Imagine Thranduil taking a walk in the forest when it was still healthy and coming across you, singing a beautiful song to the trees and creatures.


She held massive amounts of love in her heart and she would often spend days alone in the forest, trying to heal it from the dark magic that may upon it.

She would take books and read fairy stories to the trees and the creatures. I had often insisted in accompanying her for protections sake but she would always refuse.

I would sometimes hear faint whisps of her beautiful singing voice as she sang to the forest creatures.

But this time, she had left the woods behind her completely and all I could do was wait for her safe return.

What felt like an eternity passed before I heard the familiar hoofsteps of her horse.

I ran to the gates as swiftly as I could.

To my joy and happiness there she was. Not a day older than when she had left.

I looked her straight in the eye and she smiled a smile that looked powerful enough to banish all darkness from Middle Earth.

She waited until we were sufficiently alone before she ran into my arms.

We knew we could never be public

“ The forest! It spoke to me, my King! It told me of the times you spend there. Talking to the trees like I do. They told me.. And I hope I’m not being improper but… they told me.. that you have feelings regarding me. ” she blushed as she stood in my arms which were still tightly wrapped around her.

“ It is true, my fair lady. I also have something to tell you. Come. ” I said, leading her to my chambers where my specially crafted token lay in my bedside cabinet.

I offered her to sit on my bed whilst I produced the blue box containing her gift.

She sat and ran her fingers along the intricate carving of my bed posts.

I held the box in hand and cleared my throat.

She turned around and smiled up at me from her seat.

I knelt before her and opened the box.

It contained a white diamond moon on a golden chain with a white crystal brooch.

“ These are for you. A token of my love for you. ” I said slowly.

She gasped quietly and beheld my courtship gift to her.

I gently swept her hair over her shoulder so I could clasp the necklace around her neck.

“ Do you like it? ” I asked.

“ I.. I.. Words are not enough, my dear. ” she said in a hushed voice as she tucked some loose hair behind my peaked ear.

She leaned forward so I might put the necklace on her.

When she leaned forward, she kissed my cheek, stirring my heart into a frenzy.


Title: Ride With Me - part six
Serie’s prompt: Alternate Universe (AU) in which the reader is a horse rider who goes to a ranch in Arizona to gain work experience. During her time on the ranch she develops a strong connection with a wrangler and horse trainer named Dean. A story about a cowboy who falls for the girl, a story about the importance of family.
Prompt part 6: Reader’s hard work pays off and she joins the guests and crew on a morning ride. Dean casually flirts with her and she does the best she can not to fall for it. Luckily Jo is there to talk to.
Words: 1757 words
Characters: Dean, Jo, Reader
Pairings: Dean x reader (not in this part yet, but I’m getting there!)
Warnings: language and hangovers, maybe even a little fluff?
Author’s note: Well it took me long enough! I promised an extra long chapter, but the second part was running so long that I decided to cut it in two. Upside: there’s a new chapter coming very soon!
Tags: Below the story. Want to get tagged? Send me a message!
Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Okay, maybe the tequila last night weren’t such a good idea. Neither was that margarita the previous night, or the drinking game the night before that one. Or was it the other way around? You cannot seem to recall, but today it’s Friday, so at least tomorrow you can sleep your way through the headache. Never ever did you drink as much as you did this week. Normally that would bother you, especially considering you’re not here on Spring break. But when the drinks are offered in a time when you need a little something to help you stop overthinking the feelings that you are developing for Dean, you couldn’t care less about the increase of your alcohol consumption. 

Keep reading

The room felt heavy that day. Twilight shut herself in her room, trying not to hear the sound of Flash’s heavy armor being ajusted and prepared. Next to her sat First Base, he was trying so hard not to cry that Twilight decided it was better if she didin’t try to hug him or else he would start crying.

The conflict soon turned from rumor to reality in a matter of months, Equestria needed to act quickly or else an invation would be inminent. All souldiers had to report to their respectives post’s. That meant that Flash had to return to the Crystal Empire Faust knows how long. Twilight could not follow him, for the Princess was ordered to remain hidden in Poniville.

