#holiday Inn change gift

[roaldseth]

A very merry Christmas to @broomballkraken from your TEAM ASANO Holiday Exchange secret Santa!

It was such a pleasure making your gift of an Osvald Partitio roleswap AU🎄🎁 I know it was probably for a fic, but I had to run with the design aspects because the intro cards are what popped out of my mind first.

Happy Holidays!

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

just over 4k words

tw: dark fic, dark content, dubcon, obsessive behavior, E rated, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 2, of 3? 4? 5? (More parts planned)

You had lucked out at the office white elephant party this year. You drew the shortest straw, which normally was a bad omen, but in this particular situation meant you got to pick the last gift, or steal the gift of your choice, assuming it hadn’t been stolen twice already and when it finally came down to the last present and you ripped open the wrapping on a candle scented as something called “Caramel Cashmere” you knew you’d be taking your pick of the lot.

You surveyed the circle with sharp eyes. Two mugs, a blanket with a kitten surrounded by pink feathers emblazoned on it, a sample tray of exotic meat sausages, a gift basket from Sephora, An assortment of flavored Schnapps nip bottles with a set of shot glasses, a pair of AirPod pros (that had already been stolen twice and were thus, out of the game), two tickets to see some standup comedian named Roy Ramheart at the Holiday Inn over the weekend and lastly a two week trial to the brand new bougie gym that opened up downtown.

You turned slowly in the middle of the circle, shitty candle in hand, eyeing each person and their presents one by one. Sharon was shaking the blanket with the feathers and kitten on it, trying to entice you with it. Mark, the gym rat, was trying to hide the two week gym trial under his crossed arms. Maureen was already unpacking the Airpods and changing the heads to one’s that would be most comfortable to her ears, everyone else looked beyond bored. You did one more rotation before stopping in front of Mark who let out an irritated huff as you held out the large beige candle to him. He snatched the candle from your hand and reluctantly held out the gym brochure.

You grabbed it and opened it, leafing through it as the rest of the office stood and began to chatter about their new gifts with heated exchange, there’d be secret swaps later no doubt. Someone turned the music back up and the circle slowly broke and dispersed into a half drunk crowd of sloppy dancing and idle chatter.

Mark came up to you, obviously upset with your steal of the gym trial. “You could’ve had the Sephora gift basket. Maybe you’d get laid a little more if you indulged in some makeup.” You looked up at him, a winning smirk on your face, unfazed by his nasty jest and looked back down at the flashy brochure. Your office bestie Nancy came over and Mark strode away, annoyed at losing out to you and failing to get under your skin.

“What was that about?” You looked up at her and rolled your eyes as she stared after him. “Sore loser.” She eyed the brochure in your hands. “I see you got Mrs. Magna’s gym trial.” You smiled and popped the trial in your purse. “So it was hers, I had a feeling.” She handed you a little red cup full of spiked punch. “Got it in the mail yesterday, she’s already gotten four of them and I was about to throw it out with the rest of the junk but then I remembered she still needed something for the white elephant thing so I saved it back, good thing too, the other option was a airmall catalog from her last business trip.”

You rolled your eyes, your boss had always been contemptuous at best, and if she held the whole of the office at foot level she held your best friend Nancy, her secretary, in the dirt. You had spent countless hours after work, drinks in hand listening to her vent about being Mrs. Magna’s doormat for forty hours a week.

You sucked down the last of the punch in your cup and regarded the hazy swirling quality the room had taken, it was time to go home. “I’m headed home, Nance. You wanna catch a ride with me?” She looked down at her feet, a look you’ve seen all too often, one that meant she’d be taking it face first again. “Gotta stay and clean up. She’s got an early board meeting in the morning and they’re having it here, so I’ve got to have this place spotless by 6:15.”

“God, does that woman ever give you a break?” She pulled you in for a hug and took your empty cup from your hands, replacing it with your purse. “Get home safe, and text me when you get there, yeah?” You smiled and nodded before turning for the door, pulling out your phone and opening up Uber.”

When you were home and locked up tight you texted Nancy, brushed your teeth and fell into bed, letting the buzz carry you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning, sour taste in your mouth and head throbbing dully. You slowly lurched from the nest of your bed and shambled into the bathroom, wincing at the brightness of the lights as you flicked them on and breathing out shakily as you shut them off again. With the little corner window casting gentle waxy rays into the space you turned on the shower and set about brushing your teeth. Bad taste gone, you climbed under the flow of steamy hot water and let the force of it all wash away your grogginess and began to feel just a bit better.

When you were out and dressed you made a light breakfast and pulled your white elephant gift from your purse. The front showed the shiny new building and the fancy letters at the top read “Baliquinox”. The brochure outlined the extent of the trial, all amenities available for the duration of the trial, including but not limited to the scheduled hot yoga, cycling and something called gravity assisted pilates. The gym also advertised a sauna, a full length Olympic sized pool, an in-house smoothie “artist”, as well as massage therapists and personal trainers on staff.

On the back of the brochure various payment plans were listed for membership packages, starting in the thousands, you immediately flipped the brochure back over to the front, two weeks was all you had, but you were going to make the most of it. If you could come up with a routine that you could do at home then you could give up the luxurities that came with the cushy admission price.

A week later you found yourself in front of the glitzy building, gym bag in hand as you stared at the shiny made up people behind the gleaming doors. Walking into the bustle of people you are met with a long white desk, there’s two people behind the counter, a fit beautiful woman and strong chiseled man, both already occupied with customers. But while the actual humans are occupied there is a row of kiosks set up with a sign above them that claims they can help you.

You walk up to one hesitantly and find that it’s actually a really simple process, you scan the barcode on the back of your brochure, type in some preliminary basic information, your name, address, email and phone number, and your free two week trial has begun. The machine spits out a laminated wristband at you. You tear it at the dotted lines, place it around your wrist and now you’re good to go. The machine wishes you a very productive workout and sends you on your way.

You walk further into the building, following a colored line on the floor that claims it will take you to the locker room. As you follow the line your eyes scan your surroundings, to your left are three glass rooms. One is currently occupied by a spin class, the next some sort of dance exercise class, the thumpy music felt through the floor in your feet but unheard to you outside of the walls, the last was a hot yoga class, you could tell by the mats on the floor and the condensation on the glass but as you were watching the instructor pressed a button on the tablet she was holding and the glass grayed out before your eyes, concealing the room from view.

You passed a room which you guessed held the pool, the sounds of echoing splashes crashed against the walls. Finally you could see the locker rooms before you, a door split off into men’s and women’s, keeping to the right you found yourself in an expansive room filled wall to wall with lockers. You came up to one with a green light on the front and pulled on the door, it opened freely and you began to change. When you had on your workout clothes you put the bag inside and shut the door, as you stepped away the light changed from green to red, signifying it had locked and you left the locker room.

You found the open gym space by following a different line on the floor. The room was split up into sections, one for machines, one for free weights, and one for cardio. Meandering into the cardio section you found a row of Peloton treadmills that stretched the length of the wall while the other side were full with cycle machines. You opted for a run to start with. There were a couple treadmills in use at the front but the ones in back were empty. You picked one by the far wall, stepping up onto it and putting your headphones in. You looked up at yourself in the mirror lined wall, taking in a deep breath before finding a song and picking a speed.

Head down and focused you let your footfalls come to the forefront of your mind, the only thing that mattered, soon the room around you faded and became unimportant. You had just broken out a sweat, head lifting and eyes opening to meet the mirrors of your own on the wall, but that wasn’t all.

Standing behind you, eyes connected with yours was a ruggedly handsome man, he stood behind you a few feet back from the treadmill and when you caught him staring he didn’t look away ashamed, just held your gaze with shockingly pale blue eyes. He wore black athletic shorts and a white shirt with the gym's name across his chest, he definitely worked here, personal trainer maybe, judging by his ripped physique. His lips turned up in a smirk and it was you who finally broke the locked gaze.

You looked down at your phone, shuffled through a few songs before checking the mirror again, he was still there. You were about to turn and speak to him when he turned on foot and headed out of the cardio section and out of sight. You stopped the machine and took a moment to take in your surroundings. There were a few more patrons in the cardio section of the gym but they didn’t seem to notice this interaction between you and the handsome stranger at all and there didn’t seem to be some kind of maintenance going on or equipment around you that was needed, warranting the long stare you’d received from the employee.

You turned back to your machine and after looking once more over your shoulder for any other disturbance you resumed your workout, picking up the pace and settling into a jog. It wasn’t five minutes later that the man was back, this time though he was strolling the area and looking, quite obviously, anywhere but you. You felt heat rising in your cheeks and somehow more exposed than before, you almost regretted this isolated treadmill towards the back of the room.

He had passed the other patrons at this point, there was no reason for him to walk back this way any further other than to speak to you. Still you felt compelled to keep your head down, like somehow you weren’t supposed to be here. He stopped behind you once more and the hair on the back of your neck pricked to points. As you made up the courage to confront him he took the first step, walking up to the side of your machine and tapping the handle arm.

Pulling one earbud out you turned the machine down to a walk, a little annoyed at the interruption but compliant and friendly as you could be. “Yes?” He flashed you a smile and gods was he handsome, tan skin, nice white teeth, he looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine, absolutely a personal trainer, but what did he want with you?

“Hi, m’name’s Johnny. I’m a personal trainer, dinnae think I’ve seen you around before.” His voice is gruff and that accent, Scottish? Maybe. Delicious whatever it is. “I’m new, first day.” He rocked back on his heels slightly, smile never faltering. “Ahh, I see. Ken I’d never seen ye before, would’ve remembered such a pretty face.” Charming as well, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze for a moment, the intensity of his presence a little faltering. When you speak your voice is a bit higher pitched than you’d wish and he knows he’s flustered you just a little.

“Yeah. Yeah, just umm.. just started my workout actually. Didn’t get very far.” You turn to go back to the machine but he reaches out and grabs your wrist and it stops you, your eyes flick back to his baby blues. “Have ye set your goals?” One eyebrow shoots up. “My goals?” That dazzling smile is back, it’s bright, nearly blinding. “Yer workout goals, cannae start yer workout without yer goals, hen. Gotta ken where yer at and where yer goin’.”

You consider this for a moment, a little off guard before stuttering forth an answer. “I’d like to work on my cardio.” It’s a simple enough answer, and seems stupid considering that’s what you were doing before he interrupted you and you thought maybe it was enough for him to leave you be, as handsome as he was you wanted to be polite but you also wanted to get back to it.

“That’s a good start bonnie. But we need to know where yer at still. Follow me.” And then he turns away, obviously expecting you to follow him. You stop the machine and stand idly for a moment, unsure what you’ll do, you probably could just go back to walking and that’d be the end of it, and maybe that’s what you should do, but you think it’d be rude, he was being nice so far and maybe he could help you set some real goals to accomplish, he is after all a personal trainer. It would be stupid to pass up his professional help. You climb off the treadmill and walk towards him, speed walking a little to catch up.

He carts you through the gym, and it feels like you’ve walked the whole length of the building, passed through a few sets of double doors, long since stopped seeing any patrons actually exercising. Now you feel like you’re in the back rooms of the gym, maybe where you’re not supposed to be. But you still follow him, keeping track of where you’ve been and how to get out if you have to, you know, just in case.

He finally opens the door to a room and pushes you in, it’s small but furnished. A single ancient treadmill pushed into one of the corners, a few scales against the far wall, charts explaining how to find your BMI and the nutrition pyramid are tacked to the wall. He shuts the door and the room takes on a warm and stuffy quality.

He starts by measuring your height. There’s a laminated ruler all the way up one wall and he pushes you up against it, kicking your feet until your heels touch the wall. You feel the strength in his hands as they bracket your hips, controlling you with just the minute movements of his wrists, caging you closer to take “the most accurate” measurements.

His breath is in your face, warm and minty as he places a finger at the tippy top of your head to pinpoint your height. You would think he’d have some sort of chart or goal sheet to jot these numbers down but he’s typing them into his phone instead, after all everything was online these days.

When he had your height he motioned for you to step on the scale, something you were a bit hesitant to do. “Don’t be fashed, bonnie. S’all part of the process.” You step up on the scale and after he takes a careful moment to be sure it’s settled he records your weight. You think it all might be over and you can go back to your workout when he says “Open.” You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded and he waits patiently for you to comply.

“Open?” He grips you by the chin gently and taps his thumb against your lower lip, and your breath hitches at the gentle but intrusive gesture. “Open up.” You slowly part your lips and he smiles, his pretty blue eyes staring at your lips and you’re beyond flustered, thighs shifting uncomfortably. “Wider.” You do as he says, not sure how any of this is necessary but too far gone to stop now. “Good girl.”

He rocks your head from side to side, thoroughly examining your mouth, you feel his thumb apply pressure to your plush lower lip, drawing it down and you feel the saliva in your mouth gathering uncontrollably. The weight of it dips and you're backing away so as to not drool on his hand, your lower lip plopping back in place, but not before a drop of it collects on his thumb.

He looks you, unabashedly in the eye as he lifts his thumb to his lips and pushes the digit with your drool on it into his mouth. Your eyes are as big as saucers but without skipping a beat, and without recording any kind of data on that last test? Measurement? Examination of your mouth, he moves you over onto the treadmill and starts it up. He starts at a low speed and as the tread begins to move under your feet you have no choice but to move along with it.

It’s a walk, no sweat and you look over to see him watching your hips, his eyes flick up to yours and he leans forward and ups the speed. Now you’re at a light jog and you can no longer watch him directly. You hear him walking around the treadmill, alternating between being directly behind you and off to your side. He ups the speed again until you’re full on running, arms pumping as you try to keep up with the tread, you’re breathing quite heavily, chest heaving with each breath.

