#christmas threads

[angie-long-legs]

christmas starter for vox [ @hazbinned ]

A Christmas market was certainly not something one would expect to see in Hell. And yet, every year, Pentagram City played host to the demonic equivalent of such an event, held by a group of nostalgic sinners whose yearning for days gone by manifested in the recreation of earthly festivities. However, considering this was Hell, some vendors were a little less wholesome than a Christmas market typically called for. Slotted in amongst the usual tables of holiday-themed trinkets and knick-knacks were distinctly scummier-looking stalls, displaying everything from knock-off Fizz-bots to stolen VoxTek products; from used weapons to (hopefully unused) Lust-brand sex toys. The result was an unsettling amalgamation of genuine festive cheer and soulless, phoney cash-grabs. It was the black market on a white Christmas, polar opposites bleeding into one another to create their own unique shade of morally grey.

None of that particularly mattered to Angel - all he wanted was somewhere he could go incognito. Jam-packed with holiday-making sinners, it was easy for him to slip through the crowd unnoticed, especially with the addition of winter clothing. A pink and white striped scarf masked the lower half of his face, while a black woolly hat with a hot pink pom-pom atop it was pulled down to shield him from any potential gawking. Angel tugged his jacket around himself, shivering as the cold December air nipped at his rosy cheeks. At least, here, he could blend into the background. For once, he was invisible.

For once, he wanted to be.

What he didn't want was to return home to the hotel on Christmas Eve with smeared makeup and puffy eyes, the bright, cheerful joy of his friends snuffed out the instant Angel showed up damaged. They deserved to celebrate without having their good spirits marred by the porn star's sob story. The evidence of a particularly rough shift was a brutal reminder that neither he nor they needed: that his circumstances were no less dire during the season of giving.

Givin' me a fuckin' black eye, Angel thought with a bleak chuckle, puffs of chilly air forcing their way out from behind his scarf and clouding his vision. Morbid humour. Merry fucking Christmas.

As the frosty air disapated, a familiar face revealed itself to Angel from across the bustling street. An unmistakable TV-headed demon was hunched over a stall, and appeared to be inspecting its trove of treasures with intense focus. Angel frowned, side-stepping towards the Overlord before he could register what he was doing. He came here to be alone, after all, not chew the fat with the CEO of the very place he was desperately trying to forget about. So, why did he now find himself approaching him?

As always, it was curiosity. Just what exactly was Vox doing here? Had he been visited by a ghost who had encouraged an appreciation for small businesses, perhaps? Or was he here to cuss out the vendors selling stolen VoxTek products? Admittedly, the idea of an Overlord causing a scene in the middle of a Christmas market was pretty entertaining. Maybe the holiday spirit was alive, after all!

"So," Angel said breezily as he sidled up to the media demon, looking straight ahead at the market stall rather than at Vox himself. "Who's the unlucky sap ya waited until Christmas Eve ta buy a present for?"

With a quick sideways glance, Angel made certain that neither of the two rather recognisable demons had been clocked before he turned to acknowledge the other.

"Or is there some other reason yer hangin' around this overpriced junkyard in the freezin' cold, all by yerself?"

divider by @issysh3ll

[a-adventurer]

Gimme Christmas threads. Oooh also gimme a thread where one muse is visiting family for Christmas but their car breaks down in a small town. They meet the mechanic but it's gonna take a few days to get the car fixed.

[shushmal]

Happy turkey day to those that celebrate, I’m thinking about Steve who has absent, borderline neglectful parents but THAT’S ACTUALLY OKAY it’s actually perfect on holidays because Steve’s pretty extroverted and probably has a large group of friends extending from close to “we’re on the same basketball team and Steve will high five your face if you don’t get your hand up fast enough”

so really all he’s gotta do it bat those puppy eyes at some unsuspecting mom and BAM invited to holiday dinner. He probably does rounds, and thankfully he has teenage boy metabolism because he probably manages to fit 7 different moms’ dinner in in one day

And sure, after he graduates he’s not sure if it’s good manners to show up at old teammates’ doorsteps. BUT THEN Mrs. Henderson looks at him mid-November and totally claims him for the day where she’s hosting her brother’s family too. Except Dustin brags to Lucas and Lucas gets jealous so Steve then also has to show up at the Sinclair’s in the evening. Max is already there so Steve drives her home that night with leftovers. (Mike is very secretly butthurt about all of this and is really nasty to Nancy the weeks of thanksgiving and Christmas.)

