#Inspirational Christmas Song

[fizermusic]

All I want for Christmas is Peace in the World

[xazafranx]

ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ೢִֶָ🎄❝𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬❞🔔ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ೢִֶָ

[cryscendo]

i think i want your, your american tan

i think you’re gonna be my biggest fan

klaine + bubblegum bitch by marina

[dressupdragonne]

Competition Entry - Jingling Bells

Final Rank: Top 79%

[keii]

Wished we could've seen Toji be a deadbeat, broke ass, gambling addicted, homeless man for a bit longer...

[ah-bright-wings]

Something New - A Christmas Reflection

The rise and fall of the baby’s chest is steady. Joseph watches it, straw prickling his back. Mary is asleep with her head on his chest. He has an arm around her. The staff in his hand stretches over her legs like a shield.

The rain has stopped, though the night air remains cool and damp. Joseph stretches to adjust the blanket over the baby, marveling over him again. He is so small. When Joseph held him while Mary washed herself, the baby’s head fit in one of his calloused hands, scalp downy soft beneath his fingers. 

He’d been afraid to hold him. All his life, he has served his God. He says his daily prayers, and he knows the scriptures. Like all the rest, he has waited for Messiah to free them and set all things in right order. But this, surely, this dirty straw and muck, is not what God intends. His created hands are not meant to hold his Creator.

Joseph is no zealot. He is no priest. Some days, walking beneath the shadow of hillside crosses, he wonders where his God might be. Where might he be, the one who made the rivers of Egypt run red with blood? Does he see the blood on Galilean hills? Where is the Lord Almighty, above and before all things, who gave man his breath and who comes swiftly to save his people? Where is he?

Here he is. Joseph knows him, even as he draws the blanket over tiny curled toes, too afraid to touch this Holy of Holies. Scripture comes to his mind unbidden, Isaiah’s words as fresh and sweet as dew on his tongue:

“Behold, I am doing something new. Do you not perceive it?”

He is made still by the words, breath caught in his chest. His hand shakes. He draws it back. The baby grunts and kicks in his sleep, and Mary exhales softly. 

Joseph had a plan. He had several plans over the years, each polished and made beloved in his mind. Once, his world was only wood shavings and Joachim’s daughter with her stuck-out ears and blue veil. He saw her drawing water from the well, and it felt to him like she was Rebekah, and he, Abraham’s servant, seeing and knowing it must be her. He had never been more certain. Her father was a good and holy man, and her mother as virtuous as she. He built her a home. What little he could offer, simplicity and safety, he would, and it would be enough for them.

Then one day, his brother came to the door, and whispered through it what he’d heard in town.

Gossip is idle, and of no good use. Joseph was certain Mary would set his heart at ease when he came to her, quiet and ashamed to repeat the story. But she did not ease him. She took his hands, and her smile was tremulous. His plans were no more.

Joseph wept in his empty home, knees curled to his chest, with no one to hear him but the Almighty. What did the Almighty care for the small dreams of a carpenter from Nazareth? He wanted to curse God, but kept his teeth closed against the words. Better that he be struck dead than disgrace the name of his Lord. He would not make Mary a spectacle. He would be quiet. 

It was yet another plan brought to ruin. 

In the silence of that night came the angel, terrible and holy, and Joseph covered his face for fear. “Do not be afraid,” the angel told him, as it had told Mary. She speaks even now with such calm about her own visitation. Joseph, when he thinks of his, though he had been dreaming, shakes anew. “Do not be afraid,” the angel had said. “Take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”

Putting her aside would have been easier. The angel spoke, and he trembled and hid his face, sat in the rubble of his plans like Job. How could he not be afraid? He is afraid now, sitting here with straw pricking his back, with Mary’s head on his chest, with his God asleep in a feeding trough, cushioned by Joseph’s own cap. Oh God, he is afraid. He is afraid. He is in awe.

Is this the better way, Lord? he wonders. The one for which you have toppled all my plans? 