He turns it up again, just a notch but it’s past your limit and you’re struggling to keep up now, the heels of your feet nearly dangling over the end of the tread, you speak in between breaths, telling him you can’t keep up, it’s too fast. “Just a little more, hen. Keep goin’.” He’s behind you, you hope he’ll catch you if you come flying off the end, and just when you thought you would he comes up and hits the emergency stop and you feel the tread’s speed dwindle beneath your feet. When it stops you stand there, heart beating triple time in your chest, your arms gripping the arm rest until he comes up and makes you place them interlaced behind your head.

He says nothing while you recover, just plugs more data into his phone and when you’re better he looks up at you with cold assessing eyes, the baby blues icing over and chilling you. But then that smile resurfaces and they melt into pools of tropical blue and he speaks.

“Alright, lass. I'll do it.” And he just stands there not explaining until you ask. “Do what?” He laughs and it’s a gorgeous sound that still manages to unnerve you. “I’ll be your personal trainer.” You have a lot of questions and are about to voice them when he pulls you out of the room and has you following him again, talking the whole while.

“We’re gonna stretch your goals a bit. “Working on your cardio” isn’t exactly gonna cut it. We will work on your cardio, because trust me lass, it needs work.” You’re slightly offended at this, but he pushes right on through without soothing it. “But we are gonna get you in shape together. Dinnae worry, Johnny’s got a whole plan mapped out for ye already.” He takes you into a little cove by the front where a bunch of people are seated and drinking smoothies. This must be the smoothie artist you read about in the brochure. He walks up to the counter, bypassing the line and orders something you can hear from the table you sat down at. He’s handed two drinks and brings them over.

Handing one to you he sits across from you and when you don’t try it right off he sets authoritative eyes on you and deadpans in a no nonsense tone. “Drink.” You bring the straw to your lips and suck, which seems to please him and the fruit mixture that floats to your tongue is sweet and refreshing. “Now I want ye to do some homework for me when ye get home tonight. Two… nah. Make it three sets of sit-ups, two sets of toe touches and ten lunges.” You look at him and know that now is the time to tell him, you guess he just didn’t know or didn’t think to ask. “Johnny.” He looks up at you, eyes alight with excitement. “Yes, hen.”

“I’m only gonna be here for two weeks. I’m doing the free trial thing.” He keeps on staring like what you’ve said hasn’t registered and after a moment he adds. “And?” You thought it was clear but it seems you’ll have to go further. “I’m not sure I’ll be committing to coming back.” This is a lie. You know you can’t afford a membership and after your two weeks are up you simply couldn’t keep coming. But this seems to not matter in the slightest as he replies. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah? Til’ then three sets of sit ups, two sets of toe touches and ten lunges.”

You don’t know what to say so you just nod and he smiles and despite yourself you feel almost relieved to see it. “Good. Come in tomorrow at three and we’ll get started on yer first real workout.”

“But I don’t get off work til 4.” He smiles and knocks once on the table with his knuckles. “4:30 it is then. Don’t be late.” With that he stands and walks away, leaving you with a half finished smoothie and conflicting emotions.

Later that night after you found yourself compelled to at least finish the “homework” he’d assigned and after you’d repacked your gym bag with fresh clothes and climbed into bed, the image of him pushing his thumb into his mouth filled your head until you burned in bed like a torch. His pale blue eyes, dark hair, tan skin, all very conventionally attractive aspects of his features but there was more, a more secretive darker part of you that was drawn to the way he picked you out. Took notice of you immediately and coerced you into training under him, even after he knew you might not commit.

The burn of it became too much and you grabbed for the vibrator in your nightstand, coming at the thought of those strong arms hooked around your thighs and those pale blue eyes peering up at you from the junction of your thighs. At 4:30 the next day you found yourself in front of Baliquinox, gym bag in hand and nervous.

[riaaanna]

‘Brian’s grandkids call me "Nana Neet"’

Anita Dobson on her favourite festive memories, finding fame overnight and why she’s a homebody at heart.

Anita is step mum to Brian’s three children

The festive season is fast approaching, and it wouldn’t be Christmas without an onslaught of feel-good films. While many of us will no doubt be sitting down to watch Nativity, Love Actually or The Holiday, there’s a new corker coming this year too. Entitled Christmas at the Holly Day Inn, it’s a family-friendly, multi-generational romantic comedy about an over-achieving executive who quits her job just before Christmas and goes to her father’s country inn to try to find some balance. Her father is played by former Dr Who Colin Baker, while his love interest is played by ex ‐EastEnder, Anita Dobson.

“We all need dreams and a bit of magic in our lives, don’t we?” Anita (74) tells Yours. “This film is perfect for the festive season. I’m playing a lovely character called Molly, who runs a café in the village where Holly Day Inn is situated. She has a soft spot for Ben, played by Colin Baker.”

Back in the real world, Anita – or Lady May – is looking forward to sharing Christmas with her husband, Queen guitarist Brian May (76). She’s also excited to spend time with his grandchildren – and his children, James, Louisa and Emily, from his marriage to first wife Christine Mullen.

“I thoroughly enjoy being a step-grandma to Brian’s seven grandchildren,” she tells us. “They range in age from late teens down to about five. They call me ‘Nana Neet’ – Neet is what friends and family call me.”

Anita and Brian live in rural Surrey, but the star grew up in London and she says her most memorable Christmas was when she got a red bicycle. “I must have been about seven,” she recalls. “I’d desperately wanted a bike – a few of the other kids in our flats had one, but mum and dad didn’t have much money. I couldn’t bear not knowing if I was going to get one, and I needed to prepare myself for disappointment, so in the early hours of Christmas Day morning, I crept into the living room to see. There it was by the tree – my red bicycle. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I was. I went back to bed and when we got up, I pretended it was a big surprise.”

It’s hard to think of Anita and Christmas without recalling her iconic episode of EastEnders on December 25, 1986. Her character Angie Watts was served divorce papers by her philandering husband, Den, and the drama pulled in an extraordinary 30 million viewers. “If you do something that captures the imagination the way that EastEnders and Angie and Den did, you have to be proud of it,” says Anita, who recently starred in Doctor Who and a new series of Inside No.9. “I’m very proud of it. Thirty million viewers? Not bad, is it!”

Anita and Brian with family at his investiture earlier this year

While Angie and Den were famously fiery on screen, Anita says she and the late Leslie Grantham got along famously. “There was an instant rapport,” she says. “Leslie was amazing to work with because we never discussed it. He used to say, ‘Your mouth shuts, mine opens. My mouth shuts, yours opens.’ We knew exactly how to cover each other’s backs. It was remarkable.

“Playing Angie completely and utterly changed my life. I went from 0 to 100 practically overnight. Before EastEnders, I’d been a jobbing actress for a long time and then suddenly this gift of a role landed into my lap. Everything changed.

“The lady who ran the corner shop near where I lived in the real East End told me the bloke who lived across the road from me had been given a camera by the press and instructed to take a picture every time I opened my front door. I couldn’t believe it! It was like a rocket had taken off and I just had to hold on and wait until it landed.”

Which it did – to a certain extent – when Anita (74) decided to leave the soap in 1988. Her legacy lives on, though, and these days she says she is lucky enough to pick and choose her jobs.

“I don’t tend to do theatre tours which would mean me being away from home for prolonged periods, because I love where we live and our house and I want to spend lots of time there,” she reveals. “I always said that I would leave this life ‘in harness’ – as in still acting – but now I’m not so sure. I don’t plan on retiring but it’s true that these days, I only take jobs that interest me.”

Christmas at the Holly Day Inn is released November 6, 2023 on various streaming platforms.

From Yours magazine November 2023.

[agrlsname]

FIVE FAVE FICS

Thank you for the tag, @khorazir! It was weird that I got this notification from you the literal moment I was creating an AO3 draft for the fic I'm gifting you... Anyway, nearly impossible task, but here we go!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

The Sky is Full of Fiddles (25k, T)

It's 1895 in the heart of Swedish folk music and dance. During certain weekends, boys are allowed to visit girls at night, wooing them with fantastical poems. If a girl lets a boy into her room they can share a bed all night, fully clothed, to talk and eat caramels together.

John is seventeen and looking for a girl to marry like everyone else. He's very surprised when another boy suddenly stands outside his door, wanting to share his bed…

THE SEQUEL'S FIRST CHAPTER WAS POSTED TODAY!! I give you A Fair-Weather-Night as a bonus

Who I Really Am (13k, T)

You don't tend to give up your heterosexual privilege without a fight.

John's journey to discovering and accepting his bisexuality.

Your Daughter (9k, G)

Five times Sherlock held John's baby and one time he held John.

John didn't forgive Mary for shooting Sherlock, so the end of HLV didn't happen. When the baby comes John lives with Sherlock at Baker Street, and they take care of the newborn together. Sherlock adores her more than he's prepared for. Oh, and he might have something important to confess to John...

The Zebra Sheets (13k, M)

Sherlock is back from the dead and he's exhausted. So is John. They go on a holiday to a faraway cottage and unexpected truths are revealed.

Coldness/Heat (3k, E)

The inn is booked up on New Year's Eve. The train home is cancelled because of the snow. The only option is to sleep in the non-heated guest room of a client, and John and Sherlock are freezing.

You know where this is going.

Surprised myself by throwing my first PWP in there, and not the fic that made my name... suppose my personal top five-list changes constantly.

And since I'm barely ever on tumblr I have no clue who's already done this, so... feel free to copy this if you haven't!

[ginjones]

Dreamling for the Holidays! Happy whatever you celebrate Everyone!

Christmas shopping, for Hob at least, is now a relaxed affair. It starts on the first Saturday of September, when damp leaves flutter in their burnished hues, and finishes in the zephyrs grey gales of November. This year, gift buying is punctuated with a stroll through Hyde Park, then coffee with Sarah and Marlow the dog; a brief scoot to the New Inn to fix rotas, then back to the flat for dinner and scotch and Byron’s Hebrew Melodies- ‘She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies’.

Christmas shopping is categorically not the cataclysmic disaster it was two years ago when, only a month into his fledgling power as Hope of the endless, he had naively sauntered down Oxford Street in December and was immediately bombarded with the hopes and wishes of several thousand people. From a cursory glance at their aura-space, it became clear that the majority were hellbent on receiving the most expensive version of whatever had piqued their Pavlovian response. It was all a bit sad really. A hopeful celebration reduced to consumer fodder.

 In the thrum of the crowded street, Hob had found himself omitting a quiet, internal light which searched vacantly for direction. It found none. Pulled between his function to obey the will of the people and disinclined to offer his gift to the undeserving, he had panicked, abandoned his shopping, and ran to the marginal safety of the nearest pub.

It was an experience not worth repeating.

He had seen Dream in these recent months. Usually on gilded evenings where they would walk the hillocks of Hamstead Heath, their pathway illuminated in the jewelling light of early autumn. They would talk about Hope and how Hob was feeling and Dream, in his somnolent tones would tell him stories about the heavy burden of purpose; the arduous confines of duty. Then, when Hob would place an arm around his shoulder and sigh warmly, when he would send a little of his hope out into the world around them, Dream would smile at the change in the air and talk about presence and creation and magic. And everything, once more, would seem like a gift.

It was on one of these walks that he got the idea, and the signature white box was the easiest to find.

He had found it on Ebay of all places. It wasn’t as expensive as he had imagined but expense, of course, had not been the point. The gift itself, had been harder to track down. He had found it at last in a rundown antique shop near Columbia Road. A tiny little thing, mottled with the faint impressions of distant fingerprints, its paintwork faded, its silver motif browning with age. He held it up to the light and every one of its stories solidified and sang out. It was perfect. In pencil drawn font, the price read £12.

The shop owner, Sebastian Rossi, had not been home to visit his sister in 8 years. She grew tomatoes in her garden and played backgammon on Sundays and called Sebastian ‘piccolo leone’ even after all these years. Hob smiled at Sebastian and gave him £50.

He had hidden the gift in his flat for weeks on the off-chance Dream might make a surprise visit. He did in fact, several times, and Hob had been mindful to divert his attentions away from the little white box and the gift it contained. Hob had found, much to his chagrin, that his daydreams were still very much on display despite his ascension to endless. It was however, much easier now to simply hope them away, when Hob could physically see the threads of thought forming. Pass a hand over the opalescent swirl and sweep it gently from the air, fold it up and tuck the remnants away in his pocket.

Gift giving was not a tradition when he was growing up. Gifts, or any items not made for the sheer purpose of living and surviving, were few and far between. Instead, gifts came in the form of the first blush of springtime, when winter frost melted, and wild garlic bloomed. Or in the first mouthfuls of summer fruits and plentiful game, that made children plumper and bellies full.

Between 1851 and 1858 Hob, fresh off a successful investment in Singer sewing machines, had rented a house in Regent’s Park and employed the services of two maids. He had enjoyed treating them to the fancier linens when Boxing Day came around and would dutifully send out for orders of pink lace and taffeta.

And now here it was finally. Christmas Eve 2022 and Dream was sitting in the warm light of his living room, the only entity in existence who could make a battered couch look like a regal throne. They had spent the last few hours curled up together, reading silently. Dream, a copy of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations. Hob, The Black Tudors by Miranda Kaufmann.  It was a pastime they had both come to enjoy, especially as Hob’s power blossomed and their thoughts could interlink in a stream of words, allusion and metaphor. It was like reading two books at once although at first, the whole concept had been baffling. As the last page was turned, Hob placed the book down and went to fetch the gift from the cupboard in the kitchen. Returning back, he placed the little white box in Dream’s hands and curled up next to him.

