#the book of mormon tickle

[raspberriesarchive]

— book of mormon !!

no longer writing for!! ♡ drabble tag || headcanon tag

an excuse to touch you (connor x kevin) - connor, much to his dismay, finds it hard to keep his hands off of kevin.

[giggleeclown]

Coming from someone who went to see it live literally just tonight Cunningham definitely tickled Price during the ‘don’t touch me’ scene. More than once. Like it was a full on wiggly fingers to the side and shoulder thing it was full on tickle. From like… the other few people who have talked about the Book of Mormon in terms of tickling I’ve heard that multiple elder Cunninghams have tickled multiple edler prices but all in different scenes and I find that… interesting

Despite this scene Cunningham is definitely a lee 100% total goofball snorting and shrieking into his hands don’t-touch-his-tummy-or-so-help-me-god kind of lee and he definitely held onto the childish aspect of tickling because he’s autistic silly like that

Anywyas

Saw Book of Mormon for a second time and fuck the possibilities for tickles with these main characters was off the chain. Elder Cunningham (I swore) tickled Elder Price in the bed scene. Beauty.

[imaginespazzi]

stated it will never not tickle me that you give a preamble about how much you don't like the chapter before dropping the most earth shattering amazing chapter ever.

I mean, don't get too cocky I have multiple bones to pick with you, but it was really good ok?!

Before I dive in here, I wanna wish you an extremely amazing vacation! As an Italian American I want to warn you that Italian girls are incredible sexy and if that other person you were fucking with is still being fickle, you should def bang some Italian chick, and get some inspiration for writing smut because you are currently EDGING US TO DEATH.

August 2025

Wow it just occurred to me that in this universe Azzi went back for her 5th year, so at the time of the proposal Azzi is 22 and still planning on spending another year at UConn? Paige what are you doing.

"She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises."

By excited chatter do you mean women yelling PAIGE I LOVE YOU and screaming and throwing their panties at her?

No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months.

gut punch for us PaigeWithLotsOfLesbianRings-sexuals

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

ok this may be out of pocket but I think Paige and Tea would make a really hot couple. I mean if Azzi left her for you Nivi, and that is the only reason P would be single ok?

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

you loooove writing heartbreaking scenes that take place in the back parking lot of a bar where they talk about pretending huh? “Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

well now I have to go commit myself to a psychiatric hospital because I am crying while reading a fanfic about a real life couple who are on the university of Connecticut women's basketball team. Great!

if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world

Annnnd Paige's impending panic attack in the present day story is going to be about…

April 2033

“you look phenomenal.”

ok after I read this line my inner monologue was literally "wow big word Paige", so the next line you wrote is technically plagiarism

“Foreplaying,”

ok I loved this cause it was finally a reference to something sexual between them. Up until now its technically been a chapter of the book of Mormon.

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

so at this point Paige just wakes up, gets ready for the day, goes to Azzi's for the entire day, then gets home and immediately goes to sleep?

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it.

def not in the Book of Mormon anymore Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

this line is line is extremely Paige accurate

April 2029

“she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

wow stab and twist

Ok honestly justice for Olivia, girl deserves to be fucking furious.

"How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

oh ok, im crying again

April 2033

Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates.

ok mystics game reference

“and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,”

ok in this Universe is it not canon that most womens basketball fans know these two are a couple? Like is it common knowledge to these other players that they are non-platonic or is it a pre-leak reality? “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

ok I can just hear this in a French accent and Paige just making the most disgusted American face possible “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

This proves Paige is no rizzler at all, because a rizzler would know that a woman does not want a sugary frozen blended drink at a club “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive

oh, ok, so now you have me feeling sympathy for this French fry? You are the QUEEN of writing 'the other woman'

It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence.

NEVER BEEN FURTHER FROM THE BOOK OF MORMON

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

I AM SO SCARED RIGHT NOW

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

wow Paige, weird time to be all domestic n shit

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right.

OMG Azzi showing uninhibited emotion this is crazy

“we hooked up a couple of times,”

thats it?! wow Clem has no game, I am proud to be an American - where at least i know im freeeeee

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

oh now im crying from my eyes AND my vagina. But most of all I'm MAD- MAD at you for ending the chapter there, and not showing us the SEX, then going at least two weeks without a chapter - EDGING US TO DEATH. 🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻

Ahahaha tbf I'm a bad judge of my own writing because reading it lowkey makes me die the first time 😭

Well as much as I can confirm that Italian women are in fact stunning, I am a) on vacation with my family which includes my strict-ish parents and b) my situationship is in a pretty good place right now

That is in fact exactly what I mean by excited chapter

Listen if Azzi every leaves her for me, idc who that blonde decides to do at that point. Téa is drop dead gorgeous tho.

There are apparently some common tropes that I must write about these two i.e back of the bar heartbreak, phone calls...I have a formula

If it helps, in real life those two are being disgustingly domestic visiting each other's families and acting like an old married couple where one of them builds while the other appreciates the scene so...

LMAO same braincells fr so it's not actually plagiarism

BOOK OF MORMOM 😭😭😭

Yep that's a very apt description of Paige's day really.

Fun little tidbit that I named the character Clémence solely so I could make a clementine joke.

In GH Pazzi were firmly a secret the whole time

I enjoy writing the "other woman" as a woman who was wrongly "other-ed" if that makes sense?

Listen I think we should all clap for Azzi because girlie's taking some steps, baby ones fs, but STEPS!

I think you'll like next chapters babes ;)

[partikron]

Ghosts of New Eden and the Occult in Colonial America:

While playing Banishers: Ghosts of New Eden, I was tickled when one of the first people you meet describes himself and his father as demonologists. That might seem out of place in colonial America, given the nature of the religious milieu at the time, but occultism was all over the place in the colonies.

Despite the belief that magical practice was Satanic in nature, fortune telling, palm reading and particularly astrology were very common practices, and even alchemists could be found in some places. Wealthy people often kept books on magic and demonology in their personal libraries, and one governor of Connecticut had a copy of Cornelius Agrippa's Three Books of Occult Philosophy and some of John Dee's books in his collection. Even the family of Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism, practiced types of folk magic.

But how could people in a society built on what we would call extreme Christianity practice these arts? Well, faith never stopped anyone in Continental Europe, so many of those traditions carried over, but it was probably also the distance from standard religious ritual as seen in Catholicism that allowed folk magic to fill that void to some degree (the channel Esoterica on YouTube dives into this quite nicely). Even many monotheists today have spiritual beliefs and practices that aren't properly sanctioned by their religious texts or authorities, so it shouldn't come as a shock that people have, and always will, forge their own spirituality regardless of the "rules".

Just another reason that the setting of Banishers really tickles me.

[cartograffiti]

June and July '24 reading diary

I was so busy in July I simply never did my June post, so it's a twofer!

Way back in May I borrowed all the literary-inspired cookbooks my library had, and the two I finished looking at in early June were The Book Lover's Cookbook by Jensen and Wenger, and The Book Club Cookbook, by Gelman and Krupp. Both have really approachable recipes, with The Book Club Cookbook having the edge on the recipes being inspired by the text and a little more exciting. I didn't find the selection of books featured terribly inspiring in either, and The Book Lover's Cookbook has a prevalence of Mormon literary fiction that explains what I'd loosely thought of as a Midwestern je ne sais quois in the food. Neither book is nearly as good as Kate Young's Little Library series, so! That's that on that, check out Kate Young if you like themed meals too.

An even more disappointing cookbook for me was The Drunken Botanist: The Plants That Create the World's Great Drinks by Amy Stewart. The stories about each plant are less interesting than the same author's Wicked Plants, and there's a real problem with the text uncritically repeating claims rooted in marketing or racism about the quality or appeal of different items. A letdown! I'm glad I borrowed it instead of buying!

An interesting gothic novel set in Jamaica and England, The Confessions of Frannie Langton was pitched to me totally incorrectly as a romantic mystery. I enjoyed what it is very much once I got over expecting an arc in line with those genres! It's a very disturbing story in which a woman recalls her life as a slave and a free servant, including acting as assistant to race scientists, and the overlaps and problems present in sex work, domestic service, and marriage for women in the 19th century. Sara Collins writes gorgeous sentences, the emotional intensity always felt commensurate with the material in any given scene, and she created a really special character in Frannie, who has complex and sometimes difficult to read feelings about her own agency. In particular, this book has the most powerful portrayal I've ever read of acts of racism particular to white abolitionists, and their need for "perfect victims." Collins also narrates the audiobook, which I highly recommend.

A book that was not for me is Y/N by Esther Yi. This is a literary fiction book about a woman who writes self-insert fanfiction about her favorite K-pop idol, and also about the relationship between the viewer and the artist, the lover and the beloved, the artist and the creation, the believer and the religion. It's about identity, loneliness, and searching for connection. It's a funny book, but it's a very cerebral surreal philosophical story, and this is only going to be for you if you're up for meeting the book's high level of effort. For me, the highly stylized and ambiguous sentences occasionally irritated me to the point of physical pain. I wish I could recommend it more warmly!