She jerked her head up as she listened to the heavy armored hoofsteps entering her room. she heard First Base sniffling loudly.
Flash was full cloacked in heavy golden armor. His gaze was hard and steady, just like a guard’s eyes should look.
Twilight aproached him and looked at him straint to his eyes. No words came out of her mouth, for she had already cried and begged him to stay. But a Guard was a guard and he had to do what he had to do. That was to protect and serve.
She felt tears coming down her face, her cheecks puffed from the tears.
First Base joined Twilight and stood strait buffing out his little chest trying to look as strong as possible. Flash let his guard’s mask off and gave in to tears as well. For him it was easier in the past to go to battle, but now he had his brother and his Princess in his heart, it made it so much harder to go.

He enveloped both in his hooves and squeezed them to his chest. He could feel twilights hooves wraping his, she was trembling, he squeezed her tighter. First Base sniffled loudly, he turned to his little brother and said:

¨Listen here young stallion, Spike is in Canterlot at the moment, so that leaves you as the stallion of the house. You take care of the Princess ok? I trust you with that¨

First Base nodded whipping off the tears from his face, he gave his brother a last big hug.
Flash turned to Twilight  and lowered his neck to match her height, she looked at him with scared big sad eyes. Flash smiled at her.

¨I’m gonna be ok¨
Twilight tried to smile back, but it only made her cry more. She closed the space between both of them and gave Flash one last good bye kiss.

Flash stared at both of them a little bit more and made his way to the door. Twilight and First Base followed close by. He walked a few steps away from the door and then turned around. He looked at his brother and marefrind with soft eyes for the last time before putting on his Guard’s mask again. He looked at hi brother and saluted him in military style, then he looked at Twilight and gave her the courtesy bow all guards gave to their Princess they served.
Twilight resturned the bow his her’s trying to mimic Flash’s mask.

he turned around, looked at the sky, tainted with red and pink, breathed in all the air he could take. He opened his wings and took off. 

fanfic: trophies (part one)

Continuation to Should’ve Run Faster. So. This was supposed to be one additional one-shot in itself, and then it reached 8000 words before I was even finished with the chapter and I remembered the Ravenstag!Dipper thing I’d been thinking about earlier. This is half of it while I revise the second half. Sorry it’s huge – I got carried away, so it’s under a cut. I also cross-posted to AO3 here: commentary and criticism welcome in regards to the new direction/slight shift in tone. It continues to be dark as hell, and Bill continues to be batshit insane. Slightly older but still teenage Deerper, no shipping whatsoever, ain’t no fluff on this train, etc. Same warnings as the first story. 

I’m sorry, Dipper. I really am.

Keep reading

((MOD: I’m going to take a break from drawing art for this blog for a couple of months while I work on the 18 credits I’m taking in college..but before I go, I want to leave you guys with the work-in-progress for the next update, along with the written blurb that was intended to go with the update. Love ya guys, be back later!))

[previous] [next] [need info on ickle and penwright?]

Crisp, maple-scented air caressed the streets of Ponyville’s residential neighborhood the morning Ickle visited Penwright’s freshly-acclimated home. Spring was on due course for Equestria, and perhaps that would be reason enough for excitement! This week, however, was electrified for a different reason: Romancedy’s Hearts and Hooves Day party. Even if one were not to attend, romance and cheer ran rampant through the streets as the holiday drew ever nearer. Perhaps the excitement, or the crisp, late-winter air was the cause of Ickle’s pink cheeks and lips? 

nock, nock Went Ickle’s hoof on the thick, wooden door to Penwright’s abode. 

“I wonder if he’s in,” she pondered aloud as her eyes fell to the pair of newspapers clutched in her foreleg. He had, when she had last visited, been working on an article for the St. Luna Dispatch, a company of which Ickle was still trying to understand. Local papers yielded no information, and when she had asked Penwright more about the company, his responses were vague at best. 

 Hoofsteps now sounded behind the door, bringing Ickle’s eyes back up and her thoughts into the present. “I really must stop zoning out” she thought to herself.  

Tmp, tmp, tmp went the hoofsteps approaching the door, and with a click, the door opened to a groggy, disheveled writer who might, with another cup of coffee and some fresh, cold air, resemble Penwright. “ough..” he groaned, mustering out a gravelly “hey”. The similarities grew closer as he realized who his visitor was, and suddenly his darkened, sleep-deprived eyes grew alight.