“That’s for you.” Hob said, draping an arm over Dream’s shoulders and pulling him in closer.  “It’s just a little thing. I know you don’t celebrate Christmas or Yule or whatever, but I just thought you deserved something. So…”

“A gift for me?” Dream answered, in a soft tone that sounded like the ebb of the sea on a clear, crisp day. His finger traced over the golden embossment on the top of the box. “Pandora” he continued; confusion etched on his features for the briefest of seconds before Dream’s face lit up from within at the story beginning to form. He looked back to Hob and then, in a display of feigned dramatics, opened the box tentatively and peered inside. With careful movements, as if what lay inside was as precious as hope itself, Dream picked up the little dove ornament with its decorative band of silver stars and laid it gently in the palm of his hand.

“Got it in an antique shop.” Hob said “Like I said, it’s just a silly little thing but it’s supposed to represent…”

“You,” replied Dream in wonderment.  “The only thing that remained in Pandora’s box…”

“Was Hope.” Hob finished, smiling.  “The silver stars are you though. I wouldn’t be the man I am today, the…being I’m becoming without your guidance.”

They were quiet for several moments. Dream had closed the box carefully, almost reverently, and held it along with the ornament tight to his chest. The world outside would tell its own stories in the pale moonlight of Winter. December skies are often clear and somewhere, in the unfathomable stretch of night, mortal men would glimpse the celestial journey of a shooting star.

“It is perfect.” Said Dream.

I am too busy now to write much so I just wanted to go out with a bang and dedicate this to @moorishflower and @landwriter who are leagues above me in ability and storytelling. Thank you for all the amazing content that has inspired me to work harder and write better! x

[queerofthedagger]

Hullo~ with much joy I saw that you're doing December fic gifts 😍 (first of all, very kind and generous, and a lovely idea!)

I would love to request a dreamling fic if i may!

Several prompts seem similarly appealing and are essentially just different flavours of the same thing?

So my favourite is of course from the fluff list: #37 "Because i love you goddamnit!". But Fluff only becomes sweeter with a bit of angst, so essentially mixed with the same prompt (#32 from the Angst list)? Maybe a bit of #32 from the drabble list: "I think I'm in love with you, and I'm terrified"?

Does that make sense? I hope you find a way to have fun with it anyway ♡

If you do decide to write this, could it be gifted to me (AHopefulSun) on A03 please? 🥺👉👈

Anyway, once again thank you very much and happy holiday time ♡

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I changed the dialogue a bit to make it work, and I'm afraid it ended quite heavily on the fluffier side of things, but there is a hint of angst? 😄<3

(The languages Hob uses are Basque, Croatian, Hebrew, Catalan, and Gaelic; it'll make sense in a hot second, I promise 😄)

Speaking in Tongues

“Are you sure that you’re not cold?” Hob asks, five minutes into their walk back to the New Inn.

The street they are walking down is quiet, snow blanketing this corner of London in glittering jewels of white, and something treacherous flutters in Dream’s stomach at the open concern.

“I believe to have told you before that I do not experience temperatures as you do.”

Hob stops him with a light touch to his wrist; Dream feels it all the way down his spine.

“And I believe I’ve told you before that it doesn’t mean you can’t be uncomfortable,” Hob says, exasperated affection pressed into the corners of his mouth. He turns Dream with another touch and begins to unwind the scarf from around his neck.

“What—” Dream starts, but the words get stuck in his throat when Hob looks at him, smiling and bright-eyed, cheeks flushed from mulled wine and the cold.

Hob had insisted to take him to the Christmas market in Camden, much as he is now insisting to wrap his scarf around Dream’s neck, calloused fingers brushing the skin of his throat. Which is to say, he hadn’t let Dream protest, no matter that Dream did not want to do so, neither then nor now.  

“I know, I know, self-knitted isn’t really your style, and dark blue isn’t part of your usual colour scheme,” Hob says, and his hands rest on Dream’s chest even as his expression seems to grow bashful. “But at least I have a proper winter jacket, and if you really don’t want to wear it, not even until we’re back at the Inn, you obviously don’t—”

Dream catches Hob’s wrist just as he is about to pull away, heat flaring in his chest that is both terrifying and thawing something ancient he thought long dead. “No, I would—I would like to keep it. For now.”

For as long as you’ll let me have it, he does not say.

Hob tilts his head. “You do not look certain of that.”

“I am. I merely… You are much more likely to get cold than I am; why would you give me this?”

It is a loaded question, is about more than a scarf and Hob’s gentle tenacity.

Silence stretches for longer than it should. Hob is looking past Dream until his shoulders straighten with a shuddering breath.

When he speaks, his voice is too steady to sound light-hearted. “Because I love you, and I want you to have it. To know it.”

He states it like a fact, something axiomatic and indelible; night follows day and humans dream. The sun keeps rising, and Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless.

Dream swallows, helpless, even as Hob’s eyes stay fixed on him.

“Does this not scare you?” he asks, voice hoarse as the words trip off his tongue.

“Of course, it does; it’s terrifying. That does not change the truth of it, though, does it?”

Dream searches Hob’s face; he is not sure for what. He searches for his own courage and finds it in the warmth of a scarf wrapped around him with care. Finds it in the memory of outrageously sweet coffee orders and cups of mulled wine, in stories told over centuries, and in an Inn built for him. In Hob waiting, always waiting for Dream to catch up.

He admits, “It is terrifying to me, too,” and watches as Hob’s expression morphs through shock and disbelief, finally settling on caution. “You did not expect reciprocation.”

Hob huffs a laugh that borders on hysterical. “I—no, I did not. The last time I dared to call you my friend, you stormed out on me.”

“I apologised; I—”

“No, I know, I’m not…” Hob sighs, and beneath the lingering caution, a hint of a smile starts to form.

A part of Dream itches to vanish into the safety of his own realm, to wrap layers of iron-clad protection back around himself and hide the soft, tender, human pieces once more.

Stepping closer, Hob slips his hands inside Dream’s coat. His palms are warm on Dream’s waist, and it calms his racing, non-existent heart.

“If I kiss you, would it scare you off for good?” Hob asks. His smile is solid now, warm as if sun-soaked in a way only he ever is.

Dream finds that his terror is melting beneath Hob’s touch like snow in a child’s hand. Distantly, he thinks that should scare him. He also finds that he is quite exactly where he wants to be.

“You may; under one condition.”

Hob laughs, his eyes glistening with it. “Of course. Anything.”

Swaying forward, Dream leans into him and closes his eyes. “Tell me again.”

Hob’s fingers dig into Dream’s skin. When he speaks, his breath fans across Dream’s mouth.

“I love you,” Hob says, voice low with the weight of it. “I love you so much that it burns, and I will tell you as many times as you want. I will tell you in languages that I have never used to tell—”

Dream kisses him, falling into it, inevitable; Hob tastes like winter nights and spices, cinnamon and anise and orange. His mouth opens beneath Dream’s as if he has been waiting for this through all his lifetimes.

“Maite Zaitut.”

Pushing closer, Dream cards his fingers into Hob’s hair. “Again.”

“Volim te.”

He bites Hob’s bottom lip and swallows the sound it elicits, tucking it away beneath his ribs for safekeeping. “Again. Please.”

“Ani ohevet otcha. T’estimo. Tá grá agam ort.”

Any more of this, and Dream fears he might choke on his affection. “You know a great many languages to say this in.”

Hob smiles. “Come home with me, and I might tell you why.”

“Incorrigible.”

“You love me, really,” Hob shoots back; beneath the affected cockiness, he looks as if he might need to hear it a few more times, too.

Dream brushes his mouth over Hob’s temple and says, “Indeed I do. Dearest.”

✨December Gift Ficlets ✨

[barelytolerabled]

The christmas miracle

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer are stranded in a small town on Christmas Eve due to a snowstorm. As you both work to find a way back home, you also help the town with their Christmas celebrations. Along the way, you both begin to realize that what you really want for Christmas is each other.

Warnings: none

You had been excitedly counting down the days until Christmas for weeks. As an FBI agent, you had been working long hours and juggling a lot of cases, but the thought of spending the holidays with your family kept you going. You had just finished up a case in a nearby town with your colleague, Spencer Reid, and were on your way to the airport to catch your flight home when you saw the snowflakes start to fall.

At first, it seemed like nothing to worry about, but soon the snow was coming down heavily, and the roads were getting treacherous. You and Spencer made the decision to stay in the small town overnight and wait for the storm to pass before continuing on. It wasn't ideal, but you were both adaptable and could handle a change in plans.

You soon realized, however, that the town was completely unprepared for the storm. The locals were all scrambling, trying to figure out how to make the most of the situation, and you both felt compelled to lend a hand. You quickly found yourselves volunteering to help decorate the town square, wrap presents, and set up the Christmas tree.

As you and Spencer worked together at the local Christmas fair, wrapping presents for the children, there was a sense of camaraderie between you both. You had gotten to know each other much better over the past few days, and there was a sense of playfulness in the air.

As you were wrapping a particularly tricky present, Spencer leaned in close to help you. His warm breath tickled your neck, and you couldn't help but shiver.

"Thanks," you said, smiling up at him.

"Anytime," he replied, grinning back at you.

As you continued to work, the playful banter continued. You teased him about his obsessive attention to detail, and he made fun of your terrible wrapping skills.

Suddenly, Spencer reached over and grabbed your hand, pulling you close to him. You looked up at him, confused, but before you could say anything, he leaned in and whispered in your ear.

"You know, I could teach you how to wrap presents properly," he said, his voice low and teasing.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, and you couldn't help but play along.

"Oh really?" you replied, batting your eyelashes at him. "And what do I get in return?"

Spencer's eyes twinkled with mischief, and he leaned in even closer.

"Well, I was thinking a date," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

You felt your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but grin. This was the moment you had been waiting for, and it felt like the perfect Christmas gift.

"Deal," you said, leaning in to give him a playful kiss on the cheek.

As you continued to work, there was a sense of excitement and anticipation in the air. You knew that things between you and Spencer had changed, and you couldn't wait to see what the future held

Despite the situation, you both found yourselves enjoying the work and the people you were meeting. Spencer's enthusiasm and eagerness to help the community surprised you. You had known him for a while now, but this side of him was new to you. You could feel yourself drawn to him in a way that you had never experienced before.

As you worked together, it became clear that you both shared a passion for helping others. You talked about your shared experiences and your love for your job, and you found that your connection was deeper than you had thought. It was clear that Spencer was a kind-hearted and intelligent person, and you couldn't help but feel yourself falling for him.

As the day turned into night, you both found yourselves sitting by the fire in a local inn, exhausted but content. You were both sipping hot cocoa and admiring the decorations you had helped put up. You glanced over at Spencer and realized how close you were sitting to him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and the beating of his heart. It was a moment of perfect peace.

Suddenly, the power flickered, and the room fell into darkness. You both laughed, realizing that the storm had taken out the electricity. Spencer quickly lit some candles, and the room was filled with a warm, flickering light. You both sat in silence for a moment, and then Spencer spoke up.

"I know we're supposed to be heading home for the holidays, but I'm honestly happy we got stuck here," he said softly. "This has been one of the most meaningful Christmas Eves I've ever had." You smiled at him, feeling the same way.

Spencer turned to you, and before you knew it, he leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips. It was a gentle and tender kiss, and it took your breath away. You both pulled away, a little surprised and unsure of what to say.

After a moment of silence, you found your voice. "Spencer, I don't know how to say this, but I think I'm falling for you. What's happening between us feels so right."

Spencer's eyes widened, and then he grinned widely. "I feel the same way. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you for weeks now."

You both sat in silence for a few moments, basking in the glow of the candles and the warmth of each other's company. The power eventually came back on, and you both decided to stay up all night, enjoying each other's company and talking about your hopes and dreams for the future.

The next morning, you both woke up feeling happy and content. . The storm had passed, and the town was already bustling with activity as the residents continued their Christmas celebrations. You and Spencer made the decision to stay for a little longer and help out with the festivities.

You both worked tirelessly alongside the locals, and the sense of community and belonging you felt was overwhelming. It was a Christmas you would never forget, and you knew that it was all thanks to being stranded in that small town.

As the day came to a close, you both said your goodbyes and made the journey back to the airport. The trip home was filled with a comfortable silence, and you both knew that things had changed between you. You were no longer just colleagues, but something more.

When you finally arrived home, you were greeted with warm hugs from your family. They were surprised to see you, but happy nonetheless. You couldn't wait to tell them about your adventure in the small town and about Spencer.

Over the next few weeks, you and Spencer started dating officially, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You found yourself happier than you had ever been before, and you knew that he felt the same way.

As Christmas approached, you both made the decision to spend it together. You wanted to make new memories, and what better way to do that than by spending it with the person you loved the most?

On Christmas morning, you woke up next to Spencer with a sense of excitement in the air. You exchanged warm hugs and kisses before reaching for the presents under the tree.

You handed Spencer his present first, watching as he unwrapped it with care. Inside was a leather-bound copy of his favorite book, with a handwritten note from you tucked inside.

Spencer's eyes lit up as he read the note, and he turned to you with a huge smile on his face.

"This is amazing," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you so much."

You grinned back at him, feeling a sense of joy and contentment in your heart. Seeing him so happy made your day, and you couldn't wait to see what he had gotten you.

Spencer reached for the present with your name on it, and he watched as you carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a beautiful necklace, with a small diamond pendant.

"It's beautiful," you said, admiring the delicate piece of jewelry.

"I wanted to get you something special," Spencer said, his voice filled with warmth. "Something to remind you of this Christmas and the memories we've made together."

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, and you couldn't help but lean in for a kiss.

"I love it," you said, smiling up at him. "And I love you."

Spencer's eyes softened, and he leaned in for another kiss.