I also wish I'd straightforwardly enjoyed Rita Mae Brown's Wish You Were Here. This is a Virginia book with a richness of local detail and expression that really tickled me, even though the mystery was a bit too easy. It also has conversations between the adorable pet characters where they promote eugenics and pathological models of crime. I realize this sounds ridiculous. It was really jarring, and I'm torn about whether to read more and find out whether this is the only incidence.

Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper is one of those major children's books I never read as a child, a nice romp about siblings on vacation in Cornwall trying to find the Holy Grail before nebulous bad guys get it first. Very charming, if not quite engaging enough for me, but I understand it picks up when magic is introduced in the next book. I'll probably read that and find out.

The Star Wars anthology From a Certain Point of View (ed. Elizabeth Schaefer) has some very fun stories, mostly by authors I already knew I liked, and a whole bunch of stories that made me mutter various levels of "Oh, fuck off." I think a) some of these people don't understand how to utilize fanfiction, b) a certain amount of making the Empire characters sympathetic is reprehensible, and c) it is incredible how many writers will invent a daughter (specifically a daughter) for characters to cheaply jerk reader tears. My favorite pieces were Meg Cabot's sweet look at Beru and the two about doing paperwork. I'll probably read the other two 40th anniversary anthologies they did to scan for fave writers and mutter about the same problems again.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is a book I remember my dad liking when I was a kid--and I remember him following the issues with Stieg Larsson's estate, too--and I only sort of knew what it was about. I knew it's a suspense mystery about a journalist and a hacker PI catching rapist-murderers (the Swedish title translates to something like "the men who hate women," which is more appropriate imho). I wasn't prepared for what a nice meditation it is on friendship, isolation, and the ways society fails vulnerable people. I also wasn't aware Larsson was an expert researcher and exposer of neo-Nazi/far right/racist hate groups, which is relevant, too. It's a brutal book, but not bleak. I unsurprisingly love Lisbeth, and while there are some writing choices I truly hate, I love that she's kind of a mess. I will also offer a hot take that I think this would have been a better book without the romance subplot. Still fascinating, and I will read the other two in the series that weren't ghostwritten.

I finished the Lymond Chronicles at last with both The Ringed Castle and Checkmate, and I screamed and screamed and clapped like a seal. Nothing new to say about the series, they're wildly engaging and also frustrating in some important ways, and I'm very glad I read them and more glad I read them with friends.

I also picked back up with reading Jordan L. Hawk's Whyborne & Griffin books with Maelstrom. This is a hugely silly series, which I needed because just look how many heavy and heartbreaking books I've been reading! Monster of the week scares (rats with human faces! cults with unspecific goals!) that appeal to the same reasons I like the Rachel Weisz Mummy movies, great sex scenes, interpersonal problems with heart. Which characters are cartoon characters and which aren't is a little bit scattershot, and that really showed up in this one, but oh well, it was a hoot.

[tyrellia]

knowing the Mormon deeplore as an ex Mormon is pain because I see incorrect statements about Mormon theology, and I want to correct them because Mormon theology is really interesting, but it always comes off as defending the Mormon church when like

Fuck them, y’know? I left for a reason. The deeplore is just so different from mainstream Christianity that I love talking about it - they were so close to making a non-shitty version of Christianity (no original sin! hell is even more exclusive than tier 1 heaven! you can voluntarily renounce covenants! acknowledging that the Christian Bible has translation problems!), then just came up with new and interesting ways to be shitty on their own (racism in the Book of Mormon, barring black people from the priesthood, pretty much everything that came out of Brigham Young’s mouth). And then swandived into mainstream Christian shittiness in desperation to be accepted by Ecumenicalism-senpai

Then on top of that, it never fails to astound me how many other ex-Mormons don’t seem to realize they are effectively outing their shitty abusive families and church leaders as heretics, according to aforementioned deeplore my temple president grandfather shared with me (RIP, hope grandma never finds out her sweet boy is an apostate). So much of what ex-Mormons claim is Mormon theology just… isn’t, and it really shows the extent to which church leadership is willing to turn a blind eye to the behavior of local leadership just to save face

Idk man, I have Thoughts on the weirdass religion of my upbringing, and it still tickles my interest in anthropology

[edwardssnail]

I don't think I've told you about my twilight phase but I'm always so tickled you're a twilight account. when I was like 12 or 13 I did have the phase. this was a time that was not good for me though my family was at a really shitty church sometimes I would unironically wear a khaki skirt and blue shirt and be like "omg just like Bella." I shudder to look back on it. and I remember that was when the midnight sun partial draft was floating around and on smeyers website And I read that, but I also read midnight sun fanfiction. And I'm not sure whether it was a fanfiction or my own demented imagination (probably the former) but I confused canon with that for the longest time I had a very clear memory of midnight sun's ending. Which yk didn't actually exist. I'm a little fuzzy on the details but now but I do remember it having different plot points than the actual ending and I was a little sad when I read midnight sun and that didn't happen. Do you think Smeyer could have written twilight if she wasn't Mormon and it just would've been different or do you think the Mormonism was a vital component in creating the disasterpiece that it is.

Haha I'm glad you appreciate it because sometimes it's SO cringy having to respond to things on my fuckvictorvale account from my twilight blog. So it makes me feel better that someone has seen my main and related

The khaki skirt outfit is so iconic, I wish it was in the movies. AND EDWARD'S SLEEVELESS BUTTON UP because wtf is that. I definitely remember when twilight and new moon came out and wanting to wear all of her layered hollister tank tops and long sleeves. Even now, I love looking at all of Bella's outfits. Some of them are really cute

I didn't find out about the midnight sun draft until I was like 21, hadn't thought about twilight in years, but I so vividly remember being in my college apartment, staying up until like 3 am reading it on my phone lmao. Honestly I liked the draft better than the book. Maybe just because it was shorter. Once the book came out, I read about half and gave up because it was just TOO MUCH. Way too much Edward. I'm not an Eddie hater but good god, nobody needs to hear from him that much

Midnight Sun is actually the main reason I made this blog. I had recently read the draft, COVID quarantine had just started and I was in my last semester of undergrad and not doing well lol. I ended up watching Twilight with my roommates and latched onto it again because of nostalgia and then stuck around for the Midnight Sun craziness

At this point, I confuse canon with fan theories and the spin off books/movies all the time. The last time I read Eclipse and Breaking Dawn was the first time I read them... IN 2008. I really don't have a good grasp on what's canon from the books but I'm just here to fuck around

I think the Mormanism is vital but in the worst way. Like it did not benefit the series at all but without it, it would be unrecognizable. And part of the charm of liking Twilight is how cringy some of it is. Half of it doesn't make sense, half of it is extremely questionable , the characters often aren't developed that well. All of Breaking Dawn is just bad. But it's fun! Idk, the weirdness gives it charm. As much as I joke about how bad it is, I do genuinely enjoy it

[bethelabba]

Judas spent 3 years alongside of Jesus --- and yet still went to hell in the end.

In the book of Pilgrim's progress there is a point where Pilgrim is travelling down a road.  I don't remember his companion, but they come to a point where just next to the road lies another road, and this other road stretches into the horizon alongside "The Road".

Argument ensues, and this fellow traveller takes the other path.  It ultimately leads to his ruination.  His destruction.  His death.  You see, the other road, which seemed to be narrow and straight, ultimately turned at the end, and at that point there was no turning back.

Long --- Decades --- have I said that the PROOF of a man's Christianity is not in it's momentary pleadings "I am, I am, I am..." but in the longer test of where his life and doctrine take him. (1 Timothy 4:16) One might start well.... but in the end comes his destruction. (Proverbs 14:12)

I've seen it all too often when reviewing Christian Music Artists.  In the 80's, they talked of Jesus.  They spoke of morality and sin and scripture.  But in time --- their truest colors show, and the poison of their false professions tickle the ears of so many people who say "... yeah, but, it meant something to me."

A false 'Jesus', is still false, regardless of it's name.  An idol, even named 'Jesus', will not save.   You wonder why so many today say "My Jesus is gentle and kind and would never judge." --- they've bought into "The other road".  They've created an idol, that just happens to bear Jesus name, falsely.  Just like any Mormon.  Just like any Jehovah’s Witness. 

Hebrews 6 paints the picture of someone like that.  Most people read the chapter and think it's about fallen BELIEVERS.  It's not.  It's about the ultimate end of those sitting on the fence, playing the game, walking the "other road".   This is why it concludes with:  It is impossible.... for those (like this) who've fallen away to be brought back to repentance.  (Heb. 6:4-6 paraphrased) IMPOSSIBLE.  Why?  Because they "tried 'Jesus'..." and found him worthless to their minds.  They do not see that they honestly never came to Jesus in reality.

