And suddenly Asher is not down with the snow for the first time - particularly with his paws. The rest of him seems fine, but he’ll start walking funny to try to avoid making more contact with his paws.
For reference, it’s been around 7F/-13C.
When it was more around 15F, he still laid down in the snow, let me toss snow on him and didn’t shake off, didn’t really care about the cold, etc. Now that it’s even colder, he’s doing the paw thing. This morning he seemed bothered even after only running out to do his business real quick.
(What I find weird is that Gunner, while bodily cold, doesn’t seem bothered when it comes to his feet.)
Would Musher’s Secret beforehand help? His fur isn’t all that long in his feet, but could that be part of it?
Would boots be worth it or should we just submit to staying inside more when it gets this cold? I know a lot of dogs really don’t like boots so Firework is hesitant to go that route. I’d want to start with something cheap but worthwhile before dropping $100 on really nice ones from Ruffwear, you know.
Not sure who to tag besides @books-and-barns because everybody else either has much fluffier floofs or Gunner-length fur dogs.
Aries- you really need to work hard this year and endurance is key. Try not to get so easily angered and shocked when things happen that could’ve been predicted way before. You know when you are being over emotional so suck it up and watch a good film to calm down. You can be selfish, but you really do need to focus on what you want this year to grow. Eat more fruit lol.
Taurus- educate yourself on topics you wouldnt usually look into (you stick to what you know too much), hanging with new peeps will benefit you this year and a change of style- you’re gonna have to change someday so go outside and gain real experiences. Also stop complaining so much when you may not be innocent all the time.
I'm watching Love Actually and it's making me think of your fic Special Relationship. The part where the Prime Minister is going around to the houses looking for Natalie but especially the part where the little girls are asking him to sing a Christmas carol.
Quick note: I was just going to jot down a brief drabble…and then this grabbed hold of me and it will now be a full-length chapter…I just have to finish my Secret Santa gifts first lol
Peggy dropped onto the most comfortable couch in 10 Downing Street–hideously yellow, over two hundred years old, and the softest thing imaginable–and kicked her feet up, her high heels flying toward the portrait of some stuffy, forgettable prime minister from three hundred years ago. Her briefcase, bright red and embossed with the seal of the PM in gold, sat on the table in front of her, right next to a generous three fingers of scotch.
She took a swig from the glass and popped the briefcase open. Right on top sat a stack of Christmas cards, wrapped in a rubber band. A sticky note written in Angie’s neat script was placed on the top card.
READ THESE - A RANDOM SAMPLE!
Peggy snorted. It was typical of Angie to “encourage” her to do the parts of the job she hated, like Prime Minister’s Questions or reading a bunch of cards from pretentious blowhards, with an exclamation point. It rarely worked, but she always gave Angie points for trying. She set the cards aside and rifled through the briefcase, which was full of files and briefings. She scowled at the idea of doing work on Christmas Eve. Intelligence and economics briefings were not conducive to Christmas cheer. Ever.
She sighed and pulled the rubber band from around the stack of cards, shooting it toward the far wall. She winced and whispered an apology as it struck Winston Churchill right in the nose.
She flipped through the stack quickly, each card containing a perfunctory greeting from MPs and members of the House of Lords. Midway through, a beautiful card caught her eye. It was a hand-drawn rendition of the White House Christmas Tree, and Peggy smiled. There was only one person who would have sent it to her.
Dear Peggy, it read, Merry Christmas. (Or is it Happy Christmas? You Brits say both and it is very confusing). My Christmas will not be as merry because you are not with me, and every day is a little less bright when I don’t get to see your face.
Angie promised she would sneak this card in for me, but I don’t know if you will see it in time for my Christmas wish to come true. The Howlers are having a reunion in London this year, and I want nothing more than to sneak away from the craziness and whisk you away. Waking up beside you on Christmas morning sounds like the greatest possible Christmas gift. It was a small miracle that I was able to come for this trip, but my security and protocol officers believe it would be improper to visit you, as it would be perceived as an official visit. I think it’s stupid, but presidents have less power than you may think.
I’ll be staying on High Street through Christmas day, in the area that Falsworth describes as the “dodgy end.” I don’t know if that means anything to you, or if you’ll get this card in time. If you do, I would love to see you. If you are reading this after the fact, know that each one of my thoughts are with you.
Merry Christmas, Peggy. I love you.
Peggy stared at the card, a wide grin spreading over her face. Steve was here, in London. It was the best Christmas gift she could have ever received. She pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket and pressed his speed dial. It rang four times and went to voicemail. She groaned and tried twice more, with no success.
She sighed–of course Steve would choose today not to answer his phone–and rang the motor pool for a car. She rushed to the door, clumsily sliding her shoes on as she went.
“I’m going out,” she told the cop at the door cheerfully. “Don’t wait up!”
She slid into the car and instructed the driver to head for High Street. “The dodgy end, if you please.”
The motorcade arrived in short order, and her driver said, “Here we are, ma’am. What’s the number?”