“Oh hey, Muse!” Immediately he pulled the door open all the way, bringing a chilly gust of morning wind into his home. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today” he tried to speak lightly, but the surprise and lack of sleep caught some words on their way out. While he tried his best to brush it off, leaning against the door post nonchalantly, Ickle couldn’t fight a small snort in the back of her throat. It had only been a few days since her last visit, but somehow seeing Penwright in this state, mussed and carelessly tousled, made the same familiar flutter arise in her chest. It had hurt too much to stifle that flutter in the past, and now with her freedom realized, she reveled in the lightness the flutter brought her.

 “It would appear,” she replied flippantly, holding up the newspapers “you haven’t been expecting anyone lately.” With a wink, a sheepish smile, and a blush on both parts, she handed the couriers off. “How long have you been working on that article?” Ickle implored a bit more gently, purposefully lingering her gaze over the dark circles under his eyes. His free hoof raised to rub one of them, so he must’ve understood her concern. 

“Ah…” he straightened off the post and shifted his hoof to his mane, ruffling it the way he would when he was frustrated with his work. “Quite a while but still not long enough,” he replied lightly. “He’s good at hiding how frustrated he is..” Ickle pondered to herself, watching his eyes scan the headlines of the papers. When his eyes slid back up to hers, however, she felt a blush come over her cheeks. Penwright’s blue eyes always had a way of melting her bones, but with the dark circles under his eyes she couldn’t help but remember his roguish Dr. Caligari costume, and the romance that had brewed last Nightmare Night. Her nostalgic staring was disrupted suddenly, when he broke eye contact and looked into the entryway, his own cheeks slightly pink. “How long was I staring at him? Oh gods, how childish…” she mentally chided herself, looking down at her scarf and tightening it around her neck to cover her blush. 

Ickle’s self-conscious action broke the silence and Penwright asked “are you cold?” moving aside to offer his home to her. She accepted his invitation to come inside, but as she passed she apologized. 

 “You seem to do that a lot lately,” he replied, closing the door after her as she made herself comfortable in the entry room. As she stepped over piles of books and sank into an armchair by the bookcase, he asked “is something on your mind?” 

That was just enough to send a sizable palpitation through Ickle’s heart. Suddenly her cheeks and ears burned, and she needed to strip off her scarf to relieve some heat. She couldn’t meet his eyes, or they would distract her from her resolve and she would lose her thoughts all over again. As she felt her pulse steadily quickening, Penwright sat opposite her, inquiring further. “Is everything at the shop okay?” She could feel his gaze searching her face for a hint of trouble, but his eyes also searched her body for some sort of insight into her thoughts. The sensation of his gaze on her body suddenly felt more sultry to her, and she held a hoof to her chest in an attempt to calm down.

 “How in the world was I so calm in front of him before,” she questioned herself silently. “I feel as if my skin is on fire!” Unfortunately Penwright interpreted her troubled expression as a confirmation of his question, and stood up to make his way over to her. Her eyes darted to his as he approached, and her breath was gone. 

“I know you’ve been trying to balance work and everything else, but maybe you should talk to your parents about hiring more employees at the shop, Muse.”

 “What? No, that’s not what I’m troubled about!”

 “Maybe if you talk to them honestly and frankly, you and your sister can finally have more time to yourselves without risking the financial security of the shop?” 

“Well…yes, that is something I’m concerned about, and those days I took off at Christmastime were—no! No, Penwright, it’s something else!” 

“I know you took a lot of days off in December and you lost a lot of revenue—”

 Ickle spied a lone dove outside the window over Penwright’s shoulder as he approached, now merely inches away from her, and her chest felt as if it would burst. Athena’s dove…she knew she needed to stick to her resolve. Sitting upright and blush rampant on her face, Ickle stared straight into Penwright’s eyes, matching ocean blue to icy blue. 

Luna limped painfully along, her wings badly damaged by the last attack - she had barely escaped the horde, once again.  She looked behind her, seeing nopony for the moment, but in this mad world looks could be very deceiving.  She heard a hoofstep and froze, swinging her weapon toward the sound … nothing.  Only her imagination.  She was parched and starving, food untainted by the virus being almost impossible to find in the past few weeks.  Despite the danger, she had to continue searching for sustenance, or she would soon be unable to resist the onslaught.

