on her mouth.

“Ela tá ficando banguela e feia” (“She's getting toothless and ugly”) Jorge points out, and by Camila's reaction this isn't a new saying.

“Well, that's too bad. Because you'll get toothless and ugly too, just wait a few years”, Rayana and Camila laugh as the boy pouts at your response, looking at their mom.

“Vamo, vamo, abram espaço. Preciso abraçar minha filha” (Come on, come on, clear the way. I need to hug my daughter) Your mom’s voice finally reached the living room before her arms were wrapped around your torso. It's warm and familiar, you've missed her so much.

“Oi, mãe” (“Hey, mom”)

“Você tá tão magrinha, filha. Aposto que não anda comendo direito na correria, né?” (“You're so skinny, child. I bet you haven't been eating well in all the rush, right?”) The caressing she does on your back is reassuring, and by that you can tell you're going back with bowls filled with food. “Sua irmã vai chegar só mais tarde, seu pai vai buscar ela na estação” (“Your sister will arrive just later, your father will pick her up on the station”)

“When will uncle Jerry get here? He said he would get me new crayons”, Rayana mumbles while playing with one of the numerous ornaments on the lit up tree.

You try not to react to what that phrase implies, going with your mom to the kitchen to busy your hands and your mind with something else. She would probably kick you out of there soon anyway, she never liked having other people in the kitchen with her unless very necessary. But the need to act normal, smile and not think about family friends coming over it's bigger than the prospect of being scolded out of a room.

While the conversation continues in the living room and the song plays to never leave an empty place in your audition, you hover around the place talking with your mom about the neighborhood news and her routines in the morning walks group. It's comforting to know about what's going on, even if it doesn't really affect your life.

You help her cut the bread to make rabanadas (french toasts), looking forward to finally eating them. It's one of your favorite things of this season, even though you could actually find it anywhere at any time of the year. But the memories of having a plate of those on the supper table, covered in sugar and cinnamon, it's one of your favorites. So you're dividing your attention between the chore of slicing the bread and listening to your mom speaking, when a name being yelled in the living room catches your ear and you almost cut the tip of your thumb.

It's Jorge’s voice. “Abby!”

It's a blessing your mom didn't notice it, but now you have a bigger motive to stay inside the kitchen and never leave it.

No matter how much your mother talked, or the music filled the air, or the people in the other room got into different conversations within the group; her voice seemed louder than any other thing to you. You would swear she was next to the table you had the cutting board on, chatting with the children and playing with them.

You could swear you could listen to her whispering to you about lonely nights and missing pieces of a puzzle.

“Tia!” (“Auntie!”)

Your mom stops speaking just to turn around and look into the tall woman's direction. “Abigail!” Her comforting, mothering arms hold the strong torso, and the blonde needs to be in a not very straight posture to fully embrace your mom. What could you say, hightness wasn't in your family's genes.

“One of these days you'll be able to carry me around, with how big and strong you're getting!” And they both laugh as if Abby didn't live at the end of the block and they saw each other constantly.

All the while, you're trying to avoid the upcoming, inevitable moment. Your eyes glue on the bread, but you're not really looking at it. They're talking but you can't decipher the words, just assimilate the sweet voice making your cells tremble in vibrations. Cutting another piece, and another, then another, then-

“Puta que pariu-” (“Motherfucker-”), a drop of blood falls onto the cutting board when you pull your hand away, thumb red and hurting.

“What happened?” Your mom asks, concern in her voice.

“I cut my finger”, the running water of the sink makes the wound sting when you put the finger under it, the blood keeps coming out.

“I can take care of that if you need to”, Abby says, making you look directly at her for the first time of the night.

And you have to give the lack of air to the pain. You have to, because otherwise you would be admitting that looking at her takes your breath away.

“Yeah, Abby is working as a nurse in a school now. I bet she's used to this type of thing”, Marília goes to the cutting board, taking the pieces you've cut already.

There's nowhere to run over this. What will you say, that you don't want her to take care of your wound? That you can't be next to her, orelse all the coherent thoughts in your mind will fade away, leaving room for her voice? That your fingers ache to touch her?

You look to your still bleeding finger under the open faucet, then to the tall, blonde woman again. And while your mother wasn't looking, you both had a silent conversation about something, everything. She could see the doubt in your eyes, but you could see the pleads in hers.

“Sure, I think it wouldn't be much…” You try to smile, finally turning the faucet off and grabbing a towel to wrapp around your finger.

You both go upstairs, she tells you how there was a first aid kit in the bathroom and your stomach jumps at the realization that she knew your house more than yourself probably. Looking forward at all times and trying not to pay too much attention to her careful hand touching your arm like she was guiding you around the place.

“Go to your room, I’ll take the kit”, and you don’t even look at her to see how she was looking at you. You don’t know how that hurt her, mainly because you’re trying to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

The room is just like you always leave it after the breaks, bed neatly covered and books on the shelves. Some stuffed animals that you couldn’t bear to donate were aligned on a shelf next to a poster of a band you liked, the black and red contrasting with the creamy colors of a small giraffe. You saw the table where once you were pressed against, the lamp giving a soft light on the room as you felt a pair of lips so close to yours after all those years of yearning and silent pining.

“Okay, let’s give this a look” she was back using that voice, the one for the workplace. Tender, but firm; like she was trying to be secure, but reassuring.

Abby pulled the chair next to the table so she could sit in front of you, her knees together between your separated legs as she carefully took your hand and unwrapped the towel. Crimson drops started to flow down your finger, and the blonde woman never took the blue eyes away from the cut.

The distance wasn’t enough. Her scent would haunt the bedroom all night, making you dream about her just like it happened before, during your late school years, when she came to spend the day and left you numb and daydreaming. Her touches were so gentle, featherlight.

“It wasn't that bad, we can handle it”, she muttered like she was talking to one of the students from the school she worked at. “So, how's college?”

“It's okay, I guess”, with eyes glued on your own hand, you tried not to notice her thighs too much. “I've been working my ass off to write a paper while keeping up with classes and the monitoring thing”

“You'll get this, I'm sure”, you looked up just in time to see a smirk on her lips, but then returned to look down again before being trapped on that hypnotizing expression. “After all, you've always been very good with your words”

“It was easier in school, though”

“It always is”, she cuts the bandage before wrapping your finger with it. “But that's the thing, right? We start to realize how school was maybe easier, but then again, would you rather be back?”

“Oh, fuck no”, you chuckle as she finishes the curative. “I wouldn't change this for that”

“Yeah”, you finally look up more confident, meeting her indescribable expression. “I would change some things, actually”

“Like what?” You're just keeping the conversation, just trying to let it flow well enough for it to be bearable. You surely weren't expecting the next phrase.

“I wouldn't have dated Owen”, she sighs.

Owen was Abby's boyfriend. They started dating in the last year of school, and looked very much in love, for your displeasing. He wasn't a bad guy per se, but the fact that you already had a crush on Abby made you think that your feelings towards him were totally based on jealousy. So every single thing you had to say about him would be shoved down your throat immediately, and you'd just smile and nod to your friend anytime she mentioned him. You told her he was nice - couldn't bring yourself to say more than that - and supported their relationship with the most painful role in that whole story: the best friend with an unrequited crush.

By fall you found out she and Owen had broken up. Right after…

“Why is that?” Her eyes wander from the quilt to your hands, then back to your face. They were so beautiful, you could spend the rest of the night admiring them. Or the way her hair would fall around her face with soft lines, how her freckles were so attractive to the touch, especially on her arms.

“Don't think I was really into him… At least not in the right way”, Abby was the one not looking at you now, almost more interested in putting the stuff back on the kit box. “I could've been honest with him… And with you”

“Abby-”

“That's fine…” She shrugged. “He was a little bit of a dumbass anyway”

Silence falls around you both, filling the room with an emptiness.

The image of them both in your living room, last Christmas, haunts your mind as soon as you remember how you knew nothing and was too caught up in your own thoughts at the time. The way she laughed at his jokes, making your stomach turn as you smiled politely. Or how you saw them kissing next to the coat holder by the front door, and all the food you ate wanted to come back in awful bitterness.

You never told anyone. Never said a word, as always, rather keeping the green feeling on the back of your mind in order to not do something stupid - like being rude or start crying.

But then, you came home for the summer break. You dad was making barbecues in the backyard, you mom decorated the house with all the stuff your cousin brought from Brasil on his last trip, and you'd listen to pagode in the living room while the kids were playing and running, waiting for the meat to be properly roasted so they could finally eat.

Internally, you were ready to deal with that same gut-rotting feeling all over again. The plan was to sustain the fake expression until the time allowed you to pull the tiredness card on everyone and go to your room to watch some old telenovela.

Abby showed up alone, greeting everyone as usual. And when she looked at you, you could swear that was something in her eyes that could make you shiver. How she took your figure in before hugging you, how she held you so tight and for a little bit longer. How she was always trying to be next to you. You couldn't decipher, though, and the whole day went by mixing the confusion of her being without Owen and not even mentioning his name, and the rush of being that close to her again.

That night, in your room, she kissed you. Right there, where you were sitting now, she held your face between your hands and your skin shivered, while her lips touched yours.

You waited for years. Kissing her was probably one of the only things you wanted to do every time she was around, flesh craving hers. And it finally happened… But she had a boyfriend.

So you never talked about it again. You went back to college and texted her less and less.

“Abby, Abby, Abby!” A childish voice came from the corridor, the door opened to show Rayana. “Come here, I need your help to defeat Jorge and papai” (dad)

“Okay, I'll be there in a second!” The blonde smiled before the girl ran back downstairs. “Well, it seems like a have a duty”

“Can't let her down, she'll never forgive you”, you both chuckled while she got out of the room, first to leave the kit back in the bathroom and then to go to the living room again.

Sighing, you laid back on the mattress. Just like that summer night, you were alone in your room trying to collect your feelings about an interaction with Abby. Heart beating fast and a familiar warmth on your chest, wanting to curse every single entity for putting you in this position.

You came down maybe 15 minutes later, mask back on to decorate your face with a smile. You saw the tall woman on the mat with the younger children on top of her, attacking her while laughs filled the place.

“Okay, okay, saiam de cima da Abigail” (“Get off of Abigail”) Your mom didn't have to say it twice before they were sitting next to her. “Abigail, I need a favor. Remember that bowl I lent to you last week?”

“Sure”, her arms seemed stronger now that she was supporting herself on the elbows. Why was she so gorgeous?

“I need you to get it for me, darling”

“Okay, I got it”, Abby got up and immediately went grabbing her coat again.