She peered out the window to see what was quite possibly the longest residential street in London. “Oh God. I have no idea.” And Steve still wasn’t picking up his bloody phone. She heaved a sigh and got out of the car. They would have to do this the old fashioned way.
She knocked on the first door on the street, a one hanging prominently against the wood. The door swung open to reveal an elderly woman.
“Hello, is there a Steve staying here?”
The woman shook her head. “No, sorry.”
“Right,” Peggy replied, turning away. “Thank you, sorry to disturb your evening.”
“Wait a minute. Aren’t you the Prime Minister?”
Peggy spun back around with a wince. She had been hoping to avoid this exact scenario. “Um. Yes? Merry Christmas?”
The woman let out a happy sigh, and Peggy soldiered on. “Yes, it’s part of the service now. Trying to get around to everyone by New Years. Have a lovely evening.”
She all but sprinted to the next house, not wishing to get stuck talking to constituents this evening. The next twenty or so houses passed by easily. Most people were either out or eager to get back to their families, so they didn’t linger beyond a polite “No, sorry,” when Peggy asked after Steve.
The door to Number 56 opened to an empty foyer. Peggy stared into the house, unsure what to do. She heard a loud cough below her line of sight, and she looked down to see three young girls, all adorned in tutus, watching her expectantly.
“Well, hello. Is there a Steve staying here?”
“No, there isn’t,” one of the girls replied, the other two nodding sagely.
“Oh dear,” Peggy sighed, turning away.
“Are you singing carols?” the same girl asked, hands on her hips.
“Oh, no. No, I’m not.”
“Please, ma’am, please,” a second girl said, and the other two chimed in until their pleading was all Peggy could hear.
She exchanged a glance with the officer accompanying her. “Well, I suppose I could, if you’d like.”
The girls cheered, and Peggy took a fortifying breath. She was good at many things, but singing was not one of them.
“Right. Um,” Peggy dithered, desperately wishing she had just said goodbye and went on her way. “Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen”
She looked to the officer, who chimed in with a spectacular voice, much to her surprise. “When the snow lay roundabout, deep and crisp and even.”
Peggy and the officer finished the verse with only a little embarrassment as the girls danced around the foyer, laughing and kicking their feet in the air to an unknown rhythm. She extricated herself as graciously as possible, though she was exceedingly grateful that no one in the next dozen homes mistook them for carolers.
At Number 100, Peggy knocked on the door weakly, her excitement at seeing Steve tempered by the many blocks of walking in her impractical heels and without a coat. She was tired and shivering, and when the door opened to reveal a young woman in a pajama set, her shoulders slumped.
“Hello. Is Steve staying here?” she asked wearily, already preparing herself for the inevitable answer.
“No,” the young woman replied, and Peggy turned away, disappointed. “Though there is some sort of reunion next door, and I thought I heard someone say the name Steve. There’s been police cars and limos and everything over the last day or so.”
Peggy slowly spun on her heel, scarcely believing what she had just heard. “Oh. That’s brilliant. Thanks!”
“You’re not who I think you are, are you?” the woman asked.
Peggy chuckled wryly. “Yes, I’m rather afraid I am. I apologize on behalf of my government, we’ll do better next year. Merry Christmas.”
She took the few steps between 100 and 102, heart squeezing in her chest. She missed Steve terribly–phone calls and video chats were a very poor substitution to his presence, and now that she was in front of the door where he was likely staying, she worried that this was a dream, that she would wake up alone in her big house on Christmas morning, this whole night a scotch-flavored figment of her imagination.
She squared her shoulders and rapped on the door. Better to try and fail than never try at all. The door swung open, and she was blasted by warm air and boisterous laughter. The entryway was full of big, burly men dressed in truly horrid Christmas sweaters, and they all went silent at the sight of her on the doorstep.
Peggy cleared her throat. “Um, right. Hello, is Steve staying here?”
They all looked curiously at her, and she fidgeted in the doorway. She thought she could see Barnes’ face in the back of the group, but it was difficult to be sure.
As Peggy and the occupants of the house were locked in some strange sort of showdown, heavy footsteps came down the stairs. Steve appeared at the top of the landing, shouting, “Hey, where’d you assholes put my phone? It wasn’t funny when I first ran, and it isn’t funny now–”
He froze in his tracks halfway down the stairs at the sight of Peggy in the doorway, still in her suit, a run in her stockings and her updo on the edge of collapse. “Peggy?”
She sighed in relief. “Hello, Steve.”
The Commandos turned in unison to face Steve, whose cheeks flushed under their scrutiny. “Right. Guys, this is Prime Minister Peggy Carter. Peg, these are the Howling Commandos, my old unit. Dum Dum, Gabe, Jim, Monty, Jacques, and you remember Bucky,” he said, pointing out each of the men as he listed them off.
“Gentlemen.” Peggy nodded at the group and resisted the urge to give a pathetic half-wave. She had been in plenty of weird, uncertain situations as both spy and politician, and she thought she had tamped down her worst, most awkward instincts, but apparently meeting her boyfriend’s friends brought them all back with a vengeance.
