Heartsongs

A blog where a casual writer can post her poetry, original work, and fanfiction progress. I'll also reblog writing references and humor because why not? Feel free to chat with me, my ask box is always open! Fanfiction.net AO3

[walkingbomb]

a fantasy book where:

the necromancer isn’t at all evil, keeps their reanimated cat as a companion

the ‘dark lord’ is woman who wears a floor length floral cloak and pink kitten heels

the orcs are highly intelligent and frequently engage in orc chess and deep philosophical debates

the elvish archer is the clumsiest, most inaccurate little shit ever

the bard writes deep emo poetry, constantly quoting sonnets by the most talented musicians of the era-  ‘fall out bard’ and ‘panic at the inn’

the mage only knows 3 spells- and they all involve cutlery

the intellectual character that finds the powerful relic/enchanted item/mysterious glowy thing is 120% done with all of it ‘for GODS sake, that is the SEVENTH DARK ORB THIS YEAR are yOU KIDDING’

the healer character is also the most ripped, usually ends up treating their own wounds more than anyone elses

the ‘deep broody’ character is actually mute the whole time but no one realises and thinks it’s just part of his moody persona until he has to fucking spell it out for them (literally), spends the whole story making exasperated faces and gestures

the dragon that’s hunting them down for the whole story is actually just trying to give back the shoe that one of them lost while running away, and is actually very conversational ‘bro, you’ve got this all wrong– look, you dropped this bro, haha i’m always forgetting stuff too don’t worry’

[emolumentsclause-deactivated201]

AUs for when your OTP are both assholes

You drive a massive SUV and steal my parking spot all the time and I was just heading out to leave a strongly worded note under your windshield wiper but oh no you’re hot AU

I’m a barista and you’re the obnoxious customer who comes through and orders a venti macchiato while talking on the phone the whole time so I misspell your name in increasingly creative ways every day AU

I’m a busy businessperson and my barista keeps misspelling my name in increasingly disrespectful ways, honestly, who does this person think they are AU

We were both playing wingman for our friends who have now decided to go home together, and after five minutes of conversation we fucking hate each other, let’s bang it out AU

I saw you trying to hit the “door close” button in the elevator but I made it in and then I pushed every single button to make you later for work, but now we’re stuck in this fucking elevator as it stops at every single floor and I don’t know what to say other than “you started it” AU

I asked for your help getting a book off the top shelf and and you laughed at my taste and called me a nerd so I shoved you into a table of nonfiction best-sellers and that’s how we both got banned from the quirky community bookstore AU

I take my grades very seriously and you’re the lazy asshole who asks a ton of off-topic questions to distract the professor and I might be a foot shorter than you but I swear to god I’ll fight you AU

You tried to barge into a private conversation so I said something devastatingly witty and dismissive but you came back with something even meaner and more clever AU

Shouting match over the last Thanksgiving turkey at the grocery store AU

[editoress]

I am all about stories where the hero and villain know each other very well and were once friends, but I could deal with it being used another way.

What if instead of being used for drama, for wistfulness and pleas to join the other side, it was more like the hero looking over a battlefield going Seriously, who does she think she’s kidding, she’s been using the same chess strategy since we were seven or the villain picking a headquarters in a specific climate because she knows the hero hates hot weather or deciding Send in some forces to round up all the copies of his favorite poet’s work, that’ll tick him off.

Or most of all them still having inside jokes with each other.

[judasfox-deactivated20190130]

#the forces on either side wear uniforms the color that the other one cant stand #makes sure to stop the import of their favorite candies. like all other food and stuff can pass. just not THOSE candies #’DID YOU KIDNAP MY CAT?!’ ‘Yeah. He’s a sweetheart. Can I keep him?’ ‘GIVE ME BACK MY CAT.’ ‘Yeah ok.’ #sends cat back with a bow and ‘next time don’t keep your key in the same place you did when we were room mates dumbass’ #’Ma’am…the enemy has sent over a…a turkey?’ ‘…That mother fucker HE WAS SUPPOSED TO NEVER MENTION IT AGAIN. THAT’S IT. SEND HIM A FUCK#ING GOAT HE’S TERRIFIED OF THEM

[glintglimmergleam]

tumblr overpraises weaponized beauty.  let’s make 2015 the year of weaponized ugliness.   you are great regardless of whether you look great.  lean into the ugly.