And you were about to go back to the kitchen to make yourself useful, but it couldn't be that easy.

“Filha, vai com ela. Está nevando bastante, não é bom dirigir sozinha nesse tempo” (“Daughter, go with her. It's snowing a lot, it isn't good to drive alone in the weather”)

“Oh, it's not necessary-” She really tried, but your mom wouldn't take a negative answer.

“I'm not asking, you won't go alone!”

You nod and start putting on heavy clothes. It was okay, all good. You both would get in the house, grab the bowl, and get back in no time. It would be fine.

[dividers by @cafekitsune]

[charlesslut16]

-Snowed in-

summary : you and oscar are snowed in...

PAIRING : oscar piastri x fem!reader

WARNINGS : curse words

note : i hope you like it!

december masterlist ; masterlist 

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The weatherman on the radio said it would snow terribly in the night and it would be frozen, he advised the public to stay off the roads until about afternoon of the next day when the snow would stop falling.

You and Oscar were visiting his parents for two weeks in his home place, as you could sadly not be by them on Christmas, but they understood that, as you were both very busy people. You hoped you could make it better by coming two weeks prior.

As Oscar heard the news on the radio, he brushed it off and planned a whole day with his parents and his friends, for example, visiting some place that he wanted to show you in his home place, that he knew you would like.

You warned him profusely that that wasn’t going to happen while his mother made sure you had enough food to last you a day and a half and to make home activities that would keep you occupied.

The next morning, Oscar woke you up gently with soft kisses, soft back rubs and many warm cuddles, as he knew that you hated waking up early and that his kisses made an early morning just a bit better.

“Have you looked outside yet?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

“It’ll be fine, baby, it’s a little bit of snow,”

“Yeah?” you raise your eyebrows then glance at the closed curtains. “Take a look then, weatherman.”

He cracked open the curtains, then opened them wider. 

“Fucking hell!” he exclaimed, staring out at the white winter wonder. 

Everything was covered with snow, while more still flurried in the wind, creating small snow tornadoes scattered about the ground. You giggled as he pressed his head to the glass, trying to peer up and down the length of the house. 

“Told you, so,” you giggled, slipping from the bed and pulled on his hoodie. The heat was on, but there was still a draft from the frozen world outside.

“Let’s make coffee and snuggle for a bit, and then we can go and do something with your parents.”

He didn’t follow you into the kitchen, so you worked silently and pulled out two mugs. You got the creamer and sugar, added what you like in yours and what Oscar liked in his coffee before padding back into the bedroom.

Oscar was still staring outside, but instead of his head pressed to the glass, his arms were crossed on his chest. You set the mugs down gently on the dresser, retrieved your phone and snapped a picture of him.

You walk up behind him, wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his back through his shirt. He was always so warm, that was one trait of him that you loved, so dearly a missed after a very busy day.

“It’s so pretty,” he said, twisting his torso so he could hold you against him. 

“Yeah, it is,” you nodded, admiring it for a moment. You grew up used to harsh winter days, so while it was beautiful, you didn’t have to admire it for too long. 

“Come back to bed, I made you coffee,” you said, kissing his check. 

He rubbed your back a few times, kissed your head, then retreated from the window and back into the stale warmth of your bed. You handed him his mug then turned on the TV, scrolling to Netflix and picked a random movie you had both seen. 

After your short movie time, Oscar wanted to go outside and explore the snow a little bit. He even wanted to attempt to make a snowman, which you knew wouldn’t be possible because it wasn’t packing snow. But the way his eyes lit up, who were you to crush that childish spirit?

You both donned your winter attire, happy you forced him to bring boots, and trekked outside. The silence of winter welcomed you with a soft whistle from the wind as it danced through the trees. Oscar took your mitten covered hand in his, and you stomped through the snow to the edge of the woods. 

“You have snow on your eyelashes,” he giggled, trying to wipe them away. But the snow on his glove got all over your face, and you gasped at the sudden coldness to your skin. “Oops.”

“Oh yeah, ‘oops’ you jerk!” you laughed, bending down to pick up some snow and chucking it at him.

It hit his face and he sputtered it out of his mouth. A snow fight ensued until he grabbed your waist and you both fell into the powdery snow. You’re both covered from head to toe in the white fluff. Oscar looked too cute and snowy for you to pass up, pressing your lips to his.

“You kissed my chin,” he laughed.

“I’m cold! I can’t feel anything!” you laughed back, falling off him, struggling to get up. 

“Let’s go back, I’m frozen, too.”

The warmth of the house washed over you, but then brought attention to how cold you really were. Smacking your gloves together and stripping out of your snow things as fast as you could with Oscar following your moves, you could wait to get into the warm tub in the bathroom. 

"Let's go and take a bath, Mhm?" Oscar only nodded as an answer and kissed your forehead.

“I’ll get the tub started, come on,” he pulled your shaking body into the bathroom. He turned on the water, then rushed into the bathroom to get warm and dry clothes. You were still trembling when he returned, and he grabbed your hands, pulling them to his mouth. He blows his breath on your hands.

“I’m sorry, angel, we shouldn’t have gone outside,” he apologized, checking the water. It was almost at the watermark, and he turned the jets on and made sure the heat was set to a hot yet comfortable temperature.

“All right, it’s ready.”

"Thank you, love."

"Everything for you, my dear."

"I love you "

"I love you, my angel."

With frozen limbs, you pulled off your wet clothes with Oscars’s help, and he held your hand as you step into the tub. The water pierced your skin like a thousand knives, but it was a welcomed pain. You sat down fast, body still trembling, as Oscar climbed in with you. 

He pulled you to his chest, his body heat transferred to yours instantly. You pressed your lips to his naked chest, enjoying getting the feeling back in your lips. Hid warmth made you fell at peace and at home.

“How are you so warm all the time?” you asked, lifted your head to look at him. 

“You make me warm, angel,” he pecked your nose.

“We won’t go outside tomorrow. We’ll stay inside until it’s stopped snowing.”

“I told you so.”

He groaned. “You’re making me feel like the worst fucking boyfriend in the world.”

[bunny-lovers]

In A Dream, Sweet Talk, and Lonely Hearts Club! - @bunnys-lil-hideout

Thank you for the ask! 😊 @mahitosoulmate @deregirls @cruising-thru-the-starz @self-shippy @mavuikas-beloved @canonfatbisexualenby

Coffee (Radio Edit) - are you more of a night owl or an early bird? does your sleep schedule match S/I's, or is it wildly different? if they're different, do you often try to stay awake just to spend more time with S/I?

"I'm more of an early bird like Rebecca is. Yes, my sleep schedule does match hers."

American Beauty/American Psycho - do you tend to fall in love quickly and spontaneously, or is it more of a slow burn for you? how long did it take for you to realize that you were in love with S/I?

"I tend to fall in love quickly. It took me about an hour and a half to fall in love with her."

Kiss From a Rose - do you like cold/snowy weather? how about S/I? have you ever done anything in the snow with S/I like building a snowman or making snow angels or anything else you thought would be fun? how did it end up going?

"No, we both don't like the snow. Yes, we both have made snow angels. We also had a snowball fights. We had fun!"

The Run and Go - how do you comfort S/I when they're feeling upset? and how would you say they comfort you?

"I comfort her by holding her in my arms while telling how much I love her and how important I am to her. She comforts me by holding me in her arms, uses her sweet words and brings me one of my comfort foods."

Stupid For You - did you have a 'crushing' phase with S/I before you got together? if you did, were there ever moments where you did or said things around them without thinking?

"Yes, I did and it was when she and I were at the coffee café when we met in person. No, I didn't."

Air Catcher - did you have any sort of issues being vulnerable with S/I at first, or did you feel completely safe with them the moment you met them?

"I felt completely safe with her the moment I met her."

Lonely Hearts Club - were you nervous at all when you realized your feelings for S/I? did you feel like they wouldn't like you back, or were you confident that they felt the same?

"No, I wasn't nervous at all and I was confident that she felt the same."

Little Talks - did you and S/I meet when you were younger? if so, how would you say that the two of you have changed since then? if not, have you ever told each other about how you were when you were younger?

"No, but we did talked about how when we were younger."

The Overpass - do you keep any of S/I's shirts/sweaters/etc. around for when they're not with you? and, do you let S/I keep any of your clothes?

"Yes and yes!"

Sweet Talk - have you ever completely misinterpreted something that S/I said to you? what was it that they were actually trying to say, and what did you think they meant?

"No, she didn't."

Bad Enough For You - do you act differently around S/I compared to everyone else? how so?

"Yes, I get soft when I'm with her."

Buddy Holly - which of you tends to be more protective - you or S/I? how do you feel about that fact?

"I'm the one who is more protective and I don't mind it at all since I'm very strong."

Buttercup - what are your favorite pet names/nicknames for S/I? and do you like the pet names/nicknames that S/I uses for you?

"My favorite pet names for her would be bunny, sweetie and babe. Yes, I love the pet names that she uses for me."

In a Dream - do you ever have dreams about S/I? if you can remember any, describe one!

"Yes, we were hiking on a hot day. We were wearing sleeveless shirts, carrying our water bottles and she had her hand on my biceps as we were walking. We both looked at each other, she gave me a kiss on my temple."

Wine Red - if you had to pick a color or two to describe S/I, which would you pick and why?

"Yellow, because of how bright she is."

[rainylana]

Christmas with Eddie Munson

Eddie Munson x female reader

warnings: mention of sex and chaotic fluff.

taglist!

@phantomxoxo @noturmom15 @lexthemess21 @catherinnn @your-starless-eyes-remain @cosmic-lavender @ultimate-sdmn-trash @xx-hospitalforsouls-xx-blog @kaqua @softyutae @nothisispatric @avobabe87 @mic429 @flowers-and-tsukki @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @lillianofliterature @kaqua @softyutae @bellasfavoritesweatpants @antigoneidk @averysblog @livasaurasrex @ohlovelyhollow @tessiemessie @kellysimagines @heeyitsg @genuine-possum @justaproudslytherpuff @hearts4laura @aa-li-yah @ches-86 @cheri86 @itiscj @fvcking-gxddess @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @no0neknowsm3 @underthebatcape @delilahtaylorsverson @imangy @ruinedbythehobbit @randomstory56 @babyhvunjin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @venicereads @ahzysauce @anothermunsonsimp @edzmunsonswife @basicallybats

• until you came along, eddie didn’t participate much during the christmas holiday, neither did wayne. but with you, they didn’t have much choice when it came to the holiday festivities.