Slowly, he reaches out to touch the baby’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it. A fragile heart flutters beneath his fingers. It stirs in his breast something strong and fierce, and his eyes turn to the mouth of the cave, as if wild bandits or wolves might suddenly spring forth to devour this helpless God. His grip tightens on his staff.

The rain begins again, drumming lightly. It will keep the streets empty. The shepherds in the fields will be soaked, they and their flocks. Praise God for this cave, cold and damp though it is. Praise God for his ratty cloak, and the straw to lie on. 

Here is his God. His eyes are drawn again to the baby. Softly, so as not to disturb mother or sleeping child, he leans over to kiss the downy hair and thumb the stuck-out ears. The baby turns in his sleep. Joseph takes a deep breath.

“Behold,” says the still, small voice, “I am doing something new. Do you not perceive it?”

[dragonrider9905]

It's Officially Christmas

Merry Christmas @toomanybandstocare!!!! I'm your secret santa for @ghostofskywalker's Life Day Exchange for the @cloneficgiftexchange! Ironically, it also works out for the @clonexreaderbingo because Cody was on my card as well as one you requested :D I really hope you like it. It wasn't quite how I wanted it, because I love love love expanding stories so they go one forever but I ran out of time. This is just a bit of fluff and happiness for the Christmas season!!! Hope you're having a good one!

Cody sighed with an exhale, rubbing circles on his forehead, just tracing the scar around his eye he had gotten during his active military duty. Highly decorated, Colonel “Commander” Cody of the Armed Forces was currently struggling to complete his college semester still holding onto his sanity intact. Christmas was close, which meant fun and freedom were just in sight.

And to be honest, he could use some. It had been quite some time since he’d felt either of those things. 

Just the previous year, he’d been discharged early from the military due to family hardships. His adoptive father, Ninety-Nine, had fallen seriously ill which resulted in much limited mobility and flagging health, though he was stubbornly holding on. Ninety-Nine was tough in his own way and not easily knocked down and never let his disabilities limit him. He honestly was one of Cody’s biggest heroes for just that fact alone. No one was more inspiring than Ninety-Nine. 

To top off the struggle, his half-brother, Fives, was killed in action, while his other half-brother, Echo, was seriously wounded. This had dampened (but not destroyed) Ninety-nine’s spirits which slowed his healing. Cody had come back to take care of the family broken by loss.

The family. 

And what a family it was: a mix-matched group of boys and a sickly older man but they belonged together. 

Ninety-nine had taken care of all the Fett boys in some way or another after they’d been abandoned by their father Jango. He’d been the one to find Plo Koon who fostered and eventually adopted Wolffe, Sinker and Boost—but he’d raised under his own roof a rowdy bunch which included himself, Rex, Fives, Echo, and the Quadruplets (Cody didn’t know if technically Se or Fett was more accurate for them) soon nicknamed ‘the bad batch’.

And it was these that Cody called family. Home. It wouldn’t be complete totally again, but they could heal — and he’d do whatever he could, nay, he wouldn’t rest, until they did.

More than anything Cody wanted to take care of Ninety-nine, especially in the beginning. And that he did, but because Cody was an overachiever—he’d signed up for college classes as well. Then he added a job on the side to match; a small part of him regretted it. It was getting to be a lot, but joining the military right out of high school wasn’t easy either, so if he could make it then, he could do this now, he reasoned. 

That was a year ago now, and Ninety-Nine was finally on the mend. 

This year would be special, since everyone—well almost everyone—was going to be home. The first year since they’d all left, that they’d be back. 

They’d be back. Home, and together again.

Like they should be.

Echo was finally released from the hospital, healing from his extensive injuries and adjusting to his prothstetics, and the quadruplets’ tour was finally over. Though none of them were injured, it wasn’t without repercussions either.   

“Hurry up, Cody, or we’ll be late!” a shout broke him from his musings. “And don’t forget the basket!”