[ofgeography]

when she is born, they name her mary. it means “bitter.” her mother—plain, unlovely—knows what her ugliness will mean. how it will feel. knows that ugliness makes everything harder, the mirror image of how being too beautiful makes everything harder. mary’s mother is unlovely, and she is happy, basically. she went to school, and they let her, not pretty enough to earn their scorn but too pretty to earn derision.

mary’s first word—a year old, face too red, eyes somehow too far apart and too close together at the same time, nose a curious hook—is, “please,” and mary’s father says, “no.”

mary’s father loves her, and he always says no. no mary, you can’t go to school; they’ll mock you at school. no mary, you can’t have pretty dresses; they’ll only accentuate your ugliness. no mary, no mary, no mary, no.

“please,” mary says, and her father kisses her too-large forehead. runs his hand along her puffy cheeks. there isn’t any one thing, not any single marker of her ugliness, only individual parts that don’t seem to fit together right. lumps where straight lines should be, pocks along her chin, eyes that were too bright and too big and yet still not considered striking. he kisses her and holds her and says, “no.”

— 

this is what you learn, when you are young and you don’t look how they want you to:

the baker closes at four. if you are hungry, he will feed you, out of pity.

witches are everywhere. witches understand. witches will hold your hand, and run their thumbs along your lifeline. witches will say, take this, and press a bag into your palm. take this, it will help you.

beautiful women look at you once, and then never again. they fear you. they fear what you remind them, which is that natural beauty is unearned and hard-won beauty is unnatural. beauty is arbitrary, but beauty means everything. you are here, you are alive, you are ugly: they do not know what this means.

beautiful men will look at you, and look, and look. they will try to understand. they will say cruel things first, because that is how men are taught to treat ugly things. then they will taper into benign amusement. eventually they will forget you are a person at all, and they will say anything. they will say their darkest secrets and not realize you can hear them.

mary learns. mary listens. mary understands. mary is not as bitter as her name.

—

they say “ugly,” but what they mean is, “stupid.” what they mean is, “useless.” what they mean is, “defeatable.”

“be good, boys,” she scolds a group of particularly loud stable boys as she gathers their empty pints. the lights are dim enough to ease the angled corners of her broad shoulders. they love her here, gentle dim mary, too ugly for marriage. such a shame. what a nice girl, our ugly duckling. 

“Ugly Mary!” says jonas, the butcher’s son. “have a sit. tell us a story.”

“these tables aren’t gon’ clean themselves,” she answers, even as she sits. jonas always leaves his purse on the table. the more drunk he gets, the less attention he pays to its weight. “what kind of story?”

“a good one,” jonas insists. “make us laugh.”

“all right,” says mary, and leans forward. she wraps her fingers around jonas’ purse and holds it up in front of him. “this is my dowry,” she says. 

he laughs, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. the stable boys laugh too. everybody laughs. a dowry, for ugly mary. a dowry! mary palms the purse and leaves an empty one in its place. a witch gave it to her, once. a witch gave it to her and said this will come back to you, no matter how far away you send it.

mary has given jonas the butcher’s son this purse five times. he has always brought it back, confused, asking for his own. “i seem to have stolen this from someone,” he laughed, nervous. “only—don’t tell, mary, eh? i’ll leave it here, and no harm done, eh?”

mary had tutted at him every time. “watch those sticky fingers, jonas,” she’d said. “they’ll get the better of you one day. but it’ll be our secret.”

“last drink’s on the house,” mary says, and whisks their glasses away.

—

a beautiful woman would walk into any room and have all eyes on her long legs, her round mouth, her startling eyes. a beautiful woman would have them on their knees saying yes. a beautiful woman would say, “i want—” and they would say, “we’ll give it.”

everyone wants to please a beautiful woman.

mary’s first trip to the palace is with a hood over her head. don’t make them look too long at you, edna had said, her hands on her hips. edna loves mary, too. edna loves mary and edna always tells mary no.

she’s here to make a delivery, some chickens for a party, and their usual boy has a broken leg. so mary brings the shipment. mary has her witch’s purse in her pocket, a snack from the baker in her mouth. 

“oh, well aren’t you a bit of a divine accident,” says the royal chef, frowning. “angels were scraping the bottom of the barrel for you, eh? parents couldn’t quite get pregnant ‘till you? asked a witch for help?”

mary flashes a smile. first they will be cruel. two days ago, she had knocked out a tooth specifically for this event, and her mouth is swollen. “where should i leave them?” she asks.