• when you showed up at their trailer with a pickup load of christmas decorations they stood there like 🧍🏼

• eddie gets frustrated very easily when untangling the christmas lights. he’d throw him down in a fit of rage, only to return to them five minutes later, determined to get them unraveled.

• hates anything peppermint flavored, but i think he’d like the fruity candy canes😏

• he puts one of your bikini tops on the snowman he builds in the yard.

• you have to keep yourself from laughing at how horrible his cookie decorating skills are. icing is dripping down the sides because he didn’t wait long enough for them to cool and the sprinkles go all over the floor.

• wore a santa hat once during sex…

• would definitely give all his friends, including you, gag gifts. but you always get an actual present:)

• starts snowball fights with the trailer park kids. he accidentally hit you in the face once and he felt so bad💀

• loves wearing matching pj’s with you!! he likes the red and black checkered kind.

• HATES EGGNOG. loves the alcohol part. hates the egg part.

• favorite christmas movie is die hard.

• makes terrible hot chocolate but you drink it anyway.

• you often sleep on the couch just so you can snuggle and look at the lights on the tree.

• BELTS out last christmas when it comes on the radio.

• the first couple times you’d spent christmas with him you could really see how much it meant to him having you around. wayne thanked you for it every year.

• christmas themed hellfire sessions;)

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, T.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

By Any Other Name…

—

Long-haul freight trucking isn’t for everyone. Days, sometimes weeks, away from home; a lot of gas station coffee, leaky motel rooms, and diners with sticky floors and dead-eyed waitresses whose smiles reflect lifetimes of missed opportunities.

Fíli fell into it after uni.

Unlike the majority, he loves his time on the road. Appreciates the peace the job offers. Of course, he misses his loved ones when he’s away for lengths of time, but he’s always been a bit of a hermit. He’s better at listening than engaging, which is perhaps why he considers the radio perfect company.

In particular, a mid-morning radio show that he maybe-sort of-but not really schedules his day around.

            “—And that was Last Christmas by Wham!. Sorry to those of you who almost made it this year!” The DJ cackles, not sorry at all. “Better luck next year.”

            “You’re a menace.” The cohost snorts before introducing the next song, something from the Top 40 to keep things moving.

Kíli Oaks is an incredible radio personality who makes the time pass quickly. Fíli deeply enjoys listening to Kíli’s show whenever it’s on, be it when he’s hauling freight or at home in his kitchen. And while it could be said that harboring a crush on a celebrity is a waste of energy, Fíli is content to indulge it.

His mother worries his interest in Kíli Oaks is hindering his chance of finding someone, ���what with dedicating your attention to a disembodied voice.”

It’s a point of contention between them, but Díssandra Durin is a good mum and does her best to be supportive.

Exhibit A:

            “Doesn’t that man on the radio live in Pelargir?” She asked Fíli before he left.

            “And?”

She shrugged as if to say not that it matters, but “Aren’t you going to Pelargir?”

            “Mum, even if I lived near the radio station, the chances of ever meeting him are slim to none.” Fíli said, trying to keep his tone light despite it being the third time she’d made a remark of that nature.

            “You never know.”

            “Trust me, ma, I know. It would be weird, wouldn’t it?” Not that Fíli was angling for an answer. Of course it would be weird.

            “Or it could be a funny story you tell your kids one day.”

Fíli eyed his mother suspiciously, “Or it could be a traumatic story he tells the police.”

He expected her to drop the issue but, instead, she jutted her chin toward the coffee table and said, “Either way, that’s for you.” and carried on knitting as if she didn’t just blow the top of Fíli’s head off with surprise.

Fíli’s stomach clenches in excitement, glancing at the envelope on the dashboard.

While his mother doesn’t endorse his crush on Kíli, she found out about a Christmas special Kíli and his cohost are putting on to raise money for a Christmas charity. In front of a live audience.

An audience Fíli now has a ticket to be a member of.  

He doesn’t know how she did it, considering Kíli has more fans than there were tickets (the show sold out in minutes after the tickets went live), but Fíli’s infinitely grateful.

He listens as Kíli reads a listener’s text aloud, adding an anecdote of his own before both he and his cohost dissolve into fits of breathless, soundless laughter.

            “—That’s not what I said!” Kíli wheezes after his cohost accuses him of defiling a snowman.

Their producer urges them along, trying to herd the chaos into something manageable but Kíli and his cohost keep bantering.

            “Boys,” The producer says sternly, “The next song, please.”

Fíli imagines Kíli wipes the tears from his eyes and composes himself, “Right, right, right,” It seems that what’s cued to play isn’t what Kíli expects because he barks another laugh, “Nooo!’

His cohost squeezes the title of the next song out between giggles, “Here’s Snowman by Sia.” And off they go again, their laughter cut off as the song starts to play.

Fíli grins like an idiot, as if he’s part of the silliness. The adolescent, world is my oyster, everything is possible part of him would love to exchange funny stories with Kíli, watch him laugh until his eyes are glassy, cheeks ruddy and wet. The realistic, adult part of Fíli understands that such things can only happen by divine intervention. Which, in his experience, doesn’t actually exist.

Thus, he’ll go to the show, have a good laugh, respectably ogle Kíli from afar, and then end his evening reading over a cup of mulled wine.  

Brilliant.

***

“He’s so … sad.”

“Are you sure he isn’t too—” Finding the correct words to say ‘serial killer’ without actually saying ‘serial killer’ is difficult. “—antisocial?” Is just as bad, really, but better than ‘maladaptive’ or ‘socially awkward’.

A long, tired groan sounds from between the other two voices. “Don’t either of you have anything else to do?”

            “No.” The first two voices say in unison.

Meet Divine Intervention.

Thranduil peers into the Palantír, silvery hair curtaining his expression, though Gandalf guesses it’s one of disdain. Thranduil has a type; usually six-foot-four and Doriathen, with yodeling accents and donning colorful knitwear.

By contrast, Fíli Durin is a combination of broad strokes and blunt shapes, and a penchant for more subdued seasonal layers.  

            “He isn’t too far away, is he, Gandalf?” Radagast wonders, hovering over Gandalf’s shoulder to watch Fíli’s image in the milky glass, “Will he make it on time?”

            “If you two leave me to my work, I can see to it that he does.” Gandalf puts as much emphasis behind his words as he can muster around the bit of his pipe.

Thranduil and Radagast are deliberately trying to sabotage Gandalf’s progress, he’s certain. It isn’t his fault he has the reputation of casting some of the most intricate and everlasting Tapestries—or as Belinda from HR, in an attempt to rebrand the realm into the 21st Age, calls them: Love Stories.

Gandalf puffs his pipe grouchily at the idea.

As long as there have been a moon and stars, there have been Weavers tasked with the choosing and care of the roses from Lorien’s garden. Each rose contains within its petals a communion, some more momentous than others, but all serving a significant purpose in the lives of those selected to sustain them. A Weaver’s sole responsibility is to match a pair worthy of a rose’s influence and have them meet before the final petal falls. If things go well, the rose blooms anew, radiant and golden, until the span of the—Gandalf shudders—Story is complete.

Otherwise…

Well, nothing happens. Some roses aren’t meant to be epic tales worthy of Shakespearean prose, mild in colour and force. Other roses burn too bright and fizzle out before a Weaver can say Tom Bombadil. It depends partially on the rose and partially on the Weaver’s capabilities.

And Gandalf’s capabilities far exceed those of many Weavers, a fact highlighted by the shelves of thriving roses encases in their glass cloches.

He has full confidence that the pair he selected are absolutely perfect for each other.

Fíli may be content in his aloneness, but he is strong and patient and has so much love to give. And Kíli? Kíli is—

***

“You’re being obnoxious, Kee.” Boromir says, slingshotting another rubberband at Kíli’s forehead.

It hits with a dry snap and falls into the mounting pile in Kíli’s lap, leaving behind a blossoming red spot right between his eyebrows.

“Am not!” Kíli wails through a wide smile, gathers all the rubberbands and lobs them in Boromir’s general direction.

He isn’t. He’s being prudent; a word his grandmother would never use to describe him, but there he is, being just that. Someone’s future happiness rests entirely in the palm of his hand and he will not risk ruining it.

            “You are.” Boromir insists, ignoring their producer, Merry, as he frantically signals for Kíli to prepare for the interlude. “You’ve got that glassy-eyed look you get after a good shag.”

            “I don’t like that you know that about me.”

Boromir bobs his head in consensous, “Nor do I.”

And they’re back on air. Kíli dutifully lists the titles of the songs they just played and introduces the next queue, promises he and Boromir will return for their typical Wednesday slot of Say It or Spray It—a game their old producer concoted to embarrass the shit out of Kíli on his first day hosting the midmorning show.

Needless to say, it had only fueld Kíli’s fire, and look at him now, several years later and a staple at GBC Radio 1.

As soon as their mics are muted again, Kíli whips out his phone, presses his thumb to the print verification button and opens his professional TikTok account.

Boromir rolls his eyes.

Kíli sticks out his tongue.

            “See?” Boromir points toward Kíli with his hand, “Obnoxious.”

Kíli scrolls past hundreds of unread DMs to the thread he’s revisited about forty times in the last hour, swipes through the thread until he reaches the picture attached.

It’s of a man, close to Kíli’s age. Kissable lips swept into a gentle smile, square shoulders and a barrel chest accentuated by the thin, visibly loved band t-shirt worn when the picture was taken. A candid shot at what appears to have been a cookout, hinted to by the long twig he’s hold with a marshmallow speared through the tip.

He’s handsome—very handsome—exactly the sort of bloke Kíli topples head-over-heels for.

            “Your love life is so tragic that someone’s mum is taking pity on you.” Boromir teases, nudging Kíli’s foot with the tip of his shoe.

Kíli wants to sling a comeback at him, but finds he can hardly disagree. Besides, Kíli wouldn’t mind taking the man’s mum up on the offer.

Tragically, she isn’t offering.

She messaged Kíli hoping to get a ticket to Kíli and Boromir’s live audience Christmas special. When Kíli asked his producer about available tickets, he was stunned to discover they’d sold out faster than a Taylor Swift concert.

            “We reserved some for family, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Merry told him.

Kíli replied to the woman, Dís Durin she called herself, with the good news, happy to offer one of his personal tickets to Dís’—very handsome—son, Fíli.

“You’ve got that goofy look on your face again.” Boromir announces. “New update on your boyfriend?”