The Fetts were on their way to a dance—a Christmas dance—hosted by their longtime family friends the Jetti’s, and there was going to be an auction for charity, sleigh rides, and everything, as they did every year. Ninety-Nine insisted on bringing something to join the auction every year and this was no exception. Even when they couldn’t make it to the dances, Ninety-Nine was giving something.  

Cody wasn’t much of a dancer. He never cared to go to them much. But for some reason he was really looking forward to it this year. Perhaps because it was Christmas, and magic had a way of creeping into people’s ordinary lives, transforming into something beautiful and new. 

And it was this Christmas hope that kindled something warm inside his heart, and excitement. 

— — — — — 

The room was alive with flashes of color and the sound of music, laughing and cheering. The pitter pattering of feet was just as loud as the happiness of those in the room excitedly making known to each other through various conversations and well wishes. Quick steps made their own rhythm and stories which echoed off the dance floor. 

It was at this moment you felt beautiful, standing under the Christmas lights and bathing in the general glee and spirit of the room. Your throat squeezed as if holding in a laugh and a smile pulled at your lips so much your mouth hurt, but in a good way. The Christmas magic worked its way through your veins. The tingling of invincible tinsel tickled your fingertips, an energy flowing through you which was contagious. Smiles you sent to others were easily returned and frowns turned upside down. 

It was at this particular moment, the Fett family walked in. 

The name wouldn’t have meant much to you in normal circumstances. Why would that name stick out among so many others who were there? 

But you had a reason for knowing it, and his name was Cody. 

You saw him leading his train of brothers in through the door, guiding the old man by the arm. He flashed his charming smile to the host and exchanged hands. 

The music started up again and your sister grabbed your hand, dragging you into the ring or people forming a group dance with interchanging partners. You had to focus, otherwise you’d lose your step. 

It was only two seconds, but in those two, the entire Fett family was dispersed throughout the room and you lost all track of where Cody had gone. 

— — — 

Moving lithley, you kept up with the music and the people twirling and leaping around you. The dance went in a circular motion and patterns were interchanged. You clapped and danced and laughed along with everyone else, pushing yourself to go faster and faster as the song was ending.

Twirling and twirling you finished with a bang.

You looked up and saw you were in Cody’s arms, who looked just as shocked as you did to see you there. 

Then he froze there, mouth slightly agape. His eyes danced across your face and his slight panting may have been more than just catching his breath from the dance. He swallowed nervously.

“Um, hello.” He stuttered nervously.

“Hello yourself,” you smiled  back reassuringly, “nice to run into you.”

Cody chuckled a little at that, then a silence fell between the two of you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare! It’s just...you look so beautiful underneath the holiday lights.” 

You chuckled at his embarrassed realization. Cody turned pink and looked like he wanted to cave in on himself, which you had to say was really adorable and made you laugh harder. The thought of the brave warrior being startled into a stuttering school boy because of you.

The sound of your laughter filled the air with a contagious glint of mirth. Soon, Cody found himself laughing too. 

The music started up again and people took their places all around the two of you. 

“Would you, um, care to go again?” he asked, holding out his hand. 

“Gladly!” 

Not just one song but two that soon turned into three. When you were tired, you headed off to the corner to drink hot cocoa and watch the others. You were so caught up in talking to each other that you hadn’t realized that the time ran late into the night. It was near midnight when you sighed and looked at your watch. 

“Well, I’ll see you around.” You finally said a little sadly. Just because Christmas was around the corner didn’t mean all the work was done. You had one more paper to write before you were free. 

“I hope so!” He responded genuinely which just made you laugh again.

“Oh you definitely will. I sit two rows behind you and three seats to your left in class.” 

Cody gawked. 

You couldn’t have?! He’d surely have noticed you?!

“I even asked you for notes once. And, you also asked me for notes once too.”

His mind was racing, trying to think back to those times to verify the claims with his memory. 

You chuckled lightly. 

“I don’t expect you to remember though. You were always very preoccupied, with good reason. Your cousin, Waxer, told me the whole story.”

Big mouth Waxer. Could have counted on him to blab the whole story to everyone (though in this case Cody was grateful he did, not that he would admit that.)