I can think of no better example than Ojo Taylor formerly of the Christian Rock band "Undercover".    Once a proclaimer of "the faith" --- now a hardcore atheist bent on destroying the faith in others.  (He regularly speaks at a convention called "Freedom From Faith"... intent on casting doubt on Christ and Christianity.)  And yet, Christians today defend him. Why?  Because his music spoke to them. Because -- HE -- was their own idol.

If someone --- anyone  --- falls away.  It was because THEY NEVER (read 1 John 2:19 or consider the Sheep & The Goats, Wheat & Tares parables) belonged in the first place.  Time has only shown what was inside all along, and it wasn’t Christ or anything to do with Him. Judas spent 3 years alongside of Jesus --- and yet still went to hell in the end.

The truest test of a person's Christianity is not how loudly they proclaim themselves at this moment --- but rather, where they are 10, 15, 25 years from now.

[secretly-tword-obsessed]

Tickletober Day #2 - The Sun Is Shining

Day Two Of Tickletober! Yay (: Hope you enjoy this tiny widdle drabble!

Fandom: The Book Of Mormon

Kevin Price was very tall. 

Arnold Cunningham was very short.

As a result, Arnold would often wake up in the tent they shared with Kevin’s legs close to his face, as the tall guy tossed and turned in his sleeping bag.

One morning in particular, Price was snoring loudly.

“Time to get up”, Cunningham said, stroking the man’s pyjama covered leg, which so happened to be in his face. “The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and there are many Africans outside this tent just waiting to be baptised”. 

“No”, Elder Price groaned, rubbing his eyes groggily, “A few more minutes”.

Cunningham sighed, before an idea struck him.

“My parents used to do something when I was being stubborn and cranky and not getting out of bed, and I don’t think you’ll like it”, Cunningham warned playfully. 

“Ahhh, whatever”, Kevin whined.

Arnold grinned cheekily and started squeezing Kevin’s legs. He shrieked and sat up instantly, and his shriek dissolved into giggles as Arnold continued.

“Cuhuhhunninghaham!”

“Yes?”

“Stohohop!”.

Arnold smiled and stopped, “Wow, your more ticklish than I thought you’d be”.

Kevin groaned, but smiled, “Ok Cunningham, that got me up. Now lets go convert some Africans!”.

[neurotic-homosexual]

Linda with Wiggly

Cabbage Patch Co. with a head of lettuce

Wiggly with humans

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[nearer-than-the-eye]

you can tell orson scott card is a homophobe because he has an extended achilles allusion throughout shadow of the hegemon and uses it to talk about his het couple w no mention of patroclus

[spooky-ticklish-hell-dream]

The Worst

Hello! This is a separate fic from the main series. It’s still a tickle fic though, so if you don’t enjoy that kinda thing, this still isn’t for you. Hope you enjoy!

Also, i’m pretty sure this is the longest thing i’ve ever written. It’s over 2000 words, so be warned, it’s super long!

This fic was written by Elder Rocket.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Kevin made the mistake of telling his mission companion about his recent dreams. It didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. He hadn’t even really thought about it, it just sort of slipped. Arnold had a way of questioning that Kevin had just gotten used to and answered them without thinking very much.

Kevin was preparing to go to bed, Arnold excitedly rambling on about his day. Kevin nodded when appropriate, a bit too sleepy to really process the words. He laid down and covered himself up, laying on his side towards Arnold. Kevin couldn’t exactly remember what was being said up to that point, but he remembered where he’d screwed up.

“And I keep having this dream where I fall out of the bed and then wake up IN the bed! Do you ever have weird dreams?” Arnold asked.

“Yup…” Kevin nodded, having to stop himself from drifting of for a moment more to answer the question.

“Really? What’s yours about?”

“Conner…”

“Elder Mckinley? What happens?” Arnold questioned.

“He just...tickles me for a bit…” Kevin almost slurred his words, the urge to fall asleep growing more and more.

“Tickles you? Wait wait wait, you’re ticklish?!” Arnold almost gasped. Kevin hadn’t quite processed what he’d done yet and nodded.

“You act surprised.” He mumbled, curling up into a ball and closing his eyes, ready to sleep. Kevin felt so close, so ready to dream, when he felt a light tap on his side. He just waved his hand over his side, not opening his eyes. It happened again after a moment, going on a bit longer this time.

“Arnold, quit it!” Kevin hissed, waving his hand towards where Arnold was laying. Or, had been. Kevin finally opened his eyes when he found that Arnold’s bed was empty. He rubbed his eyes and looked around in the darkness, nervous.

“Arnold…?” He asked. Nothing.

“A-Arnold, c’mon buddy, we’re not supposed to be up at this hour. Let’s just go back to beEE-” Kevin nearly shrieked as Arnold’s hands enclosed around his sides, squeezing them. He flailed, slapping both hands over his mouth to muffle the noises that threatened to leave his mouth. Arnold didn’t seem to care that they could get caught staying up past curfew, giggling like a child at Kevin’s reaction.

“Hehe, I never knew you were ticklish! Never would have guessed, either! You’re so serious, never ever would have taken you for the ticklish type!” He laughed, using the dark to his advantage. He quickly backed up after his quick attack, leaving Kevin waving his hands around blindly in the dark.

“Arnold, please, we’re gonna get in trouble!” Kevin hissed in a whisper, backing himself up to the headboard of the bed, wrapping his arms around his body. Arnold giggled, revealing his position on the floor. He hopped back up on his bed, still sounding giddy and excited.

“Elder, please, we can’t get caught being up this late, we’ll wake up the others. Maybe we can continue this into the morning, okay?” Kevin added, hoping not to disappoint the other too much.

“Okay!” Arnold agreed, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Kevin questioned himself as to whether or not he’d regret his words, but he was finally able to go to sleep, so he wasn’t complaining.

Kevin was jolted awake the next morning, feeling a light skittering over his ribcage. He’d been tickled in his sleep, but being tickled awake was a completely new feeling for him. He wasn’t sure how to react at first, and flipped onto his side, protecting one set but leaving the other completely exposed.

“Wakey wakey, besty!” Arnold’s voice sung from above him. Kevin started giggling, though he was still waking up, making him terribly weak and unable to really fight back. He closed his arms around his torso, but Arnold was able to easily move them away, his fingers lightly scratching Kevin’s exposed ribs and his belly. After a moment, Kevin found he could move again and rolled off of the bed, landing on the floor and crawling away. Arnold didn’t give chase, but was just as giddy as he was last night.

“Haha, gotcha!” He giggled, hopping of the bed to get dressed. Kevin got up and did the same, but was weary of Arnold for the rest of the day. And Arnold knew it. He’d give knowing smirks and glances the whole day, every time they met eyes, he’d smile or even give light pokes to the person beside him (depending on who it was) and pretended to not know what they were talking about. It wasn’t until that afternoon that something else major happened. Kevin was sat outside a hut, simply resting a moment. Arnold sat close by with his girlfriend, Nabulungi, in the shade, talking. Arnold stole a glance at Kevin, then turned back to Naba.

“Hey, wanna hear a song?” He asked, which, glady for him, caught Kevin’s attention.

“Sure!” Naba nodded, getting herself comfortable.

“Great! Just one thing…” Arnold started. Kevin raised an eyebrow while Naba tilted her head slightly.

“I’m gonna need your hand.” He asked.

“What do you need my hand for?”

“Just trust me! It’ll make it so much better!” Arnold insisted. Naba compiled and handed it over, where Arnold turned it palm up and placed a single finger on it, tracing it in circles over her palm.

“Round and round the garden…” The song started, and Kevin’s eyes widened a little, though if he weren’t in public, he would probably have gasped. Kevin knew that song and knew it well, just from the first few words. And he knew what was to come. Arnold was going so far as to go after poor, unsuspecting Nabulungi JUST to mess with him. He may not have thought so if it weren’t for the many, many looks he got throughout the day. Kevin was tempted to leave, to escape it, but it was too late. The song was awfully short, and before he knew it, he heard Naba squeal with laughter as Arnold got her right under her arm. Kevin now allowed himself to leave, glaring daggers at Arnold before he left, which really did no good.

That night, Kevin leaned on Conner on the couch for a little bit, almost drifting off, until the door opened and closed. In stepped Arnold, where the other Elders greeted him while Kevin simply pretended to be asleep. He felt the pressure on the other side of the couch as Arnold sat down beside him, now between Conner and Arnold, which didn’t seem like a good mix.

“Wow, he was tired, huh?” Arnold chuckled, ruffling Kevin’s hair. Conner didn’t say anything, but Kevin assumed he nodded.

“He didn’t even really do that much.” Conner noted, which kinda upset Kevin.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Arnold chuckled.

“Oh no…” Kevin thought, hoping they wouldn’t start talking about what he thought they were gonna start talking about.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I made an interesting discovery yesterday night. Something about you in his dreams?” Arnold said, almost like a question.