            “Naff off.” Kíli kicks Boromir’s shin under the table. Boromir oufs in surprise, fixes his face into a glare and retaliates by swatting the top of Kíli’s head.

            “Don’t start, you two, the song’s almost over.” Merry warns, crossing his arms sternly. He slants his gaze toward Kíli, “But Boromir has a point, Kee, you might want to work on that dopey face you make before you meet him. Bit unattractive.”

            “Oi!”

***

Draped across Gandalf’s armchair, where he retreated when he and Radagast were shooed away from the Palantír, Thranduil indicates to Kíli, “I like that one, he has passion.” Then he slides a bored glance back to Fíli, “All that one does is drive around in a big truck.”

            “He must have something up his sleeve,” Radagast says in defense of Gandalf as if he’s not there to do it for himself. “The old rascal wouldn’t risk losing.” That is, the bet Gandalf made with Elrond, a Spindler from the third floor who specializes in forks in the road.

A bet made because, to be frank, Weaving loses its charm after a Weaver’s third millennia performing the task. Sometimes, they need incentive, and high-stakes gambling is the motivation Gandalf requires to ensure he doesn’t wilt a rose into lost opportunity.

            “Quite right.” Gandalf lifts his chin proudly and reprimands Thranduil, “How dare you question my artistic process.”

Thranduil meets his stare flatly. “So,” He says, his tone suspiciously matter-of-fact, “All he has to do is get to Pelargir by the strike of 6?”

            “Yes.” Gandalf says cautiously.

            “Very good. And how exactly do you plan to get him there through an avalanche?”

Gandalf whips his head back to the Palantír, alarmed. Although an avalanche is a mighty exaggeration, the scene unfolding in the glass isn’t much better. Wiggling his fingers in a rapid, deliberate pattern, Gandalf hunches over the Palantír with fierce concentration.

Fíli’s truck rumbles merrily along in the cloudy image to the left. In the image to the right is an unholy dumping of snow. Fíli’s still far enough away that Gandalf has time to maneuver a solution, but the window is narrow.

The situation may require—

Thranduil and Radagast watch Gandalf intently, look at each other and then back to Gandalf.

Slowly, his face set in determination, Gandalf raises from the ether a shovel with a wide, metal blade.

—Drastic. Action.

***

The trouble starts just as Fíli leaves Minas Tirith. Snow falls in sheets, thick and sticky, forcing Fíli to slow his speed and call Central.

            “I stayed ahead of it for awhile,” Fíli explains of the weather, “But it finally caught up to me.”

Bofur snorts, “Guess that luck of yours is finally running out, ay Durin?”

            “Not a chance. Just a little bit of delay. I’ll still make it by this evening.” Fíli reassures, “Just let them know, yeah?”

            “I’m on it. Drive safe, lad!”

Fíli smiles, “Cheers.” and disconnects the call.

Unfortunately, Bofur might’ve been right about Fíli’s luck running out.

Things get worse by Aglarshire, a road closure forcing Fíli to take the exit into town for an impromptu break. After eight hours at the wheel, he’s due one anyway, but he’d hoped to get as far as Karaborough before making the stop.

The snow is really coming down now, and the townships between Minas Tirith and Pelargir aren’t equipped to handle removal like the big cities.

Still, Fíli tries to stay positive.

Almari’s café serves the best stew and crusty bread this side of the White Horns. Almari herself is the motherly sort; a short woman of stout figure and a kind face, somehow able to discern what Fíli needs as soon as he steps through the door.

The café is quiet apart from two men arguing about livestock. A traditional, rustic ambiance of dark wood and brass accents, mismatched tables rubbed in places of their stain and chairs that creak when occupied. An impressive oak bar stretches the length of the wall across from the entrance, hosting a row of tall stools with worn leather seats.

From where she’s polishing silverware, Almari indicates with a blunt knife to a snug corner at one end of the bar. Fíli obliges, pinching off his gloves on the way. He has to remove his coat to sidle between the wall and the counter, and plants himself on the lone stool at an awkward angle before he can maneuver his legs under the bar. Once he’s situated, he turns to hang his coat on the hook above his left shoulder.

It’s a questionable fit, but the space offers a sense of cozy privacy; just what he needs to settle his nerves after driving through nasty weather.

Almari appears and sets a steaming cup of strong coffee in front of him, smiles warmly, and pats his forearm with the affection of an old friend.

            “Bit nippy out there.” She says, brushing snow from his beard with the towel she’d been using to polish the silverware. “Wouldn’t go out there for all the money in the world.”

            “It’s not so bad.” Fíli assures, “At least it’s not icy.”

Almari looks skeptical, “I’m just happy I don’t have far to go when I close up.” Her apartment being directly above the café. “Would be a nightmare trying to find my car after all this snow.”

Fíli agrees. “A real archeological dig, ay?”

Almari considers him sympathetically for a moment before she breaks the news Fíli feared when he was redirected toward Aglarshire. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. The plows might not get to our neck of the woods for awhile yet.”

Fíli’s heart leaps to his throat, but he arranges his features into a neutral guise. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

Almari straightens and smooths down her apron. “The usual, then?”

            “If you don’t mind.”

            “Never, when it comes to you, boy.” Almari leans over the bar again and pinches Fíli’s cheek softly. Then off she sweeps into the kitchen, barking Fíli’s order to the cook, Randolf, her husband of thirty years.

Fíli glances outside, brow knitted. He can hardly see the road through the curtain of snow. He slips a hand in the kangaroo pocket of his sweater and gently holds the envelope he tucked in there for safe keeping, contemplating his options.

At best, he’ll be late. At worst, he’ll miss Kíli’s show altogether and have to apologize to his mother for money wasted. Not that she’ll mind. Nah, she’ll probably take it as a sign from the cosmos that Fíli needs to plant his attention in reality.  

No sense fretting, Fíli resolves and fishes his book from his coat pocket.

Whatever happens, happens.

…And say it again, with feeling.

Fíli huffs through his nose, molars grinding, and flips his book open to where he left off.   

***

This is wholly unorthodox, Weavers traveling through the curtain into Arda, but Gandalf’s mind is made up. Why Thranduil and Radagast join him, he doesn’t know, their motivations none of his concern.

They land as a unit, dropping like stones into the snow from above. Gandalf and Radagast disappear for a moment beneath the plush white, while Thranduil’s head and shoulders pierce the snow, his long, dainty legs the only bit of him now visible to the world.

Gandalf and Radagast pop up, pull themselves free and brush themselves off. Thranduil’s legs kick frantically before either notice he’s stuck. Together, they yank Thranduil free and resume orienting themselves, scanning their surroundings for anything that can help them on their journey.

            “Aha!” Gandalf sees it first, the depot the town uses to house their massive machines.

            “That’s what you have in mind?” Thranduil sounds incredulous, “I thought we shelved your idea to shovel three hundred kilometersofroad.”

Radagast wrings his hands, worried for Gandalf’s sanity.

            “Not shovelling,” Gandalf corrects with a wicked glint in his eye, “Plowing.”

            “Oh my…” Radagast squeaks, as Thranduil erupts, “You cannot possibly think that’s a better solution! You’ve never even used one of those ghastly contraptions!”

Gandalf waves him off, “How hard could it be?” and trudges forward, carving a path for Radagast and Thranduil to follow.

As it turns out, it’s incredibly hard. For three whimsical beings of the Otherlands, anyway.

Once they locate the right machine, one boasting a large, yawning blade at its front, they struggle to bring it to life. Gandalf and Radagast fiddle with levers and buttons, pressing and pulling things at random.

            “What about this one?”

            “No, no, no, it must be this one.”

            “Or this one.”

Thranduil rolls his eyes, content not to participate. No, he’s a being of acute intelligence and has a better idea than pushing and prodding everything like toddlers in an elevator.  

Without saying a word, he marches toward what a sign specifies is the Main Office. He enters and slips behind the front desk to study a corkboard filled with rows of keys, all labeled neatly for convenience.

At least these Gondorian neanderthals are organized, he muses.

It takes less than a minute for him to locate the right key. Just as he wraps his fingers around it—

            “Hey! Who are you!?” A man shaped like a star demands. He’s round in the middle and thin everywhere else with a head of stringy black hair. The stench of self-importance radiating from him suggests to Thranduil he’s the one in charge of the fleet of machines.

Thranduil groans dramatically, completely put-off by the whole situation, “Well, shit.” In a calculated act of defense, he grabs the computer off the front desk and brings it down on the man’s head.  

He crumples into a heap instantly.

Thranduil takes the right key, steps over the man elegantly, and marches back to Gandalf and Radagast.   

***

            “Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Almari tells him, watching through the snow the silhouette of a snowplow thunder down the road at speed. She frowns, “Can’t always believe what they tell you on the news, can you?”

            “‘Spose not,” Fíli chuckles, fishing a Ꞓ201 note from his wallet and dropping it on the bar. “I’d better be off.” He shrugs on his coat, flashing a bright smile at Almari, “Thanks for lunch, it was delicious as ever.”

            “Stop in on your way back.” Almari instructs, “I’ve a special Christmas menu that I think you’ll enjoy.”

Fíli nods, walking backward a few steps, “Will do.” He salutes playfully then spins around and pushes through the door. The wind and snow hit him like a brick wall, almost forcing him backward. Thankfully, he’s made of stronger stuff, and shoulders his way toward his truck.

Though the road has been cleared, the car park is still covered in a blanket of white that reaches halfway to Fíli’s knees. Not ideal, Fíli thinks, but doable. If he leaves now, he’ll make it to Pelargir and complete his delivery by early evening, as intended with the mild delay.

He only hopes things go smoothly from here.

***

Kíli squints against the stage lights, but it’s impossible to distinguish anyone in the audience. Both he and Boromir are already in their places, microphones adjusted to their preferences, muted until the broadcast starts.

He kept an eye out for Fíli while backstage, peeking into the auditorium as often as Merry would allow (which wasn’t often, between frog marching Kíli to hair and makeup, and debriefing Kíli and Boromir on their lineup of special guests and the playlist).

Never in a million years did Kíli think he would be this dedicated to making a fan happy. Usually, that’s PRs job, fussing over giftbags and food boxes, when and where fans can meet the DJs, and so on. This time, Kíli forced his involvement, questioning Rosie about Fíli’s seating arrangement and whether or not he’ll receive a one-on-one with Kíli after the show ends.

Rosie massaged her temples, said in a clipped tone, “Kíli, please, let me do my job.”

            “I just—”

She raised her hands in a gesture parents use to calm their children, ���I understand this is important to you, but just worry about the show. I’ve taken care of everything. Your guest will be treated like royalty, just like the other invitees, alright?”