“I have to say, I would have done anything for you. You had to just give me a chance.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to be so drastic, darling,” he smirked, “I’m here now, and I’m all yours. After class tomorrow, would you want to go skating?”

"It's a date!"

Now, it was officially Christmas.

[neonnoir-ao3]

I just had THE PERFECT IDEA for a Showtime holiday fic y’all just WAIT

[making-my-wey-down-town]

i watched the nightmare before christmas

[house-of-mirrors]

This is a "Baby it's Cold Outside" appreciating blog

[patrickztump]

stray ii [insert] – 2024

for my birthday my friend gifted me the official stray soundtrack, but in the form of a 2007 burnt cd (x2), because it's only available digitally or partially on vinyl. she worked hard to make the cover and wrote a note including (most) of the track list, as well as a personal message.

i found an old cd jewel case that could hold the two discs a little better than the original small one she had (per her request, as the note + disc one would prevent it from closing and would fall out), and came up with the idea to create a back art with full track list. i love everything about the world in stray, and chose clementine's apartment for this idea as i love the abundance of plant life and the cool colors tied well with the album's original cover.

i am very happy with how it turned out, especially since i’m in the “how do even do things in this program” phase of procreate haha

original version without text:

stray i – 2024

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

decided to rewatch oli's christmas song stream from last year and remind me again why the fuck oli/sausage is a rarepair again. he sings no less than five romantic songs about sausage (admittedly two of those are just different versions of santa, baby). one of them is him and sausage singing baby it's cold outside together. oli literally left heaven to find this man. what. what am i seeing that everyone else isn't hello.

[formsofcontinuity]

chapter 1: partridge

“Did you know,” Kara alights on Lena’s balcony Christmas morning with a snap of her cape, words already out of her mouth before she’s fully landed, “that partridges are ground foragers? I mean, they can fly, but still, they spend most of their time on the ground!”

Lena has been waiting by the sliding door into her loft since Kara texted a few minutes ago to say she was on her way. The blonde’s hair is windswept, her eyes sparkling despite the mild annoyance in her voice. It’s unseasonably cold in National City this week, a place where Christamasses are often 70 and sunny, and Kara’s cheeks are rosy, though Lena’s still not clear on how much her Kryptonian best friend even feels the drop in temperature. 

As usual, Kara looks unfairly beautiful. 

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Lena responds dryly, breath catching as Kara strides into her personal space and begins to rub her hands vigorously up and down over the thin fabric of Lena’s long-sleeved blouse without preamble.

“Lena! Aren’t you freezing?” 

“I’ve been out here for all of two minutes.”

“It’s forty degrees.” Kara hasn’t stopped rubbing, her eyes searching Lena’s face for signs of, what, frostbite?

“Kara, darling, I’m fine.” Lena stops one of Kara’s hands with her own. She stills immediately, eyes flicking to their joint touch before she looks up again, sheepish…and cute, so cute. Kara drops her hands to her sides. Regret pricks at Lena, who suddenly feels very cold indeed. Instead of shivering, she laughs. “Come on in. What were you saying about partridges?” 

Kara dutifully follows her into the living room, dematerializing her suit. 

“I was saying that partridges are ground foragers.” 

“Yes?”

“Did you know?”

“Yes, I actually think I did know that. Lex used to hunt them.”

Kara scrunches up her nose adorably in distaste. “But they’re so cute!”

"They are." Lena tries for a straight face, with little success. “This wouldn’t have to do with the song, would it?”

“You know, I’ve wondered about that song my whole life–well, my whole Earth life–but it only just occurred to me to look it up and,” Kara puts her hands on her hips in manufactured outrage, but her pout is ruining the effect, more Superpuppy than Supergirl, "partridges don't nest in trees. A partridge would not be very happy in a tree."

"I doubt they even like pears." Lena turns her head to grin at Kara as she strolls toward the kitchen, egging her on. 

"Exactly!"