“Dreams? About me? Really?” Conner questioned.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what i’m talking about.” Arnold scoffed. “Surely he’s told you by now, what with his little obsession and all.” Kevin’s heart nearly came to a stop. How...how did Arnold know about that?? Conner and Arnold didn’t talk all that much, how did he know anything?

“Obsession? What do you mean?”

“His tickling obsession, of course!”

Damn. Conner must have said something, and now was trying to cover his tracks. When kevin got his hands on him-

“His what now? I’m sorry, but I have to ask, where in the world did you get this, Elder?” Conner asked, shifting slightly.

“Well, it’s obvious! At least, to me it is. Things always have been when it came to this. It was super easy to see that his weak spot was his ribcage...just like how it’s easy to see that yours is your tummy.” Arnold added. Kevin could almost feel his smirk.

“I- What? Excuse me, Elder, but i’m not ticklish.” Conner quickly tried to cover up.

“Oh really? Shall I test this?” Arnold shot back, causing Conner to twitch.

“What’s going on?” James peeked his head through the doorway from his room.

“Ah, and there we have somebody with a really, really ticklish back.” Arnold chimed.

“Wha- How did you know? Who told you?!” James questioned, the anger apparent in his voice. Arnold put his hands up in defence.

“Nobody told me! I figured it out on my own! It baffles me how you guys DON’T pick up on it!”

“Is something wrong?” Elder Poptarts peeked his head out of the same room James was in.

“Wow, don’t even get me STARTED on you, though if i did have to pin point one place, i’d have to say your armpits. Though, it’s a really close call. You’re pretty evenly, horribly ticklish.” Arnold said in an almost analytical voice. Poptarts’ face flushed horribly and he slowly sunk back into the room.

“Well, you sure do have a lot to say about us, Elder. What about you?” Conner asked, crossing his arms. Arnold didn’t even look the least bit worried.

“What about me?”

“Well, where all are you ticklish?” James asked, leaning in the doorway.

“Please, we’d be here all night trying to list them all.” Arnold shrugged with an odd certainty. Conner and James eyed each other, horribly confused. Kevin, who was still “sleeping”, couldn’t help but blush at his answer. It amazed, and almost impressed him how open Arnold was. Or perhaps he was just joking. That must be it, there wasn’t any possible way he was serious.

“Excuse me?” Was all Conner could think to say.

“If you really want an answer, then the top place would definitely be my feet. Worst place of all. Neck comes in second place.” Arnold went on. Kevin couldn’t even fathom the possibility that he was being serious.  How in hell could he say such things with such confidence???

Conner gently shifted away from Kevin and stood up. Despite his bright pink face, he smirked and cracked his knuckles, turning towards James.

“Well, you heard the man! Let’s get em!” Kevin didn’t wanna get involved in this, so he ditched the sleeping act and ducked behind the couch, fearing for his very life. He couldn’t tell what exactly happened after that, but while a few giggles were from Arnold, it quickly turned into frantic laughter, switching from Conner to James and back again.

“Wait please don’t leave mE!” Conner squealed at one point, alluding that James had left, leaving Conner to fend for himself. While Conner was great at teases, it was obvious that wouldn’t be saving him here. Arnold was almost immune to anything Conner tried to toss at him, and Kevin knew he was doomed. He slowly crawled out from behind the couch, peeking out from the side. Arnold had Conner pinned to the floor on his back, frantic and quick scratching on Conner’s belly, causing him to shriek every time Arnold moved even slightly.

While they hadn’t gotten very far, Conner and James had managed to make on of Arnold’s feet bare, the other still covered with a sock. As quietly as he could, Kevin slowly snuck up from behind, hesitated, then quickly dragged all five fingers down Arnold’s bare sole. The other gasped, whipping around. Kevin frantically backed up, hoping Arnold would follow, allowing Conner the chance to escape. Luckily, Arnold slowly stalked after Kevin, Conner frantically getting to his feet and ran into a room, slamming the door shut.

“It’s just you and me, best friend.” Arnold laughed, almost evilly. Kevin knew he didn’t stand a chance. He was at Arnold’s mercy, which he knew Arnold didn’t have very much of. He gulped, almost trembling out of fear, but also excitement. Conner was a great ler and all, but Arnold seemed a bit more..ruthless.

And ruthless he was. He didn’t hesitate very long, digging his fingers on and between Kevin’s ribs, causing him to shriek, though it did no good. Practically everyone in the shack knew what was going on and wouldn’t be willing to risk themselves. Kevin thought he was completely hopeless...until he remember his arms weren’t actually pinned down. It was just his upper body that was held down by pressure. Once he realized this he scratched lightly along Arnold’s collar bone. He gasped and lifted a hand away to try and swat it away. Kevin clawed at the ground and managed to crawl away a few inches. He laid there, gasping for air, exhausted. Arnold stood up and dusted his clothes off.

“Looks like my work here is done, for now.” He said with a nod and turned to leave for their room.

“You...are the worst!” Kevin called after him. Arnold stole one more glance behind him, smirking.

“I know~”

[wheeloffortune-design]

as i rest from my worries, the story comes back to the surface, slowly, day after day. it tickles my brain, my fingers, it fills my head with images and emotions i want to barf on the paper, they're so vivid to me, they demand to be expelled in a violent way

but i can't, not right now, i'm not done resting. right now the idea of writing still brings me more anxiety than joy. it's alright, i'll wait.

but i feel the story coming back. right now, the hunger has awakened, and i devour new knowledge-- so easy to get, now, always a possibility in my pocket-- yet never specifically what i need.

so i stay silent, fixing the wall, but my head if full of fragments of a world that is realer to me than the one that's left outside.

i think about coins in a mason jar, and emeralds set in gold, i think about pretentious large windows in a victorian manor, with both stained glass and iron bars. i research-- the civil war, the territory of Wyoming, the Arapaho and Shoshone people and how they weaved, i research the mormon religion and the protestant and the catholic and what was the most common religion in Black people who escaped slavery because i need to figure it out, same for old chinese prostitutes. i devour videos about the victorian era, clothes and shoes and hair and fine tea sets made or porcelain. i think of a white dress -- marriage dress -- cancan dress -- murder dress, and how its story arc can end. i think of a gun, last belonging to a man who loved the woman you love, and i think about the time you use that gun, and get your pretty white dress speckled in blood.

at some point, i'll sit back and find my girls like I left them, half undressed and hands over each other, enjoying a lovely night that lasted six months, until i get back to the keyboard and inevitably set something on fire, because a book needs a plot and i like drama.

but don't worry, no lesbians are killed in this story. none of the straights are safe, though.

Victoria, my love, I'll come back to you. Send my love to your girlfriend.

[wowbright]

Fic: Mismatch

Klaine Spring Fling: insidious

Words: ~2100 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Blaine wonders out loud if Kurt wishes he could go on a date with another guy.

This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place after Distractions, on the same evening.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost. (More recent posts are in bold.)

––––

“You never cease to surprise me,” said Blaine as they arrived back at the apartment from English group. “Accepting concert tickets from Chandler Kiehl. So …” He searched for the perfect word, but couldn’t land on it. Well, the closest approximation of what he meant would have to do. “Unorthodox.”

“It's not a big deal,” said Elder Hummel. “We’re allowed to accept gifts from investigators within reason. And it's classical music, which classifies it as a cultural event. I'm sure President Steele will be fine with us attending.”

“Yeah, but we just did Georgiritt on Easter Monday. Wasn’t that a cultural event, too? And we only get one a month.”

“That was April. The concert’s in May.”

Blaine went over to the bookshelf and began putting away the Books of Mormon and pamphlets they hadn’t managed to place with new investigators. “Right. And I agree with you that President Steele will probably be fine with it. I’m just surprised you are. You always struck me as a bit to the right of President Steele when it came to rules.”

“It’s church, not politics.” Elder Hummel sat on the loveseat to unlace his shoes.

"Fair enough.” Blaine tucked his English-teaching resource book into its place on the shelf.  The group had gone well. Chandler had stayed, and Dolcezza and Harmonie showed up, and Samir and Nuriya stopped by for the second half. The conversation was so dynamic, Blaine had been able to set aside a thought that had begun niggling at him since Chandler's confession. But now, as he was winding down from the bike ride, it started up again, like fallen hair tickling the back of his neck.

“So,” Blaine started, glancing over to make sure Elder Hummel wasn't looking at him, and then carefully turning to face the bookshelf so the words would sound casual and spontaneous and, maybe, almost inconsequential. “You didn't seem too surprised when Chandler mentioned wanting to take you out on a date.”

“Are you surprised?” Elder Hummel slipped off his shoes and set them on the low rack next to the front door.

“That he's interested in dating you? No. But that he actually went out and bought concert tickets? Yes.”

“Well,” said Elder Hummel, disappearing around the corner into the bathroom, “He sort of mentioned it on Sunday. You know, when we were at the park.”

Blaine heard the creak of a pipe, followed by water flowing out of the bathroom faucet. He knew Elder Hummel wouldn't be able to hear anything he said over the running water. He wondered if this was Elder Hummel’s way of attempting to end the conversation.