“six of them straight to the kitchens, but leave one with me,” the chef says. he is still looking at her. “i’m hungry too, eh? ha!” he winks at her. then they will taper into benign amusement. when mary moves to obey, he catches her arm. “what’s your name, ugly girl?”

“mary,” she answers. her breath whistles through the gap where her tooth used to be. she smiles again, and watches his eyes soften. good.

“ugly mary,” he muses. “i like you, girl. come again, with the next shipment.”

“yes sir,” she says, and smiles.

—

the chef cooks laxative herbs into the food of nobles who mistreat him. he tells her this thoughtlessly, sprinkling a leaf onto the top of a perfectly roasted turkey. his serving boy takes silver from the storage and sells it. their errands boy has been sleeping with the queen’s lady-in-waiting, and the queen’s lady-in-waiting told him that the queen is sleeping with the king’s brother.

there are fights, at night, loud and long in the war room. mary gives her magic purse to the errands boy and he comes to her, days later, in a panic. 

“i don’t know where i got it,” he babbles, “but it’s got a note in it, what says there’s some kind of plot, some kind of secret plan, i—it wasn’t me but if they find me with it—”

mary smiles. “shhh,” she soothes. “it’ll be our secret.”

—

“it’ll be our secret,” mary promises the chef, the purse full of belladonna in her hands. i didn’t mean to, he’d blubbered. i didn’t know, i thought it was sage, i thought it was—

“it’ll be our secret,” mary says to the serving boy, taking the purse from him. the queen’s diamonds are in it. her favorite. she’s gone to war for less. i don’t know where it came from, he’d wept. i must have grabbed it by mistake.

“it’ll be our secret,” mary assures the queen’s lady-in-waiting. the purse is heavy with a vial filled with liquid. enough to terminate—oh god—a pregnancy, the girl had whispered, horrified. i must have taken it from her bathroom, thinking it was mine, i…if she knows…

our secret, mary promises, smiling, smiling. they thank her. they give the purse back, and give it back, and give it back.

—

mary eats well. her mother sells the diamonds mary gave her—“a gift,” she says, smiling, smiling—and their roof is thatched, their clothing mended. they buy a cow.

mary holds onto the vial. she knows better than to waste opportunities on frivolous purchases.

“are you proud of me, father?” mary asks, and her father says, “yes.”

—

“so you’re ugly mary,” says the queen, looking at her.

mary nods. smiles. mary is not as bitter as her name.

the king laughs, loud and booming. the king is not a beautiful man, but beneath the glitter of his crown it’s hard to see. he hides his ugliness, with thick capes and gold crowns; mary knows better.

“can’t seem to get anyone to say a single word against you,” the king says. “everyone says: you want something done, ask ugly mary.”

“if i can serve you, Majesty,” mary says, curtsying deeply, “it would be my honor.”

“no,” says the queen. the queen is beautiful, and she looks away. 

“just to do the cleaning,” the king says, and smiles at her, benign. “nothing like an ugly girl to do the ugly work, eh?”

mary smiles. “indeed, your Majesty,” she says.

—

beautiful women are noticed. you never stop noticing them. they arrest you. they want you to please them, and you want it too.

ugly women are noticed. you never stop noticing them. they arrest you, and you want them to please you. it is not hard to please you. they only have to give you what you think you want.

—

“what i like about you, ugly mary,” says the king, “is that you never make a fuss. i barely realize you’re here.”

that’s not true, mary knows. but she has worked hard to learn how to make it seem as if it is. she is not unnoticed, she is simply unremarkable. surely someone who looks defeated must be defeated.

“aye, Majesty,” she says.

he trails off, fingers running across the bedspread. “what’s this?” he asks, plucking mary’s purse from the sheets. she keeps her eyes on the floor, scrubbing. 

one dose before bedtime, the paper reads. the pregnancy will end with blood.

“the pregnancy will end,” the king says aloud. “the pregnancy will—the pregnancy—”

mary looks up. she waits.

the king’s eyes snap to her. “tell no one,” he says, and mary smiles.

"Majesty, it will be our secret,” she promises.

—

father are you proud of me father are you proud father

yes yes yes yes yes

—

the day of the queen’s death, and the death of the king’s brother, mary stays at the castle. she cleans, and waits. she is careful to be in the king’s chamber when he returns, puffy-eyed. drunk. 