Kíli swallowed and nodded shortly, “Alright.”

Now, he fiddles with the ungodly Christmas blazer wardrobe forced him into. The pattern is bright green-and-red plaid embroidered with sparkly gold thread. Beneath he wears a thin sweater in a crisp white with the image of a fluffy Christmas tree on the front, and, under that, a red, collared shirt.

Boromir dons an equally as gaudy combination, though he seems far less uncomfortable, sprawled in his chair like a king at a feast, texting his wife who sits in the audience only meters away.

“Two minutes.” Merry announces, coming up to them. “You two ready?”

“Yes.” Boromir says at the same time Kíli says, “No.”

“Well, pull it together, man,” Merry insists as he grabs a handheld microphone and prepares to deliver his welcome introduction to the audience. “Don’t forget to smile!” He urges, tracing an exaggerated U over his mouth with his forefingers, before trotting to the front of the stage and signalling to the sound booth.

            “Mate, you’ve never been nervous a day in your life.” Boromir reminds Kíli, “You’ve got this.” He reaches forward and squeezes Kíli’s shoulder. “Right?”

            “Right.” Kíli says and, for the first time since he started a career in radio, he doesn’t believe it.

***

After abandoning the wreckage of the snowplow in a ditch for the town to deal with, Gandalf, Thranduil and Radagast stomp through the door of Gandalf’s office, dusting snow off their shoulders and shaking it out of their hair.

            “That was the worst thing you’ve ever done.” Thranduil says, plopping into the armchair. “I can’t believe we weren’t killed.”

            “Close enough,” Radagast winces, rubbing the lump at the back of his head.

Gandalf grins, pleased with himself. “It worked, didn’t it?”

            “Fine and well,” Thranduil flaps a hand toward the Palantír, “But what about that? You want to plow through a bunch of civilians, too?”

Deflating, Gandalf watches the image shift from Fíli’s truck to the kilometers of bumper-to-bumper traffic heading into Pelargir. Construction lights and road signs herd cars into one of five lanes, the other four closed for repaving.

Because of fucking course it is.

            “He’s not going to make it,” Radagast laments, hand over his heart. “Even after all we’ve done…”

            “Mmm.”

Thranduil pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I have to say this, but: you are aware there’s a whole city and many hours of night at your fingertips, yes?”

Gandalf stares at him inquisitively, inviting Thranduil to continue, “They don’t need to meet at the show.”

Radagast brightens, “They don’t need to meet at the show!”

            “I’m surprised how much you care.” Gandalf admits to Thranduil. “I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

            “Oh, shut up. I just don’t want to see you lose your bet. Elrond is insufferable enough as it is.” He amends and stands, holding out a hand for Gandalf to take, “Now, let’s see this shitshow through to the end, shall we?”

            “Indeed.”

***

Fíli didn’t make it.

The traffic into the city was worse than Fíli’s ever experienced in all his days hauling freight. It crawled ahead by inches for close to two hours, during which Fíli listened to the Christmas special with a broken heart.

He knows better now than to get his hopes up about this sort of thing. Not that he expected much out of the evening, at most an autograph or a handshake.

Still…

Fíli shakes his head, hellbent on turning the night around.

The delivery successful, albeit an hour later than scheduled, he takes the underground downtown and roams the busy streets. Pelargir looks like something out of a Hallmark movie, glittering under strings of gold and coloured lights. Storefronts are decorated with garland and baubles and tinsel, all arranged to evoke Christmas cheer.

It works, the chill of dismay lifting ever-so-slightly from Fíli’s chest.

Fíli plucks his way through the bustling crowd, keeping an eye out for somewhere to eat. He’s decided to treat himself to something fancier than he’s used to. Somewhere with cloth napkins and unique cutlery for each dish.

He spends twenty minutes wandering up and down the maze of streets, reading menu displays and peeking in windows at restaurant floors crammed with guests. Turning another corner, Fíli’s just about to throw in the towel and find the nearest fast-food joint when he, quite literally, stumbles upon a small sidewalk a-frame that’s chalk lettering promises Festive Fancies Within.

Fíli scans the area, hoping that no one saw him trip over the sign, and sets it to rights.

It’s as good a place as any, less busy than everywhere else, though still hosting a fair amount of people. Fíli is greeted by a cheerful looking older gentleman with twinkly grey eyes and a beard to match.

            “How many?” The gentleman inquires.

            “Just me.” 

            “Ah, for one. I can only offer a seat at the bar, I’m afraid. Though, rest assured, the service is exceptional.”

Fíli shrugs, already unwrapping his scarf and shoving his gloves in his coat pocket. “Suits me just fine.” He says and allows the gentleman to escort him to a seat near the middle of the bar.

The bartender casts him a smile, indicating he’ll be right with him, and continues to expertly shake and prepare multiple drinks at a time. Fíli watches the bartender pour the contents of one shaker into a chilled martini glass with a flourish, while bouncing another shaker from his elbow into his hand before emptying it into a rocks glass filled with a single, large cube of ice.

Fíli doesn’t bother to hide his awe, never having been anywhere the bartenders perform tricks. It’s obvious the bartender appreciates Fíli’s open admiration since he slides Fíli a drink with three discernable layers— seasonal red, white, and green—in a tall glass, garnished with a spear of dark cherries and lime, and a sugar-frosted rim.

            “Thank you.” He says when the bartender approaches to drop a menu in front of him.

            “My pleasure.” The bartender smirks, “Just signal me when you’re ready to order.” And off he swans, plucking a long chit from the machine behind the bar and filling its order in an intricate series of movements not unlike a ballet.

***

Kíli feels like he’s being followed. He’s not unfamiliar with the sensation. Since being on the radio and hosting a handful of televised events, a few enthusiastic encounters occurred on behalf of fans. Normally, he invites the adoration, wanting to accommodate those who support his career; they’re responsible for his success, after all.

Tonight, however, he’s not in the mood.

He wasn’t expecting to feel such crushing disappointment when Rosie informed him after the show that Fíli hadn’t been in the audience. The show itself was a resounding success, deserving of the standing ovation it received when the broadcast ended.

Only, Kíli can’t bring himself to be proud. He was looking forward to meeting Fíli, had a plan to invite him out for a drink—maybe a meal—get to know the man whose mother loves him so much, she’d slipped into Kíli’s DMs.

The tingling at his nape increases, the feeling of being followed morphing into something ominous.  

Not wanting to be axe-murdered, Kíli picks up his pace, striding around a corner as quick as he can without drawing attention to himself. As he’s about to break into a full-out run, he trips and crashes into a restaurant a-frame, ill-placed in the middle of the sidewalk.

            “What the shit!” He cries, hurrying back to his feet. It’s then that he notices a crooked figure rounding the corner. “Vala—” He bolts up the cobblestone path to the door of the restaurant and practically falls inside.

There are a fair few people (witnesses, Kíli thinks, relieved) conversing over expensive looking meals and bottles of wine. The place has an old-world charm about it, stone walls and exposed beams, the waiters donning bowties and polished shoes.

            “Hello.” The host greets him, startling Kíli.

            “Hi!” He chokes out. The host looks ancient, sort of wizardlike. “Hi, yes, sorry.” He tries again, surreptitiously glancing behind him to see if the crooked figure has followed him inside.

The doorway is empty.

            “For one, please.”

The host picks up a menu, “The bar is open for full-service, tonight,” he explains, “Unfortunately our tables are reserved for parties of two or more.”

            “Sounds great,” Kíli follows the host to the end of the bar, unzipping his leather jacket and pulling off his scarf. He’s so focused on getting himself sorted that he doesn’t notice the bartender delivering a pint of Guiness he didn’t order until a coaster is placed in front of him.

Kíli’s about to say something when the bartender, a dazzling man with silvery hair, informs him, “From the gentleman at the end.” and hooks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction he’s referring to.

            “Oh,” Kíli slopes to the side to see around the bartender and his jaw drops. “Oh…!”

He can’t believe it. There, sitting alone, slouched over a book that has his full concentration, is Fíli Durin. Kíli can’t help the airy laugh he lets out and quickly gathers his jacket and scarf.

            “Thank you,” He says to the bartender, who sports an oddly conspiratorial grin, “I’m just going to—yeah.” In his excitement, Kíli almost forgets his pint, grabs it at the last second, and scurries—not too eagerly, lest he present himself as a wanker—to fill the vacant seat beside Fíli.

Fíli, so enraptured by his book, doesn’t notice.

Kíli clears his throat, “Um, hi there.”

Fíli’s head jerks up, eyes wide, and slowly turns to face Kíli, face slackening into pure shock. Kíli’s heart is in his throat, palms suddenly clammy. Fíli is more handsome in person than in the picture Dís sent.

            “I—you don’t mind, do you?” He asks about the seating arrangement.

Fíli blinks, seeming to come back to himself, “No. No, please, go ahead.”

            “You’re Fíli. Fíli Durin, right?”

Visibly confused, Fíli answers slowly, “Um, yes. How did you—?“

Kíli cuts in quickly to avoid being mistaken for a stalker. “—Your mum sent me a message a few days ago.”

He’s never seen anyone look so delicious when processing the shock and horror of a mother’s good intentions. Fíli makes it work.

            “Oh, Mahal, she didn’t.” Fíli drops his head into his hands, his broad shoulders shaking as he chuckles through the embarrassment.

            “I thought it was adorable.” Kíli admits and catches Fíli’s gaze, holding it for a few seconds before casting his eyes downward.

Fíli barks a laugh, a sound that sends a jolt of heat to Kíli’s gut, “You did not.”

            “I did!” Kíli shifts closer to Fíli and winks, “I really appreciated the picture she sent, too. I didn’t know Nibin Noeg had any fans left after their last album.”

They banter back and forth; the way Kíli doesn’t know Fíli always imagined they would. The conversation swells and eases by turns, the two slowly losing themselves in one another as the world around them trickles away.

Fíli is interesting and funny and more than Kíli assumed, and Kíli doesn’t want to be anywhere else ever again.

From the look Fíli gives him, Kíli thinks Fíli feels the same.

***

Collapsing into various seats around Gandalf’s office, the three Weavers heave sighs of relief.

            “We did it.”

            “Understatement of the century, Gandalf.” Thranduil retorts, summoning a cup of elderberry tea. He directs his next statement to Radagast, “I can’t believe you got him—” that is, Kíli, “—there on time.”

Radagast shrugs helplessly, “I didn’t. I lost him outside the theater.”