Before she could completely humiliate herself, Steve sprinted down the last few steps and just about bowled her over in a bear hug, wrapping his huge arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. Her stomach swooped as her feet left the pavement, and she let out an embarrassingly girlish giggle.
“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
“I missed you too,” she replied in the same tone. She patted his shoulder and, at a normal volume, said, “Now put me down. People will talk.”
Genre: STRAIGHT UP FUCKING FLUFF EVERYWHERE BECAUSE I LOVE FLUFF OKAY(and because I read a Jimin angst that was not okay with me at all). IT’S A GODDAMN ANGEL AU AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH OMG I REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT TOO.
Blurb: What happens when a sweet and shy boy suddenly appears and seems to take over your world? What secrets does he hold inside and will you ever be able to uncover them? In this tale of love, the supernatural, and cute as hell moments, you can find out whether or not you and Jimin are destined to be together.
Word Count: 10,435
Reader x Jimin
Theliel: angel prince of love.
BTW, this imagine is dedicated to @joah-rangie because I LOVE YOU SO MUCH 💜🖤 Have fun reading this fluff filled post!
The 12th house is a very powerful aspect in your chart. It holds your secrets; what we are secretly attracted to, what our secret self is like, what we fear, and any possible hidden strengths, assuming we overcome our fears. Today I’ll cover fears and secret strengths. You will need to find a full on chart reading site/service to figure out your houses.
Mars in the 12th house: Fears their own anger and the anger of others, their own selfish needs and aggressiveness. Has an association with suppressed or misunderstood sex-drive. Secret Strength:
Assertiveness, decisiveness, and possibly most importantly sexual confidence and understanding.
Venus in the 12th house:
Fears the intensity in love and can find shame in their materialistic desires.
Self-love without giving into materialistic comforts, ability to dive into powerful relationships.
Savvy with materialistic gain.
Mercury in the 12th house: Fears looking dumb or uncultured and is hesitant to share new or taboo ideas. Secret Strength: Knowledge is power for this position! Has good luck with communication, people listen to them.
Moon in the 12th house: Fears expressing their feelings and to show vulnerability and has strained family connections. Secret Strength: Emotional understanding + emotional tenacity.
When they use their own vulnerability to grow and help others.
Sun in the 12th house: Fears the limelight and might find shame in too much pride or leadership. Has an interesting association with religion and control. Secret Strength:
Overcoming insecurities to lead and inspire. Finding deep meaning to express creativity.
Pluto in the 12th house: Fears their own power, dismisses taboo, dark, or spiritual topics, and fears their own sexuality. Secret Strength: Intuition, emotional strength, and sexual understanding along with coming into their sexual power.
Jupiter in the 12th house: Fears expansion and growth, fears putting
themselves out there, fears their own knowledge and ability to teach. Secret Strength: Ability to change and grow freely with their beliefs and ideals. Their ability to spread knowledge
Saturn in the 12th house: Fears moving on, great success, and breaking away from routine. Secret Strength:
Their ambition, work ethic, and adaptability.
Uranus in the 12th house: Could fear change but mostly fears their own individuality, their kinks, and mostly fear of rejection for who they are. Secret Strength:
Ability to face change head on and bravery to be their true selves without needing acceptance.
Neptune in the 12th house: Fears expressing their beliefs, could not trust their intuition, and fears connections. Secret Strength: Stands by their beliefs and intuitively knows how to make, mend, and break connections.
Ocarina of Time’s chicken lady now has a chicken! We’ve never made a
plushie before but here he is, complete with secret pocket for holding
con supplies (or drinks). There was a lot more hand seeing than expected
but he turned out pretty charming!
A good alien. Very captivating eyes that hold the secrets of the universe. 5/5
Went for a very simplistic approach. Simple is good, but not in this sense. His head is much too rounded. 3/5
Thick lines as always. While the eyes are wonderful, this boy looks very crowded. 3/5
What the fuck is this. Why does he look like he just realized something that’s been haunting him for the entirety of his existence. What is this Photoshop gradient it’s fucking awful. 1/5
Do not let this one near children. He’ll laugh while burning your families bodies at the exact same time. Still better than Samsung, though. 2/5
Incredible. He’s so menacing, but cute at the same time. This is a very good boy. 6/5
Looks quite upset. I’d like to sit down with him and ask about what’s on his mind. It’s alright, little guy. 4/5 5/5 to boost his confidence.
Stop right there. This is too much. His upper face is angry, but lower face seems upset. Make up your mind, messanger. 2/5
Incredible. His face comes to a cone perfectly, and isn’t too overbearing. This is an alien, my friendo. 6/5
While he is still very cute, he looks more like an outlet rather than an alien. Good work, Mozilla. At least you tried. 4/5
Something feels off here. He seems too innocent, and looks more like a pea that belongs in a plush pea pod. 3/5
Who the fuck do you think you are. Do you honestly think you can waltz into my house, eat my food, and leave without another word? You disgust me. Just because you’re different, doesn’t mean you’re special. Get the fuck out of my house. 0/5