“ugly mary,” he slurs as she tucks him into bed. “she was too beautiful. she lied. her beauty lied, she—you would never lie.”

mary smiles. she takes a liberty she never has before, and brushes his hair from him face. “never, Majesty,” she promises.

“your ugly face hides a beautiful heart,” he slurs, and mary laughs.

“please don’t tell anyone, majesty,” she teases, and he says, “no mary, no. it’ll be our secret.”

—

you are here, you are alive, you are ugly: they do not know what this means.

—

at the wedding, mary does not try to look beautiful. she dresses simply. they love her for it, ugly mary with the beautiful heart.

the chef weeps, the serving boy weeps, the errands boy weeps, the lady-in-waiting weeps. ugly mary has been so kind to them. ugly mary keeps their secrets.

they stand at the altar, mary and her king, her simple king. he looks at her and smiles, so fond, so trusting, so sure. a woman like ugly mary could never betray him. a woman like ugly mary is surely so grateful. gratitude is loyalty. gratitude keeps your secrets.

mary smiles.

[songsofthepen-blog]

If you ever sent me a message and I didn't respond, there is a 99.99% chance this happened

Me: Hmmm, that's an interesting question. I'll try to find the kind of thoughtful response this deserves while I browse my dashboard.

Me: Haha, you're too big to fit in that cup, kitty.

*A month passes and I become too embarrassed to respond late.*

[stormsbreadth]

a list of aus for when your otp is really competitive 

we’re both ‘team leaders’ at a summer camp for little people and you may be hot but goddammit my collection of twelve-year-olds are going to beat yours into the dust

we kind of got past the point of ‘taking this game of gay chicken too seriously’ when you took your pants off but I really do not mind at all. 

I used to be the best baker in the neighbourhood but then you showed up at Mrs Appleby’s 80th birthday with a stack of brownies which almost gave me an orgasm my honour is at stake and I’m going all out for the next event

a mutual friend invited us to their laser tag party and we’re the last two alive on opposite teams and goddammit if I’m going down you’re going down with me

you’re going to be at the halloween party and you’ve won best costume for the past three years but this year I am wearing the best costume ever if you defeat me I will eat my - wait you actually look really cute when did you turn hot what the fuck um

we’re always making stupid bets like ‘bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you

did you actually just blue shell me on our date you fucker

[elisabethwheatley]

Writer Problems: Plotting

How my friends plot their novels:

How I plot my novels:

[adhesivesandscrap]

THIS IS SO FUCKING TRUE I’M SOBBING

[xxa-helping-handxx]

Glad to know I’m not the only one that just freaking wings EVERYTHING

[itsstillbeating-deactivated2018]

If you reblog a fanfiction on Tumblr please consider just babbling randomly in the tags. It’s really quick and it can often brighten a writers day or restore their faith in their work. It’s likely also be some of the only feedback they get.

[savitris]

You think women are weak? Women are forged of iron. My body, it has bled and blazed and broken, and yet it beats on. I am iron. A little rusted, perhaps, but still I endure.

my 77 year old grandma, straight up reciting poetry at us to get out of going to the doctor’s office (via ravenreyse)

[badlydrawnbandguys]

sorry it’s so long, but i saw a post on my dash about someone who said they would unfollow anyone who posted screamers, and i felt like compiling this into a list!!

seriously, be nice. april fools’s’s’s’ with the debatable apostrophes is a day for jokes and pranks, not for hurting people. screamers aren’t funny. rick astley is funny because you can close that as soon as you hear the opening chords.

[8bitrevolver]

This was meant to be a quick warm up, but it turned into a comic that I’ve wanted to draw for a while. This is something that is extremely important to me, and I appreciate it if you read it.

A while ago, I heard a story that broke my heart. A family went a cat shelter to adopt. The daughter fell in love with a 3-legged cat. The father straight up said “absolutely not”. Because he was missing a leg. That cat was that close to having a family that loved him, but the missing leg held him back. Why?!

Many people have the initial instinct of “nope” when they see an imperfect animal. I get it, but less-adoptable does NOT mean less loveable. 9 out of 10 people will choose a kitten over an adult cat. And those 10% that would get an adult cat often overlook “different” animals.

All I want people to do is be open to the idea of having a “different” pet in their lives. Choose the pet that you fall in love with, but at least give all of them a fair shot at winning your heart.