Luna approached the apple orchard cautiously, step by silent step.  The trees were one of the last remaining food sources for survivors, and the infected knew this all too well.  She heard their throaty growls from within the trees, communicating with each other in their unearthly way.  Even after so long, it still terrified her.  Flashes of memory reminded her just how close she had been to becoming one of them.

Reaching up with magic, she plucked a few of the precious fruits from the nearest tree, cringing at the slight noise that the breaking stems made.  She turned to run -

A large unicorn stabbed at Luna with her horn, and Luna screamed in panic, barely able to deflect the blow with the butt of her gun.  She pushed the mare away, about to shoot and end the pony’s sad existence, when she felt her heart sink with dread.  

“Sister?!” Luna cried, feeling tears welling up, “I thought you had escaped …”

Celestia looked back with vacant, hungry eyes.  Her fur was matted with blood and filth, and no hint of her former glory remained.  Luna’s grip on the weapon shook.  She knew the right thing to do was to end her sister’s misery, but her heart broke at the thought.  Even in this wretched state, she was still her sister, the companion of thousands of years …

Other infected crowded around her from every side, their jaws clacking against jagged teeth, bony, featherless wings fluttering, rotting flesh pressing toward her.  She had seconds to choose her sister’s fate - It was now or never.  

“I love you, sister,” Luna sobbed.  She closed her eyes, clenched her jaw, and pulled the trigger.

Cylestea generously sponsored this poster with her pledge on Patreon!  Look forward to seeing this design at my convention booths :D

A challenge to the brony fandom

Communicate that an OC is an electronic musician without

  • them always wearing giant earphones
  • drawing them using turntables (I don’t think half of you know how those work)
  • giving them an instrument/music note on their ass
  • Wild and out of control cool electronic names like “Bass Drop” “Electric Keyboard” “Hoofstep”
  • DJ ______

cheerdalee  asked:

Cheerilee waved away the fillies and colts, another day of school complete. She let a sense of accomplishment fill her until she caught a glimpse of a small white unicorn filly. A pang went through her heart as she thought of the fillies older sister. ’Get over it, Cheer. It’s been years, anypony else would have gotten over it and moved by now. Why can’t you?’ she mentally berated herself. As the room emptied, she slumped down over her desk and let her head fall as hoofsteps echoed outside.

Rarity poked her head around the door, her hand raising to knock lightly. “Cheerilee?” She called out “Do you have a minute?” She asked as she stepped into the room.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you, about my sister” She said “How’s she doing in class?” She asked.

Post number three for Cat!Muse! Two posts remain~

[In response to..] [First post] [Previous] [More on Penwright]

It had been a while since Ickle had last been in Penwright’s room, and especially from an even shorter vantage point, the room felt somewhat mystically foreign. Without meaning to, she took a long, drawn-out breath in, realizing that with her new senses she could smell Penwright’s signature smells in the room–this was where they all came from! 

Different books of different sizes sat on the bookshelf lovingly dust-free, potted plants that seemed a little worse for wear sat atop a dresser, and from his desk she could smell the beginnings of stories, articles, and possibly private writings: parchment, stationary, quills, and–INK! Ickle’s eyes brightened as she realized that, even in this new form, she could easily pick up a quill and write a message to Penwright detailing her dilemma. 

“I can write him, Sidian!” She turned to where the pitch black companion lie on Penwright’s bed, leaning her head over and staring into her soul with those piercing silver eyes, tail twitching back and forth. Ickle’s excitement was slightly dampened by Sidian’s ever-intimidating gaze, but she proceeded to hop, scramble, and climb her way up Penwright’s desk to see a pad of unused parchment and a quill, still resting in the inkwell.

Grabbing the quill between her jaws, she struggled to find a grip that would allow her some measure of control over the writing instrument, almost unfamiliar in her smaller form. After a few missteps and spilled blotches of ink, Ickle finally managed to work out a comfortable system of writing.  Summoning all of her concentration, she carefully wrote out “I AM MUSE” on the parchment.  When she finished, she stepped back and looked over her work.