"I love you too," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

As you both sat together, admiring each other's gifts, you knew that this Christmas was something special. It was a reminder of the love you shared and the memories you had made together, and it was a gift that would last a lifetime.

It was the perfect Christmas, and you both knew that it was only the beginning of your love story.

The Christmas Miracle had brought you together, and you were both grateful for it. You knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together, with love in your hearts and each other by your side.

[togrowoldinv]

Snowed Inn Christmas

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You and Natasha are given a special writing assignment at Christmas. You are brought together after being stranded in Indiana and the fight to save the town inn.

Note: This is based on the Lifetime movie of the same title 😌 it’s super cheesy but I loved writing it. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Today is the day. You wake up early to make coffee and breakfast for yourself. You almost make it through the morning without thinking of her, but the picture of your ex-girlfriend on your bookshelf reminds you of how she broke your heart a month ago.

Things haven’t gone the best lately in your personal life, but you’re up for a major assignment at work today. You think this could change the course of the end of your year for the best.

When you get to work, you enter the conference room for a meeting with your boss, Carol, and your colleagues. As always, the seat next to you is empty until ten minutes into the meeting. That’s when your work rival, Natasha Romanoff, enters the room and settles next to you.

“I’m sure there’s a good excuse for you being late?” Carol asks Nat.

“Yeah, I was helping an old lady cross the street,” Natasha flat-out lies with her signature smirk. You shake your head, but Carol doesn’t miss a beat.

“Okay, so unfortunately, this holiday season will be one that requires everyone to work extremely hard. Our jobs depend on it,” Carol explains.

“I’m sorry. Could you explain? Will there be layoffs?” you speak up for the group.

“I hate to tell you all right at the holidays, but yes,” Carol says. And she does sound apologetic.

“Who got the Aspen assignment?” Natasha blurts out. Of course she’s worried about herself right now, you think.

“You did,” Carol answers.

“Yes!”

“What?” you both reply at the same time.

“And you did as well, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, both of us are on the assignment?” Natasha asks for clarification.

“That’s right. I want you both to write an article and whoever brings the most traffic to our website will be my head writer next year. You’re my two top writers. I’m sure you can handle this assignment,” Carol explains.

“Sure can,” Nat says. You nod, but not happily.

After the meeting, you go to Carol’s office.

“I have to go to Aspen with her? Seriously?” you complain to her. She is your boss, but also your friend.

“Yes, y/n. I need your skills on this. Plus, maybe you’ll meet someone in Aspen. You need a distraction from Wanda,” Carol says.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I am right. Now go on, you don’t want to miss your flight,” Carol says. “Have fun!”

“I’ll try,” you say noncommittally as you leave her office.

You’ve loaded the plane and are sitting in your seat when Natasha finally arrives next to you. She stands in the aisle and puts her bag in the overhead bin.

“Did you seriously just now board the plane when it takes off in five minutes?” you ask her.

“Yep. I got distracted by a cute girl at the gift shop. She convinced me to share my candy with her,” Natasha says with a smile.

You roll your eyes at her. That makes her smirk even more.

A young girl stops by your seat with a candy bar in her hand, “Thank you for sharing with me, ma’am,” she speaks to Nat.

“Anytime,” she replies. And once the girl walks away, she adds, “See I told you she was cute.”

You sigh and prepare for a long flight with Natasha by your side. But it’s not long before the pilot comes over the speaker and says that the plane will have to land due to snowy conditions near your destination.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you mumble.

“I guess we’re going to Indiana now,” Nat says, none too pleased herself.

You unload the plane to see that all flights out are canceled. It’s not until you meet a white-haired woman that you even have a chance at finding somewhere to stay. The woman and her husband run a bed and breakfast in Santa Claus, Indiana, and they offer to let you and Natasha stay there.

When you get there, the inn is beautifully decorated and seems almost magical.

“So, we do have the mistletoe sweet open,” the woman explains.

“Oh no, we’re not-” you begin.

“Nope,” Natasha agrees.

“Oh, our mistake. We have two rooms next to each other then.”

“Thank you,” you say.

You get settled into your room and try to think of a story to tell here. Sure, it’s not the original assignment, but Carol instructed you to make the most of it. While in your room, the walls are thin, and you hear Natasha talking to someone on the phone. You don’t catch much, just that someone is asking her to come home for Christmas.

The next morning you learn that the inn is at risk of closing if the original deed to the land isn’t found. You talk to the owners, and they seemingly tell you that Saint Nick created the inn. Natasha laughs it off, but the clues lead you to believe it could possibly be true. It sparks inspiration for your article.

Later that night, you leave your room after feeling restless. Natasha does the same, and you run into each other in the kitchen.

“How’s your article going?” Natasha asks. Her openness shocks you, but you decide to accept the olive branch.

“It’s coming together,” you say. “How’s yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she responds. You narrow your eyes at her, and she laughs. “I haven’t started it.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you say. “I’m so hungry,” you admit as you look around the kitchen.

“Want me to make you something?”

“Really?” you ask, not being able to hide a smile.

And so, Natasha starts making cookies. She seems almost an expert at it as she mixes the ingredients, and you help her shape the dough and put them in the oven.

“So, you’re pretty good at that,” you comment as they bake.

“I have practice. My little sister loved making cookies growing up, so I would get up in the middle of the night with her and make them,” Natasha explains.

“That’s sweet. I never really had a family to celebrate the holidays with,” you find yourself opening up to her.

“I’m sorry,” Nat says.

“I was going to have it with Wanda this year, but she ended things,” you say.

“Love sucks sometimes. It’s kind of terrifying, isn’t it?”

“Like swimming with sharks?” you ask. Her eyes go wide at you referencing an article she had written about swimming with sharks in the gulf.

“Yeah. I write about what I’m scared of. It helps me face my fears in some way,” Nat explains. “How about that article you wrote about the lions?”

“That one was so long ago. Wow, I can’t believe you read that one,” you say, very shocked at her actions.

“I read all of your articles, y/n. You’re an amazing writer,” she says.

“I thought I was kind of invisible.”

“I noticed you the moment you walked into the office,” Natasha says. She is closer to you now, practically only a few inches from her lips touching yours.

You wonder if she realizes the weight of what she just said. You don’t know how to respond, and luckily you don’t have to as the oven dings. Natasha moves from her spot close to you to take the cookies out of the oven.

You eat the cookies together, and light conversation continues until you both decide to go to sleep.

“I’m glad we can talk like this,” you say.

“Yeah, who would’ve thought we’d be friends,” she says. Your brain sticks on that last word.

“Friends,” you mumble.

“Well, isn’t that what we are?”

“I’m going to bed,” you say.

“What? Y/n, wait!” Nat calls after you, but it’s no good. You’re already up the stairs, kicking yourself for falling for her so fast. Nat stands there wondering what went wrong.

The next morning comes, and you are trying to avoid Natasha when she corners you.

“Come with me?” she asks, car keys in hand.

“Where?”

“You’ll see,” is her only response.

Figuring it might be for the article assignment, you get in the car with her. She drives for almost an hour before she breaks the silence.

“We’re going to see my family,” she says.

“Your family lives in Indiana?”

“Close. Ohio. I haven’t seen them in a while, but you got me thinking about my family. And I just figured it would be easier to see them with someone I cared about,” Natasha explains.

“A friend?”

“Something more than that, I think,” Natasha says.

You’re speechless as you ride the rest of the way to Natasha’s family. The house is in a suburb in middle of nowhere Ohio. You wonder what Nat’s family will be like, and you suddenly feel nervous to meet them. Still, you get out of the car first, and Nat follows after taking a few grounding breaths.

“Natasha!” a woman, her mother you presume, pulls her into a hug immediately.

“Hi Mama,” Nat says.

A blonde girl comes to her next and Nat actually looks like she wants to hug her.

“I missed you, sestra,” the girl says into Nat’s shoulder. She replies in what sounds like Russian.

“Oh, and hello! I’m Melina,” Nat’s mom greets you.

“I’m y/n.”

“Great choice, Natasha,” the blonde girl says.

“Yelena, we just work together is all,” Nat explains, and then turns to you. “This is my little sister Yelena.”

“Nice to meet you,” you greet her.

You follow Natasha into the kitchen where her family has cooked a meal and she pours you a glass of wine.

“My dad will be here later. He likes to think he’s the Russian Santa,” Natasha says with a smile.

“An attractive Santa,” Melina says. Both girls make disgusted faces, and their mother only smiles.

You fall into conversation with Natasha’s family, and even when her dad shows up in a Santa suit to greet his grown children, you laugh along with them. It’s the best experience with a family you’ve ever had. It makes you long for more.

When the night comes to an end, Melina, Yelena, and Alexei hug you as you leave with Natasha. She spends the whole drive home telling you about her family. You hang onto every word.

When you get back to the inn, you are surprised to see your ex-girlfriend Wanda standing at the door waiting for you. Natasha brushes past her and goes inside.

“Wanda, what are you doing here?” you ask her.

“We played this wrong, y/n. We have to spend the holidays together,” Wanda says. Her tone of voice, as always, wrongly convinces you that she cares for you. “I got us a hotel. Get your stuff, okay?”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, just give me a minute,” you say. She nods. You go inside and find Natasha already in her room. You decide not to knock.

You gather your things. You never finished your article or found the deed to save the inn, but you figure it’ll take a miracle now for that to happen. As you leave, you think twice about not saying bye to Nat, but Wanda is waiting, so you keep walking.

The next morning Wanda is rushing you to the airport to get home for the holiday. You are feeling upset about not finishing your article, and you wonder how Natasha’s is coming along.

Your phone rings, and it’s Carol. You answer it in fear of her asking for your article.

“It’s amazing, y/n!” Carol says.

“What?” you ask her.

“The article. I can’t believe you and Natasha fell in love and saved the inn. You will both be promoted in the new year. Just amazing!”

“Oh, thank you,” you go along with it.

When you hang up the phone, you get on your phone and see the article.

How Two Writers Saved a Historical Inn and Fell in Love

By: Y/n Y/l/n and Natasha Romanoff

“She found the deed! The inn is saved. And she loves me?” you wonder aloud.

“That’s great. We have a plane to catch, sweetheart,” Wanda replies unenthusiastically.

“What’s your favorite article that I’ve written?” you confront her.

“Oh. I love everything you write.”

“You don’t even read them, do you? You know what Wanda, you go ahead. This isn’t going to work anymore. Like you said, we’re too different,” you say. It’s her turn to stand there confused as you walk away from her.

In Ohio, Natasha sits with her family around the table.

“It’s my fault for not telling her sooner,” she says.

“But you just let her go with that woman?” Yelena shakes her head.

“It’s okay. We’re friends at least,” Nat says, mostly to herself.

Just then the doorbell rings and Natasha goes to answer it. She figures it’s carolers, so she is shocked to see you standing there.

“I read the article,” you say.

“And what did you think?”

“I love you too, Natasha,” you say with a smile.

She wastes no time walking towards you and pulling you in for a long, sweet kiss. You can’t believe how amazing it feels to love her and to be with her.

“I love you, y/n,” Natasha says, breaking for air. It sounds so good coming from her.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas, detka,” she mirrors your sentiment, kissing you once again.

And you two are meant to live happily ever after.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @wandasbb @be-missed @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @wandassitcom @ggrangerdanger @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @marie45019 @sammi1642 @jujuu23 @the-night-owl-blr @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat @sayah13 @harleysincairo @rach2602 @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @lovelyy-moonlight @huitzilinthebudgie3 @juicyy444 @natblackwidow2 @youralphawolf72 @btay3115 @red1culous @lenam07 @randomwriter1021

[words-are-fireproof]

Red Ribbons - (Din Djarin x f!reader)

Summary: After seeing his face, you and the Mandalorian end up in a snowy town with the kid and red ribbon.

Rating: T, just to be safe

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I don't celebrate the holidays but I started this as part of @toomanystoriessolittletime's December challenge and I finally finished it so...here you go! As always, my work is unedited. Whoops. And, also, as always, I can't write short stuff to save my life. Double whoops.

This is a sequel, of sorts, to Haalur but I don't think you'll have had to read that one to understand this one. Still gonna link that one, though.

[Masterlist] || [Part One]

-----

The minute he saw you, he had two questions–one, why was the kid wrapped in a bow; two, why were you wearing almost the same bow in your hair?

Holidays weren’t exactly something that he understood. The Outer Rim had festivals to honor gods and different tribes had different celebrations for harvests and the like, but you’d come from a place that chose to exchange gifts at the end of every year to encourage an uptick in morale. The morale sustained your culture through the long, harsh winters, and often the gifts were practical in nature. You’d explained it a few times, but he still didn’t understand the significance or why you couldn’t just exchange gifts all year long. If they were practical gifts, wouldn’t they be better suited to give at any time instead of the end of the year?

He never argued, though. He just nodded and went on, tending to the repairs of a newly rebuilt gunship that Peli Motto had found when he’d complained about the lack of space on the N-1. He knew of only one holiday on Tatooine–Boonta Eve–but he never celebrated it, and he made it a point to not be on the planet when the celebration happened. Mandalorians and celebrations weren’t exactly good bedfellows. However, he didn’t exactly mind. He also was careful to avoid most places during Life Day celebrations. What could he say? He wasn’t big on celebrations.

But he still was curious about why Grogu looked pleased as punch in a bright red bow and why you looked far too cheerful for a normal day on an almost deserted planet. Thankfully it wasn’t too deserted. You still managed to procure a rather nice room in town, framed by a big window that opened to a panorama of a snowy forest. He didn’t think he’d ever seen that much snow that wasn’t mostly ice, but you weren’t complaining and, strangely enough, neither was Grogu.