The apartment is sans decorations except for a large tree that her friend had insisted on bringing by last week, bulbs and ornaments hung erratically even though Lena had carefully picked out a color scheme of dark greens and golds, baubles bought at the store in advance of Kara’s arrival and presented to the blonde with an aggrieved air that they both knew was for show. But Kara had brought a bag of ornaments, too–some plucked from her own tree, some new she’d chosen especially (“Lena, look, I couldn’t resist. It’s a microscope. And here’s a little cat wearing a Christmas bow tie…)--and Lena had been powerless to say no, even as she watched her modest decorating schema deranged by a laughing snowman, dog Santa, and surfing reindeer.

This is their dance. All these years playing the same game: Lena trying to maintain her taciturn cool facade as Kara whirled in and disrupted everything. Except now Lena is willing to admit to herself that she wants to be disrupted, that the Kara whirlwind, that all of this, all of her, is everything she's ever wanted. It had taken her five years to admit it to herself; maybe, in another five, she’d tell Kara. 

"I think," Lena hedges, "it's supposed to be a religious metaphor," but Kara is already shaking her head as she pours herself a cup of coffee and mixes in copious cream and sugar, fully at home and moving around Lena's kitchen, around Lena, who's pulling biscuits from the oven, with practiced ease. A little trill goes through Lena at the domesticity of it all.

"No, no metaphors. I'm taking the song at face value, and I don't approve."

"The partridge is hardly the most asinine part of 'Twelve Days of Christmas'."

"You're right, but it's the first. It's what I'm supposed to– I mean, it's supposed to be a significant first gift, and it's a lie."

"I'm sorry, Kara." Lena chuckles, then resumes setting the table for their planned breakfast, a task she’d interrupted to stand watch at her balcony door–even though Kara was certainly capable of letting herself in.  

Kara takes her coffee and flops down in front of the tree, turning her gaze to Lena incredulously. 

“Are we eating at the table?”

Was that a trick question? “Yes?”

“It’s Christmas.”

"That…Is that a non sequitur?"

"It's best to eat breakfast in front of the tree on Christmas, Lena."

"Oh? It's best? According to whom, exactly?" To keep up appearances, Lena has to protest, but she's already sliding the coffee table closer to the tree, depositing her own coffee cup on a coaster. 

"Actually, it's mandatory." 

"Well, in that case," Lena tosses her hands up in defeat, "what choice do I have?"

Before she can backtrack for dishes and the food, Kara catches Lena's hand. For one long, ineffable moment, they just look at each other, fingers loosely tangled, Lena's heartbeat rapid, like a bird's. She thinks about those partridges, minding their own business in the high grass and then a single unfamiliar rustle, a strange scent on the breeze, sends them up, up into the air. Away to safety, maybe, but also vulnerable. Out in the open with the breeze ruffling their feathers, they're more liable to be seen, to be found, to be hurt.

Gently, Kara squeezes Lena's fingers before releasing her. Her voice takes on a serious tone. "I'm only letting you go if you promise to come back." She pauses, then adds, a smirk curling her lips, "With food. Come back with food."

And Lena does. She brings the bacon and biscuits and these delectable little egg bites she made from a Martha Stewart recipe, pleased when Kara's eyes widen in excitement. Lena settles onto the floor beside her, their bodies making multiple points of contact–arms, hips, thighs–as the blonde leans over to fill her plate. 

"I guess we're the ground foragers now," Lena offers while they eat, staring into the agonizing and glorious chaos of her tree. It's a half-joke, her uneasy attempt to make normal the feeling that her heart is flying free and wild and out of her chest for all to see. 

Later, they'll exchange presents, but the way Kara laughs just then, genuine and joyful, bumping Lena's shoulder with her own–that's the gift Lena's still thinking about hours later. That's the one that matters most. 

To be continued...

Also on AO3

[andallshallbewell]

[angelhummel]

What you call insanity, I call i n s p i r a t i o n

[fewderpewders]

u know growing up watching veggietales and being raised buddhist but not really being introduced to irl Christianity made me think, oh yeah, God, that one invisible character from Veggietales