#one horse open? sleigh

[egg-sander]

sleigh omg it's giving presents

[rat-at-heart]

Riding on the one horse open sleigh is cool and all, but these two will never get over being the stunt doubles for the bell in The Polar Express.

[misforgotten2]

Over the river and through the woods . . . Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger!

Sunset The Magazine of Western Living  - November 1951

[inkyami]

Weather humanization series: snow

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[susiestamps]

US 1995 32¢ Midnight Angel US 1963 5¢ National Christmas Tree and White House US 1988 25¢ One-horse Open Sleigh and Village Scene

[dontcallthedoctor]

My own take on one of my favorite character themes, the Clifton Sleigh Theme by Henry Mancini. It's a very unique, off-kilter, yet ingratiating tune that's haunted me from the moment I heard it, and I had a great time transcribing and arranging it! I'll include the original down below for those who wanna hear it, as it is somewhat hard to come by :3

That's all from me xp Workin' on more original music for ya'll so stay tuned!!!

[mod-a-day]

Paul Roberts (Projex) and Michael of Nuance "christmas dance mix" (1993)

Note: This is a medley of several Christmas-related songs.  The ones we could identify are…

James Pierpont - "The One Horse Open Sleigh" ("Jingle Bells")

Various Artists - "The Twelve Days of Christmas"

Jona Lewie - "Stop the Calvary"

William Sandys, Davies Gilbert  - "The First Noel"

… we're not very well-versed in Christmas music.

[osomatsusanki]

the hood on my winter coat is comically large and every time i put it on i feel like a horse in a blinder

[too-much-boobus]

just need a day that resets so that i can break ONCE without restraining myself. i just want to grieve i just want to suffer just ONNCE. im so sick of being so responsible but survival and protection is more important. its nothing youre such a pussy you havent really suffered youre so brave youre so strong okay . explosive diarrhea everywhere 😡 so not goobular

[whatever-204]

[hidden-1n-the-sand]

we have discovered that Heart despises christmas. so now. we’re going to be incredibly annoying >:D >:D

[potterwolves]

one time when i was little i got a hold of my dad’s phone and went on twitter and i wanted to search for “jingle bells” but i didn’t know how to use twitter so i accidentally posted simply “jingle” on my dad’s account and his brother replied “jangle”

[craftystampin]

November 2023 Paper Pumpkin Blog Hop

November 2023 Paper Pumpkin Alternatives Welcome to the A Paper Pumpkin Thing “APPT”  Monthly Blog Hop! The PPX Crew has joined up with some additional Stampin’ Up! demonstrators to give you even more amazing alternatives with the Paper Pumpkin Kits. We blog hop on the first Friday of the month with alternate projects from the prior month’s Paper Pumpkin Kit. We are all using the current month’s…

[deerspherestudios]

saw your post about holiday asks and you caught me in JUST the right mood because I always get in such a festive spirit when winter goes around. Anyway mychael's thoughts about snow? Would he like sledding? Ice skating? Making a snowman? Snowball fights? Snow angels? What about baking cookies? What are his thoughts about Santa? Favorite Christmas movie? How would he react to Christmas presents? What about picking out a Christmas tree with the player? How about taking a ride in a one horse open sleigh? Christmas shopping together????????? What about making gingerbread houses? Much to think about......

Truthfully, he doesn't know what he doesn't know about Christmas but he's doing his best! Context for bandage on Mychael's nose.

[bluedalahorse]

creating a christmas music poll of my own

I don’t really do pop Christmas music so I decided to create a poll based on my personal playlist.

There’s more songs I would put here if I could, but tumblr of course limits our poll options.

To further inform your voting, the recordings I listen to tend to be of handbell choirs, church choirs, folk artists, and deliberately old-fashioned arrangements. For instance, one of the albums I listen to has Victorian-era arrangements of Christmas carols. But I invite you to imagine your favorite arrangement of each song if it helps you select your answer!