*tmp*     *tmp*       *tmp*      *tmp*        *tmp*          *tmp* 

she could hear Penwright’s hoofsteps coming up the staircase, which only meant she would have the length of time between his trip up the stairs and across the hall. That wasn’t nearly enough time! With her whiskers twitching she turned to Sidian and pled “I need more time..please, please slow him down?” With a bit of effort the lept from the desk to the windowsill, letting out a high “mao!” when she realized she left ink prints on his sill. 

Once more she looked back at the placid Sidian and begged her “Please stop him before he gets to the room!”  before turning and leaping onto the tree. She was intent on gathering flowers and vines–it was her calling card, and her only way of reminding him who she was in that moment.

Shouts could be heard through the open window, though distance and desperation prevented her from hearing them clearly.  Leaping down the tree, she spotted a small group of daisies and a vine entangled in one of the bushes next to the house.  She ripped and tore with her teeth and claws, successfully grabbing a length of vine after an intense struggle.  Grabbing the vine and some flowers in her mouth, she scrabbled back up the tree and leapt back into the room, noting with some relief that the door was still closed and Penwright nowhere in sight.

She quickly dumped her cargo on the floor and went to work, twisting the vine around her head and stuffing flowers behind her ears as best she could.  Just as she finished, the door swung open and an irritated-looking Penwright walked inside, holding a small saucer of milk and an unamused Sidian in a glow of blue magic.

“Honestly, Sidian, I don’t know what gets into you sometimes,” he said.  The magical field gently lobbed Sidian over towards the bed, disappearing and letting the black cat land gracefully.  She looked over her shoulder and glared at Penwright, then turned her attention to Ickle.  The force of the black cat’s glare sent a shiver down Ickle’s spine, and she resolved to make it up to her somehow once she got back to her true form.

 Perhaps a scratching post in her home? No, that seemed much too..undignified for a cat like Sidian. Perhaps a silver-set collar for her to wear? That is, if Sidian was the sort of feline to enjoy trinkets.. Ickle’s baby blues held her silver medallions and she realized she might not be. “Ever the enigma…” she thought to herself.

With Penwright’s returned presence, her thoughts were cut short and she meowed loudly, 

She padded around his hooves and brushed his legs with her tail, trying her best to keep the too-big laurel on her head. “Surely you must recognize me now?” A hopeful smile crept into her expression, and she looked up at him with eyes gleaming, hoping he might see herself in her eyes.

Closed rp with ask-prince-fang-and-others


Rain poured down in Ponyville, huge droplets landing on the orange stallion’s coat. He struggled against the rain, trying to find his way around with clumsy hoofsteps. The pegasi had planned the storm days before but this pony happened to be unaware of this plan. 

A bolt of lightning struck the sky, making him jump. Golden Nugget scrambled away from the noise, bumping into a mare who was there too. “Ah,” he cried out, “I’m so sorry!” 

brotrot  asked:

THOSE LET IT NOSE LYRICS OMG can you please post those as text? as much of the song is you can make? XD

oh god no no you’ve done a bad thing

the snow glows white on the tundra tonight, lots of hoofsteps to be seen

my kingdom is someone else’s… it’s a princess, not a queen

the wind is howling like that one dumb time i diiied

couldn’t keep me down heaven knows they tried

don’t let them in, don’t let them see

have the short nose, the way it’s s'posed to be

conceal don’t feel, don’t let them knooow

well now they knoooooow

Let it nose, let it nose! Can’t hold it back any more!

Let it nose, let is nose! Let it drag across the floor!

I don’t care what they’re going to say! Let the nose grow on…

like I gave two shits anyway

it’s funny how some ponies may try to give me hell

but my shnozz is growing longer and enhanced my sense of smell

it’s time to see what i can do, to test the limits of achoo

no right no wrong no rules for meeee- I’M FREEEEEEEEEE




buh duh duh duh duh duh duh DUH DUH DUH


A Bittersweet Farewell, and Writers Wanted for “The Adventures of Sherlock Hooves”!

The Division recently had to say goodbye to our head of writing, CodemasterC. His writing was what got the show started, but we still have a few more of his pieces left to showcase for the show. Code is leaving due to his need to focus on schoolwork, and his advancement in the field of education. We were lucky to have him as a part of the founding team, and will never forget his contributions.