The little bog goblin toddled around the warm, enclosed landing pad. Only a sliver of cold air filtered to them through a small crack between the overhead bay doors. It barely ruffled the bow around his little neck. Mando couldn’t believe he was keeping the bow on. Sometimes changes in his routine threw the little tyke off. Most of the time, he went with the flow with small squeals of excitement that filled the Mandalorian’s chest with happiness, a strange and foreign feeling even now. He’s sure what he felt squeezing underneath his sternum– as he fiddled with a bolt cutter–was that ever elusive emotion. He couldn’t be so sure.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, crouching down to see under the chassis of his ship and to be more on Grogu’s level.

The kid pointed in your direction. His breath hitched, the sound crackling through his modulator. You didn’t hear it, but the kid glanced over him, his head tilted curiously.

You’d found a stash of wooly sweaters Mando had recently filched from a bounty. You were surprised they fit, but you were grateful, especially when his ship required emergency maintenance in the snowiest planet possible. The red ribbon had been acquired from the inn owner. Something about being easy to see in the snow. Maybe. You couldn’t understand half of what the woman–or you assumed it was a woman–said. She spoke in a language you didn’t understand. At least you had him to procure the room.

You took it upon yourself to do your hair in the room, curling it delicately in long ringlets one lock of hair at a time. When you’d finished, you pulled on one of the sweaters, a deep maroon one that brought out your eyes. You ignored the way it itched and clung to your body. You never wore form fitting stuff. You preferred loose clothing, and you rarely wore colors, preferring the browns and tans that you usually wore on Tatooine. And you were fairly certain he’d never seen you with your hair down like this, which might explain why the ‘t’ of his visor was trained on you, head tilted, Grogu making little squeaks of confusion at the change in you. But, as soon as you smiled, he came toddling over to you happily, asking silently to be picked up and you obliged. You settle the little green bean on your hip as you regard Mando closely.

The ‘t’ of his helmet was still trained on you. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking. Ever since that night on Tatooine when he asked you to take off his helmet, he’d been different. You enjoyed that night, and you made sure to tell him, especially when he took you to bed without his armor and held you in his broad frame like you were the best thing to ever happen to him. Maybe you were. You weren’t about to argue with him, not as he held you like that. But after that night, after he’d flown away, he seemed to grow distant, intent on not touching you, intent on doing other things and not giving you the time of day.

It hurt, but you weren’t so easily swayed in your affections and you’d like to think that he wasn’t either, whatever those affections might be.

“What’s the occasion?” His voice came through the modulator, quiet and uncertain.

“I thought I’d dress up for you.”

His helmet tilted to the side. “Why?”

“Why not?”

He stood slowly, his entire frame raising smoothly, even with the heavy beskar on. “You’ve never done it before.”

“It’s too hot to dress up on Tatooine.”

He snorted. “I noticed.”

You shifted Grogu onto your other hip as he played with a ringlet of your hair. “And maybe I wanted to entice you away from your ship.”

The kid cooed and looked between the two of you, dark eyes catching the dim light of the landing bay, his little fist curled into your hair.

He shifted on his feet, his helmet straightening as he peered at you. “You don’t want to get out of here?”

You shook your head as you said, “Why would I have had you get us a room if I wanted to leave?”

That seemed to flummox him. He didn’t have an answer for that. He just stared at you and his kid. He hated to admit it, but Grogu liked you as much as he liked him. The two of you weren’t attached like he was to Mando, but you knew he missed you when you were gone. Mando would tell you when he inevitably came back for a visit, Tatooine in his veins, calling like a siren’s song, pulling him in.

“You…like the snow?”

You shrugged elaborately. “I’ve never really been in snow like this. It’s nice.”

“The kid and I’ve mostly just seen ice planets. Haven’t we, little guy?”

Grogu cooed and continued to look between the two of you intently, like he could feel the shift in the two of you, like he knew something had happened while he was gone. You couldn’t be sure if he registered the time apart from Mando. You were sure he had, though. When the two of them came staggering back to your door after the fight with the rancor and the Pykes, you’d tended his wounds while Grogu remained attached to Mando’s hip. The kid’s eyes were trained on you as you stitched Mando up, having been out of bacta spray and other modern medical miracles. You prefered the old fashioned way. You’d been raised that way. That’s when Mando told you about the little green guy. Fully told you. He didn’t skirt around it like he had before. He’d told you the kid was actually fifty. You barely believed it, but when he told you about Grogu’s life before, the memories he’d suppressed, the power he had… a lot of things suddenly made sense.

“Ice planets can be pretty, too.”

Mando snorted softly and shook his head. “Not when you’re getting chased by ice spiders.”

You make a face, a shudder sliding down your spine. “Oh, god, no thank you.”

“I think Grogu made them mad.”

You lifted an eyebrow and peered at the kid. “Did you eat some of them?” The kid giggled and babbled which gave you all the confirmation you needed. “Of course, you did.”

Silence flowed between the two of you for a moment longer than it should’ve. Your eyes trained on him and you wished he would take off his helmet. You longed to see his deep, soulful eyes again. You wanted to drown in his gaze. Maybe you even wanted to drown in him but then you thought about the fact that the kid was there with him this time and there was no one to watch him but the two of you.

“You really want to stick around?”

You nodded. “You should see the room you got,” you said by way of answering him. “It’s beautiful.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, turning to survey the raggedy gunship. “I’ll get a pack together.”

“No need,” you sing songed happily. “I grabbed what you needed already. Same with the kid. It’s in the room.”

He turned back to face you. Once again, the ‘t’ of his helmet trained on you, but you couldn’t be sure what the Mandalorian was thinking. You wished you could see his face. You pushed that thought away. You couldn’t get attached. Not like that. It was inevitable that he’d leave you again, and this time, maybe he’d leave you for good. You pushed that thought aside. You wouldn’t let him do that.

“Come on, then,” his voice sounded different through the modulator. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you followed him regardless, Grogu still settled on your hip.

The chill of the air cut through your desert acclimated body. It settled deep in your bones despite the cozy sweater you wore. You wondered how he could possibly be warm but then you remembered he often wore many layers under that beskar. You selfishly hoped he would take off some of those layers just in case anything happened. You didn’t relish the idea of the cold metal brushing against your bare skin.

When you finally made it back to the inn and to your room, your curls were all over the place thanks to the wind. Snow clung to Grogu’s little face and without even thinking, you took care of him first, making sure he was all clean and dry and changed into warmer clothes. But you made sure to re-tie the ribbon around his collar. He started to make a fit when he thought you weren’t going to give it back to him.

Mando watched the two of you closely through his visor. A strange feeling percolated in his chest. It wasn’t the normal happiness he usually felt when he saw the two of you. It tightened under his sternum. His heart pounded under the wide breastplate of his armor. What was this feeling that seemed to fill him up with pain and warmth all at once? He didn’t understand it. He wasn’t even sure if he liked it.

He cleared his throat softly. “He likes that bow.”

“I know. It surprised me.” Your gaze settled on him as you sat him down in his pram. Almost immediately, the little bog goblin settled down into his blankets, yawned, then began to doze, his little snores filling the ensuing silence.

You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to do now, unsure of what you could get away with, unsure if you even wanted to get away with something. It was your turn to clear your throat, stepping away from Grogu to let him sleep as you ran your fingers through your knotted curls. You winced with discomfort when you found a particularly big knot, but before you could do anything about it, you felt his large, strong hands brush away your small, slender ones as he picked almost timidly at the tangle. You still couldn’t believe you’d forgotten to pack a brush from home.

“It’s your turn to feel different, you know?” His smooth voice slid down her spine like molten lava, warming her from the inside out.

“I do?” You could almost feel him nod behind you.

“You’re uncertain.”

A wild laugh strains its way out of your chest and throat. “Uncertain?”

His hands and fingers pause in your hair. “Yes.”

Here you thought you’d done such a good job hiding it. “I’m not uncertain.”

His fingers continue their work on the knot, gently teasing it apart. “Are you afraid I'll be upset if you are?”

“No,” you answered far too quickly.

The truth was, you weren’t scared of him being upset. Uncertainties happen all the time. You both know they happen. You both know that being upset at uncertainties was the quick way to arguments and little resentments that would tear the two of you apart. You didn’t want that, and you imagined he didn’t either.

“Don’t lie to me, mesh’la.”

“I’m not,” you answer honestly.

“Then why–”

You cut him off quickly with a finished question of your own. “Why did you show me your face and then disappear for months?”

You swear you can hear him swallow thickly behind you, his fingers pausing again in your hair before they fall away completely.

“I had to see the kid, remember?”

“Yeah, but when you came back…” You still remember the exact time he came back. Down to the very minute, the noise of the N-1 was far different than the Razor Crest as it settled in the landing pad.

“I was hurt. Maybe that had something to do with it.”

You shake your head. “You and I both know that’s not the truth.”

This time, you did hear as he sighed and stood to get away from you. At least that’s what you reckoned in your mind. He was getting away from you because he really didn’t want to be close to you anymore.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

“Show me your face?” You snap bitterly.

“Let you in.”

Your brief flare of anger deflates. “You regret letting me in?”

“I regret not letting you in sooner.”

You blinked in confusion as you turned to face him. “I don’t–”

“You’re great with the kid. You’re great with me. You make me feel…special, cyare.”

You breathed in a shaky breath, unable to look at him. Instead, you focus on the snowy expanse out the window as big, fat, fluffy flakes begin to fall from the grey-blue sky. Special? You made him feel special? What did that mean? Beyond the pet name in Mando’a, beyond the fact that you took care of the kid rather well when you were allowed to be around him, beyond all that–what exactly did it mean? What did he mean? Special? How special? Less like a killer? More like a man? Your mind reeled. You didn’t even know why it did. You just wanted it to stop.

“Then, why–”

“It scared me.”

That you understood. You finally turned to face him, gazing into the darkened expanse of his helmet.

“I won’t tell anybody.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care about that.”

“But your Creed…” you found yourself foundering again, much like you had so many months ago.

“I broke my Creed a long time ago.” He tilted his head in the direction of the pram. “For him.”

Your gaze fell to the pram with a soft smile. For some reason, that didn’t surprise you. Of course he’d do that for Grogu. The little tyke was worth it, and you knew the attachment you both had to each other transcended everything else, even whatever attachment they both had for you.

With a soft hitch of his breath, he gently removed his helmet, setting it down on the bed to fully tune his gaze to you. You tried to hide the happiness as it bubbled inside of you, but it broke across your face in a wide smile and a bright pink blush. You ducked your head against it, but his fingers quickly settled on your chin, tilting your head back up to face him.

“It scared me,” he continued, “because I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not like this.”

The blush deepened as you chewed on your bottom lip. He brushed his thumb over your upper lip gently, your teeth yielding and releasing before his mouth slotted gently and briefly against yours. A happy little shriek from Grogu made you both jump away from each other. You laughed as you watched him clap excitedly.

“I think he’s happy about this new development.”

He chuckled, his turn to turn pink, the tops of his ears a deeper color than his cheeks. “I think you might be right about that.”

You shake your head, leaning in to steal another kiss, properly this time, tongues tangling together as you deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to tug him closer. But you immediately frown and pull back, shivering at the chill coming from his beskar.

“You going to take this all off and get comfortable?”

He turned to survey the plush bed, adorned with sheets as white as the snow outside the window. “Maybe. Are you going to join me?”

You grinned, eyes shining as you slowly began to undress, peeling off the sweater you put on just for him until all you wore were your bra and underwear.

“Can I see your wrist?”

He still hadn’t taken off his flight suit or his beskar, too enthralled with watching you get ready for bed. You chuckled as he quickly took off the arm armor, letting it fall on the floor with a heavy thud before he divested himself of his heavy woolen flight suit. The scratchy material found its way to the floor as well. It was only then that he offered you his wrist readily. You wound the red ribbon around his wrist and tied it in a pretty bow to match the one around Grogu’s neck.

“There you go. Both my boys are my Life Day presents.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t celebrate Life Day.”

You shrugged. “Neither do I. But I do love having the both of you around.”

He fell quiet for a long moment before he murmured, “We love having you around, too.”

And you knew as soon as he spoke those words that he meant more by it than what he said. You let it fill you up and give you light and warmth, especially as you both tumble into bed, the snow falling heavily as Grogu hides in his pram, seeming to know exactly what’s about to happen.

[gallavichthings]

I posted 1,225 times in 2022

77 posts created (6%)

1,148 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ianandmickeygallavich

@gallawitchxx

@gallavichthings

@doodlevich

@suzy-queued

I tagged 1,169 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#fanfiction - 525 posts

#fanart - 291 posts

#gifsets - 224 posts

#kinktober22 - 152 posts

#gw2022 - 86 posts

#gallavich - 46 posts

#gw2022fanfiction - 41 posts

#ian x mickey - 38 posts

#shameless us - 29 posts

#graphics - 29 posts

Longest Tag: 72 characters

#feel free to send ideas just know i'll also feel free to ignore them lol

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Gallavich Gift Exchange 2022

It’s a wonderful time of the year yet again! Time for another gift exchange! I’m keeping it pretty much the same as last year, since that seemed to go well. Hope to get many participants again!

Please read the rules before signing up.

General rules:

Click here to sign up. You’ll be asked for a prompt for the gift you want to receive. Please notice you will also be required to make a gift for someone else (hence the word exchange). Having a Tumblr account is not mandatory, though it does make things a bit easier.

Once sign-ups close, I’ll be making a list of all the wanted prompts for you to choose what you want. This will be done in a first-come, first-served basis (if by any chance the prompts left are somehow not possible to be completed by the authors/artists left, the people who’ve requested them might be asked to make some changes).

If by any reason you think you won’t be able to finish your gift, let me know as soon as possible so I can find someone else to finish in your place. Please know that in this case it’s possible that the gift being done for you isn’t concluded either.