(Robin’s family doesn’t DO thanksgiving but instead goes camping for the week. Robin hates this, and they wouldn’t let Steve join them even though he had his own tent so she hates it MORE. She tries to mutiny but her mom gives her these sad teary eyes and cries about Robin growing up too fast and robin’s fate is sealed. She and Steve instead have their own tradition of movies and junk food the weekend after, so Robin gets reintroduced real food again. So while Buckley’s aren’t on the thanksgiving rotation, Robin gets special Christmas privileges and Steve stays over on Christmas Eve.)

So by the time Eddie is in the picture, Steve already has standing expectations for his presence that’s not just a drive-by plate cleaning, and he’s kinda sad, he and Wayne don’t usually do much and Wayne has to work usually. But actually how dare he be sad, because Steve’s like “🤨 you’re coming too, stupid” and he Eddie and max go to each house like trick or treaters but for turkey.

Then Steve gets close with Eddie’s friends and they have to start splitting holidays like children of divorce.

One time Steve gets it in his head to hold friends giving the week before. He never does it again.

[murasaki-cha]

Wow book artists are FEEDING me these days!!!!

Credit goes to:

@frostbite.studios for Jurdan

@palinlineart for AlizehCyrus

[dushku]

THIRTEEN HORROR FILMS THAT SCARED TF OUT OF ME!

tag rules: select 13 horror films that at one point in time terrified the hell out of you (gifs optional)

tagged by @pascow

tagging: @moonlight @rachmcadams @stuart-townsend @saw-x @mikaeled

@xenobites @j0el-miller @dhawanmasters and anyone else who wants to do this!

[paintedstitches]

I finished all the ornaments from my festive stardew valley cross stitch pattern. The bead work took forever... and now I'm decorating my Christmas tree

shop - tip - tumblr

[slayingdotfit]

Gym Bros have been more right than many health experts the last four years. Shout out to the Gym Bros.

Get this comfy shirt 👕-> Slaying.fit

[the-apocrypha]

🎄🎄🎄

Three trees oh my goodness! Extra Hallmark AU for you. <3

“Sorry,” Hob says again, as he at last looks up from tapping at his screen to meet Dream’s eyes.  “You are required elsewhere,” Dream states, head tilted. Hob inhales creme brulee, and shivers despite the warmth of the fire. “Yeah. Er, croissants.”  “In the oven?” Dream asks.  “No! God, no, I’d be running. Just the dough resting a bit before I laminate it. You ever made croissants before?”  “Once,” Dream says. The faintest hint of a smile flickers across his face. “Barely. A cooking class in Paris, where we assembled the dough, performed one round of amateurish lamination, and then were handed a professional grade dough from which to finally shape our croissants.”  Hob grins. “So you’re an expert, then?”  “A master of the craft,” Dream says solemnly.  “Well, my kitchen’s still open, if you ever want to come teach me a thing or two,” Hob teases, delighted. “Or, y’know. Just come say hi. Hang out.”  “And subject myself to your wretched music?”  “It’s Christmas music,” Hob protests.  “Wham! are not Christmas music.”  “Actually, it’s an Ariana Grande cover.” 

make me write

[radioiaci]

[ vox's christmas jamboree ] - open starter #2

The press of piano keys is gentle - though loud enough to be heard over the din of party-goers. While he is not participating in the apparent karaoke contest (which he would win, even if he was), he is happy to provide some light accompaniment for the evening, humming along to the melody which his claws deftly trace from measure to measure.

They do not falter as he spies the other approaching, carrying through the remainder of the song as he greets them.

"Any requests?" He asks in a warm tone. Alastor is, momentarily, in his element. Even amongst the throngs of other citizens of Hell which he would rather consume than party with.

But he is here to be good at Vox's behest.

[pagan-stitches]

I’ve completed the first quadrant of my recreation of a 19th century Karelian embroidery.