Also, it’s way too early to post this poll, as it’s not even Advent yet. Reblog to reach everyone else on the non-pop-Christmas side of tumblr.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

O Chilly Night

Warnings: no warnings because I let this be a sweet one. however I could see this Steve getting dark after this story hehe.

Summary: You go skating and fall in a way you don't expect. (plus!reader)

Character: skinny!Steve Rogers

Day Twenty-Two of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - i didn't fall on the ice, it was a trick 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The blades glide beneath your feet as your legs move without thinking. The noise of sharp edges slice across the ice as bodies float in pairs and trios, swirling and swerving in laps around the grand oval rink. Electric lights sparkle all around, intertwined with holly and berries in a festive scene. Cheery laughter and cutting whoops fill the crisp air around the clouds of warm breaths. 

Patricia and Joyce skate behind you, slower as they aren’t so confident in their balance. You keep a relaxed pace and spin to face them, moving backwards as they cling to each other. Joyce chatters and touches her cheek. 

“It’s awfully cold out,” she complains. 

“We’ve been inside all month,” you counter. “I’d rather this than to sit at the typewriter a moment longer.” 

“Mm, I’d rather the warm office,” she grips and Patricia nods in agreement. 

You chuckle, “well, Merry Christmas to you.” 

“I’d like it a lot more if it was in June,” Joyce leans into Patricia. 

“We can get some cocoa after, there’s a stall nearby,” you say. “I told you to bring a scarf.” 

“Thank you, mother,” Joyce sneers. 

“Would you like mine?” You ignore her venomous retort. 

“No, I want to stop. I’m dizzy. This is boring,” she whines. 

“Well, there are benches,” you shrug, “you could take a rest.” 

“Fine, but I’m not waiting on you all night,” she sniffles and cups her nose. 

“I’ll come with you. These skates are too small.” 

You smile through the tug in your cheeks. You thought your new coworkers would enjoy the night out. The rink seemed to be a nice seasonal attraction. Market stalls, skating, and even a horse-drawn sleigh. You might try that next. They seem more comfortable sitting down. 

The head for the closest exit and you turn to skim away, keeping a mellow pace. A raucous thunder of laughter and jeers rise from the other end of the rink and you peek over to see the reason. A group of six men pass by a body on the cold surface. The ice seems to steam around the small figure splayed there. 

No one stops. No one even seems to care and more laugh at the poor soul’s plight than worry for it. You sweep down the center of the ice, swooping between other skaters, and stop to bend over the man in his wool coat. His cap is off his head, pillowing it over the ice, and his scarf is twisted down his front. You didn’t expect a man, not at his size. He's rather spindly and the fall might’ve broken something. 

“Sir,” you eke out, “are you alright?” 

He groans and opens his eyes. They are big and blue around his beakish nose. His gives a pained grimace. “I must be. I thought if I kept my eyes closed I might melt into the ice.” 

“Did you hit your head?” You wonder. “Can you get up?” 

He stares at you, his irises gleaming in confusion as he searches your face. He looks around then nods. “Yeah... I’m good,” he assures you. “Thanks for asking.” 

“Here,” you offer your mittened hand. “You shouldn’t stay down there or you might stick.” 

His forehead creases and his mouth upturns. He snorts, “that’s silly.” 

He looks at your hand and reaches for it hesitantly. You grasp him and do your best to plant your skates. He’s not very heavy. You get him on his blades but he wobbles precariously. 

“Sorry, I’m no good at this.” He clings to you as his feet slip. “My friend wanted to come but...” he glances around. “He’s late.” 

He’s not very tall, even on the skates. And somehow standing, he doesn’t look much bigger than he did on the ice. The hollow of his throat is deep and his jacket is at least two sizes too big. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold. 

He finally lets you go and puts his hand out to balance himself. You bend and scoop up his hat. You hand it over as your cheeks bulb in a smile. 

“You sure you didn’t hurt anything?” 