Don’t dismiss them, they deserve a loving home just as much as any other cat. They still purr, they still love a warm lap, they still play, they still love you. Trust me, next time you are in the market for a new kitty, just go over to that one cat that’s missing an eye and see what he’s all about!

[kedreeva]

Let me tell to you a thing.

This is Lenore. I first saw her in a little cage at the Petco I frequent (I used to take my parents’ dog in for puppy play time), and she looked like the grouchiest, old, crotchety cat in the world, and I fell instantly in love. She was cranky, she was anti-social, hanging out at the back of her cage. Her fur was matted because she wouldn’t let the groomers near her.

She was perfect.

But I didn’t have a place for her. I wasn’t living in my own space yet, and where I was, I wasn’t allowed cats. So I pressed my face to the bars of her cage and I promised that if no one had adopted her by the time I’d bought a house, I would come back for her.

I visited her every week for over six months while I looked for a house. At one point, they had to just shave her entire rear-end because the mats or fur were so bad. They told me she clawed the heck outta the groomer that did it, screamed the entire time, and spent the next two days growling at anyone that came near the cage.

A couple of weeks later, I closed on my house. I went back and I got an employee, and I said: “That one. I need that cat.”

They got the paperwork and the lady who ran the rescue that was bringing the cats in told me that Lenore (at the time, Lila) was 8 years old, had been owned by an elderly lady who had died, and brought in to a different rescue, who’d had her for six months on top of the time I’d been seeing her at Petco.

This kitty had been living in a 3x3’ cube for over a YEAR because she was older and “less adoptable.”

I signed the paperwork, put her in a cat carrier, and drove her to my new home. I had pretty much nothing; a bed, an old couch, a couple of bookcases, and a tank of mice I called “Cat TV”. I let her out of the carrier and onto my bed, and I told her “I told you I would come back for you when I had a place. It’s not much, but it’s yours too now.”

Lenore spent the next three days straight purring non-stop. She followed me around the house purring. Sat next to me purring. Slept next to me purring. Leaning into every touch, purring, purring, always purring. She still purrs if you so much as think about petting her. She’s amazing, and I love her.

So, you know, if you’re thinking about adopting, and you see a beast that others consider “less adoptable,” think about Lenore.

[anotherweirdnerd-deactivated201]

F***ING IMPORTANT

[transdimensionalboundaries]

The STORY THOUGH.

[sleepysnakes]

I adopted older kitties and I love them to pieces they are the best cats I’ve ever had GIVE OLDER CATS AND DOGS A CHANCE

[ghostflowerdreams]

Survival: First Aid

Maybe you are one of those people that like to be prepare? Or maybe you’re writing about a character that is in a survival situation? Or you’re writing about a character that is from the olden days? For whatever reason you’re here, it’s is obvious that you’re interested in knowing first aid.

It’s essential that you have some basic principles of wilderness first aid and know how to apply them, even under stress. Even knowing how to treat minor injuries can make a difference in a emergency situation. Although there are innumerable injuries and ailments that could affect you, as long as you learn the basic principles of first aid, you can apply them to almost any situation.

Wilderness Survival - Plants for Medicine

Wilderness Survival - Edible and Medicinal Plants

Wilderness Survival - Bone and Joint Injury

Wilderness Survival - Bites and Stings

Wilderness Survival - Wounds

Wilderness Survival -  Environmental Injuries

Wilderness Survival - Cold Injuries

Medical Reference - Food Poisoning

Medical Reference - Insect Bites and Stings

Medical Reference - Frostbite

Medical Reference - Cough

Medical Reference - Sprains and Strains

Medical Reference - Burns

Medical Reference - Wounds

Medical Reference - Common Cold

Medical Reference - Insomnia

Medical Reference - Menstrual Pain

Medical Reference - Broken Bones

Medical Reference - Dislocation

NY Search & Rescue - Snakebite Emergency First Aid Information

The Survivalist - How To Survive A Gunshot Wound

The Survivalist - How To Make Splints And Crutches

The Survivalist - Field Remedies For Poison Ivy

The Survivalist - Backwoods Hygiene Tips

A Comprehensive Guide to Wilderness & Travel Medicine (PDF)

Field Bandage For A Cut Finger

Survival Skills 101 (PDF)