Here is a rough mock-up of what it will look like completed:

I’m planning on it being part of a larger piece that I’ll use at the solstices.

[asexxxualauthor]

Me: (about to fall asleep)

My Brain: “In Jim Carrey’s Grinch, all the male Whos are clean-shaven—the most facial hair any have is sideburns, never a mustache or proper beard. This speaks to their exceptionally conservative and traditionalist culture, one that demands conformity and a sense of order, and which further alienates the Grinch due to his literal inability to comply. The gift and use of the razor, then, not only is a reminder of the bullying he was subjected to as a child, but a textual metaphor of the ways society attempts to strip individuals of their uniqueness and personhood in order to conform and become a part of compliant whole.”

Me: “…well thank you, but now I can’t go to bed, asshole.”

[tortellinigirl]

i think the adult relationship to the childhood dog is something that is so tender and heart-wrenching and important. you are the last vestige of my childhood. you are the sacred keeper of the memories i hold dearest, but you can barely see or hear me anymore. who do i become once you’re gone? where do i turn to remember myself? you’re the last one sitting next to me at the door of a childhood home that no longer exists, waiting patiently for the return of a family that no longer exists. where can i live when you, too, no longer exist? i can’t let go. please don’t make me let go. i know you’ll leave soon. i wish you didn’t have to. but she’s just a dog. her life is short and i will witness her death and i’ve known this from the beginning. i didn’t think it would come so fast. am i ready? have i become someone yet? have i become unrecognizable to her yet? does she still see the child i was? i’m still the child i was. please, don’t forget the child i was. please don’t take her away from me.

[glidasclheriis]

@bloodyxroyal continued from here

"It could be something like that, yes, people have to kiss for that to happen, you know, traditions, they can be so corny for no reason." Judging by the way Rain looked at the mistletoe, it might be the first time he saw it, or they just presented differently over here, but there was no way anyone could put it there in the first place.

"Maybe it will vanish later, perhaps is just, I'm not sure, Earthrealm magic manifesting itself since I'm here." It sounded even more surrealistic, but they could come up with more ideas, and perhaps none of them would be the right one. "I completely forgot which month is back home."

[incorrect-candela-obscura]

Jean: If you bite it and you die, it's poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it's venomous.

Nathaniel: What if it bites me and it dies?

Sean: That means you're poisonous. Fucking hell, LT. Learn to read.

Marion: What if it bites itself and I die?

Auntie Bee: That’s voodoo.

Marion: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Jean: That’s correlation, not causation.

Marion: What if we bite each other and neither of us die?

Sean: That’s kinky.

Nathaniel: Oh my god.

[slytherhys]

Threads of Fate & Magical Inns

Synopsis: Elain is driving to Velaris for Christmas but a snowstorm forces her to spend the night at a remote inn in the middle of the Illyrian woods. With only a few days until Christmas, Elain finds herself snowed-in in the middle of nowhere, a solemnly-looking cat her only company. Or so she thought.

This series can also be found on AO3!

TW: Strong language & explicit content

Chapter One: 22nd of December

When Elain had first told her sisters she’d be driving to Velaris instead of taking the train, they’d been rightfully dubious. Besides her hatred for driving, it was known to snow quite frequently in the mountains. Elain had thought her car could’ve endured it despite being a relic from ancient times, but she had seriously underestimated the snowstorm heading her way.The roads were slippery, the heater in her car was broken and an old Christmas CD had gotten stuck in her radio, meaning she had been listening to the same song for the past 40 minutes – a nightmarish rendition of “White Christmas” that consisted of the last 2 verses on loop. She was fearing for both her life and her sanity.

Still, Elain had persisted - it wasn’t like she had any other choice.

Whatever remained of her usual optimist was slowly dwindling as she parked on the side of the road. Nothing surrounded her but a grove of trees, growing snowbanks and the empty road. She couldn’t quite recall the last time she had seen a road sign, but she knew that although she was close enough to Velaris that she might’ve gotten there in under an hour under normal circumstances, she was absolutely not getting there when a blizzard loomed over her.