One last thing: you’re allowed to send anonymous messages to the person whose prompt you’re fulfilling to ask for more information (or just to be cute :) ), as long as you don’t disclose your identity, of course. If the person doesn’t have anonymous messages enabled or isn’t on Tumblr, let me know and I’ll send them the messages on your behalf.

As always, send me any questions you might have via askbox or chat.

Minimum requirements are as follows:

Fanfiction - 1,000

Fanart - lineart

Gifset/photoset - 6 gifs/pictures

Edits/manips: 4 small images OR 2 large images OR 1 large + detailed image

Videos: 30 seconds

Fanmix: 8 songs + cover

Podfics: 1 fic

Dates:

Sign-ups close: December 3rd

Prompts will be announced: December 4th

Check-ups: December 13th and December 20th (these are just so I have an idea of how things are going, there are no minimum requirementes)

Posting: December 22nd to 28th

117 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

#4

Gallavich Gift Exchange 2021 Masterpost

I wasn’t sure if I should host a gift exchange this year, figured not enough people would be interested, that it would be too much of a hassle, but fortunately I changed my mind and I’m so, so thankful to everyone who participated and helped make this such a success! Truly, you’re all amazing.

So here’s the masterpost (I apologize for the long post, but for once I didn’t want to put anyone under a read more).

Happy holidays and a happy 2022!

From @captainjowl to @thehonorarybeaumont: Laundry Day

From @thehonorarybeaumont to @captainjowl: Blue & Red

From @ms-moonlight-inn to @arrowflier: Princess Toadstool Gets a Night Tree

From @arrowflier to @ianandmickeygallavich: Merry & Bright

From @ianandmickeygallavich to @ms-moonlight-inn​: 5 Times Ian and Mickey Never Kissed Under The Mistletoe And 1 Time They Did

From @flamingbluepanda to @milkovichian: Pink + White

From @milkovichian to @sweetbee78: falling for you

From @sweetbee78 to @annatrow: Reinforcing Trust

From @annatrow to @mishervellous: Candy Canes and Weed

From @mishervellous​ to @thewesternredcedar: The Road not Taken

From @thewesternredcedar to @ravenstakeflight​: The Outsiders

From @ravenstakeflight to @imikhailo: a royal life

From @notherenj-nowherenj to @sisitrip: Who Am I, When I’m Not With You

From @sisitrip to @mrsmonaghan-blog: ...Two Marble Tags, And A Lullaby In A Steel Box

From @mrsmonaghan-blog to @filorux: Here for You

From @filorux to @marzgaperez: Mistletoe kiss fanart

From @marzgaperez to @y0itsbri: Slowly but surely

From @y0itsbri​ to @abundanceofnots​: Milkovich & Cookies

From @abundanceofnots to @squidyyy23: Two boys, one (not so) festive evening

From @squidyyy23 to @look-i-love-u: Bazooka

From @look-i-love-u to @energievie: Wrapped around your... Finger

From @energievie to @sully-999: Empty crown (my body’s missing pieces)

From @sully-999 to @doodlevich: 12 Days of Christmas

From @ms-moonlight-inn to @xgoldendays: A Change Of Plans At Tornillo-Guadalupe

From @xgoldendays to @sunoficarus: Something to hold on to

From @sunoficarus to @notherenj-nowherenj: Mutually Beneficial

See the full post

119 notes - Posted December 31, 2021

#3

Gallavich Week 2022

Hello, everyone! It’s that time of the year again! Are you all ready for Gallavich Week 2022? I’m so excited for this one! We’re doing things a bit differently this year, as you might have noticed. More details about the prompts as well as full guidelines after the Read More. Quick reminder that all kinds of work are welcome, as long as they are original. Please read the guidelines before posting.

DAYS AND PROMPTS

Day 1 (June 12) - Theme based (choose 1): Celebration (birthdays, anniversaries, festivals, holidays, random celebrations, anything goes) Trials and Tribulations (problems, big or small, it doesn’t matter; may be between them or something they face together) Day 2 (June 13) - Quote based (choose 1 - anything loosely based in one of these quotes goes): “I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.” - Elizabeth Barrett Browning. “I love being married. It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.” - Rita Rudner Day 3 (June 14) - Painting based (choose 1 - again, anything loosely based in one of these paintings is enough; may be the general atmosphere of it, the situation in it or even them actually interacting with it somehow):

Stag at Sharkey’s (George Bellows)

See the full post

162 notes - Posted May 2, 2022

#2

Spring is here! (well, in the Northern Hemisphere it is) The boys are ready for some spring cleaning. Are you?

Welcome to the first ever Gallavich Spring Cleaning!

What is that, you ask? Easy! It’s a multiwork event hosted by @gallavichfanficlibrary and yours truly (with some help of @gallavichprompts​, thank you!) . That means any kind of work is accepted: fics, fanart, videos, gifs, you name it! Oh, and did I mention there are no requirements either? Drabbles and one-shots are more than welcome (my burn-out brain actually thanks you). 

The only rule for this event is: it’s got to be PG-13 - in other words, clean. (Get it? Cause of spring cleaning? *wink wink* I’m very smart). That means no mature teams, no smut, no M18, no ~lemon~. Of course swearing is allowed (I mean, it’s still Ian and Mickey we are talking about), just keep it sfw. Think of it as a reverse kinktober, if you will.

Prompts are under the Read More. You can use only one, several or all of them. Mix and match, if you want to! Repeat them, even!  They’re just your starting points! 

This event will run through the whole month of April, so you may post whenever you want. Tag me (@gallavichthings) so I can see and reblog it as soon as possible. Feel free to also tag the Library if you’re posting fics (oh, and if you can, please put your fics under read mores if they’re too long and you post them here in full, as a courtesy to those roaming the tags). 

For those using AO3, here’s the Collection for this event.

Let’s have some clean fun!

Situation prompts:

Spring cleaning.

It's the first sunny day in what feels like forever, after several weeks of bad weather and storms that have kept them spending most of the time in their apartment. 

Spring: sniffles, pollen, and tissues.

The Big Easter Egg Hunt.

The only thing Mickey knows about his soulmate is that he’s supposed to meet him in the spring.

Teenagers Ian and Mickey somehow end up spending St.Patrick’s Day together, and it’s not a date but it also kinda sorta feels like it might be? 

Spring on the Westside feels different than on the Southside.

Ian and Mickey are slowly turning their apartment into a ‘home’, bringing small touches of themselves into it.

Mickey’s always been a light sleeper who has suffered from nightmares. It’s only when they finally get their apartment sorted that he starts to sleep well and really understand what a good night's sleep can be.

The lease on the apartment is almost up. (Do they stay in the apartment? Move out? Go apartment hunting? Hire a realtor?)

One day Ian comes across an injured cat and nurses it back to health. After a few days he finds a stranger on his couch and the cat is nowhere to see. (Shapeshifting AU)

The last thing Ian expects to see in the mysterious box that Mickey brings to the dugouts is kittens. And he definitely didn’t expect that they would end up caring for them together.

5 times they visited family members + 1 time the family members visited them.

Debbie wants to make a good old Gallaghers’ style BBQ. (Everything goes wrong.)

The king sends his best knight to kill the monster that lives in the forest. Turns out, the monster is pretty charming and doesn’t actually harm anyone. 

Dialogue prompt

“Well, this is new.”

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear! Okay … it’s kind of what it looks like, but just give me a chance to explain.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So hang on, let me get this straight.”

“Oh, good, you’re here! Hold this.”

See the full post

162 notes - Posted March 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Gallavich Kinktober 2022

Hello, everyone! Are you ready for some (dirty) fun? Here are the prompts for this year’s kinktober. There are two for each day, one situational and one dialogue. You may choose only one or use both. You can also mix and match two or more days (in which case, please post on the day for the last prompt used and do mention all the days it fits so I can tag it accordingly). Reminder that all kinds of works are accepted and there’s no need to sign up. Simply post on the assigned day (or later, that’s fine, just make sure to mention what day(s) it is for) and remember to @ me so I can reblog it (just mentioning me in the tags won’t do, I can’t always see that). Let’s get this party started!

Day 1 - sex dream X “Touch yourself for me.”

Day 2 -  dirty talk X “Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

Day 3 -  uniform / costume X “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.”

Day 4 - thigh riding X “If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”

Day 5 -  jealous / possessive sex X “I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

Day 6 - exhibitionism / voyeurism X “I can’t wait to be on my knees for you later.”

Day 7 -  food X “If you want to cum you’d better beg.”

Day 8 -  stripping / lap dance X “I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it.”

Day 9 - 69 X “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”

Day 10 -  latex / leather X “Did I say you could stop?”

Day 11 - orgasm denial X “Open your mouth.”

Day 12 - against a wall X “Wanna see what I’m wearing underneath all this?”

Day 13 -  sex tape X “I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.”

Day 14 - piercings X “You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

Day 15 -  unusual sex positions X “Did you dress up just for me?”

Day 16 - massages X “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

Day 17 - hair pulling X “Take it off. Slowly.”

Day 18 - sleepy sex X “Pull my hair!”

Day 19 - face sitting X “I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me.”

Day 20 - wax X “Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that.”

Day 21 - cum kink X “I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.”

Day 22 - innocence X “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

Day 23 - handcuffs X “You deserve a reward for being so good today, what would you like it to be?”

Day 24 - scent X “You take my fingers so well don’t you?”

Day 25 - biting X “I love the sounds you make when you come undone.”

Day 26 - nipple play X “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

Day 27- vanilla / slow & soft X “Is that a thong?”

Day 28 - tattoos X “You look good all soaking wet.”

See the full post

267 notes - Posted September 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Congrats to the most reblogged ones, I guess. Myself included. 😂

Obviously the most popular posts were the event ones (especially this is mostly a reblogging blog), but the fact that the most popular by far was the Kinktober... Y'all nasty. 😝

Thanks for everything! And here's to 2023! (after the gift exchange, of course)

[milune-vox]

The Dawn of Redeeming Grace (chapter 3)

previous chapter - next chapter

You can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43003029/chapters/111657733#workskin

TW: Ptsd flashbacks

Chapter 3:

The air smells of winter- humid, crisp, ashen.

To Dream of The Endless, smell is not only perceived in these earthly scents carried over by the wind. 

It is well known that smell is a favoured door to remembrance- and what are memories, but fantasies extracted from events past?

Memories were woven from the same fabric as dreams, flavoured and twisted by hopes and fantasies, ever changing, morphing at every remembrance. Echoes of a thousand winters unfold and curl around the city. Night leans over this part of the world- darkness pierced through with streetlights, neon signs and advertisements. Every surface glistens with evening dew, rings with quiet laughter and grief, buzzes in both heartfelt warmth and bone crushing loneliness. 

Dream breathes in the air, chasing the particular whiffs of surrounding daydreams. In the battered body of an old woman floats the ghost of a little girl, surrounded by the smell of snow and pastries, running down the cold streets with a batch of sugar canes in her hands. She had felt like flying, then. In her vision, she is suddenly given wings, and in a few beats she rises well above the city, soaring through the glittering night sky. The wrinkled face breaks out in a toothless smile as Dream passes her swiftly, breathing in the lightness and exhilaration of freedom. He then crosses a bridge alongside the lonely figure of a man, whose thoughts are as dark as the freezing waters below, and the air feels heavier, now, almost suffocating. His eyes vague and posture forlorn, the walker carries flashes of past hunger and cold, and Dream fights to keep visions of a glass cage from sipping through and contaminating the man’s dreams. He catches glimpses of his visions. A door closes, a child stabs at a humid wooden wall with a pocket knife. The night air now reeks of decay. They arrive on a well lit street, lined with quaint little shops, buzzing with life. Amidst the cheer, distraught, walking without aim, the man suddenly stops in front of a coffee shop, looks over at one of the waitresses there. Recollections of a girl gifting a boy her scarf on a snowy day dispels the smell of Despair, a bitter sweetness flooding the street as Dream walks on.  An instant passes, and the waitress takes a glance outside. After a bit, she smiles and waves. The man hesitates. He had refused the offered scarf then. Dream sighs, and as the man dreams of what could have been, his steps guide him to the entrance, and he pushes the door open. 

Dream crosses the street, his endless mind reaching and floating among the crowd’s lively spirit. A few more strides, and he gets a glance at his destination. The place stands like a beacon, even in the midst of the holiday cheer, imbued in hopes with a taste ever so peculiar, not that of a foreign wish, such as the multitudes he encounters and contains within his realm and self, but that of one more familiar- a message dedicated to him, personally. A promise of companionship. An oath reaching a hand into eternity.

As he gets closer to the New Inn, Dream notices himself feeling at peace.  That this feeling coincides with his visits to the New Inn is a reason more to justify their increased frequency. One appreciates using their time at their own leisure after having been deprived of that right for a century. That, and after the trials that the Dream Vortex had brought upon him and his realm, he had received a rather strong, albeit kind suggestion from Lucienne that he ought to take some time for himself. His Realm, weakened and destroyed and bereft as it had been, had truly benefited from his new found harmony. New dreams blossomed, nightmares were under control -a fair, adequate part of evil, necessary to growth, not getting out of bounds anymore.  Peace. Within his realm… within himself.  He had forgotten how it felt. He had forgotten it was possible at all- for a long time, he hadn’t dared dream of it. He almost does now.  Almost.  … However… A part of him remains restless- much like the sea of dreams, a smooth surface hiding whirling depths. The pooling feeling grows alongside the peace, an impossible contradiction, one even he, who deals in the absurd and ever changing, cannot grasp. 