They allow the information to marinate between them for a minute before Gandalf snorts and then erupts into booming laughter. Thranduil joins him next and then Radagast, though somewhat less enthusiastically.

There are three things a Weaver understands intrinsically.

One, Weavers aren’t miracle-makers.

Two, Weavers can’t force love to happen where it doesn’t want to.

And three, Eternal Love is a rare gem that will bring two people together.

With or without a Weaver’s interference.

Gandalf flicks his wrist and catches a stein of lager that appears, takes a deep drink, and says thoughtfully, “What a bloody waste of time.”

            “At least you get to keep your hat.” Radagast points out.

            “Very true, old friend, very true…”

 ***

END

1 – I wanted to incorporate Castar currency, but there obviously isn’t a symbol for it so…this is what I liked best XD

[mariacallous]

The Muppet Christmas Carol has been voted the best Christmas film of all time in our annual readers' poll – knocking previous winner It's A Wonderful Life off the top spot.

Frank Capra's iconic 1946 drama starring James Stewart has consistently been named the winner of the poll in the many years that RadioTimes.com has been running it, but has to settle for second place this time around, after securing 16 per cent of the vote - compared to 20 per cent for the winner.

Brian Henson's irreverent take on Charles Dickens's classic Yuletide yarn – which famously starred Michael Caine as notorious miser Ebenezer Scrooge alongside a cast of Muppets – had previously finished runner-up, but now tops the poll one year after it celebrated its 30th anniversary.

As it was crowned, Henson spoke exclusively to RadioTimes.com about topping the list – describing the result as "wonderful" news.

"I'm very proud of the movie and I'm thrilled that people appreciate it so much," he said. "It was a very special piece, it took a lot of people working really hard and we really put our hearts into it. And I'm thrilled that it's so popular and it seems to be even building the popularity, which is great."

It's a fitting year for the film to have won the poll given Caine recently announced that he was retiring from acting, and Henson paid tribute to the star and his "incredible body of work", calling him the "quintessential working actor."

He added: "It was really fun doing Christmas Carol with him because he so appreciated all of the humour around him. But he played his part very, very seriously. He said to me, 'I'm going to act as if I'm working in the Royal Shakespeare Company and that's only going to make the Muppets even funnier and more delightful.'

"And he was absolutely right. But it was wonderful because he'd do a take where he's so severe and dark, and then I'd call cut, and then he just start laughing at everything that was going on around him. So he was really just a delight to work with."

Meanwhile, Henson also urged fans to watch one version of his film in particular – specifically the longer cut containing the previously lost song When Love Is Gone, which was added to Disney Plus for UK viewers a few years ago.

"When [the song] is in the movie, the structure of the movie is much, much better," he said. "And the emotional arc for Scrooge and Michael's performance is much, much better. He tuned his entire performance going into that moment and coming out of it and then to sort of cut the meat of it was a real shame, so it's great to have it back in!"

In total, there were 27 films on our shortlist – from classic Hollywood fare such as White Christmas all the way up to last year's Spirited.

The third place position went to 1990's Home Alone, which gained 8 per cent of the vote, while Love Actually came in fourth – also with 8 per cent, but marginally fewer votes – and Die Hard rounded out the top five with 7 per cent of the vote.

Interestingly, Elf, which has regularly been a fixture in the top five and celebrates its 20th anniversary this year, dropped down to eighth position, with Miracle on 34th Street and animated gem The Snowman both coming ahead of the Will Ferrell classic in the final results.

[autumnleopard]

warm winter

I wrote something again! It is soft and fluffy. It was inspired by this amazing fanart by @whentommymetalfie. I hope you like it!

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy x Alfie

Word count: 1447

Summary: On a very snowy day, Alfie and Tommy enjoy some soft time together.

Warnings: None, it's just some sweet domestic fluff.

AO3

It was one of those rare afternoons that were just so very calm and completely devoid of any responsibilities. Alfie liked those days under normal circumstances already but today was special because Tommy—the lovely bastard—was in London for the whole weekend, and they’d get to spend it together, able to just be them and be close without fear of judgement and persecution. That was also a very rare thing, a very nice thing but unfortunately rare. At least in the sense that they didn’t have business to deal with. Any chance they got to be themselves, they cherished and enjoyed to the fullest.

Although the circumstance that led to their much desired time together this weekend was not ideal. Far from it and Alfie hoped it would not be repeated in the future.

It hadn’t actually been the plan that Tommy would be here this weekend. Alfie hadn’t even known that he was coming to London. Apparently, Tommy had come to drop off a Christmas present for his nephew and then decided to visit Alfie—after all, he was already in London, so he might as well. Alfie was somewhat convinced that the story about the nephew’s present was just a cover for his family back in Birmingham—the only one who knew of them at this point was Tommy’s sister Ada—just to give them a reason why exactly he was going to London on Christmas Eve, especially since there had been warnings of heavy snowfall on the radio.

Said snowfall was also the reason why Tommy was staying the whole weekend now because it had been strongly discouraged to drive in this weather—not that either of them was complaining, mind you, it was rather convenient. A very welcome change indeed and Alfie was not ashamed about hoping that Tommy’s stay would somehow be extended beyond the weekend.

But Alfie did not like that Tommy had walked to his house in the snow and freezing cold. He had been uncontrollable shivering when he had arrived, standing on Alfie’s doorstop covered in snow, dangerously looking like he was about to become a snowman. The snowflakes in his dark hair—Tommy had forgotten his cap at his sister’s place—had reminded Alfie of stars in the night sky, which was unfortunate because although Tommy still looked very, very pretty, he also looked utterly and completely miserable, which was not a good look on him to be honest; looked like a kicked puppy, that was also freezing its tail off.

So Alfie had quickly pulled Tommy inside and got him out of his clothes, something he really loved doing but not in this context. Tommy had been shivering so much that he had been unable to talk, he had just kept holding on to Alfie as the man had helped him undress. Alfie cursed his stubborn lover for choosing good-looking clothes over practical ones. A suit simply was not the right choice of clothing in the middle of winter. Sure, he had a coat but evidently that hadn’t helped much after a certain point.

Alfie had given Tommy something warm to wear and then started a fire in the fireplace in his living room—the general heating could be unreliable sometimes, and a fire was cosier anyway. He had made some camomile tea in the kitchen while Tommy had gotten comfortable on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

It was quite the sight he walked in on when he brought the tea to the living room.

Tommy was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a blanket loosely wrapped around his shoulders and clad in one of Alfie’s knitted jumpers—it was a very nice shade of blue, which brought out Tommy’s eyes nicely—and some comfy trousers. The jumper was a size or two too big for Tommy and his hands disappeared in the sleeves. Cyril was curled up next to him. All in all, Tommy looked cosy and very soft—and Alfie might have just fallen a little bit more in love with him.

Alfie sat down next to him and immediately Tommy rested his head on his shoulder. Alfie smiled, rubbing his back. “Better?”

Tommy just simply nodded and Alfie was starting to worry because Tommy still hadn’t said a single word since turning up at his door. He hoped he wouldn’t get sick. Alfie got the impression that Tommy was difficult and a right fucking arse when sick. As much as he loved him, and even though he’d still take care of him of course, he was not entirely sure if he’d have the patience to deal with Tommy when he had a cold, or worse. But there was not much he could do about it right now, just wait and see.

He gave Tommy a cup of tea and watched as he took it gingerly, trying not to spill anything as his hands were still trembling slightly. Tommy just held the cup in his hands for a while, letting it warm his frozen hands. Eventually he relaxed and took a sip, followed by a content and pleased hum—Tommy was quite particular about his tea and it had taken Alfie ages to get it right.

Alfie smiled. “Now?”

Tommy just nodded again and just focused on enjoying his tea. Alfie decided to continue the book he had been reading when Tommy had rung the bell. Tommy was leaning into him, just drinking one cup of camomile tea after another until the pitcher was empty.

Alfie shook his head amused. “You need to go easy on the camomile. You’re gonna get crazy.”

Tommy flashed him a tiny smile but it got interrupted by a big yawn, which he unsuccessfully tried to hide.

“How about a nap?” Alfie suggested, tenderly carding his fingers through Tommy’s soft, tousled hair. He received another short nod as answer and then Tommy gently made Alfie lie down so he could positively flop on top of him.

Alfie chuckled and waited until Tommy had gotten comfortable—which was an actual lengthy process that included using his chest as pillow (something he always did anyway), hugging him as best as the position allowed and snuggling into him with an effort that Alfie only knew from Cyril, to be honest. Seriously, this process took a lot longer than one might imagine because somehow Tommy made a science out of it. Once Tommy was finally comfortable—Alfie could tell by the way he melted into the warmth of his body—Alfie pulled the blanket over him, all the way up to his chin, and wrapped his arms around him.

Cyril lifted his head and looked at Alfie, tilting his head to the side in question. Alfie put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Nap time, boy,” he whispered. Cyril yawned and curled back into a ball by their feet. Alfie smiled and decided to give his eyes a little rest as well.

When he opened them again, a quick glance to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace told him that it was a couple of hours later. Thankfully the fire was still going, if weakly, and the room was comfortably warm. Tommy was still asleep and practically wrapped around Alfie, his face smooshed into his chest. Alfie smiled and played with his hair while watching the snow fall outside. It was getting dark and the snowfall had calmed down a little at least but it did not look like it would actually stop anytime soon.

Some tiny movement made Alfie pay attention to his now slowly awakening partner. Tommy made a soft sound, a sleepy hum, and opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times. He yawned, burying his face in Alfie’s chest to hide it again.

“Hello there, treacle. Did you sleep well?” Alfie greeted him softly, brushing away some locks of hair from his forehead.

“Mhmmm.” At least that was more than a nod, finally. Sometimes Tommy’s silent nature infuriated Alfie. “You’re very comfy. Soft and warm. Good pillow,” he added drowsily.

Alfie chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I always do.” Tommy raised his head a little so he could look at Alfie. He smiled softly. “I love you.”

Alfie smiled back, kissing his forehead tenderly. “I love you too.”

Tommy hummed and just snuggled into Alfie again, nuzzling his neck, and quickly fell asleep again. Alfie sighed smiling. As long as Tommy was comfortable, he didn’t mind. At latest, he’d have to wake Tommy when the fire went out, so he could rekindle it. That was still a little while away, so Alfie just held Tommy and closed his eyes again too.

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #240

Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? No.

Have you ever built a snowman? Yes.

What is the last thing you drew a picture of? A meerkat character of mine.