Good luck, Code, and to the very best of times.

That being said, the Division is now also seeking more writers for the writing staff!

If you’re an old hand at writing, love writing mysteries, and are a fan of the show (or are a fan and want to give writing a shot), then submit to us a script!


1. We are just seeking SAMPLES of your writing. So, your script should be a SHORT. Usually that’s 4-15 pages. 

2. Keep the characters -in character-. Remember: Sherlock and Trotson may have points of smilarity to the BBC duo, but we pull in ties and behaviors from ALL the Sherlocks and Watsons. This resulted in the characters becoming their own unique set. This applies to other characters as well. If you watch our show, you know their speech patterns, mannerisms, and how they behave. Please remember this when writing your sample script.

3. Follow Format. How should a script look? Most novice and new writers follow this format:

(Scene One)

Trot: It’s simple, and easy to read.

SH: Yes, but there are limits.

(SFX: Sherlock walks about the room)

(Music: Something snappy)

SH: Not stimulating enough for my taste.

Trot: Nothing ever is.

(End Scene)

A more professional set up goes like this:

                                                 Scene Two                                            


SOUND: The lights turn on with a boom and the curtains pull back. Trotson and Sherlock both approach. Hoofsteps, one set slower than the other.


        Ah, now that is more like it!

        (VOICE: hipper)


         Better, yes, but are they up for such technicalities? I doubt it.

         (VOICE: Laughs softly)


         Oh, give them a chance, Sherlock! I believe in them.


         If you insist.

         (SOUND: Sherlock taps one foot to the ground as he speeks, belying his calm demeanor with eager excitement.)


Either format will be looked at and considered. But keep it to these two formats, and remember to be consistant with names, titles, and abbreviations.

Send your samples to asknotmydivision@gmail.com. We look forward to seeing your work!

The Game is Ahoof!

TheFangirl, and The Division

anonymous asked:

What made Alkrenon pop the question?

Just being wow’ed by how much Helraen was like him, but in a good way. Up until then he had never found anyone who could keep up with him, literally. He had his own pace and his own direction and past lovers couldn’t keep up with his erratic, spontaneous schedule. One day he was up in the snowy mountains and by next week he was waist deep waddling through a swamp, all for the sake of travel, adventure, and treasure. These aren’t aspects that many draenei share and value, especially since they prefer stability and predictability. Alkrenon lived on the go, almost erratically, and most lovers stopped trying to second-guess him or figure him out. 

But Helraen is very intuitive and is able to match Alkrenon almost hoofstep for hoofstep, wherever those steps lead them. She is not intimidated by long days and dangerous travel - in fact, she finds as much enjoyment in it as Alkrenon does. For them it’s not really about a goal, about reaching someplace or getting that one thing, it’s the travel, the adventure, the adrenaline, the sights and stories. It’s something that Alkrenon was never able to explain to another draenei, but that Helraen understands completely without a word.

He also knows, and trusts, that Helraen can take care of herself. She doesn’t need for him to look over his shoulder (though he often does just to be sure) and can hold her own with her rifle just as good as Alkrenon can. He knows he can trust her with having his back if they venture someplace dangerous, and she can trust that his aim will be just as sure against anything that gets too close to her. They both hunt, cook, fight, plan, travel, etc… everything together. There are not ‘roles’ between them. They are equal. 

He knew he would never find anyone else like her.


christmas in kitty's house, a fanfic by meltyyy (melty)

a very ezra christmas

merry christmas, kitty

Everything was quiet. Her mother was asleep, probably, and so was her brother somewhere, if he was even in the house. There were no sounds outside, no cars driving by or drunk people fighting. Even her nightly internet browsing was fairly quiet, and not even deadmau5 was coming out of her speakers. No, the only thing that was making any sort of noise was her occasionally typing things, or clicking loudly on the built in touchpad on her laptop. Sometimes there would be rustling as she picked up her phone, checked it, and set it back down again.

Kitty sighed as the clock on her phone struck 00:00.

It was officially Christmas. Everything was decorated accordingly. The tree was the same tree that it had been for as long as she could remember, but for some reason, this year, it seemed different. The decorations were right, but her perspective had changed. The lights still made her happy, but she wasn’t totally stoked for presents, or whatever. This whole season had left her very jaded, and the tumultous year that she’d had so far seemed like it was going to end pretty much the same way it had gone so far. Weird and unsettling.