She knew she should’ve stopped as soon as she had first listened to the announcement of the impending storm on the radio, but truth be told, it hadn’t felt right stopping then. Elain wasn’t entirely sure why – could’ve been the Venti black coffee she had had for breakfast, could’ve been the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything but chocolate candy all day (‘tis the season, after all) – but her gut had told her she should’ve kept driving.

Now, she was stranded in the middle of nowhere, inside an ancient metal contraption with only M&Ms for sustenance.

Elain rested her head against the headrest of her car with a sigh, cursing her fate for the millionth time that day. She wasn’t a big fan of fatalisms or hyperboles, but she was probably the unluckiest person alive. At least, that’s what it felt like watching the snow fall on the hood of her car, a flurry of snowflakes surrounding her at an alarming rate.

Her eyes snagged on something. Just a few miles ahead, a wooden lamppost unexpectedly came to life, its light glaringly bright against the snow covering the ground. Elain could just make out a small wooden sign from under it, even if she couldn’t quite read what it said. Maybe a motel? A service station? If only fate was on her side for once.

She turned her car back on, closing whatever distance remained between her and the sign. But the closer she got, the odder the sight in front of her became. Despite all the snowflakes falling around her, the lamppost remained remarkably undisturbed by both the snow and the wind. With the way the wind was howling, the sight nearly made her delirious.

Through the glare of the light, Elain could easily make out the words in front of her.

THE DUSK INN - Just up the winding road.

Hope bloomed inside her chest as she let out an embarrassing loud yelp. There was no time to question if the inn was open, let alone time to make sense of the weird lamppost and its too-bright light. Elain quickly turned her car to the narrow country road, elation coursing through her veins at an alarming speed. For the first time in a while, Elain felt like fate was on her side.

The more she drove along the gentle incline of the will, the more the temperature inside her car seemed to drop. Here, the sun could barely penetrate the wood’s canopy. Evidence of the last snowfall remained frozen in clumps around the trees where the awning was thicker.

Just as apprehension started to trickle in, Elain turned the corner, a soft gasp coming out of her mouth when she finally spotted what she had been looking for. Standing like one of Feyre’s paintings, a small house stood against the eery, frigid landscape. The inn itself was merely an old-looking cottage with white stone walls and a grey slate roof. Smoke was coming out of the chimney, and the lights to at least two separate rooms were filtering through the thick drapes. Elain could just barely make out the silhouette of someone pacing in their room.

 If she hadn’t been looking for it, she doubted she’d be able to find it. Other than the inn and one parked car, there was nothing around her and from the state of the untouched woods, Elain doubted many people ventured to this side of the countryside.

Parking her car, Elain quickly grabbed her things before rushing to the inn’s thick, wooden front door. She pushed the door open, goosebumps covering her skin as warmth quickly chased the cold away from her frozen limbs.

She dropped the suitcase on the floor, looking around the empty foyer. “Hello?” She called, but the sudden stillness was too noticeable. Elain chose to observe her surroundings instead, a pleased smile on her lips as she noticed how absolutely adorable everything was.

The warmth, she quickly realised, was coming from a small carron fireplace just near the door to her right. A cup of tea had been left forgotten on the desk, but other than that, there were no other signs of life. The walls were covered in a dark green flowery wallpaper that played beautifully against the dark wooden panels, the same colour as the floor. Under her feet, however, was a large, rust-coloured rug that muffled her every step as she walked around the entryway. To her left was a door that led to the darkened living room and to her right the dining room. The staircase, Elain assumed, led to the rooms – including the one where she had seen someone pacing. She tried to listen for the sound of footsteps, but a sound from behind her quickly distracted her.

Elain turned around, panting slightly as her eyes locked with an older woman.

If only seconds ago the entryway had seemed completely abandoned, now it was brimming with life. The lamp on the desk was now lit, emanating a soft light onto a leather notebook. The cup of tea was suddenly steaming, though no teapot was in sight.

“Welcome to the Dusk Inn.” The old lady smiled gently. “Running from the storm, are you dear?”

Elain chuckled nervously, brushing off the oddness of it all. “I didn’t have much of a choice.” She looked around, still a bit uncertain.