What do you think about babies? I actually think most are ugly as opposed to cute and they're all annoying. That's my problem, not theirs, they're literally babies and are therefore going to be, but still.

Was your last kiss standing up, sitting down, or lying down? Lying down.

Do you hate the last person you kissed? No.

Do you like to listen to the radio in the car? No, I prefer to listen to my own music.

Do you sleep with a fan on? Yes.

Have you ever broken up with someone for someone else? It was PART of the reason I left Girt the first time we tried dating.

Is something bothering you? I've been bothered by life for a long time now.

Have you ever taken a shower with anyone before? When I was young.

Have you done anything sneaky lately? No.

Were you happy when you woke up today? No. For the past long while I've literally been disappointed upon waking up.

Do you wear your seatbelt in the car? Of course I do.

Have you ever been cheated on? No.

Do you prefer to spend your time indoors or outdoors? Indoors, realistically.

Do you think you spend too much time feeling upset? I'm sure I do.

When was the last time you were sick? Last month I had Covid.

Has anybody close to you passed away in the last six months? No.

Have you ever broken the law? Yeah.

What was the one subject in school that frustrated you because you just couldn’t process it? Various kinds of math.

What common advice do you think never works? "Just be positive," stuff like that.

Do you own any cookbooks? Mom has a lot.

Do you have the same religious beliefs as your parents? No.

Would you ride a motorcycle if given the chance? (or have you?) I don't think so.

Is your hair healthy? It's not right now. All the bleaching and stuff it took to dye my hair has it very, very dry, but it's probably my own fault because I haven't done all the aftercare I was told to do with my hair.

How often do you take a train? Never.

Do you have an interesting passport? I don't have one.

Who supports you financially? My mom.

Are you generally a quick learner? It VERY much depends on the subject.

What’s your favorite spot to read? On the back porch, which is meshed in and roofed so it stays a bit cooler.

Would you be/are you a good role model to a younger sibling? No. My younger sister is a role model to ME.

Are you scared of reptiles? Not at all.

Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Yes.

Where would you most like to go in your state, etc. that you haven’t been? If we're just talking my state, the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Are you camera shy? Why/why not? Yes, because I think I'm ugly and don't like pictures proving it.

From inside of your house, how many doors lead outside? Two.

Who was the last person to give you flowers? Girt.

What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up? Technology.

Do you like BBQ sauce? I don't at all.

Is your mother a lesbian? No.

Would you ever consider getting dreadlocks? No.

Have you ever donated blood? Twice. I wanna do it more often.

Do you believe in miracles? No.

What are three ways in which you are not normal? I'm unemployed, I live with my mom when I'm pushing 30, and I guess being neurodivergent counts.

Which genre of music do you listen to the most? Metal and rock of sorts.

Last person you kissed, are they into any type of sports? Which ones? No.

Does your best friend have a job? Yes.

When you move out of your house (or if you already have moved out) do you plan on still visiting your parents’ house? Yeah.

Have you ever worked two jobs at once? No.

Who in your life causes you the most stress or negative feelings? I mean, myself, really.

Have you ever had a teacher that also taught your parents? In my last college attempt, actually, yes. I had the same English teacher my mom did at one point.

What’s something you complain about frequently? Being depressed. Especially lately.

Have you had any confrontations with anyone lately? No.

Do you walk fast or slow? Slow.

Is there any alcohol in the fridge? No.

Is the last person you kissed older than you? Yes.

Are you the type of person who seeks out revenge? No.

Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? I loved doing this.

Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? I've been planning that for multiple years now... and it doesn't happen.

When was the last time you used a disposable camera? I couldn't tell you.

Do you hate it when people smoke around you? Yes.

Have you ever been to Florida? Yes, my maternal grandma lived there.

When’s the last time you screamed really loud? The last time I did this was I think into a pillow, quite a while ago.

Has anyone ever called you a whore? Only ever playfully by friends. I'm quite the opposite (not that being a whore is even bad, I literally do not care).

Who were you last in a car with? My mom.

Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes? Yeah. I don't think they're anything exceptional, I wish they were bluer.

Have you ever played the guitar? Yes, for a little while in high school I took electric guitar lessons.

Would you rather be called "honey" or "baby?" Hunny.

Have you ever eavesdropped on someone’s conversation? Sure, who hasn't? This doesn't necessarily have to entail standing outside of a door with your ear to it or something, sometimes you just listen to convos that aren't yours.

Do you still play the "slugbug no slugbug back" game? I've... never heard them called "slugbugs," we always said "punchbug," ha ha. Anyway, I don't.

Has anyone ever told you to grow up? Most likely, I think this is a common insult.

Have you ever eaten a bug? Not to my recollection. I'm not necessarily against it, though. I think people make way too big a deal out of eating bugs, it's just a massive food source. I wouldn't be opposed to trying a bug-made dish if I trust it was somewhere that prepared it well.

Do you think Apple Jacks is a good cereal? Yes, that's literally what I ate this morning.

Do you think pit bulls are as mean as everyone says they are? Oh shut up.

When eating, are you more concerned with the taste or healthiness? Taste.

Have you ever shoved stuff under your bed to make your room look clean? I haven't, actually.

Do you know anyone who has been a victim of a drunk driver? I probably do.

What would you do if your best friend was marrying someone you can’t stand? This would kinda depend on why I can't stand them. Are they abusive or in some other way toxic? Then I'd gently try to open their eyes to it. Are they aggressively right-wing or something? In that case I'd feel it's not my partner, so not my business to try and stop my best friend from marrying a person if they're not actually dangerous to said friend.

Would you drink a gallon of sour milk for $250? NO.

Has someone ever thrown something at you & it landed down your shirt? HAHA yes.

What toys did you play with in the bathtub as a kid? To be honest, I don't really remember.

Do you like jumping off diving boards? I wouldn't now because I'm too afraid to jump, I don't think my knees can handle me jumping.

[bigfootmountain]

A Soviet scientist said Wednesday she came within feet of the legendary abominable snowman during an eyeball to eyeball encounter with the furry beast in the snow covered forests of western Siberia.

In what Radio Moscow described as one of the closest encounters of its kind, the creature reportedly stood and stared at her with red eyes, not making a sound, before her pet dog chased the snowman or yeti deep into the woods.

The scientist, Maya Brikova, told Radio Moscow she had spent 25 years studying the yeti. Her sighting occurred late last year when Soviet media reported three yeti encounters.

Brikova and two guides had stopped for the night in a forest cabin at an undisclosed site in western Siberia and were awakened by a sound of rolling logs. They said they rushed out to the porch and saw the creature they had waited so long to see.

'The day was breaking and we could see everything clearly. I saw in front of me an animal about 2 meters (6 foot, 7-inches) tall, covered with fur some 6 to 7 seven centimeters (2.5 to 3 inches) long,' Brikova said. 'It was covered with so much fur, its lips looked like slits. The fur on its head and face was shorter than that of its body. The palms were red and bare. The creature studied us with great attention. Its eyes were red without any whites, and its ears didn't stick out,' she said.

Radio Moscow said there had been an estimated 5,000 eyewitness accounts of yeti sightings in the Soviet Union, mostly by peasants, drivers, shepherds and other rural people.

The sightings had been reported in the Caucases region, the Altai district of south-central Siberia and the northeastern Yakutia area.

Brikova said she had prepared herself for such an encounter, so that she could have 'a very good look at this creature and examine it thoroughly. There was a distance of 5 meters (16 feet) between us.'

She said it had not been difficult to measure the hairy biped's height because it was standing against a tree.

'We just stood on the porch and didn't move. The creature didn't move either. Then, all of a sudden our dog dashed out, and the creature quickly hid itself in the forest. We looked around for it but never saw it again,' Brikova said. ---

Last month, the leader of Soviet scientific expedition told the official Tass news agency one of the creatures had repeatedly tried to make friendly contact with his reasearch team in the Pamir mountains near the border with Afghanistan.

Igor Tatsl, said his expedition had reported several nocturnal encounters with the yeti, which they had also seen in the twilight at a distance of about 30 meters (90 feet).

Radio Moscow described Brikova's sighting as one of the closest encounters of its kind but did not say whether she had photographed or filmed the human-like creature. Although yetis, also sighted in the Himalayas, are dismissed by many scholars as a myth, some claim they could be a form of hitherto unclassified ape.

Radio Moscow said in the past 60 years, more than 100 specimens of large mammals had been discovered, 'so the most unexpected discoveries are always possible.'

The Soviets set up a special organization at the end of last year to establish contact with the abominable snowman. Its head, Pavel Belenitsky said the group based in Leningrad will embark on an expedition from May to September to try and obtain photographs and video footage.

'We shall not be hunting for the creature. We shall not be trying to get hold of nature's mystery. It is more important to study its psychological traits, its habits, its migration routes, in short its life under natural conditions,' he said.

The ministry of culture recently established a Society of Cryptozoologists to study the possiblity of its existence following the discovery of a report that Marshal Pavel Rybalko, a famed Soviet tank leader, carried a snowman-like creature in a railroad freight car for several days in 1939 during fighting against the Japanese in the Soviet far east.

Soviet authorities also claim there is evidence that Maj. Gen. Alexander Topilsky found a dead snowman after a shootout with White Russian troops in the 1920's during the Russian Civil War.

By ROMAN ROLLNICK

Copyright: COPYRIGHT 1988 United Press International

[sims-inmymouth]

Delilah Five - Ep. Six

Jan 19, 20XX

It’s snowing! The first snowfall since last December! Tamah came back two days ago with the supplies she found (a bunch of lumber and wooden parts. The most unique thing she found was a typewriter, but it's broken and we don’t have any paper. Well, besides my diary, but that’s off limits). She came back with a massive grin, and when we looked outside, the whole farm was covered in snow!

I love snow! Winter’s my favorite season, because Christmas comes around, and everything gets all cozy. I’m already excited for Christmas, and it hasn’t even been a month since Santa came around! The storm was intense that morning, so we stayed in and huddled by my new radio, listening to the forecasts. A big storm was expected to come through, but just some snow showers until then. Hossannah made mushroom soup for lunch, and when that was over, the snow had finally stopped enough to where we could go outside!

We had the most INTENSE snowball fight. Turns out that Tamah knows her stuff! She loves snow just as much as I do, and she’s COMPETITIVE with it. During the snowball fight, she accidentally nailed Hossannah right in the face! She had to go in after that, and we decided to follow to keep her company.