He stares at the hat before he takes it and covers his messy blond hair. “Just my ego.” 

“We all fall when we learn. That's how you learn, what matters is you get back up,” you say. 

“Yeah? Well, it helps if we have someone to help us up,” he snorts. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “It’s just what you do.” 

“Really? Cause everyone else just laughed at me.” 

“That’s more their problem than yours, I’d say,” you tut. 

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.” 

“Not at all. Merry Christmas, sir.” 

“Yeah, uh, you too,” he looks down sheepishly. “Can I ask how you got so good at this?” 

“Not by honest means. I used to sneak out when my mother wasn’t looking,” you snicker. “Kept a better eye on me after I fell under the ice.” 

He laughs, “hm, guess I’ll have to keep practicing.” 

“Um, I hope your friend shows up soon. Mine are waiting,” you point over your shoulder. “But, uh, do you want some help to the edge? You can lean on the posts.” 

“I think you’ve done enough,” he chews his cheek. “Think I see my buddy.” 

He raises his hand and you turn to look. You can’t see much over the bodies all around you. You’re not sure how he can see more than you. Oh well. 

“Well, have fun and... be careful,” you slowly turn and drift away. You should go find Patricia and Joyce. 

You step off the ice and sidle to the side. You look up and down the benches but don’t see them. There’s families, dads on one knee tying their kids’ skates, mothers checking their coat buttons, and adolescents impatient to go out and find their friends. 

You go around the perimeter, walking on your blades, but don’t find your fellow typists. You stop to change into your shoes, knotting the laces of your skates to hang over your shoulder. You hook your bag strap over them and get up to search the picnic tables. 

Your feet hurt as you come up fruitless in your hunt. You finally give into the disappointment and sit on your own. You stare at the stall as you mull over whether to get a cider or cocoa to soothe the wound. They left you. So much for friends. 

You untangle your skates and set them on the bench next to you. You rub your mitts together and contemplate whether it’s even worth it to spend the nickel. You shield your hurt behind a smile that aches in your cheeks. You miss home. You don’t know why you moved to the city. Like that man said, people just laugh at your pain. 

“Excuse me, miss,” his voice startles you as the thought of him seems to summon his appearance, “I didn’t get your name.” 

You look up at the thin man, his nose even redder than before. He holds two steaming mugs. You blink and utter your name. “What’s your name?” You ask. 

“Steve,” he grins. 

You look at the cups, “you found your friend?” 

“Sure did, he’s racing on the ice,” he says. “I don’t wanna break my tailbone so I thought I’d step off. Er...” he looks down at his hands, “can I sit with you?” 

“Oh,” you look around at the full tables. “I guess. I’m taking up a lot of room, aren’t I?” 

He sets the mugs down and sits. He sniffs and scratches his nose as he beams at you. He’s speechless as you try to figure out what to say. 

“Um, I got you cocoa,” he slides a cup across. “To say thanks.” 

“You...did?” Your brows rise in surprise. “That’s so sweet, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. “So, where are your friends?” 

Your lips straighten. You can’t lie, you’ve never been any good at it. You reach for the mug, your mitten brushing his, and you pull it closer. 

“They left.” 

He hums, “really? Why would they do that?” 

You shrug, “too cold, maybe.” 

“Nah, I'd say they’re too cold,” he scoffs. 

You laugh softly, “you’re too nice. It’s my fault. I asked them and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I just thought...” you trail off. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.” 

“Sure it does,” he leans his elbows on the table as he cups his hands around the mug. “If they don’t think so, then toss them. They’re missing out.” 

You look up at him and blink away the heat in your eyes. Perhaps he isn’t the friend you expected, but you think you made one nonetheless. You smile and blow over the mug. 

“Thank you, Steve,” you lift the cup, “for everything.” 

“It’s nothing,” he pushes his shoulders up as he stares at you with his bright eyes. “It’s just a cup of cocoa. You’re the sorta girl who deserves anything she could dream of.”