Blaine looked inside his bag one last time to make sure no stray bits of literature were floating around in there. He lifted it onto his shoulder and walked to the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame to watch Elder Hummel splash his face three times before turning off the water. “He asked you out on Sunday?”

“Not exactly.” Elder Hummel grabbed his hand towel from his assigned hook and began patting himself dry.

“And you said—?”

“No, of course.”

“You could've told me, you know.”

“It didn't seem that important.”

“But it is important, right? How often do you get asked out by a guy who's super hot in gym shorts?”

“That's so superficial.” Elder Hummel replaced his towel on the hook. “Anyway, since I'm not going, why does it matter?”

Blaine looked down at the floor. He wasn't sure if he should say it. He wasn't even sure if he meant it. But he had the same feeling that he got when he felt prompted to go off script in a discussion with a challenging investigator. It was like the Holy Ghost was right at his shoulder, whispering into his ear what he should say. “If you want to go out with him, you can.”

For the first time since they had gotten home, Elder Hummel looked Blaine directly in the eye. “Don't be ridiculous. It's against the rules.” He walked past Blaine and out into the hallway.

Blaine followed him. “I know, but— If you want to, you can break the rules. I don't have to go to the concert with you. I mean, I'd like to, but— It was Chandler's idea. And he's the one who paid for them. And I'm sure you think I'll go to hell for suggesting this—”

“There is no hell.” Elder Hummel was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, aggressively removing his necktie.

“—but I'll cover for you. If you want to go out with Chandler. Because … Because you're important to me and I want you to be happy.”

“The church makes me happy.”

“I know, I just—”

Elder Hummel spun around. He glared at Blaine for a nanosecond before walking over to the dresser and folding his tie into a compact bundle and setting it away in its drawer. “And for the millionth time, Chandler doesn't. Not just because it's wrong and it breaks the mission rules, but because it's Chandler, OK? He’s nice. Sometimes he's even funny. And yes, I did flirt with him, but that's because I was being an idiot. Really, really, truly, I do not have any romantic interest in Chandler Kiehl. And it's very confusing to me that you went from hating him to wanting him to be my boyfriend.”

“I don’t want … It's just, you said he wasn't that stupid to think you might want to go on a date with him. So I thought—"

“It wasn’t stupid because we’re friends, and I like him as a friend, and sometimes people wish that their friends were interested in them as more than friends. But just because a person wishes for something with a friend doesn't mean their friend will feel the same way back. And that’s okay. It’s okay to have feelings that aren't reciprocated. It doesn't make you stupid. It just makes you human.”

Blaine's head spun. “Wait. I’m confused. Whose feelings in this scenario are unreciprocated?”

“Oh, for crying out loud. Chandler’s.” Elder Hummel slammed the drawer shut, the sound of wood-on-wood banging in time with Chandler’s name. “Not that it matters. I'm gay and I'm on a mission and I don't date. It's not like I didn't know what the rules were coming into this.”

“Right. But you didn't know what the rules were when you were born into the church, either.”

“Says the guy who thinks everything was already decided in the pre-existence.”

It seemed unfair for Elder Hummel to bring up their diverging beliefs about the pre-existence, but Blaine couldn’t put his finger on exactly why.“I never said that. I just said— I just said I knew you and I promised to look for you.”

Elder Hummel rolled his eyes and huffed. Blaine felt a twinge in his side. “And if that’s true, then what my seminary teacher said is true: We chose all the important people we would have in our lives. We chose our parents because we wanted to be born into the covenant. We wanted to grow up in righteousness.” He grabbed his pajamas out of the bottom drawer and headed back toward the bathroom.

“Maybe we chose our parents. Maybe not. But it’s not like we knew in the pre-existence who would become a Mormon and who wouldn't. I mean, that's the whole point of leaving the preexistence to get a physical body. So you can make your own choices, free of the influence of—" Blaine wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. They were back in the bathroom. Elder Hummel was facing the mirror, undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

“Can I maybe take my shower now?” Elder Hummel said, meeting Blaine’s eyes in the mirror. “By myself?”

* * *

Blaine wasn’t in the mood for a shower. Or for changing his clothes. Or for anything.

He hated when Elder Hummel got mad at him. It made him feel so small.

But unless he was going to sit on the loveseat and mope, or go over to Dani’s and bribe Stürmchen into cuddling with him, there was nothing to do but get ready for bed.

He changed out of his clothes and put a clean set of garments on. It was warm outside, and he would have been perfectly happy to go to sleep in just his underwear. But they still needed to pray together, so Blaine put on a pair of pajamas—the same pair he had worn his first night in Ingolstadt, navy with white piping around the edges.

He could still remember maybe the look on Elder Hummel’s face when he came into the bedroom that night and saw that their PJs were almost an exact match. His expression had been one of absolute delight.

Blaine had thought, back then, that they would be two peas in a pod. But they weren’t, were they? Blaine loved Elder Hummel with all his heart, but they weren’t the same.  They saw things so differently. Sometimes, those differences fit neatly together, like water in a cup. One was loose and flowing, the other hard and immutable. And yet, when they came together, they took on the same shape. They belonged together.

Other times, though, the edges didn’t match up, no matter how hard Blaine tried.

Blaine sat on his bed and opened his scriptures to a random section, closing his eyes and resting his finger on the page, the way his mother had taught him to when he needed guidance. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the fourth chapter of Ecclesiastes. Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?

The passage said nothing about fitting. It said nothing about ease. But still, it was better to share your life with someone else, to care for each other in any way you could. It was always good to love. Even if, right in this moment, it hurt.

Maybe the reason it hurt wasn’t the love part. Maybe it was Blaine—always trying to fix things, always wanting peace, never wanting disagreements to come between them. Maybe not wanting it to hurt was what made it hurt in the first place. Maybe Blaine was caught in an insidious cycle of fear leading to more fear.

But the scripture said two are better than one not because it kept anyone from falling; but because, if one or both of them fell, they could help each other up. If one or both of them was overwhelmed by the coldness of the world, they could make each other warm.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Elder Hummel said when he came into the bedroom. His hair was wet. His pajamas were unbleached linen. “I was short with you. I know you’re just trying to help.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Blaine said. “Maybe I try to help too much?”

Elder Hummel sat down on the edge of Blaine’s bed. “Sometimes.”

"You know I love you, right?”

“I know.” Elder Hummel sighed, as if that knowledge was a burden.

“Do you not want me to?”

Elder Hummel shook his head. “No. It's not that. It's just— Sometimes it hurts. I guess because I'm used to being on my own? Watching out for myself, you know? It's hard to explain.”

“You don't have to," Blaine said.

“I don’t know. I always thought I was a pretty self-confident person. I never thought I had any trouble seeing my own value. But it feels sometimes like you care more about me than I do. And I don't know what to do with that.”

Blaine reached for Elder Hummel’s hand. The ends of their sleeves touched, Blaine’s with its bright white piping, and Elder Hummel’s with its flaxen earthiness. The tones didn’t match, but they were pleasing together, all the same. “You don't have to do anything with that. I don't want to make you upset. I just want to be your friend. To lift you up, when I can. That's all.”

Elder Hummel gave Blaine a shy, sad smile. He laced his fingers with Blaine’s. “I'm sorry that sometimes I have a hard time accepting it.”

“You don't have to apologize. You’re the way you are for a reason. Maybe I shouldn't push so much.”

“Well, maybe.” Elder Hummel made a half shrug. His smile grew wider. A bit sly. “Or maybe it's good for me. I don't know.”

“Good. Because I know even less,” said Blaine. He felt a warm glow in his chest, much like the one he had felt at the Schönfeld’s piano. He squeezed Elder Hummel’s hand. “Let’s pray.”

[gucciwins]

Frosty the Snowman

Harry and Y/N love the holiday season but Harry takes the teasing a bit to far and well Y/N decides to give it right back. 

Word Count: 5126

A/N: hello! thank you so much to @goldenbluesuit for organizing this wonderful christmas fic challenge. thank you for allowing me to participate, kate. i’m so happy i got to be a part of it. merry christmas and happy holidays to you all. sending you all a big hug and lots of love. 

_____

Christmas has never been much of importance in your life.

That was until you began dating Harry.

 Harry and his family loved celebrating in particular because Harry was gone for so many months of the year. They loved giving gifts, and Harry loved spoiling his family. He was a true family man who loved to be doted on by his mother and teased relentlessly by his older sister. His smile never leaves his face when he's with them.  

Ever since Harry found out how you spent the holidays alone drinking wine and hot chocolate on and off and binging all the best holiday movies. He declared that was not acceptable and that furthermore and until the end of time you would be spending it with him and his family. 

The first year was something out of a storybook, a house full of kids and adults, Christmas music all day, and a big festive dinner. Gifts passed around, photos being taken to be added to the end of year scrapbooks. Lots of stories being told; honestly, it overwhelmed you. 