As he crosses the threshold and is washed over with the known dreams of the usual patrons, he focuses intently on the one aura he wishes to witness more than any others.  He sees him, a human amongst others, and yet brighter, somehow, his shine unescapable, like the soaring light of a beacon in the darkest night, sitting at his usual place, waiting for him. Something aches at the core of his being, and he is compelled to press his steps. 

“Hello my friend”, his human companion greets him, reclining smoothly in his seat, and Dream, shifting his attention on the physical plane, notices how his smile reaches the corner of his eyes.

“Hello, Hob Gadling”, he greets as he lets his smile break free in turn.

He knows he can allow it here, that his joy is welcomed and treasured, and not a weakness to be preyed upon. 

He is acutely familiar with this dance by now. He sits opposite Hob in the booth, taking comfort in being at his usual place, across from the familiar, beaming face of his friend- one constant, one cherished anchor in an overwhelming sea of dreamers. Hob, who runs a caloused hand through his auburn hair, and who radiates with joy from a daydream Dream wouldn’t allow himself to look into but can feel the warmth of on his skin. Hob, who asks him good naturedly:

“Fancy a drink?“

Dream raises an eyebrow and muses. He doesn’t exactly fancy a drink. It is the company he fancies. Hob breaks into a laugh, as if he could hear his thoughts, and Dream wonders if his many years of experience made him so perceptive, or if he has always had the ability to read him so effortlessly. 

“Fair my friend, but let me perhaps tempt you to a bit of wine, what do you say? We have this bottle that-”

Hob starts rambling with grandiosity about oenological facts, to which Dream pays vague attention, more rapt in his absorption of the man’s presence and aura.

The waitress from last time, Hob’s friend, rushes to wait a table and goes past him, close- he gets a sudden wave of her daydreams. She pictures herself getting invited to their- Hob and his- wedding. What a foolish notion. He tries not to focus on it. He tries not to dwell on the implications. Is it what they look like? Lovers? Is it what they are- could be? He tries not to imagine it. A vision of Hob in a dashing white suit overlaps with his friend physical being. Something akin to unease grows silently in his chest, feeding in his never quite abating restlessness, and he decides to focus on something other. He does not get the time to do anything but. In the middle of speaking about a city in France, Bordeaux, in which Hob had spent a bit of time during the first world war, and which produces, according to him, the best wine on earth, he gets interrupted.

A bang.  Dream winces. A picture of blood smattering his cage assaults his mind. He wills it away.  Another bang.  Another.

Flashes of colours in the sky.  Bright red and yellow and green lights splash against every surface.

"It's those kids again, innit? Bloody irresponsible, to be cracking them fireworks in the middle of the city”, he hears an old woman pesting. “Especially in the times we are living in!...”, Jen agrees with fervour, waiting her table. “Could be taken for a terrorist attack or something. I think we ought to call the copper, it’s the third time this week-” Her expression blanks, and she turns to them. Dream watches her concerned expression in confusion. “You okay there?” His frown deepens. “Robert?"

Dream turns to Hob. 

He is met with a wide-eyed look on an ashen face. Dream doesn't need to try and see his daydreams. Now that he escaped his own ghosts, Hob’s are pouring into him like waters from a broken dam. They are loud. The explosions heard outside exist tenfold in his mind. Shattered soil. Ripped apart limbs. Mud. Glass. A splattering of feathers and blood. Hob blinks, once, twice, looks around him like he's surprised to find himself there, and stutters, his entire body starting to shake: "I'll, uh, I'll just. Excuse me for a moment."

He simply gets up and runs to the stairs leading to his appartment, fleeing as if he has the devil on his tail. Dream blinks slowly after him, trying to reign in the waking nightmares of his friend, trying to understand why he would see something from Jessamy's-...  The realization dawns on him, and with it, horror and shame. He wants to rise up and leave, hide at the center of the Dreaming, and never leave his realm again. He is the King of Dreams, and Nightmares. And yet, in this instance, he has let himself be ruled by a nightmare of his own, and channelled it to the closest, most vulnerable being the room, the one whose mind cracked open at the first sound of fireworks.  He has made it worse.  He has made him hurt. He wants- he needs to fix this. For Hob. For himself. He hesitates to follow.  Wonders if he ought to leave him be. He knows one cannot outrun memories. He cannot fathom leaving his friend in their grasp without at least trying to assist. The world wars have had an impact on the collective subconscious. He might have been absent from the world, cut out from the dreamers as it happened- but their horrors still echo. He doesn't know what Hob himself has been through, specifically. They hadn't spoken of this, when Hob had regaled him with tales from the past century. 

Dream notices the waitress -Jennifer Amediaz, 28, has dreams of touring the world with her indie witchy band-, staring at him intently. He feels a rush of his power, in her knowing gaze. He is Dream of the Endless. A dreamer has come to harm because of him. It is his duty, and within his power, to shape dreams- daydreams, yes, but waking nightmares also. He nods, rises, and walks to the stairs.

Except he doesn’t walk, precisely. Jen would, and will, in fact, describe it as “ran like a madman- was weirdly graceful about it. Is he a ballet dancer or something?”

Hob would have been - will be, when he hears-, quite flattered that he, a lowly human man, made a being of inconceivable power physically run to his aid.

However, for now, he is too busy sitting in a corner, on the floor of his kitchen, weeping so hard he wonders if he is going to throw up.

[arvend]

@visionairio asked:

The herald of this gift was a surprise and giveaway to its sender; an Iron Bundle set the boxes by Arven's bed and just as the young man returned, waddled with beeping noises toward him to hand him a card. ( It even wore a little Santa hat... and a white flag? Just to make sure its recognized as one of the peaceful ones. ) Finishing up its work, it salutes and flutters out of the room.

"Hello Arven,

By your bed, my deliverymon should've left you a box with a new backpack. It has more room than your current one for your cooking utensils. The way you're currently carrying those pans and pots around in the outside bags isn't optimal, so I thought an upgrade was in order.

You'll also find a ticket inside of it. Don't lose it. It's for a weekend stay at Mt. Glaseado's inn and its current  season's snowboarding course. Since it's your winter break, I took the liberty to book a stay for both of us.

I'll be back by the evening. Text me on whether you'd like to eat at home or if you prefer going to the restaurant just this once.

Be good."

It's signed simply with 'Dad.'

Ever since Arven started school, he never bothered leaving the academy during break. Winter, summer, spring, it didn’t matter. There wasn’t anyone he could even go home to, so why leave? The lab was left to sit and collect dust for years, and Arven was content to leave it that way. Sure, he’d come by every now and again, but it was pretty much only to make sure it hadn’t been broken into and nothing important was stolen.

Now, though...

A lot has changed. He’s still learning how to handle it. Learning the truth about his dad, figuring out his own place in life, making new friends — and then, along the way, a familiar face shows up again. And this time he tries for Arven, trying to make up for where the original failed. Still learning. They both are. It’ll take time. Arven’s eighteen with years of broken trust and resentment under his belt.

But now he has a reason to come home.

The AI—dad had cleaned up the entire building by himself. Arven had just shown up one day and it looked brand new. And it’s actually a little comfortable to be in now.

Arven is surprised to find the doors already unlocked, and he makes a beeline towards his small room with Mabosstiff at his heels. He’s got his backpack with him, and an extra bag with a few other things brought from his dorm to use over the break.

Huh?

There’s a little visitor in his room. The Iron Bundle offers him a card and Arven kneels to accept it. The Pokémon leaves, and his eyes go to the box. So he settles down at the edge of the bed and Mabosstiff hops up next to him.

He gives the note a read. Teeth bear down on the inside of his cheek. It’s still a strange feeling. Will he ever get used to it? Never in his life did he think his dad would ever put in this much effort. This one inherited a lot of regret. He’s working hard. The effort is... appreciated. Arven runs his thumb over the signature.

Is he getting a little teary-eyed? There’s a lump in his throat.

Arven drags his arm over his eyes and sniffs.

The new backpack is huge. His current one has been with him for years, and it shows. It’s worn, scuffed, the color faded, some of the material is tearing and peeling off. It’s been with him through rain and snow and ocean crash-landings and he had been planning to use it until it fell apart entirely. Or... until right now, since he has a new one sitting right in front of him. The ticket is given a look-over, and then placed on the desk by the bed.

He grabs his phone. It takes him a good five minutes to actually send something, because he keeps typing and then erasing. It’s hard to find the right words.

[ to: Dad ] thanks for the backpack

[ to: Dad ] we can go to a restaurant but i want to cook tomorrow ok?

[ to: Dad ] btw what does miraidon even eat

There’s a few minute gap between that and the next message.

[ to: Dad ] happy holidays. thank you for spending it with me

It means more than you know.

[limey-self-inserts]

Howdy Limey! I'd like to respond to this ask I sent, that you answered ♡

Ahhhhh I loved your answers to my ask!! Harvest Dance, Light Memorial, and Long Dark are HCs??? They're FANTASTIC!!!!! I enjoy how you took pre-existing holidays to help create them! Stars, one of my favorite things is world building (I've a universe just for world building cultural funsies) and it was so lovely to read about them! I'd love to hear bout other holidays you've HCd for Aalveir your inspiration for them 👀!

I wanted to also come ask, what is one of Avon's favorite places they've traveled through? Paint me a picture? Why did they love it so much?

I'd like to also ask, what is Aniketos' favorite place he's been? Have they ever journeyed somewhere together? Where to, and why?

Moxie @tex-treasures

Hiya Moxie! Great news for you: I LOVE world building too~! I actually DM for a bunch of friends for D&D, and I made a whole world for them with homemade holidays, cities, cultures and more! currently they're just focused in one country but I'm still creating the others for funsies (and future D&D campaigns maybe).

Taking inspiration from other cultures and experiences, a lot of holidays tend to be focused either around changes in the year (e.g., the major solstices, new year), relationships (.e.g., Valentines, Dia de los Muertos) or events (e.g., independence days). So here’s a few that I have headcanon’d for Aalveir:

Sun Day - takes place on the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. Humans and elves/elova give praise to Oa, the god of the sun and the one who created the world in essence. Flowers from the last few days of Spring are exchanged as gifts to loved ones, and dancing similar to maypole dancing is done. This is especially popular with Savaelova, aka sun elves.

Nesting Gathering - a misatani holiday (misatani are humanoid rabbitfolk), where traveling misatani will return to the warrens they came from to share stores and meals with their wider families. A special occasion can come about when family members confirm they will be remaining in their own warrens the next year to welcome their own children back, so parents will give their adult children blessings in the form of wreathes made from leaves and other flora that are local to the area.

Call of Thuruss - widespread holiday across all races/nations, recalling when Thuruss summoned all to the Dragon’s Mount and Aalveir’s rage/Oa’s blessing turned Thuruss into the first celestial dragon and created the metallic dragons. Street parties galore with various fried foods sold, usually stamped with the crest of a dragon in flight. Retellings of the event are hugely popular, with vinderlings (small very technologically advanced humanoids) especially going in on special effects and the like, with minor risk of burning.

I hugely recommend going to listen to GrowlingWhisper’s videos to find out more about the lore of Aalveir. The holiday Call of Thuruss is based off this one in particular.

Continuing on with traveling, Avon has done a LOT of wandering across the countryside of Akropa. Better not to stray off into other countries lest they deal with everything else going on in there, Akropa has enough fun to last a lifetime (plus now they don’t want to travel too far from Aniketos’ woodland).

Of course Avon’s going to say their favourite place to travel to what Aniketos’ tree, but if we ignore that I think their favourite place they traveled through was a small hamlet, which mostly consisted of a handful of homes and a singular inn - Cloverdell Inn. There they were welcomed by a kindly misatani by name of Nigel, even though Avon made it in quite late at night, and they were even able to get a hot spring bath in the inn. By day, they received a hearty breakfast on the house, and were able to spend a day exploring the nearby forest and waterfall before returning for another hot spring dip. A perfect example of a sweet and quiet break before getting back on the road. One of two reasons why Avon travels so much.

Meanwhile Aniketos doesn’t want to travel far at all. Being a dryad, he’s primarily limited to his woodland and the fae realm. He could travel well enough in the mortal realm, but prefers the safety that his woodland provides. He makes up for this by listening to Avon’s tales, as well as taking them on small excursions to lovely spots within the forest. One place they both enjoyed going to was a large clearing that they spent hours in, mapping the clouds and watching birds of prey, and then seeing the deer lords traveling through the clearing with their herds. It was pretty awe-inspiring! Aniketos wants to make up a picnic and take Avon to a garden that a group of local elova take care of (an idea he may have picked up from Soldagand).

[adamwatchesmovies]

Scrooge (1970)

Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol has been adapted so many times you need to do more than end it with a line other than “God Bless us, everyone” to stand out. So how about a musical version of the classic story? Sounds like an odd fit but the terrific soundtrack and impressive dance numbers make 1970's Scrooge a new favourite.

Ebenezer Scrooge (Albert Finney) is a bitter miser who considers the ideals and spirit of Christmas pure humbug. He hesitates to give his underpaid assistant Bob Cratchit (David Collings) the day off and scoffs at his nephew Harry (Michael Medwin) when he suggests a holiday dinner. One cold Christmas Eve, the ghost of Scrooge's partner Jacob Marley (Alec Guinness) appears to him with a warning: "Tonight, you will be visited by three spirits. Heed their counsel and change your ways or risk an eternity of suffering."

I know you’re still incredulous at the idea of an all-singing, all-dancing Ebenezer Scrooge. Trust me, it works. It’s not like this was a story grounded in realism from the get-go with the multiple spirits and all. Plus, Christmas has a wide cannon of songs attached to it - so does the nearby New Year’s celebration - so is it really a stretch? These choices give Scrooge a way to stand out. If you’re a fan of musicals, it gives you one more to add to your lineup. How about a whole day of White Christmas, Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Story, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Meet Me in St. Louis, Holiday Inn (if you consider those last two Christmas movies) and you conclude it with Scrooge?