Carry An Injured Partner With One Rope

Treat An Injured Ankle

First Aid Without The Kit, Part 1

Skin Lacerations: How to Treat a Cut, Scrape, Gash, Stab Wound

When to Get Stitches

Honey As an Antibiotic Ointment: Sweet Treatment for Wounds

How to Treat 4 Types of Gunshot Wounds

Stitching Wounds: How To Suture

64 SHTF Medical Tips That Work

Military Survival - SHTF Medicinal Plants

Better Health - Rib Injuries

Bruised Ribs: What You Need to Know

All About Eye Injuries

Concussions: What You Need to Know

How to Know If You Really Have a Concussion

Johns Hopkins Medicine - Head Injury

Important Tips for Scorpion Sting First Aid

Chapter 2: Wound Management (PDF)

Chapter 3: Wilderness Wound Management (PDF)

Sterilizing Equipment for Medical/Dental Use

How To Sterilize A Wound In An Unsterile Environment

10 Things to Prep if You Get Migraine Headaches

Dentistry in Emergency Situations

The 9 Best Survival Antibiotics

How to Start a Medicinal Herb Garden

Natural Remedies for Asthma

To Make Pine Pitch Salve

How to Deliver a Baby

Dog Bites: A SHTF Medical Emergency You Haven’t Considered 

[cheekbonered]

yes but consider this for your otp:

being reunited after surviving the zombie apocalypse unknowing if the other was alive or dead AU

rescuing their partner from a recon mission gone wrong AU

drama school rivals being cast as romantic opposites because they have “crazy sexual tension” according to their director AU

"are we both robbing the same house oh fuck" AU

growing up together in a rough neighbourhood AU

mutual friends always dragged to the same inane barbecues AU

[songsofthepen-blog]

Join the Song

The men won’t walk the woods at night, for fear of what dwells there- that's why she runs the midnight path for refuge in their lair. She halts beneath the branches, deep among the trees; in this place no sane man dares she crumples to her knees. Although the tears run down her face she lifts her voice in song; surely here where no one hears she can’t be doing wrong? From the dark, drawn by her voice, a soulful howl joins in; a counterpoint that resonates and hums beneath her skin. She hears the beasts come closer now, but she can’t find her fear. No matter what they do to her she’d rather still be here. She bows her head as they come forth, avoids their glowing eyes; but then a warm tongue swipes her face- she laughs as her tears dry. Before her stands a wolf of mist, the moon caught in her fur. A handful more with eyes like stars crowd up to nudge at her. Come run with us! the wolf-queen calls, her starlight eyes ablaze; If your own kind don’t care for you then why should you remain? The truth strikes home and she agrees, for she cannot abide the thought of going back to town and to her husband’s side; better far to roam the night with those who love her song and who don’t flinch back from her voice but rise and sing along. Gentle fangs seize both her hands and pull her spirit free. She stumbles once on clumsy paws, but then howls out with glee. A ghost-wolf now she joins the pack, runs with them through the woods; and only once does she go back to where her body stood. It lays cold upon the ground no mark to tell its end; she wonders briefly what they’ll think, her family and her ‘friends’. She doesn’t need to question long, for she knows what they’ll say; They’ll blame the beasts, blame the cold, blame everything they can’t control, but never once while they drew breath acknowledge they had caused her death.  

[songsofthepen-blog]

Hello everyone! I noticed I've gotten several new followers in a row recently... Is something of mine going around again? I always wonder how that ends up happening... 

I hope you all have a happy holiday season and get to do something that makes you happy! 

I'll be posting a little 'gift' to you all in a moment... One of the pieces from my creative writing class that I promised to share a while back. It's one of my favorites from the class.

[aquestionofcharacter]

Why am I not following The Worst Muse already?

[poecurl]

fun holiday aus for you to consider

we both wore ugly sweaters to this christmas party because the invitation didn’t say it’s formal au

you slipped on a patch of ice and i happened to be walking behind you and you fell into my arms wow you’re really attractive au

our landlord really went all out with the mistletoe, huh? au

my sister told me to buy this crappy toy for my niece and you work here please help me find it. it’s black friday and i’m afraid au

you need to stop your drunken caroling outside of my window at 2 am au

you’re kind of a scrooge and it’s up to me to show you the true meaning of holiday spirit hallmark movie style au

you left your christmas tree lights on over night and set the apartment building on fire. hey i live on the floor below you au

you keep coming into the store i work at to buy wreaths, what are you doing with all of these wreaths? au

you were walking in front of me when you tripped over your own foot and knocked over the christmas tree in the park. let me help you up and we’ll try to fix the damage au