Anne found you outside wrapped up in Harry's coat that you swiped before slipping out unseen. She stood next to you, overlooking her garden with you. "My son loves you; he's brought you here not to overwhelm you but to let you know that you have a family here, and you always will." You let your tears run free, feeling comforted, and loved. "I've never seen him shine as bright as he does when he's with you and when he's speaking of you. We all want you here as much as he does." Anne then pulled you into a long hug, the motherly hug you never got growing up.  Reminded you not to stay out too long. 

Three Christmases later, you now take part in family traditions, helping Anne cook dinner and staying in sweats and playing family games all of Boxing Day. 

It's what makes your move to London with your boyfriend of four years easy. Knowing they want you there, knowing that the love Harry has for you won't fade, you've gone through many hurdles together, and it only strengthened your bond to one another. 

Four years together, and you're still learning new things about each other, like Harry having to have coffee first thing in the morning, bread was a must-have always in the house, and that he owned more mugs than he needed. He picked up that you adored your shoes, meaning you wouldn't throw them out until they were ripped and beat up enough for a new pair. Also learned that you rather eat lots of fruit during the day than making food in the kitchen because it meant more dishes that would be needed to wash. You loved doing the laundry, Harry knew it was to steal his shirts, but he didn't mind. He always knew where to find them. 

The one thing that really surprised him was your love for Christmas music; you knew every song, maybe couldn't remember the name, but you would be able to sing it. It never failed to make him smile; you even knew ‘Feliz Navidad’ and didn't butcher it as he did. 

Your love for Christmas music was signified because you never celebrated the holiday, and music was easy to access. It was what you immersed yourself in. 

This is why Harry is confused when he hears you begin to sing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ under your breath, then switching to a soft hum in the tune of the song as you start to place your freshly washed sweats in their drawers. 

Harry was not sure why you did that; you loved singing out loud. You had a decent voice, as you liked to say, but why switch. 

You're clueless to Harry watching you, deep in thought, trying his best to analyze you. 

Then Harry gasps; it all clicks, making sense. 

You raise your head to look at him, shutting the drawer with your hip. "What?"

"You don't know the lyrics." Harry accuses. 

"To what?" You step towards the bed, wanting to finish the rest of this to finally go down and each lunch. 

"Frosty the Snowman."

"I do." You defend.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"No." 

"Why not?"

You frown before taking a deep breath and begin to hum the song correctly to Harry. 

"Okay, you know the tune, now the lyrics." He gestures for you to go on.

"Frosty the snowman..." Your voice dies down, you rake your brain for the correct lyrics, sending a smaller prayer you're right. "had a shiny nose?" 

"Oh, this is golden, love." He's laughing now. It's filling up the room. 

"Harry," You whine. 

"You call yourself the Christmas Queen." Harry is holding his stomach, his laughter getting to be too much. "Next, you're going to tell me you don't know the lyrics to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You.'"

"How dare you, that came out in our birth year." You're over making fun of you. 

"Okay fine, but really so many years, and you never learned. You said you love all Christmas music, and well, that's a classic, dove."  

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers getting caught on the tips for not brushing it out. "I never actually got to make a snowman, so I never listened to the lyrics."

"Are you secretly a Grinch as well?" Harry teases.

You throw a balled-up shirt of his and hit him square in the face; it quiets him down. "Conversation over." 

You walk out of the room, leaving him alone, to his chuckling. 

_____

In your home, something was always baking. 

It was either Harry trying to better his last bread or you baking a new vegan cake that Gemma sent you. 

It's something you both loved to do.

For you, though, it was your own form of meditation. No matter the time of day, if you felt your head spinning, you'd just head to the kitchen and begin to take out ingredients letting that be your only focus. The Great British Baking Show also brings a lot of comfort to you, Harry happily laying his head on your lap, your hand running through his hair as you just let the show play on and on. 

Now, you're in the kitchen for a whole other reason; you're baking gingerbread cookies, from snowflakes to snowman and even little reindeer. Harry has invited friends over for a fun holiday decorating party. It sounded like a good idea until he left you to do it all yourself as he ran errands that he pushed off for a week. 

Thankfully, there were no distractions during the time it took you to make one hundred cookies because there would be casualties during the decorating. Just as you were putting the last dozen on the cooling rack, does your phone ring causing it to cut off Paul McCartney's singing of 'Wonderful Christmastime.'

As you pick it up to answer, you check the caller id and see that it's Gemma calling. 

Gemma forgoes a greeting and goes straight to the reason for her call. 

"You don't know 'Frosty the Snowman!'" She exclaims more than asks. 

"I'm going to kill him." You groan into the phone. 

Gemma laughs, "No, no, please don't. Mum likes you too much to see you behind bars."

"Gem, he's been relentless." Thinking back to the past few days and how he'd randomly come up to you and just begin to sing the lyrics to you, not shutting up until you tickled him too much to continue. "Please don't let it come up later." 

"I've got you," Gemma assures you. 

"Thank you."

"As long," Gemma begins, but you groan jokingly into the phone. 

"Go on," You sigh, knowing this is how the eldest Styles sibling acts.  

"As long as you tell me what Harry bought mum for Christmas."

"Alright, fair." Very well, Harry would most likely spoil this himself the closer the holiday arrives. 

Just as you were about to spoil Harry's gift, he walks through the kitchen, saved by the devil himself. "I'll tell you later when you get here." You tell Gemma, smiling at Harry as you bid his sister goodbye.  

"Who was it, love?" Harry asks, kissing you lightly on your lips, being able to taste the gingerbread on your lips that makes him beeline to the cooled cookies. 

"Gems, a huge birdie told her I don't know the lyrics to a popular song." You lean against the counter, smiling as he has a cookie in hand already; he is also a big reason you made so many. 

"Hey," He says, offended, a cookie half shoved in his mouth. "I'm not huge." 

"Never said it was you, hun." You smirk. "Thanks for fessing up."

He pouts, not liking that you outsmarted him. 

"Might want to watch the cookies." You pinch his love handles, snatching what was left of the cookie from his hand and heading upstairs. 

Harry watches you walk away, upset that you stole his cookie; also, he knows you love his winter gains. 

_____

You and Harry are up fairly early, he likes to go on a run around the neighborhood, but you like going to the park. This morning you skipped your run because Harry was meeting up with a friend for breakfast. 

Sure, you got up at your usual time at 7am and began to prepare yourself breakfast. You usually drank coffee with Harry and seeing as he wasn't here, you decided to skip it, instead going straight to the fridge to get the fruits and orange juice to make a smoothie. Something simple, not wanting to clean much after. 

As you finally settled on the couch, getting ready to read Educated by Tara Westover, a book Gemma recommended to her then gifted to her. Tara's memoir is her story of how she comes from a Mormon background and recounts how she educated herself to go to college and learn about the world. It's a Friday, and what better way to spend it lost in a book. 

You had just flipped it open when your phone rang, alerting you to a message. As much as you didn't want to check because you were finally in a comfortable position, you knew it could easily be Harry checking in who gets worried about not getting a reply even five minutes after. He's a worrier at heart. 

As you retrieve it and settle yourself back down, not at all comfortable anymore, you see it's a message from Iz. She was the first friend you made on your own that Harry didn't introduce you to. Iz saw you at a coffee shop you began to frequent and complimented your tote bag that had wildflowers embroidered on it. You thanked her and shared you made it. Iz was shocked, just throwing compliment after compliment. You offered to make her one, but she said you had better teach her instead. Thus, a friendship began. 

Her message read: 

Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Listen in! 

It was definitely a strange message coming from Iz, but you did as told. 

Greg James was saying goodbye to his special guest, no idea who it was. "Before he signs off, he's going to play you one of his favorite Christmas songs," Greg says, then silences, allowing his guest a moment before speaking. 

"This week's Christmas song is in honor of my girlfriend who loves singing Frosty the Snowman... without knowing the lyrics. Happy Holidays."  

Your jaw drops. 

That your boyfriend's voice. You are the girlfriend. 

He went on record. 

Harry really went on live radio to tell thousands that you don't know the lyrics to a Christmas classic. 

You want to laugh because you never expected this from him and are annoyed that something personal now the whole world will know by the end of the day. 

You can't wait until he arrives home.

"Harry Edward Styles!" You yell as you hear Harry open the front door. 

He looks sheepish. "Yes, my darling angel."

"You told me you were having breakfast with Greg James, not that you were going to be on the Breakfast show."

"I took muffins, and they provided coffee, therefore, breakfast." Harry defends

"You exposed me to all of the UK to not knowing 'Frosty the Snowman.'"

"No one knows you're my girlfriend." Harry tries to brush it off.

"We've been dating four years; I'm not that much of a secret. Anne posts me on her story from time to time, and your friends follow my Instagram, fuck; you've introduced me to Greg." You're not angry, more annoyed than anything because he won't let this go.

"It's just to give everyone a good laugh; no one is going to hold it against you." 