She wearily closed her laptop, and she started to push it off of herself when she heard the creak above.

She was a damn adult, now, and she felt like an idiot, but she still freezed and stopped moving like she did when she was in middle school, about to be caught up way too late and typing away on the family computer to strangers on the internet. It took her a moment to relax, and settle down, the immediate fight-or-flight feeling she’d had still lingering. It was probably just her mom, or something, but she froze once more when there was a creak again, this time louder, more insistant. Were those footsteps? More importantly, were those… hoofsteps?

She’d watched enough My Little Pony to know what hooves sounded like on roofing tiles. She was convinced someone was fucking with her, but no, there it was again.

Kitty stood up, hand on her iPhone and feet in some very cute tights that she had gotten herself as an early Christmas present, about ready to call the cops or something, when she heard an even stranger sound behind her. She whirled around, and found herself face to face with the old fireplace.

Did they even have a fireplace? She couldn’t remember, but the noise was coming from above.

She stood, transfixed, staring at the dark opening. It was like a demonic mouth, ready to spit out some sort of criminal or an ex-boyfriend or, or something – and in that moment, Kitty found herself more scared than she’d ever been before, more even than when she’d played her first show. She was tense again, and she could feel every muscle in her body stiffen up, anxiety filling her like the day she’d waited at Claire’s for her video to get posted.

She felt itchy and afraid.

Somehow, she knew what was coming next, but it still surprised her. A pair of boat shoes, brown and taped up, scuffed to all hell and practically in pieces. What looked like oversized red pants worn over dark blue jeans with the cuffs rolled up. As more of the body seemed to materialize and pour out of her fireplace and onto her living room floor, Kitty found herself speechless. A big, oversized red and white, “Santa” style coat that was very ill-fitting on someone so thin. A hat, red and white with a little white puff on the end of the point was slapped haphazardly onto a bed of perfectly messy, jet black hair.

Kitty pinched her thigh carefully, doing her best not to let the intruder see.

Ezra Koenig in a Santa suit was in her living room, pulling a big bag out of the chimney and dropping it unceremoniously next to the tree. That was when he saw her, and when they made eye contact for the first time.

“Oh, uh, heheh, hey.” His voice was just like she’d imagined it, exactly how it had sounded in the six video series of interviews that she had watched once. Alright, maybe twice. “Mmmerry Christmas. Or Yule, if that’s what you’re into.”

Kitty still had no idea what to say. She settled for a flat “Merry Christmas” in disbelief.

Ezra Koenig let out that chuckle again before pulling his hand up to give her the iconic ‘Shhhh’ sign, and disappeared up the chimney as fast as he had come. It had only taken moments, but Santa Ezra had appeared and disappeared before she could really even process his appearance. In fact, she might have thought she was hallucinating, maybe drank the bad nog or something earlier, if not for the bag that lay, still and long, next to the Christmas tree.

Cautiously, she tip toed closer. If her theories were correct, this was all a hallucination, anyway, and none of it mattered. That meant it was absolutely not dangerous at all to open the present that Hipster Claus had just dropped next to her family’s artificial tree.

With shaking hands, she pulled at the ribbon tying the bag closed, and with one swift movement, the entire bag opened.

The world stopped, for a moment, for an hour, for a day, who could tell? What she saw was perfection. The cutest eyes she had ever seen, staring up at her, as if begging for some sort of treat or for not to be put in the bath again. The cutest little scruff she’d ever had the pleasure of laying her gaze on. All of it screamed 100% puppy.

Puff growled at the newcomer from her place on the cozy armchair.

“Uhh, hey.” Sonny “Skrillex” Moore said, looking more than a little confused.

She heard a ringing noise from outside, and though she could hardly bear to tear her eyes off of him, she sprinted (or jogged, or whatever) over to the window, tearing the blinds/drapes open just in time to see Saint Ezra flying into the distance, on a sleigh pulled by a series of ponies. Fluttershy, Pinkie, Applejack… the gang was all there.

She could swear she heard Ezra’s voice, even here, from across Florida.

“Merry Christmas to all, and stuff. And to all, a good night.”