Now, this part is just as unexpected as it was when it actually happened. We were all warming up by the fire, and Theodora stoked up the flames a bit. And then the carpet caught fire. And then Theo's pant leg. Theo was on fire.

That was incredibly hard to watch. She was okay - she extinguished herself - but she was shaken up. She spent a few hours by herself. Eventually, she said she just wanted to forget about it and go out in the snow again. Hossannah comforted her and hugged her. It was awkward, a really long hug, but they seemed to like it.

Closer to dinner time, we all went back in the snow! Hossannah and Theodora made a snowman together! I made a snowlady with an orange slice and three raspberries. I, of course, made snow angels. Tamah fed the cows. Hey, someone's still gotta work.

We were out there all evening. Once Tamah had finished the chores, she hid herself in a little corner and made a massive pile of snowballs. Oh, yes. The war had actually begun. It was Tamah and Theodora on one team, the other Hossannah and I. Tamah and Theodora cheated because they used WATER BALLOONS. I mean seriously, who does that??

We got some good shots in, but it was all in vain. No, this time Tamah nailed ME in the face! I fell right over!

That hurt a lot, but nature exacted revenge on Tamah. She woke up this morning with a cold, probably from running around in the snow for 8, 9 hours? She woke up coughing and shivering, but that didn’t stop her from milking the cows and finishing the rest of her farmhand farmer duties. Even though she plays dirty, I hope she feels better soon. It’s midday now, and now that she’s finished all her work, she’s taking a nap on the couch. Hossannah checked her forehead, and she thinks it's a fever. We checked what we could see of her for bites, and there were none to be seen. At least she's not a zombie.

Oh yea. Zombies. You know, with all the fun yesterday, I didn't really think about Abana. I haven't gotten the chance to plant a fruit tree for her, ya know, with all the snow, but I will as soon as the weather gets warmer. Only a few more months until springtime. We could have something growing by the summer.

I felt a lot better yesterday. I think if I keep myself busy, I won't have to think about the zombies and everything. That should work, right? If I stay moving, what I did can't come back to me. It has to work.

Here's a drawing I did of Tamah smacking me in the face with a snowball. Theodora caught me drawing it, and she was a little bit pissed.

Yours,

Ruth Givens

[sanguineterrain]

since you said you're going through some stuff I'm sending you this in hopes of cheering you up a bit :) and since Christmas is coming I'm trying to stay in theme....

So it's your first Christmas with Steve as your boyfriend and since it's very cold outside and the snow is getting thicker, you're stuck inside. But that doesn't stop him from driving through the snow to come to your place. You're grinning ear to ear when you see him shivering slightly on your doorstep, flashing you that 'I missed you' smile that always melts your heart. And after he warms up he proposes making some cookies or something festive because neither of you feel like just watching festive movies. You get started and quickly realize that he's a good asset in the kitchen so he's assigned the job of mixing the ingredients you pour into his bowl, secretly sneaking his hand into the chocolate chip bag, guiltily chewing on them when you finally catch him in the act. You pretend to be mad at him but then he presses a piece of the chocolate to your lip and you melt as does the chocolate on your tongue. And then he tries to shape the cookies, both of you laughing at the poorly made Christmas tree and he has to shut you up with kisses, holding your face to him as you squeal and let him press you to the counter, though even after you pull away breathless you still find it in yourself to give the slightest grin. So he ends up making a snowflake and a snowman too, though you like that he looks like a melted one, earning a hip bump from him while sharing a smiley, toothy grin. When the cookies are finally in the oven, he stands next to the oven, checking on them from five to five minutes which you find adorable as you place the dishes in the sink. But when the cookies deem themselves to not be that exciting, he comes to you, opting to bug you instead. Poking at your sides, drowning you in kisses, mouthing along to whatever Christmas song is on the radio or pawing at you in the most needy and adorable way because he can't get enough of you, telling you it's been ages (two days, but still too much for his liking) since he got to hold you like this, but you don't say anything about it, letting him press his face into your shoulder and lock his arms around your waist, his body swallowing yours up in the most pleasant way possible, letting him shove his hands up your shirt to rest against your back because apparently his hands are cold. And then the timer rings and he let's out the most exasperated groan when he realizes that he doesn't want to pull away from you even though he had been waiting to taste the cookies ever since he molded them oh so carefully (and terribly) onto the tray.

"Stevie, the cookies, they're ready."

"Mhm, I know, just five more minutes..."

"They will burn if we don't take them out now,"

"Please?" You don't even have to see his face to know he's giving you that puppy dog look that you cannot say no to.

THIS IS SO CUTE M oh gawd. needy steve and cookies ffffff i desire him carnally. need 2 feed him cookies and cocoa and pull his hair <3

[hournites]

hi T!! for the holiday prompts, can you do 7 for wildnite (friendship or romantic, either is good!) thanks! :)

"Awww, you didn't have to get me a gift!"

~.~

Yolanda taps on Beth's shoulder when her gingerbread cookies go in the oven. She spins around in the Whitmore-Dugan kitchen, wearing her snowman apron over her ugly Christmas sweater, wearing a pretty smile.

"Can I steal you for a minute?" Yolanda's reindeer headband jingles as she looks from Beth to Rick, who is helping with the second sheet of cookies.

Rick nods, uncharacteristically chipper, bobbing his head to the song on the radio as he grabs a new cookie cutter. "I'll watch the oven."

Beth shoots Rick an appreciative glance and dusts her hands on the apron. "Thanks."

Yolanda hooks her arm into Beth's, giggling as she veers her away from all the holiday noise downstairs. It's the first Christmas dinner with JSA's newly extended family, and it is a lot of people. The Chapels, Dr. McNider's family, The Shade and Jennie. Todd, with his boyfriend Danny. Their new friend Sandy. The Whitmore-Dugans, obviously, and Jakeem and Cindy, though Yolanda's been ignoring her. Even Alex said he's coming for dinner.

In Courtney's room, Yolanda closes the door to get some quiet.

"What's up?" Beth asks.

Yolanda pulls a neatly wrapped present from her school bag and presents it to her friend. "Merry Christmas, Beth."

Wonderful delight spreads across her face. "Aww, you didn't have to get me a gift!" Beth takes the big box and beams up at Yolanda, falling in for a hug. Yolanda squeezes her tightly.

Beth pulls away suddenly, her brows flexed together with concern. "Wait, seriously. Yolanda. You didn't have to get me a gift." She lowers her voice gently. "I know your family is going through a tough time financially, I really don't need anything from you."

Yolanda shakes her head. "I insist. Please."

"Okay..." Beth teases apart the wrapping paper, unearthing a box. Yolanda bites the nail of her thumb, watching anxiously as she sets it on the ledge by Courtney's window and lifts the cover. She gasps and pulls out gold and black boxing gloves that match the new suit her parents presented her that morning. On the cuffs is her name stitched in. Beth on one glove. Chapel on the other.

Yolanda takes a deep breath and starts the little speech she's practiced in her head. "I want to teach you to fight."

Beth's mouth parts open with surprise. "Oh!"

"I know you have combat mode with your goggles now. And I know that you don't necessarily want to hurt people, I know that, I do. It's just..." Yolanda trails off, crossing her arms over her dress.

"What, Yolanda?"

"You've been there for me. When Courtney was dealing with Cameron. You were always there. And I guess, I've always thought that Courtney was my best friend, because she's the first person who truly got me out of my funk when everything bad happened...But you were there before Court. You were the first person to let me sit at your table."

Beth grins, hugging the gloves to her chest. "Our table."

Yolanda giggles. "Yeah." She grabbed Beth's arm, eyes warm and happy. "You are my best friend, too. And I loved all the time we got to spend together, even when I was pissed off. And now that you and Rick are so close..."

"What?" Beth laughs. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Yolanda says hurriedly. If Beth hasn't figured out what's happening with her relationship with Rick quite yet, she's not going to be the one to spill those beans. Now isn't the time. "I just want to spend time with you. Just you. So let me teach you boxing. Because you can fight. I know you can. And the next time we're in a sticky situation, I want to fight with you."

"I would love that." She smiles down at the present, tracing her fingers over her name. "I love them."

"You do?"

Beth nods and puts the gloves back into the box, treating them like they're the greatest gift in the world, and not like the refurbished pair she's found online with a nice shine with the help of Jakeem. A look passes over her face that pulls a slight frown from Yolanda. She's deep in thought, considering something in that big brain of hers.

"...What?" she wonders cautiously.

Beth glances at her. "Yolanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you...do you want to stay with me and my parents for a while? I know you have a place here, but...I figured it's a bit awkward with Cindy crashing all the time, and we have room! Rick's in the guest room but we have a pull-out couch in Dad's study and-"

Yolanda throws her arms around Beth, stopping her mid-ramble. "Are you kidding?" It's embarrassing how fast happy tears well up in her eyes. "Yes! Yes!"

"Yeah?" Beth laughs. "Yay!"

"Merry Christmas, Beth."

"Merry Christmas, Yolanda.

Yolanda closes her eyes with the tiniest prayer. Thank you.

[gyubby99]

Me describing the context of my songs in the worst way possible because im bored

Hope - Free therapy from gf

Dove - "Wife fight back?! Kill wife! ....Wife gone. Think about wife. Regret."

Lady of sorrows - fucking kill me pls lol haha

Mr. Radio Star - He's my husband fr (he doesn't know I exist)

Enough - Hit man with car

Everything - I made a thing! *gets ignored* ....never making things again

Applause - CONGRATS YOU CHEATED ‼

Never loved you - I know God said "love your enemies" but even that had consequences

Talk about it - Love your enemies 💞

Snowflake - first wlw talking stage kinda nervous

Stop the song - Dear God, WHY.

The only one - dear God, WHY. (part 2)

Youth - FICTIONAL PEOPLE I MADE UP IN MY HEAD HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Home - #fatherless

Parallel lines - bisexual bitch having a great cry

Time machine - If you're so focused on school maybe you should go to harvard and invent me a time machine you lying cocksucker baby di-

Tough Love - I'm asian

Forbidden fruit - I hate pedophiles

Sweet Lily - I'll punch the world for you

Everything you do - me and my crush talked about her crush last night

Winter boy - My window's open.. just saying

Seventeen - my self respect and feminism leaving when that hot ass guy walks in the room

I'll never love again - the previous description but older narrator

Monster in a cage - FOR THE LAST TIME I DO NOT WANT TO BUILD A SNOWMAN

Stay - Sisters shit on ex misters

My Apologies - If 'Stay' had a mental breakdown

Jewels - hit man with car pt.2

Loyalty - murder men