This is the best kind of musical. Every song adds to the story and tells you more about the characters. Some are so catchy you’ll want to rewind the film just to hear them again. I’d single out December the 25th and Thank You Very Much (for which the film received an Academy Award nomination) as the best. That later one blew my socks off. It’s a big parade march that comes up during the “Spirit of Christmas Future” segment and at first, I thought its cheery tone was ill-suited for the darkest point of the story but that’s the point. It’s so cheery it drives home how people feel about Ebenezer Scrooge just as well as a couple of old ladies cackling over his stolen possessions could. Then, the film adds a new scene, a delightfully ironic final fate that drives the lesson home even better than the song did. What’s next? a delightful reprise where the previous songs are now given a completely different meaning thanks to the transformation that’s taken place. My favourite part of musicals (and hear me out on this one) often turns out to be the end credits because that’s when we get a second chance to hear the best songs as the film ushers us out. This conclusion is that second chance but even better because it also adds to the plot.

The great thing about Scrooge is that you get all of these songs and the story you love too. The film hits all of the emotional beats, contains all the characters, events and plot points too. Albert Finney’s scratchy old man voice is a bit off-putting but it fooled me. I wasn't sure if he was an actor in makeup or a marvelously spry senior. It’s a great performance and within a few minutes, you’ll have set you incredulity aside.

Certain musicals contain nothing but hits. Others have a few good tunes and the rest among mostly forgettable numbers. I’m not 100% sure where the soundtrack to Scrooge lands. I’ll say this; any song becomes memorable if you hear it enough times and Scrooge is the kind of movie you will come back to. Just as fans of Home Alone occasionally swap it for the sequel, I predict you will eventually feel like taking a break from the George C. Scott and Alastair Sim versions of A Christmas Carol and reach for Scrooge instead. You might even include two or all three when the holiday season comes around, as this British musical is perfect as a movie you put in the background while decorating or wrapping gifts. The more I think about it, the more I like Scrooge. (December 26, 2020)

[shop-korea]

[Playlist] The Good Old Cozy Christmas Carols, Christmas Timeless Hits

BOOST - INFINITE - 4 - POOR

FOLKS - UNITED STATES YES

FLORIDA - 27TH - STATE - YES

FORMER - TERRITORY - 2 GET

MORE - CUSTOMERS - 2 YES

GROW - BUSINESS - 2 - KILL

PEOPLE - FAST - B 4 - USA

FINDS - OUT - STATEHOOD

MORE - MONEY - SO AFRICA

SOLD - 1,000 SLAVES - $0.01

COPPER - PENNY - SOUTHERN

STATES - TOLD - BY - PRESIDENT

ABRAHAM LINCOLN - 6'4 FT - TO

RELEASE - SLAVES - JANUARY

THEY - DIDN'T - NORTH FORCES

CANONS - MACHINE - GUNS

KILLED - 7 MILLION - WHITE

SOUTHERNERS - SLAVES FL

RELEASED - ASSASSIN SENT

SHOT 2 DEATH - PRES LINCOLN

4 - PRESIDENTS - ASSASSINATED

4 - PRESIDENTS - DIED - IN - USA

OFFICE - BOOST - INFINITE - YES

PROVIDED - BY - AMAZON PRIME

NO - ID - FOR - SMARTPHONE - IS

FUTURE - TECHNOLOGY

WEATHER - HURRICANES

WILD - FIRES - CALIFORNIA

BOOKING - HOTELS - LYFT CARS

BOOKING - INNS - BUYING TRUE

CONDOS - BUYING - NY - BACK 2

TALLEST - BUILDING IN WORLD

CENTRAL - PARK - VIEW - THE

TOP FLOOR - PENTHOUSE - ME

LIKE - TALL - CLEAR - 2 - TRULY

PROTECT - BALCONY - PETS &

KIDS - $25 MILLION - THUS YES

PROPERTY - TAXES - YEARLY

PROBLEM - TEMPORARIES

HISPANICS - BLKS - SAME

'WHO - ARE - YOU?'

BOTOX - CHANGE - OF - HAIR

COLOR - PLASTIC - SURGERY

ME - INTO - SURGERIES

NEW YORK - ORIGINAL STATE

SNOW - HAUNTIINGLY PRETTY

NOT - STAND - YOUR GROUND

LAW - 3 - HARVARD LAWYERS

SIGN - 24/7 - SOUNDPROOF

CONSTRUCTION

24/7 - ENTRY - MY - STAFF

MY - EMPLOYEES - OR WE

KILL - CONCIERGE

AMENDMENT 2 - RIGHT - 2

KEEP - AND - BEAR - ARMS

DEMOCRATIC - PARTY

WE'RE - DEMOCRATS

INITIAL - HERE - SIGN - HERE

DATE - TIME - INITIAL - HERE

WE'RE - KILLING CONCIERGE

CHANGING - 2 - SMART - APT

HELICOPTER - 2 - ACCESS - FR

BALCONY - LIKE - 'NARNIA - 3

LAST - SERIES' - STEPS - BRING

US - UP - WE - WILL - HAVE YES

CATWOMAN - SIGNAL

HELICOPTER - COMES - AND

STEP - BRINGS - US - UP - AS

WE - ENJOY - VIEWS - OF THE

CITY - ALSO - INTRODUCING

GBC - GANGNAM - BROADCAST

COMPANY - MUSICAL THEATRES

HDG - BANKS - HDG - GROCERY

24/7 - HOLIDAYS

TEACHERS - PROFESSORS

LIBRARIANS - POLICE - ARMED

OCCUPATIONS - NOT - MILITARY

A - DUTY - NOT - JOB - ADD - YES

CONCIERGE - MAINTENANCE

TOILET - CLEANERS - SECURITY

NOT - ALLOWED - HDG - BANKS

RV - PARKS - ADDING 2 NEW YORK

25 CENTS - WASHERS - DRYERS

24/7 - ARMED - FREE - BUFFETS

ALL - AGES - 25 CENTS - WASH

25 CENTS - DRY - INCLUDES

SHOES - ONLY - WASHERS DRYER

LINGERIE - ONLY - SAME - APPS 2

LOOK - AT - YOUR - DRYERS ONLY

YOUR - GLOSSY - CARD - 2 - GET

LAUNDRY - REGISTER - 2ND YES

FINGER - TONGUES - ONLY - TO

ENTER - WELCOME - PACKAGE

APP - TONGUES - $500 BILLION

TAX - PAID - SING - TONGUES

$500 BILLION - 2 - BUY A YES

PLACE - 2 - LIVE - IN - NEW YORK

MANHATTAN - AKA - NEW YORK

CITY - APTS - INSURANCE

CONDOS - INSURANCE

GATED - COMMUNITY - INS

INSURANCE - HOUSE INSURANCE

EVICTION - $500 BILLION

U - GET - FREE - MOVERS

REPOSSESSION - $500 BILLION

U - GET - FREE - MOVERS

TAX - PAID - TIME - 2 - LIVE

FREE - MAKING - ALL - REMOTE

SMART - HOUSES - APTS

LANDLORDS - ILLEGALLY

HAS - BIRTHDAY - STORAGE

BUILDINGS - ALSO - PLACES

ILLEGALLY - WITH - YOUR

BIRTHDAYS - $500 BILLION

EACH - THEY - KNOW - SSN

SOCIAL - SECURITY - NUMBER

$500 BILLION - EACH - USA KR

KOREA - 500 BILLION - WON 2

APTS - WILL - B - SOUNDPROOF

SMART HOUSE - APT - CHANGED

WITH - THEIR - KEYS - THEY YES

COULD - NOT - ENTER - APTS

EVERY - ENTRY - ATTEMPT

$500 BILLION - THUS -

BOOST - INFINITE - LIVE - CHAT

HENRY - SAID - BILLING QUESTION - IMPLIED - WHO -

CARES - U - WERE - ATTACKED

5:40A - AT - LA FITNESS - SO I

HANGED - UP - GAVE FEEDBACK

DIDN'T - GET - WHAT - I - NEEDED

NOTES - DIDN'T - CARE - I - WAS

ATTACKED - AT - LA FITNESS

JASMINE - NEXT - WHO - CARES

U - WERE - ATTACKED - U - YES

CHOSE - BILLING - QUESTION

ALLEN - 3RD - SYMPHATY - BUT

AFTER - HOW - 2 - GET - GIFT

CARD - CITI FURNITURE - TRYING

THERAPEDIC - REMOTE - $`1,999.99 - EMAILED - CARD NOS

GIFT - CARD - $25 - CORRECT

TIME - PASSED - HANGED UP

LIVE - CHAT - AMERICANS NO

COMMISSION - TRAINED CAN'T

EXCEED - CERTAIN - TIME

DISABLED - BLIND - PARTIALLY

ONE - ARM - ONE - LEG - GIVEN

GENEROUS - 10 DAYS - GRACE

PERIOD - NO - LATE - FEE

31 MARCH - ACCOUNT - DELETED

FREE - DAY - SELENA - BRANDON

LEE - BOTH - SHOT - 2 - DEATH

ANNIVERSARY - MY - PAW PAW

HIS - DAD - BRUCE LEE - WENT 2

MANY - KIDS - BIRTHDAYS - IN

FORMER - ROYAL HONG KONG

TAX - FREE - RAFFLE - WON - 4

BRUCE LEE - NO - PROVISION

4 - DISABLED - THEY - WANTED

ME - 2 C - PAYMENT - FAILED

IIMPLIED - YOUR - AMEX - GOLD

$250,000 - WILL - DO - AS NEXT

CARD - INTERNATIONAL -

AIRPORTS - SCANNER - 2 EMPTY

ALL - CARDS - CHECKING - AND

EVERY - WORD - PASSPORTS YES

CLOSED - 4 - IDENTITY - THEFT

MANY - WALLETS - ALSO - NOW

RFID - PROTECTS - SCANNER

2 - ACCESS - NUMBERS - AND

2 - FORGE - SIGNATURES

ALL - 3 - WANTED - ME - 2 SEE

BOOST - INFINITE - YOUR PAY

MENT - FAILED - AS - BLIND 2

BLIND - EQUIPMENT

$25 - LIKE - EVERYONE UNTIL

3 GB - $10 - MORE - THEY - DO

NOT - KNOW - 4 - SURE - HOW

MUCH - MORE - $10 - MORE 4

MOBILE - THETERING - SO - U

CAN - ENJOY - LAPTOPS - AND

TABLETS - LIMIT - DEVICES NO

NO - LATE - FEE - BUT - THEY

WANT - U 2 - SEE - WHEN - U

HAVE - CARD - DECLINED

BOOST - INFINITE - POWERED

BY - T - MOBILE - I'M - USING

BLUETOOTH - KEYBOARD NOW

I - ALWAYS - CLICK - 1 BUTTON

4 - RESTART - CLICK - AGAIN

THEN - PATTERN - ENTRY MY

SAMSUNG - GALAXY - COLD

WEATHER - GOING BERSERK

INSURANCE - THE - SOLUTION

MARY BRICKELL - VILLAGE

T-MOBILE - WHAT - RARELY

TOLD - WOMEN IN - MIAMI

PREMIUM - PLAN - $80 ONLY

INCLUDES - TAX - FEES - TOO

5G - DAIILY - EACH - MONTH

NO - SLOWING - ALL - GOOGLE

WORST - BECOMES - 2 MBPS

OR - 1 MBPS - U - CAN'T - DO

ANYTHING - SO - T - MOBILE

U - CAN - GET - CRUISES

HOTELS - HOUSES AND

FUTURE - AMAZON - PRIME

TINY - HOUSES - DELIVERED

FREE - 2 - YOUR - GATED YES

COMMUNITIES EMPTY LAND

TINY - HOUSE - DELIVERED

$5,000 - $15,000 - $25,000

YOUR - TINY - HOUSE - YES

DELIVERED - STRONG TRUE

WINDS - POP UP - TENTS - IS

BEST - HAD - HARD - TIME

PUTTING - UP - ONE - OR

TAKING - DOWN - GOOGLE

AMERICANS - ATTACKING

POP - UP - TENT - ALWAYS

TOSS - UP - AND - YOUR US

MADE - IN - CHINA - TENT

DONE - THEN - TIE - UP 2 THE

SIDES - COT - ON - WHEELS

14 INCH - HIGH - 15 LBS TOO

ADDED - WEIGHT - NEEDED

ROSS - DRESS - 4 - LESS

RUGS - THEN - FOLDED U

PUT - 14 INCH - ELEVATION

INSIDE - THEN - SPREAD AS

WHEN - U - HAVE - VISITORS

REMOVE - FR - CARRY BAGS

4 - GUESTS - HOUSES - APTS

PERFECT - 2 - BRING - HOME

ALSO - KIEUN CHOI - WITH A

WALMART - SLEPT ON FLOOR

IN - LOS ANGELES - INSTEAD

OF - INNS - OR - WALMART

PLUG - SUADE - FULL - AIR

BEDS - 3 MIN - U - HAVE BED

JESUS - IS - LORD

BLESSED - IS - THE NATION

WHOSE - GOD - IS OUR GOD

INVISIBLE - GOD - OF ISRAEL

HAPPY - HANUKKAH

HAPPY - HOLIDAYS

UNITED STATES - SOUTH KOREA

SEASON's - GREETINGS - KOREA

[mysteriouslytransparentwombat]

Hey, Have you entered the Fresh Fiction giveaway to win Seabreeze Christmas Giveaway from Jan Moran: Win Book + Gift Card yet? If you refer friends you get more chances to win :) https://wn.nr/wKD6rZ