“We rarely do.” The old lady said in a feathery voice, eyeing her with clear, grey eyes. “I’m guessing you need a room.”

“Is there an available one?” If the silence was any indication, she had several, but it didn’t hurt to be polite.

The old lady chuckled, shaking her head as if that was the silliest thing she had ever heard. “The Dusk Inn welcomes only those it wishes to welcome.” Her eyes glinted, but Elain was momentarily distracted by a moving shadow in the corner of her eye. She frowned, leaning her head back as if to try and see whoever lurked beneath the darkness. “Of course, I have a room for you.” The lady’s voice said.

Elain smiled, sweet relief coursing through her veins. Her gaze snatched on the vase in front her, a beautiful pairing of roses and baby’s breath. Had it been there before? She wasn’t quite sure.

“Here you go, Miss Archeron.” The old lady smiled, handing her a key. “You’ll be in room 6.”

Elain took it, grateful. “Thank you, Mrs…”

“No need for formalities, dear.” She gave her a crooked smile. “Just Rhiannon is fine.”

“Rhiannon, is there anyone else staying here for the night?” She asked, a bit restless at whatever she had seen in the living room.

Rhiannon beamed at that. “Well, of course, Miss Archeron.” She said. “Fate will always have its way, will it not?”

Elain wasn’t sure how to reply, so she opted not to, sending Rhiannon a gentle smile before going up the stairs.  

Her room, much like the rest of the inn, was perfectly quaint. The walls were painted in white, the ceiling made up entirely of irregular oak wood beams. Thick drapes covered the only window in the room, but it did little to shut out the howling sound of the wind. The queen-sized bed, however, looked like a dream. There was a fluffy, burgundy comforter as well as a plaid blanket.

All things considered, this inn was the closest thing to paradise Elain had down in the past 24 hours. Sure, some things might’ve sent a saner person running for the hills, but Elain felt oddly comforted. Like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

At least for the night.

Rhiannon had been amicable enough to make her feel at home, but her sisters were expecting her. Her whole life was expecting her in Velaris, and Elain, for one, couldn’t wait to let everyone know why she had dared drive through the hellish hills of Illyria to get to them. Hazel eyes flashed in her mind, but Elain quickly brushed them away. There would be a time for that. She refused to let herself fall into a spiral of hope and despair as she weighed the cons and pros of what she was about to do.

Elain looked around the room, wondering if Rhys and Feyre were aware of this little cabin in the middle of the woods. Rhiannon hadn’t seemed familiar in any shape or form, but there had been a familiarity to her when she had said Elain’s name for the first time.

Although…had she told Rhiannon her name? Suddenly, going over their conversation from downstairs was like threading through murky water, and even Rhiannon’s face seemed to change the more Elain tried to focus on it.

By the Mother, she needed to eat something, or she’d be passing out soon.

She wondered if Rhiannon would let her use her kitchen, considering there didn’t seem to be enough guests for the inn to serve dinner. Rhiannon, however, was nowhere to be seen. The entryway was empty once again, and other than the flare from the fireplace, no lights illuminated the room.

“Rhiannon?” Elain called, going down the last steps of the staircase. “Hello?” The dining room was darker still, as unfamiliar as the sudden urge to bolt back to her room and only come out in the morning. The charming inn now seemed too cold, too empty. The blizzard made itself heard outside, raging against the windows with enough strength to be menacing.

Through the corner of her, a shadow moved before disappearing once again. Elain was trying not to panic, but all of a sudden, the idea of staying at a remote inn seemed like the worst thing she could’ve done. She rushed to the light switch, heart racing as her hands clumsily turned on the light.

Only to find a white cat staring right back at her, long tail swishing from left to right.

“Oh, hello there,” Elain beamed. “Are you the other guest fate brought to me?”

“Is that why I’m stranded here?” Elain’s head snapped to her right, a gasp escaping her as she made sense of the deep voice coming from the doorway.

There, leaning against the doorframe, stood Azriel Rosehall in all his glory. Elain felt her cheeks heat under his stare, felt her tongue turn to dust as he smiled knowingly, eyeing her from head to toe. His eyes flickered to the solemnly looking cat. “Have you been making deals with the fates, Elain?”