"No, just my boyfriend and everyone who listens to the Breakfast Show." You cross your arms before storming up the stairs away from Harry. 

"Love? You're not actually mad, right?" Harry asks, pushing the bedroom door open. 

"You even got Iz on it!" Your turn around with a pout on your face. 

Harry laughs. "I honestly thought she wouldn't go through with it."

"Well, I see where her loyalty lies." 

Harry steps close and pulls you into his chest. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him. He knows how much you love his hugs.

"I promise this is the last I mention of it." 

You frown into his chest, not at all believing him. Harry pats your bum, and you take that as the queue to look up at him. He's smiling down at you, leaning in to give you a quick peck. "I promise." 

"Okay, then." You lean in and kiss him, firmer this time and much longer. Harry sneaks his tongue in, instantly getting a moan out of you. 

"I know how you can make it up to me." You gasp, pulling away, 

Harry raises an eyebrow at you. "Do tell." 

A smirk on both your faces as you guide him to the bed, very much hungry for something that wasn't breakfast. 

_____

Harry has the Christmas playlist running; it's a Sunday, meaning they spend it at home doing absolutely nothing. To be truthful, they rolled out of bed past ten and still have their pj's on. Not at all bothering to change, why waste more clothes if no one will see them like this in the comfort of their own home.

You cooked grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and now are playing a game of scrabble.

Harry puts down the word 'light,' then reaching his hand into the black pouch to pick five letters to have seven once again. You are looking back and forth between the board and your letters, thinking of the best place to place your word. 

"I've got a question," Harry says, looking at you, wanting all your attention as well. 

"What is it?" You're focused on your letters. Rearranging them, not putting down the 'q' in your hand. It's currently useless but will eventually give you a word to win the game. Not that you both ever keep points, oh no, that stopped after you beat harry 120 to 66, and he flipped the board, causing letters to fly everyone. You still claim that there are missing letters. 

"Frosty is a cute name."

"Reminds me of that Wendy's dessert. I'm still not sure what made it so good." You say, maybe you should get up and eat some. Harry did just pick up new flavors that he had been wanting to try something about them being richer in flavor. 

"You're getting off track." 

"Sorry, Frosty is cute for what?" You don't let him answer before you're speaking again. "A dog, did you get a dog?" You pause, looking up at him, "a cat, did Anne find a stray and wants to give them to us?" You wait, but Harry is about to crush all your excitement. 

"None of that." He shakes his head at you, and disappointment fills you immediately. 

"Well, can this conversation end then? I'm disappointed." 

"Darling," Harry chastises you for not letting him go on.

"Go on then, mate." You gesture him to continue. Shifting your attention away from the game in front of you.

Harry frowns, his eyebrows pinching together in the sweet way that makes you want to rub them out until he's relaxed. "Why'd you call me, mate?"

"Oh, I've called you this before." You brush off Harry's reactions; he's always dramatic. 

"I'm not your friend." He states.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head and really look at Harry. "Well, of course, you are boyfriend," You emphasize, dragging out the word. "You're my best friend." 

"You can't say boyfriend anymore. I'm your fiancé now." Harry states proudly, but you feel a little dumbfounded, not knowing why he is saying that.

Your eyes widen when you look down at your left hand, and no ring rests on your left ring finger.

"Fuck, I missed your proposal, and the ring got lost." You pout, trying your best to stop the smirk from coming out.  

"Darling, I'm sorry." Harry quickly apologizes. "I'm still your boyfriend, but I will be proposing soon." He promises. "Shit, you were supposed to not even know. I really am bad at hiding things."

"Fuck, you really are." You laugh, "but boyfriend sounds cute. Can't I still say boyfriend when you do?" 

"Doesn't fiancé sound nicer?" Harry tries. 

You shrug. "Not as fun, husband is nice."

"You're rejecting my future proposal, then." Harry is teasing, and you can tell by the sparkle in his forest eyes. 

"Of course not, you dummy. You can be my fiancé and my boyfriend." You tell him like it was the most obvious answer.

"Seems like a lot of work."

"Rude." You stick your tongue at him. 

"Right, love, well try to remember I'm your husband once we're married, no more boyfriend."

"I will, hubby. You're going to be my hubby."

You both go silent.

You burst out laughing, "That's awful, I hate it."

Harry chuckles, nodding his head. "Yeah, I do as well."

"This is why I'm the brains in the relationship." 

"Right," Harry rolls his eyes at you, not at all agreeing.

"Uh, darling, I went to uni and got two degrees while you only finished school at sixteen before going off to steal millions of hearts around the world." 

"Including yours." He teases.

"I was always more a Zayn girl." You correct him.

Harry throws his arms up, "Can never let me win, can you?" 

"Nope"

"We're off-topic." Harry realizing how far they strayed from their starting point. 

"Where did we start?"

"Frosty." 

You sit back, resting against the couch; you take him in and smile at how cuddly he looks in the purple robe that he stopped letting you use. "Well, go on."

"Seeing as-" He pauses, hearing the familiar opening notes to the song he was thinking of. 'Frosty, the Snowman' is now his favorite song. "Perfectly timed, as you don't know the lyrics to Frosty the snowman."

"Gosh, you're never going to let this go," You grumble. 

"Nope. I figured we will have a little fun with this."

"More fun than the breakfast show." 

He gives you a pointed look.

You let out a long sigh, "Let's hear it." 

"You learn all the lyrics and sing it for me, and I'll let you get us a dog or cat." Harry's grinning at his idea, knowing you'll agree without a fight. 

"Can we go to the shelter?" You look like a kid on Christmas morning who had just received their presents from Santa, and in a way, you have.

"Yes, we can. Only if you can learn the entire song." Harry tells you again, wanting to emphasize the singing.

"Done deal." 

"Great, I'm giving you a week." 

You smile wide, nodding, looking, finally focusing back down at your words and the ones Harry has placed. You put down the word 'queen,' and this wins you the non-official game. Harry looks down at his poorly hidden score sheet and curses under his breath. 

"I win." 

Safe to say you lost more letters that day.

_____

It's been a week, and Harry is patiently waiting on their bed as you get ready in your shared closet. Your shared closet is large and mainly holds all of Harry's clothing. You definitely have a nice share of clothes filled with gifts from friends as well as Harry's friends and your treasured thrifted pieces. You smile at yourself in the full-length mirror. 

Harry really can't begin to imagine what you have in store for him. 

The speaker is set out and ready, and all that is needed is for you to make your entrance.

You shake out your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the nerves. You look yourself over one last time before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open. 

"Close your eyes." You call out. 

Harry rolls his eyes but does as he is told.

You walk over to the speaker and press play, letting the music fill the room, making your way to stand in front of Harry, who slowly opens his eyes.

He gasps; he feels himself start to get hard. His eyes can't seem to take everything in fast enough. You smirk, loving the reaction you got out of him. It gives you the extra boost of confidence you were needing. 

You stand there, hand on your hip in a sexy snowman outfit to go with the performance you are about to give.

The dress, if you can consider it with how short it is, has three black buttons in the center. The material hugs your chest nicely, giving Harry a nice view of your breasts that are close to popping out. The dress hugs your waist and begins to flow out right past your butt. You wore your favorite black heels that Harry sometimes begs you not to take off. You had on a plaid scarf and a black hat that matched it perfectly. 

You were the human version of the snowman except for a more rated r version.

Harry is sitting his mouth wide open at a loss for words. You blow him a kiss before letting the song lyrics flow out of you.

Frosty the snowman

Was a jolly happy soul

With a corncob pipe and a button nose

And two eyes made out of coal

You sway your hips side to side, singing, enjoying the ravenous stare he was giving you. You throw the hat, letting it fall at his feet, but not even that breaks the gaze he has on you, not wanting to miss a single movement of yours. 

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say

He was made of snow

But the children know

How he came to life one day

You take a few steps forward, but never enough to allow him to touch you, and he's craving it; you know he is. His hands are gripping his thighs, his knuckles turning whiter by the seconds. 

He still hasn't said a word. You have him mesmerized. 

You sing the lyrics proudly, knowing you practiced all week for this moment. The moment Harry will never forget all the teasing he had been doing, always forgetting you win these battles. 

There must have been some magic in that

Old silk hat they found

For when they placed it on his head

He began to dance around

"Baby," Harry breathes out, putting a hand out to touch you, but you take a step back before he can do so. 

You smirk, shaking your head no at him. You were having a lot more fun than you expected. 

You bend over, slipping off your heels, never breaking eye contact with Harry; he could very easily see up the dress that you had nothing underneath. His green eyes turned dark, and you swore your heart stopped, and you were sure he was about to attack. You were the prey, taunting him until he had enough, but surprisingly enough, he took a deep breath, and his composure was back well, just a bit of it.  

O Frosty the snowman

Was alive as he could be

And the children say he could laugh and play

Just the same as you and me

You stopped right in front of him. Harry's eyes trained on your red lips, hanging out to every word you were singing. You reached a hand back and began to unzip the dress. The grin on your face excited for the next reaction you were about to receive. 

Once you reached the bottom of your back, the dress fell to the floor. Harry let out a loud gasp. Your breasts on display, the small owl tattoo on your hip staring at him, he could see how wet you were, and all he wanted was his head between your thighs as you screamed his name. 

You were a dream. You missed Harry's touch. It was the reason you stepped close enough for him to finally pull you in. 

He led them down the streets of town

Right to the traffic cop

And he only paused a moment when

He heard them holler "Stop!"

Harry has no expression on his face as he sits you on his lap. He lets his head fall into your next, feeling how wet you are through his thin sweats. You move to stand up, but he grips your hips tightly, thrusting his hips against yours, searching for some kind of relief or a reaction from you because you still haven't stopped singing. 

"Baby, stop singing." His hand is cradling your cheek as his lust-filled eyes stare at you. 

You shake your head, not letting him distract you. The only piece of clothing left was the scarf, and Harry lets out a growl before ripping your scarf off your neck, throwing it off to the side.

Now you truly sit there naked in his lap, and you feel all the control you have over him. The song is coming to an end, meaning you've got to remove yourself from your favorite place to sit but knowing you'll be back there soon enough. 

Frosty the snowman

Had to hurry on his way

But he waved goodbye, saying

"Don't you cry I'll be back again someday"

You sing the final lyrics in his ear before walking away to turn off the speaker, an extra sway to your hips, knowing Harry is very well still watching your every move. You stand a delighted look on your face as you wait for his praise. 

"Those were the longest two minutes of my life," Harry says; he puts a hand over his heart, feeling like it might just burst out. "I'm never going to be able to listen to this song in public or around anyone that isn't you." 

You smirk, thrilled to hear that.

"What did I do to end up with someone as beautiful and perfect as you in my life." He confesses. 

"Probably stopped a war in a past life." You throw out jokingly. 

Harry puckers his lips and makes grabby hands at you. "Kissy, please?"

And who are you to say no? He spreads his legs, letting you step in between. You slip your fingers into his hair, pulling back with enough force to have him let out a moan. You lean down and connect your lips in a hot kiss, one that has Harry gripping you tightly wherever he can get his hands on. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you happily give up the control to him. 

You pull back and rest a hand on his chest, preventing him from pulling you back for you. You wipe your thumb over his bottom lip that now has some of your red lipstick. "Seems like I won, sweets."

"I feel like the real winner here," Harry tells you cheekily, sneaking a kiss to both your boobs. You giggle, not at all surprised by his action. 

"Well," You fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "Why don't you show me how winners celebrate?" 

"With pleasure." Harry groans standing up quickly and pushing you back against the best. He strips as fast as he can, not without a small stumble; you're sure to keep your giggle quiet, knowing very well how easily he gets embarrassed. 

He is quick to get on top and kisses you hard. His kisses are always soft, but it seems the teasing seemed to flip a switch, one that you will happily remember to look to turn on again on a later date. Tonight, you are ready for an endless night of pleasure and love. 

Harry connects their lips, ready for an endless night of pleasure and love. 

_____

Christmas cards were a lovely tradition. Harry insisted they started because he wanted to show off his beautiful girlfriend to his friends and family. He also liked them handwritten because it added a nice personal touch. Who were you to argue about it?

This year you were the one excited to send them out. 

It read: Merry Christmas from our beautiful family to yours

You and Harry sat in front of the fireplace, four stockings hanging behind you. Harry made you sit in his lap, wanting to show off your matching two-piece buffalo plaid pajamas. You both had the biggest grins on your face, eyes shining bright. Next to you, laying on top of a box that was wrapped with blue sloth wrapping paper, was a one-year-old Australian shepherd that had spent the better of six months in the shelter because the small pup was quiet who didn't do well with people, but that changed instantly the minute he met you. You decided on the name Frosty for him. Not only did Harry get you the dog of your dreams but a small kitten as well. You brought home Snow, a six-month white Birman kitten who was the rut of his siblings, and how could you just not bring him home with you with his big blue eyes staring at you begging to add to your family because he had lots of love to give. At least that's what you told Harry what the look he was giving you meant. The two siblings laid next to each other, both surprisingly staring right at the camera, making it their best Christmas photo yet. 

A photo can honestly speak a thousand words because one glance at this photo tells you how much love there is in that home and their relationship. 

Christmas was all about spreading joy and love, and well, Harry accomplished just that for you.

_____

thank you so much for reading! i honestly hoped you loved it and would love to hear what you thought so send me a message if you like. 

i love you!

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

I see you’re a woman of culture 😌 I LOVE The Book of Mormon, POTO, Something Rotten; they’re definitely in my top 5. I’m also a Sondheim fan. I love LesMis, Chicago (the movie), Cabaret, Hairspray, Legally Blonde, Hedwig and the Angry Inch and dare I say it, Cats (NOT the movie, and before you ask, no I’m not a furry lmao). Falsettos, Dogfight and Rent make me cry like a baby. Avenue Q is good but I think it’s a bit dated.

Anyways on the topic of RPF or fanfiction in general, what’s like the worst fic you’ve encountered? That one I talked about definitely scarred me the most, but I also saw fics where the entire premise is a female Y/N “turning Freddie straight” and having heterosexual sex with him which is just ew. And tbh I personally don’t have anything against old man thirst/PD!Queen fics (not including fics that normalize ped0philia etc), it’s just… some things are harder to stomach than others lol. As long as they keep it in their corner of the Internet and do not present it to the people they write about, live and let live.

Actually now that I think about the old man thirst, it’s a bit concerning to see literal children in their preteen and early teen years openly thirsting for old men, like men in their 60-80s. This goes beyond the Queen fandom, and applies to the wider classic rock fandom. The things I’ve read… They’re not just cute innocent crushes, they’re literally talking about present day rock stars in a very explicit, sexual way. A LOT of kids are getting into classic rock now; I sent you that ask about Tiktok and I’m not exaggerating when I say I see a lot of 11-14 classic rock fans (who like bands like Motley Crue, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, The Who…) And this opens up to all kinds of problems; I’ve seen a lot of them talk about how creepy old men would disguise themselves as their faves online and talk to them, ask for their number/address, etc.

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Oh yeah, Avenue Q is a product of its time. It was 2003 and it even has the line that George Bush is "only for now" in the last song lol. A lot has changed in our culture over the past 18 years. Sondheim is my favorite composer, hands-down. He's a genius and his music is so damn smart a lot of times. I haven't seen all of the other ones you've mentioned, but I'll be controversial and say that not only am I not a fan of Cats or POTO (with the latter, it has good songs but I think they're better out of context because the characters suck), but god, I really dislike RENT lol. I know a lot of people love it and that's fine. I'm glad you can get more enjoyment out of it than I can. I cried my eyes out when I watched it in 8th grade, but then I watched it when I got older and really did not enjoy it anymore.

Ooo boy, you're asking the real controversial questions lol. I'm definitely uncomfortable with the type of stories you mentioned. RPF is a complicated topic and I have mixed thoughts on it, but the short version is that I do think there are lines that shouldn't be crossed with it. I...really hate to name any specific fic....But. There's this person who has posted a ton of stories and they've gained quite a reputation. The stories tend to have these common themes: young Freddie being physically ill in some way (so some lowkey illness exploitation, for lack of a better term), the other members of the band being medical professionals who are either related to Freddie or his partners, some underage shit, random George Michael cameos, a dentistry fetish, and a tickling fetish. There are other things thrown in their work, but those are the things that pop up the most frequently.

I'm sorry, but it's the strangest collection of stories I've ever come across. I read just the descriptions of these stories to friends who've been reading fic for a long time, and they agree they've never seen such a weird collection. I think it would be weird if it were regular old fanfiction, but the fact that it's RPF is...Idk. I might get my head bitten off but I'm very uncomfortable with these stories which revolve around making Freddie medically suffer in some way when he really died of a terminal illness. This is where the stories go from strange to offensive for me. It's not like these stories deal with his real AIDS diagnosis, either, but stuff he didn't actually have irl. I saw one description where he'd need a lung transplant (?!) and closed the fuck out of AO3. Just, why? Where is the enjoyment out of imagining such a thing? Why not just write this story with a fictional character if it's going to have nothing to do with Queen? It honestly unnerves me. Oh, and the formatting of the stories themselves is absolutely unreadable. I clicked on one out of sheer curiosity but the lack of spaces and paragraph breaks hurt my eyes.

I do think the old man thirst is concerning when the people doing it are very young. Sorry but....kids aren't supposed to find senior citizens attractive lmfao. It definitely seems to be a thing in the wider classic rock fandom. I was going to say they'll just outgrow it, but if these kids on Tiktok are really talking about older men talking to them while posing as their idols, that's really concerning. Reason #7234 TikTok was a fucking mistake and I'm so glad I'm not on there.